Badly wounded? That phrase ran through Annie's mind. It could just be the Sheikh's interpretation of the marks he must have on his body from whatever 'enhanced interrogation' he had endured at the hands of her own people. Joan had not been forthcoming on the subject of what he had endured to that point and what happened after that was anybody's guess. Or he could be playing wounded for some reason of his own. She wanted to ask if they were going to see him now, but found she could not form the words. A "No, not yet." would be devastating to her heart.

"When will we know if they have found Laylah?" she asked instead.

"I will send word to you right away. Do not worry. Even if we do not find her, she will come here. "

"Why? How does she know to come here?"

The sheik paused, and if they were going to Eyal, she hated the delay and wished she had stayed silent. "Because it was here that your husband divorced her. He told me he no longer wished to have other women around him, to give him instead very old women or men to tend to things. Laylah was … not calm."

So that was it. Cast out, she went back after the missing child, trusting that finding him might buy her way back – and making her, Annie, an insurmountable obstacle that must be destroyed on sight. "And Hejra?"

"We don't know where Hejra is, so she has not yet been informed of Faisal's decisions. But we will find her, too." He nodded. "We will find her," he repeated.

There was a closed arched doorway. Again he looked at her with some gladness and seeming excitement. He opened the door and gestured her within. It was another garden courtyard. And there, sitting staring at a bubbling tiled fountain, was Eyal. Faisal, she corrected, before she could cry out the other name. But she needn't have worried; she found herself utterly unable to say anything and rushed forward to him. He rose from the bench – maybe a bit slowly for him? But to her eyes he looked strong and fierce and every bit her handsome, dark-eyed beloved, and if wounded, he was still fully capable of meeting her onslaught as she flung herself against him and she felt his arms close against her back, pressing her to his chest; she could feel bandages beneath the fabric against her cheek. She heard him speak a few words of thanks to his host, who replied in kind. He seemed to take his time retreating; then Annie heard the faint sound of the door to the courtyard closing and though they were probably still under some sort of surveillance, she felt the slight lessening of tension in Eyal's torso and she felt his arms relax and his hands slide to her shoulders, holding her away to look at her.

And to make quick work of pulling away her head covering and pressing his lips to hers, kissing her ferociously. She could feel the tension and trembling in him. Annie realized he had not been told to expect her. This was the full force of his shock and desire flowing over her as he gathered her close; she remembered the moment when he had clutched her hand when he had rescued her from the police station, that same sense of possession and passion, almost to the point of pain; pressing her against where he was obviously hurt must be hurting, but he obviously did not care. She gripped him around the neck as hard as she could; his hands ran over her breasts; they had still not quite lost their fullness from the pregnancy and were more sensitive than ever to his caress. She realized that for the first time in the weeks since the birth, even thoughts of their child had been driven out of her by the power of the embrace, of being back in his arms and energy and presence and love. "Noor," she heard him murmur. Then his lips rested against her ear and even so close, she barely heard him breathe "Annie". She found his hand and squeezed. If she could reach his ear, she'd do the same with his name, but instead traced the letters with her finger against his robe. He understood – and lifted her fingers to his lips to kiss them. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her. It was not a look she knew from their time in the desert; this was the way he had looked at her at the most intense moments of their missions together, when they had nearly made love in Santa Margarita, when they had parted in Israel, when he had rescued her in Russia. He kissed her again. Now it was clear that whatever his new injuries, some things were working just fine. The enclosed garden was not private enough. He slid his arm over her shoulders and took her hand in his other hand, guiding her away. And through another arched doorway, into a room so vast and beautiful that she wanted to laugh – it could not be more "Arabian Nights" in theme, right to the transparent colored curtains only slightly concealing the bed big enough to accommodate a sultan and a vast selection of wives. No more of that, Annie thought, surprised at her own sense of triumph. But that brought Laylah to mind; the thought must have changed her energy because he paused, guessing at what must be troubling her.

"The baby? Were you …"

"Laylah has it. Your uncle is searching for her."

"Laylah?" he asked, frowning in shock. "How can she have it – him? Why would she go looking for him?"

" I don't know. Your uncle told me … you have divorced her? And Hejra?"

"I have no need for others, Annie. That was not my idea. And if you are not here with me, I'd prefer to be alone. Then, at least, I can imagine you near. As I often have during these weeks."

"You don't need to imagine any longer. I'm here. But you need to know - Laylah found me and tried to drown me in a well."

"What? The well near the jeep?"

"You looked too, then…"

"Of course. She really tried to kill you?"

"Yes. I managed to climb out. But it was luck I survived. She meant for me to die."

He muttered a prayer of thanks in Arabic; she realized they had been speaking English freely. As she had with his uncle; the language was no secret to him so apparently it was not forbidden as it had been in the desert. They sat at the edge of the bed.

"I am so sorry, for all that has happened, to us and to you and to the child."

"It's all right," she said, though it was far from "all right" yet. She reached up and stroked his cheek.

"I can't believe you are really here. I can't believe you've come back…" He drew her closer. "Of course, you would come back, to find our child, find the baby."

"And to find you," she said, as clearly as she could.

"That," he said, very quietly, "I truly cannot believe."

"Let me prove it to you, then," she said, as softly, drawing his lips to hers.