he’d spent. Her body seemed to change its structure as she came back from her small death. And his soft, pliable lover slowly stiffened into a woman with something on her mind.
Gabriel pulled himself from her with reluctance and rolled onto his back. They lay in the near-darkness, their hot, sweaty bodies cooling in the night air.
“You wish to say something, Drusilla?”
He felt her nod.
His lips twitched. “But you don’t wish to start a disagreement.”
A soft sigh and then, “Yes.”
He turned onto his side and propped his head on his hand. “We need to learn how to get along with each other—and not only in bed.”
Her lips curved into a slight smile. “I want to talk about your son, Samir.”
He felt his own smile stiffen. “Yes?”
“You said he was with a nurse—surely that is not the only person he lives with?”
Gabriel worked his jaw back and forth as he considered her question.
“He is living with some friends.”
He felt her shift and turn beside him. “Friends?”
Gabriel passed his hand over his face; he’d known this day would come, but had hoped it would not come so soon. They’d only begun to get over their last misunderstanding. But he supposed now was as good a time as any.
“Yes: friends.”
Tension inserted itself between them, much like a third person in their bed.
“Is it—well, is he living with your mistress, um, mistresses?”
“Who the devil told you about that?”
Her eyes were wide, and he realized he’d raised his voice.
“I apologize, Drusilla, I should not have spoken to you that way.” He closed his eyes and rolled onto his back. Why was he even surprised that she knew? His life appeared to be an open book; the entire world knew of his amorous relations.
“Yes. He has been living with Maria and Giselle. They are both French speakers and adore children so they were glad to take him in while I considered what I should do.”
Silence met his declaration.
Gabriel inhaled deeply and slowly let his breath out before sliding both hands beneath his head and forcing himself to relax.
“Will you tell me about him?”
He knew it was a reasonable request. Still . . .
He sighed. “It is a confused and rather sordid story. I’m not sure how much you care to know.”
“I’m your wife and he is your son. I would like to know what there is to know.”
He chewed his lower lip; he was asking her to bring a child into their home. Did she not deserve a little of his background?
“His mother and I were promised to each other from a very early age and—”
“You mean, you were married?”
“No, we were not. The ceremony was to be at the beginning of our cool season. Every year my father’s subjects would make the journey to Oran to pay homage.That year there was to be an added celebration: my marriage.”
“Marriage? But you couldn’t have been more than—”
“I was sixteen.”
She lay on her side, her head propped on her hand. “So young,” she said wonderingly.
“It is not much different from here. Some girls come out at seventeen—almost all by eighteen. And here you might only talk to a prospective mate a half-dozen times before you are betrothed. Fatima and I had known each other all our lives.”
She remained quiet and Gabriel wished he knew what she was thinking.
* * *
Even in the low light Drusilla could see his expression was pensive.Asking about his past had probably not been wise.After all, it would make no difference to her feelings about Samir. She would take the boy—was in fact eager to meet Gabriel’s son—and did not need to know of his past to accept him.
Likely anything he told her would only make her yearning for him more painful. Already she wasn’t sure if she felt better or worse knowing the boy was the child of a woman who was to have been his wife, rather than one of his mistresses.
And speaking of his mistresses . . .
She swallowed her curiosity along with her jealousy and waited for him to finish. She’d started the boulder rolling and there was no stopping it now.
Drusilla let him think rather than pushing for confidences, taking advantage of the opportunity to study his body.
He’d thrust both hands behind his head, his action unconsciously displaying acres of velvety skin and chiseled muscle. Unfortunately, the blanket covered most of his abdomen and hid that intriguing V of muscle that separated torso from hips. She wished she could light a candle and then spend some time inspecting his