Free The Sheikh’s Reluctant Bride by Teresa Southwick Page B

life.”
    Hearing her speak of it made him sad for the child Jessica had been, a little girl alone. “An alcoholic.”
    She nodded. “They say the tendency is inherited, so I always wondered. She was the only outline I had and that’s hard to ignore even though all the books say it’s about choices.”
    If it were all about choices, the woman he loved and the child he would never know would be here now. There was always pain when he thought about them, but he found it a little less now. Maybe because he found himself involved in someone else’s pain and the fear of not knowing whether any of her people possessed the strength of character to fight the demons and had passed on that strength to her.
    “I did not know your mother, but I know with a great deal of certainty that she was a fine woman.”
    “How can you be sure?”
    He cupped her face in his palms. “If it was not true, she could not have produced a child who grew into such a beautiful, strong woman.”
    She smiled, a small smile, but it chased a few of the shadows from her eyes. “Thank you for that.”
    He dropped his hands and stepped back, because he wanted very much to kiss her. “So you do not regret coming here?”
    She shook her head. “I could never regret the opportunity to learn about the traditions I always thought were just make-believe, just a part of the bedtime stories my mother told me.”
    “Traditions are not always a good thing.”
    “You say that because you haven’t known a life without them.”
    “That is true. But if not for tradition, we would not be married.”
    “I see what you mean.” She slid her hands in her pockets. “That is a problem.”
    More even than she knew. He had hoped this sojourn in the mountains would decrease his awareness of his wife, but had found it to be just the opposite. He was having a more difficult time resisting the urge to make her his.
    “Actually I’m glad you found me,” she said.
    “Is that so?”
    “Yes. We’re invited to a welcoming celebration. The whole village will be there and festivities will be commencing at sundown.”
    He glanced at the sun just disappearing behind a peak. “Now?”
    “I guess so,” she said, her gaze following his. “Aunt Aminah says that there will be food and dancing and that we should be prepared to be worn-out.”
    From her mouth to God’s ear, Kardahl thought. If he did not find a way to resist her presence beside him in bed, he would be going to the seventh level of hell. His indifference was fading. He knew this because it was more than lust coursing through him. Jessica would agree that if anyone knew the difference, it would be him. And this was distressing because lust was all he wanted to feel for her. It was far less complicated.
     
    Jessica stood beside Kardahl and looked down at her feet, trying to memorize the steps to the traditional Bha’Kharian folk dance. The villagers played the music on guitars, a violin and harmonica, instruments that traveled well and produced a lively tune. In the open area centered among the tents, a big fire was burning. Men, women and children, including toddlers barely walking, sang and danced.
    When Jess tried to follow Kardahl’s lead in a crossover step and stumbled, she laughed ruefully at herself and shook her head. “I think I have two left feet. This pathetic attempt to dance proves that I should have left them in America.”
    “As with all physical activities,” he said, “it merely takes practice.”
    All physical activity? What did that mean? Was she reading a significance into those words that he didn’t intend? Given his reputation, it was a logical assumption.
    “I’ve had lots of practice waltzing, but this is more like line dancing and I’ve never been able to get the hang of that.”
    “Then we will waltz,” he said.
    The next thing Jess knew, she was in his arms, following his lead in a slow dance. She felt his hand on her back, holding her close but not close enough. The fingers