LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER FOUR

      “THAT’S QUITE A SACRIFICE.” Angelique’s eyelids shimmered with golden tones, shielding her thoughts.

      “It’s duty. My father is not what anyone would call progressive. I have visions of a modern Zhamair. It would be good for our people, but I will never be given the chance to steer it that way if I don’t play by his rules. My uncle would be more than happy to accept the crown if my father decided I was too liberal. My uncle is even more of a throwback than my father. So I have agreed to my father’s condition. But I’m not in a hurry to give up my freedom.”

      He let himself admire her smooth skin with its warm glow, her mouth gently pouted in thought. Their kiss was still branding a permanent pattern into his memories—exactly the sort of freedom he was loathe to relinquish by tying himself down.

      “You intend to be faithful to your wife, then, once you’re married?”

      “Certainly until heirs have been established. After that…” He scratched beneath his chin. “My father has two wives. I have not observed having more than one woman coming to your bed to be as idyllic as it sounds.”

      Her lashes came up, gaze curious as all Westerners were when he mentioned it. “Jealousy?” she guessed.

      “How did you know?” Kasim said drily.

      He privately thought the polygamy was the reason his father was so ferociously implacable, refusing to evolve with the times or even hold a rational conversation. He consistently asserted his will and slammed doors on further discussion. If he didn’t control every aspect of his life with an iron fist, his wives might tear him in two.

      That emotional turmoil bleeding all over his childhood was the reason Kasim had grown such a thick shield of detachment. How else could he have withstood the helpless agony of witnessing his brother’s struggle? How else could he have been ruthless enough to end it? Taken altogether, it was the reason he was just as happy to marry a stranger. Love provoked madness and pain of every variety.

      “Was your father’s marriage to the queen an arranged one?”

      “It was.” He knew where she was going with that. “And it was a contented one until he brought Fatina into it. Which is why I don’t intend to do anything similar.”

      “Because you want to rule,” she murmured, gaze narrowed as she weighed that.

      “That concern you feel for your sister’s well-being? That’s how I feel for my entire nation,” he explained quietly.

      He had never put it in so many words. As her lashes widened at the magnitude of what he was saying, he experienced a lurch in his heart. He had always thought of it as a goal, not a sacrifice. Suddenly he saw it differently.

      “None of us are in a hurry to marry,” Angelique mused, dropping her gaze again. “We’re a tight bunch, my siblings and I. Letting someone into my life means opening all our lives. That demands a lot of trust and we’ve all been stung at least once, so we’re all wary. It’s why I don’t even bother with affairs anymore, contrary to reports online.” She flashed him an admonishing look. “Don’t you dare say that if I don’t have affairs, it should be a treat to spend a night with you.”

      “Oh, I’m starting to see the honor will be all mine.” He meant it. Everything she had shared pointed to a woman who lived within her own restrictions. No wonder she had exploded in his arms. She was a powder keg of suppressed passion.

      She sputtered with laughter, shaking her head. “You are an incredibly arrogant man.”

      “There is an expression, isn’t there? About a kettle and a pot?”

      “I’m not arrogant.” She dismissed that with a shake of her loose hair and a haughty elevation of her chin.

      “You are,” he assured her. It was as captivating as the rest of her.

      “No.” She looked him right in the eye. “My sister is the brash one. Deep down.” Her irises reflected the candlelight between them, mesmerizing as the glow of a fire in the blackest night in the desert. Tears gathered to brim her lashes. “I pretend to be.”

      She blinked to clear the wetness and her eyes widened with forced lightness.

      “I am her and she is me. At least, that’s how it feels sometimes. Can we talk about something else?”

      “I wasn’t talking about her. I was talking you into my bed,” he pointed out, made cautious by that moment of acute vulnerability. Was it concern for her sister? Or an indication of a deeper sensitivity in her personality?

      He recoiled inwardly from that. He had enough emotional drama in his life. He needed her to come to this with as light a heart as he had.

      “I want you,” he stressed. “What will that take, Angelique? Reassurances about your security? I see you’ve changed your necklace. Is that one rigged?” He winced as he recalled her talk of suitors having to tolerate being constantly under observation. “We’re not being recorded, are we?”

      “No. This one requires two hands to twist and set it off.” She ran the teardrop pearl back and forth on its chain. “So I rarely wear it. In terms of physical safety, I have no concerns about being alone with you. I’m not even worried you would write a tell-all afterward.”

      “The sting you mentioned? A man did that to you?”

      “One did. You can find him living under a false name in whichever Eastern European slum men use to hide when they’ve been financially ruined by defamation litigation and threatened with castration.”

      “Your brothers went after him?”

      “I went after him,” she said crossly. “Give me credit.”

      “Is that a warning? I would never do such a thing,” he promised her. “I may be nonchalant about spending the night with a woman, but I don’t degrade myself or my partner. You can be assured of my discretion.”

      Her shoulder hitched in acceptance, but she wore her Mona Lisa expression.

      “You’re resisting temptation. Why?”

      He reached across to take her hand in his, cradling her knuckles in his palm. He used his thumb to catch at hers, pressing her hand open so he held the heel of her palm gently arched open to his touch. He smoothed his thumb to the inside of her wrist, pleased to find her pulse unsteady and fast.

      “Is it because it’s only one night?”

      “No,” she said softly. “That’s actually a plus. Like I said, I don’t fit others into my life very well.”

      “If you weren’t reacting to me, I would finish our meal and send you home, but I can see your struggle against your own feelings. What’s holding you back then? You clearly want to.”

      He caressed that sensitive area at the base of her hand, where a former lover had once told him life and fate lines had their root. That’s why it’s such a sensitive place on a woman’s body, she’d said.

      Angelique caught her breath.

      He didn’t believe in the supernatural, but he did believe in nature’s ability to create sexual compatibility. That sort of gift should be relished when it was offered.

      “My room is just down the hall. Anyone who sees us leave the restaurant will think we’re going to the elevators.”

      He

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