His Wicked Embrace novel Chapter 18

Zehra turned the last page of the novel she'd found in Lawrence's bedchamber earlier that day. It had been so wonderful to find an engaging read. She had read some English novels before, but never these "Gothic" ones, as Lawrence had called them, for they were rare in Shiraz, the area where she was from. The adventures of Lady Isabelle had distracted her from her loneliness for a time, but when she heard the click of the door opening her heart leapt.

"Zehra?" Lawrence's voice was soft, as though he feared she might be asleep.

"I'm here." She set the book down and stood, surprised by her eagerness to see him again. It was hard to explain, but it was as though every time she saw him, he brought sunlight into the room, even when it was night.

He smiled as he spotted her. "Ah, you're awake. I thought perhaps you might have gone to sleep. It's almost midnight."

She shook her head. "I am tired. But I couldn't rest." Her evening after dinner had been plagued with worries. She needed to find her mother's family, yet she had no way to do so. If she asked Lawrence for help, that might put him in danger, but if she did not, she might be putting her family at risk.

Al-Zahrani would no doubt find her family before she did, and he had told his companion at the brothel that he would kill anyone who stood between him and Zehra. She fought the revulsion she felt at the thought of being back under that evil man's control. The things he had promised he would do to her, the tortures he wanted to inflict, the pleasures he would take from her while leaving her broken in spirit... And more than anyone, she knew how resourceful Al-Zahrani could be. To stand against him was to put one's own neck against the sword.

No, she couldn't put anyone's life at risk, which meant she had to be careful when searching for her family, assuming there was a family to search for. Her grandfather had disowned her mother, after all, and there was every possibility he did not know she existed. Even if he did, he may not even want her. Regardless, she didn't want to put him in danger if Al-Zahrani was watching her grandfather's home.

Lawrence came up to her, concern etched on his face. "What is it? You're awfully pale all of a sudden." He cupped her chin, and she leaned into his hold, wishing his strength and comfort could banish all her fears. But she had to remain strong. Lawrence would not always be there to fight her demons.

"I'm all right, truly," she whispered, gazing at him. He tilted his head, and his fingers toyed with a loose tendril of her dark hair.

"You're safe now, I promise you. You have nothing to fear."

She bit her lip before replying. "Nothing to fear until our week is over and I return to Persia."

The pain that flashed in his eyes reflected her own heart's sting. She didn't want to leave England, and the reasons why seemed to be slowly multiplying, with the greatest one standing right in front of her. She looked down to his broad chest and the finely embroidered waistcoat he wore, which bore beautiful swallows in silver and gold threading. She reached out, placing her palm on his chest, not to push him away but to connect them. His fingers lowered from her hair and curled around her wrist, holding her hand to his chest.

"I'm not a gentleman, not by any means, but..." He smiled ruefully. "I would like to be here for you, sweetheart, in whatever way I can."