“You ready?”
I nodded, then realizing she couldn’t see me called out, “Ready.”
Still there was a pause, then finally the door opened and Amyrah stepped out. “What do you think?”
My mouth dropped open, and a genuine smile stretched across my lips. “You bought it!” I exclaimed, grinning up at the shy girl. The red dress looked as good now as it had in the store, and I could tell my pleasure made the other girl happy.
Amyrah blushed and bit her lip, but sashayed over to a full-length mirror in one corner of the room. She turned this way and that, admiring herself. “I’ve never owned anything like this,” she said. “I don’t know if I’d have the courage to wear it out of this room.”
“Sure you can!”
The other girl rolled her eyes. “My brother will think I am crazy,” she murmured, smiling at her reflection in the mirror.
“Screw your brother.” The words were out of my mouth before I even considered how inappropriate they were. It was one thing to make fun of your own family, another thing for someone else to say such things.
But my comment just elicited a startled laugh from the other girl. “Screw my brother,” she repeated, then giggled. “He would not like it if I told him that.” She studied her reflection for a moment, then lifted her arms to shoulder level and began moving her body like the dancers from the previous night.
I clapped my hands as she twisted her hips, moving in a small circle and ending with one last hip bump. “I’ll bet he wouldn’t like that either.”
Amyrah looked pleased with herself. “He is my brother,” she said, as if that answered everything. Perhaps it did. “I know he will love me, even if I choose to become a dancer.”
The idea of the conservative girl before me running off with the Bedouin camp to be a dancer should have been funny, but instead of laughter, I felt tears well up in my eyes. My breaths grew labored as I struggled against the sudden and inexplicable need to break down. No matter what I did however, I couldn’t stop the shivering that began in my belly and spread throughout my body.
Amyrah caught my eye in the mirror and spun around. “Are you all right?” she exclaimed, kneeling down beside me on the bed.
I nodded my head repeatedly, but couldn’t say anything. Finally, I shook my head. “No,” I croaked.
“Lucy, what happened?”
The concern in her voice bolstered me enough to get myself back together, at least somewhat. “I made a mistake. A huge mistake, and I’m...” Afraid. God, I was so afraid. Not about what would happen to me, but what would happen to Jeremiah when he found out what I had done. I knew he loved me, knew it with every fiber of my being.
And I knew my betrayal had destroyed that forever.
Amyrah grabbed my hand, pulling me forward, and I collapsed sobbing onto her shoulder. Breathing was difficult but I didn’t care. Anguish about what I knew I had to do coursed through me, spilling out in wrenching gasps and muffled cries. Soft arms wrapped around me, holding me tight like I hadn’t been held since before my parents died. Guilt and agony poured out of me, and I clung to the woman before me.
Eventually, I realized I was blubbering all over a beautiful red gown, being held by a girl who had known me barely a couple days. I leaned back, scooting over on the bed, but Amyrah kept a tight grip on my hand. “What happened?” she asked again, enunciating every word.
“Have you ever made a mistake so big, it feels like you’ll never get past it?”
Something about her concerned look gave me my answer, that she was free of that burden. She still squeezed my hand, moving around so that she was in front of me. “Would you like me to call your men?” she asked, her tone serious.
I barked a laugh at her phrasing. “No,” I said, the sudden humor too much right then. “No, I’m fine. This isn’t because of them.” A bold-faced lie, but it seemed to do the trick.
“You didn’t kill somebody, did you?”
I turned startled eyes to Amyrah. “No,” I said in a rush, and felt her relax.
“Then whatever is wrong can be fixed, right?”
But I was wrong, I realized. I might as well have killed love, at least when it came to Jeremiah Hamilton. Everything I knew about his history, the way he had looked at me the last few days, told me my news could shatter that inside him forever.
Closing my eyes, I covered my mouth and focused on breathing normally. It took several deep breaths to calm my quaking lungs. Such a drama queen you are, Lucy Delacourt, I admonished myself, mortification settling over me like a blanket. I certainly had a high opinion of myself, thinking I had that much control over another man’s emotional well-being. Smoothing the hair from my face, I wiped my eyes hastily with the back of my hand and stood. “I’m sorry,” I said, balancing precariously. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“Lucy,” Amyrah called as I turned to go. Biting my lip, I turned to look at the other girl. Concern and anxiety was written all over her face, and her hands were clenched tightly in front of her body. “If you need any help,” she said, “please let me know.”
I gave a jerky nod, dashing away new tears that leaked from my eyes with one hand. “You do look gorgeous though,” I murmured, attempting a smile. Apparently I didn’t do a good job with the expression because the worry in her face deepened, but I couldn’t stay there any more. “I’ll call you soon,” I mumbled, then turned and left the room, heading straight for the front door.
I stood outside Jeremiah’s front door for several minutes before I finally got the nerve to give it a light rap. Really, it was barely more than a whisper, and I forced myself to knock harder a minute later. I didn’t want to be there and had no idea what I would say when the door opened, but was never given the chance to find out. The door remained closed, even after a third attempt, and the pressure around my heart decreased slightly as I turned toward my own room.
Light streamed through the open windows, as bright as the desert sands we’d gone through the previous afternoon. Somewhere in the room came the faint hum of a fan, and the gossamer curtains across the window swayed in the small breeze produced. I leaned back against my door for a moment, allowing the nervous shaking in my legs to ease a bit, before moving further into the room.
Reaching up, I pulled out the clip from my hair and let it fall in a tangle to my shoulders. A shower and nap sounded divine; my nerves could use the relief. I had already started unbuttoning my shirt, moving through the living room to the bathroom at the back of the suite, when I saw something nearby me move.