Iris Johansen - The Treasure

“That is all?”

“I assure you it’s more than enough to cause him many problems.” She opened the door. “We’ll have to share the bed. Finish your wine and get to bed while I go down and make sure your Haroun has been fed and provided with bedding.”

“I can do-”

Selene stopped as the door slammed behind Layla. It was clear the woman would brook no arguments. Well, perhaps she was right. Selene was tired and her head was buzzing from the events and revelations of the day.

But she didn’t want to go to bed. She wanted to hear more. She had been touched and horrified by Layla’s story. Her own time at Nicholas’s had been terrible, but to live in a House of Death… She could see why the woman seemed hard and self-willed. It was a wonder Layla had managed to survive and keep from going mad in such a place.

She was making excuses to pardon Layla, Selene realized with astonishment. The woman was volatile, reckless, and probably as hard as stone. Selene should be wary of being in the same room with her, and tonight they were going to occupy the same bed. Why wasn’t she more cautious?

Because she sensed that Layla had a streak of vulnerability beneath that hard surface.

Perhaps she and Layla possessed similar qualities. Selene, too, disliked anyone seeing too deep and wanted things her own way. Well, one of those things was making sure Kadar was safe, and she couldn’t do that unless she knew where the danger lay. Tomorrow she would make sure that Layla told her more.

She finished her wine and set the goblet on the table before stripping off her clothing and climbing into bed.

Where was Kadar now?

Aching loneliness washed over her. It was unreasonable to feel this pain. Was she going to be this idiotic all the days of her life?

Oh, Lord, she was afraid she was.

Selene was deeply asleep, sprawled over the bed like a weary child.

Layla shook her head ruefully as she gazed down at her. She couldn’t possibly get in the bed without waking her, and she wasn’t willing to do that. Selene needed sleep this night.

Oh, well, Layla had slept in chairs many times before. She dropped into the chair in front of the fire. She grimaced as she reached for her goblet. This chair had no cushions and was more uncomfortable than most.

Stop whining. She would probably not have slept much anyway.

Her gaze wandered from the fire back to Selene. So much pain. So much passion. She could see why Tarik had been torn. He must have become very involved with Kadar and Selene during these last weeks.

Don’t worry, Tarik. I won’t fail you.

Poor Tarik. Was it weariness or discouragement that was pushing him toward her? It didn’t matter.

She didn’t care about anything. As long as he came back to her.

Her eyes closed tightly as waves of memory washed over her.

He was leaving.

“But I love you.” Layla’s hands tightened frantically on his arms.

“I know you do.” Tarik’s lips were thin with pain. “It doesn’t matter.”

“How can you say that? It does matter. Stay.”

“You’re too strong. You’d always convince me you were right and I was wrong.”

“I am right.”

Tarik shook his head and pulled away from her. “I can’t do it any longer.”

It was killing her. Couldn’t he see that she couldn’t live without him? “Then don’t do it. Just stay with me.”

“And watch you do it? It’s the same thing.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He opened the door. She wasn’t going to be able to stop him, she realized in despair.

“Then go. Live with your damnable guilt. Eat with it, sleep with it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not hurting me.” She raised her chin. “I’ll forget you. Why do I need a fool like you?”

He closed the door behind him.

Tarik!

____________________

She should not have let the memory return. The agony was too intense. It was as if she were living it over again. How many times during the past years had she smothered the thought of that scene and closed that part of her?

But now it might be all right to remember. There were signs he was yielding at last.

He had sent her Selene.

She was dreadfully ill, Selene realized even before she opened her eyes.

She barely made it to the basin across the room before she started to throw up.

“What’s wrong?”

Someone was behind her. Layla.

“Answer me.”

Dear God, couldn’t the stupid woman see she couldn’t answer her?

Layla was beside her, her arm bracing Selene’s shoulders while she heaved. “It’s all right-I think.”

“It’s not all right. I’m dying.” Her stomach was empty but she was still miserable. She staggered back to the bed and crawled beneath the covers. “Go away.”

“You’re not dying.” Layla was standing by the bed. “I won’t have it.”

She opened her eyes to see Layla frowning down at her. “Go away.”

“You’re not being reasonable. If you’re truly ill, I’m the only one here who can help you. Now be silent while I decide what course to take.”

Selene was too sick to argue. She shut her eyes, trying to fight off the new surge of nausea that was overwhelming her.

Cold water was running down her face and onto the covers.

She gasped, and her eyes flew open to see Layla wielding a sopping-wet cloth with vigorous authority. “You’re drowning me.”

Layla scowled. “Well, it was all I could think of to do. I told you I wasn’t good at this sort of thing.”

“You’re right.”

“And you’re not supposed to be ill. I hadn’t planned-Why are you?”

It wasn’t enough that she was sick, but this heartless woman expected her to make apologies for it. “It’s probably from being in the same chamber with you,” she said through her teeth.

“I don’t think so. Do you hurt anywhere?”

“No.” She huddled beneath the covers. “I don’t want to talk.”

“We must find out the problem. Did the beef from supper disagree with you?”

“Get that cloth away from my face or I’ll throw it at you.”

“Very well. It doesn’t seem to be doing much good anyway. I’ve always suspected bathing brows is much overrated.”

“I’m going to try to go back to sleep. Leave me alone.”

“I suppose that would be all right.” Layla dropped down in the chair. “But I’ll wake you if the sleep appears too deep.”

Probably with another ice-water dousing. “If you do, I may throttle you.”

“Ungrateful wretch.” But the gentleness with which she straightened Selene’s covers belied the roughness of her tone. “Rest. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

The nausea was gone when Selene opened her eyes again.

“Better?” Layla asked. “Can you eat?”

She was still too befogged from sleep to think. “I don’t know.”

“You should try. It’s afternoon. You’ve slept half the day away.”

She was hungry, she realized with amazement. All trace of illness had vanished and she felt wonderfully well. It was as if that sickness of the morning had never been.

Morning sickness.

Mother of God.

“You’re ill again,” Layla sighed. “Do you need the basin?”

“No,” she whispered. “I feel fine.”

“You’ve turned pale.” She frowned. “Talk to me or, by God, I swear I’ll bathe your face again.”

“I’m with child.”

“What?”

Selene felt as stunned as Layla looked. “My flux is very late, and this sickness is like the one my sister went through during her early months.”