Chapter 19

All the time she had been here — well, except for that first day, perhaps — Abdul had eagerly awaited the moment when Sarah emerged from her room in the morning, wanting to see her, wondering which item of the clothing he'd provided she would choose to wear.

This morning was no different — or rather, he knew he was especially anxious today, for while he thought they had settled matters between them, he could not quite rid himself of the nagging worry that perhaps she would achieve some sort of clarity in the night, and would come to him and announce that she had examined her soul and had realized there was no way in the world she could ever allow herself to spend her life with a monster such as he.

It seemed those fears had been for nothing, because she came to him in the white dress he loved so much and immediately pressed her lips against his scarred cheek, as if to let him know that she cared little for such surface things. He set down the mug of coffee he held so he could bend and kiss her in earnest, once again reveling in the sensation of her slender body against his, even with all his heavy clothes creating a barrier between them.

"That's a great way to start the morning," she said with a smile. "Wakes me up better than any caffeine."

"So, you do not need any tea today?" he asked, knowing that he teased her a little.

Her smile didn't dim. "Oh, I think I'll still have some. Routines and all that."

He shook his head. It had felt odd to leave his room this morning without his cloak, clad only in the tunic and trousers he always wore underneath, but he had left the hooded robe aside, knowing that Sarah would surely ask why he felt the need to cover up when she already knew what lay beneath the hood.

But he conjured her customary mug of tea for her, Darjeeling this time, and she thanked him and took a sip. Because the tea was summoned the djinn way and not made by dipping a teabag in a cup of hot water, she did not have to wait for it to cool down to her preferred temperature.

"Are we singing this morning?" she asked.

An amusing way to phrase the question, since she was the one who did all the singing while he merely provided the accompaniment. But he supposed he could see why she'd said it like that, as though she wanted to make sure he knew he was an important element of her practice sessions.

And since he had thought a great deal about how this morning should go — and had decided they should carry on as normal, at least until they decided to do otherwise — he had no problem with immediately responding, "I thought we would. And perhaps we could work in the garden a bit, and then go for a ride?"

She agreed that sounded like a good idea, and, after a bit of back and forth, they both decided on egg white omelets with tomatoes and bell peppers and white cheese, something that would be tasty without being too heavy. During the breakfast that followed, they chatted about what they might make for dinner — it was decided that grilled chicken and more vegetables were a good meal for a summer evening — and discussed further plans for the grounds.

It was all so very normal that Abdul began to wonder if perhaps he had imagined their embraces of the night before or the kiss of greeting that Sarah had given him earlier that morning. But no…from time to time, their gazes would lock, and those rich sea-colored eyes would become an ocean he would gladly drown in. The need and longing were there, clear enough for him to see, and he guessed she was doing her best to return to the time when they had not shared any intimacies at all, was trying to be casual because she feared she wouldn't be able to otherwise keep a tight hold on her emotions.

He told himself that was all right. It was not as if he needed her to declare her love for him every second of the day, and those lingering looks she gave him were enough to express her feelings even if she did not utter anything aloud.

After breakfast — and after they had both taken a quick break to clean their teeth — they met in the music room. He sat down on the bench and gave her an expectant glance.

"So," he said. "What should it be today? More Mozart?"

For she had been practicing an aria from Cosi Fan Tutte, something well suited to her pure soprano, and although he thought she had done very well with it, he had known she still wanted to keep tinkering away, getting it closer to her internal idea of perfection.

"No," she said. "I'd like to try ‘Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again' from Phantom. "

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. Although he was somewhat familiar with the song because of the multiple times he had listened to the musical, wanting to learn it so he could see something of why it had been so important to her, he had also gotten the impression that she was not very eager to sing that particular piece, with its clear message of loss and sorrow.

"You are sure?" he inquired, even as he realized that perhaps hadn't been the most politic question to ask.

Her shoulders set, and her chin lifted. "I think I'm ready."

Although he had only been around her for a little more than a week, he knew it was not wise to argue when she wore that kind of determined expression. "Very well," he said. "Although I would like to play it through once to familiarize myself with the notes. I had thought we were going to work on ‘ Come Scoglio. '"

While she didn't precisely relax, something about the set of her mouth seemed to ease somewhat. "Oh, that's fine. It'll help me get into the right head space."

So he thumbed through all the scores he carried in his mind, located the correct one, and launched into the song. It was very lovely, although sad, and he had been secretly hoping for a while that Sarah might wish to sing it, just so he could hear her rendition of the tune.

When he was done, he looked back up at her. "Are you ready now?"

"I am," she said. "Go ahead and start whenever you like."

He played the introduction, and when her voice joined with the notes of the piano, it was as if the music had been distilled into pure sorrow, sweet, but at the same time an ocean of tears pouring into his soul. And when she sang, "Help me say goodbye" for the second time, and the note drifted effortlessly into an octave jump that reverberated throughout the room, Abdul realized tears of his own had slipped down his cheeks.

Sarah had remained in the curve of the piano for a moment after she was done, but then she looked over at him and made a sound of dismay. "Abdul, what's the matter?"

"Nothing is the matter," he replied as he lifted his hands from the keyboard so he could wipe the tears from his face. "Or at least, what used to be the matter is perhaps not as painful as it once was. That was beautiful, Sarah."

Her mouth curved in a small smile. "It took a long time to work up the nerve to sing it again. But I'm glad I did."

"I am glad as well," he said, then rose from the bench. Sarah sent him an inquiring glance, and he added, "I do not think you can improve on what you just sang. It seems somehow wrong to go back and pick it apart like you would some of the other pieces you've been practicing."

Her expression turned thoughtful. "I can think of a few places where I'd want to work with it some more, but I understand. Let's just leave it alone for now." She looked down at herself, at the white dress she wore, and her mouth quirked. "If we're going to head out to the garden, though, I'd better change. This thing wouldn't last five minutes out there."

Abdul knew the moment had passed, so he allowed himself a smile of his own. "That would probably be wise. I will meet you in the kitchen."

"Give me five minutes."

She came over to him, went on her tiptoes so she could press a soft kiss against his mouth, and then she hurried out of the room.

As he watched her go, Abdul lifted a hand to touch the lips she had kissed just a moment earlier. It had come so naturally to her, the caress almost casual, as if she understood this was how things would be between them going forward and there was no reason to act otherwise.

He thought he liked it very much.

Once again, Sarah was much lighter of spirit than she'd expected. Yes, she'd determined that she would sing that bugaboo of a song and get it over with, but once she'd accomplished what had first seemed like an impossible feat, she understood more than ever why it had been so important to her.

All those years, she'd never mourned her father the way she believed she should. Of course, she had cried for him and thought of all the time that had been taken from them — his chance to watch her on stage in a real professional production, the opportunity to hopefully one day walk her down the aisle and see his grandchildren come into the world. All those moments had been stolen by the cancer that had been eating away at him, unknown, for months, but she had barely begun to understand what that loss truly meant before the Heat swept over the world. Afterward, she'd had to think of survival and little else, and even once things stabilized in Los Alamos and the people there began to think they might have something resembling a normal life after all, she'd done her best to push her grief aside. Everyone around her had suffered their own losses, and they hadn't been able to say goodbye the way she had. Who was she to indulge her grief?

So she hadn't, had kept it tucked away in a secret little corner of her soul. And she'd thought that she could never sing "Wishing" again, not ever, because if she did, all the pain and the loss would come pouring out and she'd never be able to bottle it up again.

But that wasn't what had happened. It had hurt to sing those words, lyrics where Christine's loss so neatly echoed her own, but instead of falling down into a ball of mush, somehow giving voice to those sentiments made her stronger by the minute, until at the end, she was bursting with so much energy she thought she probably could have held that high G for hours.

Now she was positively cheerful as she took off the white dress and carefully hung it in the closet, figuring she could change back into it for dinner if she decided she wanted to be a little fancy. It felt good to get into her jeans and another loose, comfy blouse, mostly because she knew she could look forward to some time in the garden, and then they would go on a ride, maybe bring a picnic lunch along since it was still fairly early and it might be fun to eat away from the house for once.

And it felt even better to know she'd be doing all these things with Abdul, the one person in the world who shouldn't have understood her at all but somehow managed to appreciate all her quirks and foibles and odd little angles.

She knew she was smiling as she left her bedroom and headed to the kitchen. As promised, he was waiting there for her, although he was staring out the window with a distracted expression on his face.

"What's the matter?" she asked, and he put his fingers to his lips and beckoned for her to come closer.

Mystified, she did as he requested…then shook her head when she spied the mule deer doe standing in the middle of their vegetable garden, calmly munching away on some lettuce. Her sides were distended, telling Sarah the animal was probably eating for two.

"There goes our salad," she murmured, and he chuckled.

"I can summon whatever we need," he said, also keeping his voice low. "But because it looks as though she is about to have that baby any day now, she probably needs the lettuce more than we do."

Fair enough. It seemed obvious that Abdul didn't want to scare her off, which meant a change of plans was in order.

"I assume we won't be doing any gardening this morning," Sarah said.

"No, we should leave her to her breakfast. I don't want to frighten her away by coming and going from the house — would you mind if I transported the two of us to the stables instead?"

His eyes didn't quite meet hers as he made this request, and she wondered if he was worried she might think he was forcing things by suggesting they get away from the house using the djinn mode of travel.

No force required, though; she looked forward to holding on to him as they traveled to the stables.

"I don't mind," she said, and stepped closer. "Ready when you are."

A relieved smile tugged at his lips, and at once he put his arms around her, holding her close.

Yes, that was just perfect.

What wasn't perfect was that odd non-space in between here and there, the one that made it seem as though they had crossed some kind of incomprehensible void to journey to a spot that wasn't even a quarter-mile away. However, it didn't last long enough to be utterly nauseating, although Sarah hung on to him for a moment longer so she could get her bearings once they appeared outside the stables.

She didn't see the horses inside, but that was all right — Abdul lifted his fingers to his mouth and did a pretty damn good "come here" whistle, and immediately his big black stallion and the blood bay mare that had become Sarah's regular mount came trotting over, looking perky and raring to go.

"Handy," she remarked, and he only shrugged.

"They were very well-trained horses when I found them."

They must have been pretty young, barely more than yearlings, because right now they looked as though they were in the prime of life. By this point, she was used to putting on her mare's saddle and getting her bridle set up just so, and only a few minutes passed before they were mounted up and heading away from the ranch and into the hills.

Big cottonball puffs of clouds floated overhead, and Sarah wondered if once again they might have rain later this afternoon. That was all right, though — they were getting such an early start that they'd be able to have a good long ride and lunch before they needed to start worrying about the weather.

This was one of their favorite rides, the one that led up into the canyon with the waterfall and the stream that flowed through it. The air seemed a little cooler than it had the day before, and she could tell the horses were cheered by not having to slog through the heat, their tails swishing and their heads up as they reached their destination.

Sarah and Abdul both dismounted and allowed the horses to wander off toward the stream, since they would return just as soon as they were called. The shade under the trees beckoned them, and when they approached the largest of the cottonwoods, she saw that a small wooden table and two chairs had already been set up there, with a picnic basket waiting on the tabletop.

"It's great that you didn't have to make the horses carry our lunch," she said as they approached their picnic spot. "They might have had something to say about that."

"Possibly," Abdul agreed as he unfolded the cloth that had covered the basket's contents and began setting out plates and napkins and a dizzying array of cheese and meat and fruit. "I hope you don't mind this kind of food. It seemed to suit the day."

Since Sarah honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd had anything remotely resembling a charcuterie board, the setup looked positively amazing to her. "It's perfect," she told him. "I always loved these kinds of picnics."

He looked pleased by her comment, and continued with his setup until at last he pulled a bottle of wine and some glasses out of the basket. She could have sworn there wasn't room for those items in there, but then, this was Abdul she was dealing with. Very likely, he'd summoned the wine and the glasses at the last minute after deciding what would be best to accompany their feast.

And it was all absolutely amazing — the goat cheese, the rich yellow cheese subtly flavored with herbs, the bite-sized pieces of sliced meat and the crusty baguette and the little jar of yummy fig jam. They sampled the various treats and compared notes, and interspersed bites of food with sips of wine, which was a fruity pinot just big enough to stand up to the various flavors but not so strong that it overpowered anything.

Eventually, though, they began to wind down, and Abdul quietly made the leftovers and the basket disappear. Some wine remained, though, so the bottle and the glasses stayed behind.

"You seem content," he said, and Sarah nodded.

"I am. More than content." She stopped there and gazed across the valley, pausing to watch the horses who munched on the green grass and didn't seem as though they had a care in the world. A sort of peace lay over the landscape, one she didn't think she'd ever encountered before, even though she and Abdul had been here several times over the past week or so.

Then she realized it wasn't the world around her that had changed, but herself. The Sarah from a few days ago was a very different Sarah from the one who'd heard the worst from Abdul and knew she still loved him.

Should she be this happy when she knew the truth about him?

Some people would probably say she shouldn't. But if she'd learned anything after the world had changed, it was that you couldn't go back. Making herself miserable now — denying Abdul her feelings, her love — wouldn't suddenly restore all the lives that had been lost.

"I'm happy," she said, and his face lit up.

When he looked like that…when she could practically see the love emanating from him, a glow that would never be quenched…she could forget the scars that marred the right side of his face, could forget everything except how good it was to be with him.

He must have seen those emotions reflected in her expression, because he got up from his wooden folding chair and came over to her so he could take her hands and bring her to her feet as well, with his strong arms going around her and bringing her close, his mouth pressed against hers, tasting of wine and sweet fruit.

Even though this wasn't the first time they had kissed, she still was almost shocked by how quickly her body responded to him, how desire flared through her, demanding, strong as a river in flood. She wanted to sink onto the ground with him, to have him take her right then and there, even with the horses munching on the grass a few feet away and absolutely nothing to protect them from the bare earth.

Abdul must have sensed the heat flaring within her, because he murmured, "I have an idea," and just as quick as that, they were away from the valley with its shady trees and lively waterfall, and inside a room she'd never seen before but immediately knew must be his bedroom, with a large king bed in a frame of what looked like reclaimed wood, heavy and rustic. The heavy terra-cotta-hued drapes were closed to conceal the brightness of the day, and candles flickered on the bedside tables and the long dresser on the other side of the room.

"If you wish it," he said, and she pressed a kiss against his throat, feeling his pulse beat beneath her lips.

"Oh, I wish it, Abdul," she replied. "I wish it more than anything."

He obviously didn't need any more encouragement than that, because almost as soon as she was finished speaking, he caught the edge of her loose shirt and pulled it up and over her head, then fumbled with the clasp of her bra for a second before he got it unhooked and cast it aside to join her shirt. Then his mouth closed on her nipple and she gasped aloud, wondering if he was going to make her come right then and there as a wave of heat pulsed through her body.

Not quite, but after he took hold of her jeans and her underwear and pulled them down at the same time, his fingers found her, probing, and she gasped again, knowing it had been way too long since she'd been with anyone, and longer still since she'd felt like this.

No, forget that. She'd never been with anyone who made her entire body come to life in such a way, had never had anyone whose touch, whose caresses, were so in harmony with what she needed. The climax came fast, and she clamped down on his fingers as the orgasm rushed over her, all heat and tingling darkness and waves of ecstasy that continued to pulse through her even after he'd stopped so he could pull off the tunic and loose pants and boots he wore.

God, his body was magnificent, heavier with muscle than she'd thought it would be, stomach flat and shoulders broad…and he was clearly very ready for her.

A little shiver went through her as she looked at him. He was big, quite a bit bigger than any of the other men she'd been with.

It would be all right. This was Abdul, and she knew he would never do anything to hurt her.

Hoping he hadn't noticed her hesitation, she reached out and took him in her hand, and his eyes closed as he lay against the pillows, breath coming almost in pants.

Had anyone ever touched him like this? Sarah doubted it; he'd lived his entire life alone, had never even shared a kiss before she had come here to Ghost Ranch.

Well, it was time to give him a new experience.

She bent and took him in her mouth, tasted the slightest hint of salt, marveled at the silkiness of his skin while he was so hard underneath. A moan escaped his lips, one that sounded as though it had been ripped from his throat, raw with need…and maybe a little bit of shock.

His hand touched her hair as she pleasured him, but she could tell he held back, didn't want to put too much pressure on her for fear she might think he was compelling her to continue. No force involved — she wanted to do this, wanted to let him see just how much she loved him.

Needed him.

He came a moment later, and she tasted his seed, taking it down, her own body thrilling with desire at the same time. In the past, she'd done this because she knew her partners had expected it of her, but now, she knew this was all her, every part of her wanting him to experience the act for the first time in the very best way.

When she pushed herself up, wiping her mouth, he stared at her with wide brown eyes that held a mixture of shock and wonder.

"That was…unexpected," he managed, and then out of nowhere, a glass of water appeared in his hand. "But I thought you might want this."

She did, very much. After taking the glass from him, she allowed herself a couple of swallows before she set it down on the bedside table. "Thanks," she said. "It's amazing how you can practically read my mind."

"I am not so sure about that," he replied. "But I very much hope this is what you were thinking about now."

He pulled her to him and their mouths met, hot, hungry, even as their bodies touched and she could feel him hard against her leg once again, as if she hadn't just given him the mother of all orgasms only a moment before.

Clearly, djinn bounced back a lot faster than human men did.

But that was all right, because he pushed her down against the pillows, his mouth trailing along her belly down to her mound, until his tongue touched her and she let out a cry that was almost a scream, all of her thoughts and her need and her love focused on those amazing sensations swirling in her core.

She came only a moment later, her hands caught in his thick, longish hair as she rode out the climax, her breath coming in harsh pants. No time to recover, not really, because almost at once he shifted and she felt him pressing against her entrance.

Yes, he was big, but she was ready for him, her body crying out for him to join with her. He seemed to sense her need, because he pushed in at once.

She wrapped her legs around him, driving him in deeper, and now they were moving together, point and counterpoint, harmony and melody, so perfect, so utterly sublime, that she knew those times before had only been sex and nothing more.

This…this was love, the kind of love she hadn't even known existed. How could she have ever sung of love when everything in her life before now had been a pale counterfeit of what she and Abdul shared?

She didn't know, and it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the glorious sensations flooding through her body, the way she knew another climax was on its way, bigger and better than even the ones from a few moments earlier.

It burst through her like the light of an exploding sun, shockwaves rippling along every nerve ending, every single atom of her being, even as Abdul also hit the edge and went over it, his heat filling her core, his breath harsh gasps.

They clung to one another for what felt like hours afterward, although Sarah couldn't say for sure how long it had been.

Time didn't matter, though. They were here together, and she loved him and he loved her. Everything else was just details.

He touched his lips to her cheek, a brush of gentle butterfly wings. "You are the most perfect thing I could have ever imagined."

"So are you," she whispered. Scarred and solitary and carrying too much of a burden for too long.

But not alone anymore.

She would never let him be alone.