It wasn’t a question. She knew his work by now and recognized the precise craftsmanship, the attention to detail that marked everything he created.
“You need proper tools.” His voice was gruff and dismissive, but there was a hidden tension underneath it. “The spindle was adequate, but for weaving you require?—”
“It’s beautiful.”
He stopped and stared at her.
“It’s beautiful,” she repeated, running her fingers over the smooth wood. “Tarek, this is… I don’t have words. This must have taken you days.”
“I had time.”
“You had more time because you were avoiding me.”
The words came out sharper than she intended. She watched his jaw tighten, saw the flash of something—guilt? frustration?—in his green eyes.
“I was not avoiding?—”
“You absolutely were. Ever since we kissed, you’ve been?—”
“I needed space.” The words were bitten off, almost harsh. “I needed to think.”
“About what?” she asked, even though she knew.
About me. About us. About that kiss that still burns on my lips whenever I close my eyes.
His hands clenched at his sides. “About the fact that you are a guest in my home. Under my protection. And I—” He broke off,looking away. “I should not have touched you like that. It was a violation of your trust.”
“A violation?”
“Yes.”
She carefully set the loom aside and stood. He took a half-step back, but she closed the distance, refusing to let him retreat.
“Was it a violation when I kissed you back? When I pulled you closer? When I made that sound—you remember the sound—because I wanted more?”
His eyes flared green.
“You don’t understand what you’re?—”
“Then explain it to me.”
She reached up, laying her hand against his chest. His heart pounded beneath her palm, fast and hard and desperate.
“Explain to me who you really are. Explain what you’re so afraid of. Explain why you live alone on this mountain, pretending you don’t want the very things you keep offering me.”
“Jessa—”
“I found something yesterday.”
That stopped him. He went very still, the tension in his body ratcheting up another notch.
“Found what?”
She retrieved the tapestry from where she’d hidden it and held it out to him.
For a long moment, he didn’t move. He just stared at the rolled fabric like she was offering him a poisonous snake.
Then, slowly, he took it and unrolled it. He stared at the face looking back at him—his own face, but cold and commanding and nothing like the male who stood before her now.
