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His golden gaze raked her bare shoulders and simple black dress. “You broke your word.”
So that was it. This was just about revenge. About inflicting pain. Fear balled in her stomach and she realized yet again how dangerous this was for Ben.
The appetizer arrived, a savory baked crab dish with buttery crumbs and cheese. Bryn normally loved crab but at the moment her stomach was so queasy she could barely tolerate the smell, much less eat. Kahlil, she noticed, took none, either. “I thought you were famished.”
“I am. I’m waiting for you to serve me.”
As if she was one of the women from his harem! Incredible. “You are not helpless, Sheikh al-Assad!”
“But why should I serve myself when you are here to serve me?”
She glared at Kahlil, resenting his beauty, the black hair, the strong brow, the elegant sweep of cheekbone. She’d fought so hard to free herself, ripped her heart in two to escape him. It had taken her years to move forward and now that she finally was ready to marry again, he’d returned.
Treacherous man. Man that could disarm her with just a glance from his beautiful eyes. She’d loved him too much, needed more from him than he could give.
Blindly she stumbled to her feet, her long black dress tangling between her legs. His hand snaked around her wrist and drew her roughly down again. “You are not excused.” His dark eyes flashed at her, deep grooves etched on either side of his imperious mouth. “You did not ask my permission to leave the table.”
“I’ve never asked your permission for anything and I’m not about to start now!” Good God, who did he think he was? Bryn threw her head back, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I can’t believe I once imagined myself in love with you. What a fool I was!”
“You didn’t imagine it. You did love me.”
“Did,” she repeated bitterly, “as in past tense. I only feel hatred for you now.”
“Love, hate, who cares? I’m more interested in ensuring you honor your vows.” His anger emanated from him in great silent waves. “I realize you were very young when we married but I’ve given you time to grow up. Three and a half years. Now I’ve come to bring you home.”
“Zwar is not my home!”
He snapped his fingers. “Semantics,” he said brusquely. “I’m tired of debating. The fact is your place is in Tiva, at the palace, bearing my children.”
“That is one scenario which will never happen.”
“You think you’d be happier married to your pathetic little insurance agent? I’ve had my intelligence look into him and he’s a man without fire, a man without drive—”
“And I love him.”
“I don’t care. You can’t have him.”
Anger swept through her, anger so strong that she lifted her hand and took a swing at his face. He caught her by the wrist just before she struck his cheek. “Have you lost your mind?”
Her wrist tingled from the tightness of his grip, his fingers wrapped viselike around her fragile bones. “Leave Stan alone. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“But you do. You’ve insulted me, and my family. You had a responsibility—you were Princess al-Assad—and you abandoned my people.”
Her wrist began to throb. Tiny pinpricks flashed against her closed eyelids. “Please, release me.”
“I expect an apology.”
“You’re hurting me.”
His nostrils flared, his dark eyes flashing, but he opened his fingers, freeing her wrist. She drew her arm back to her lap and stared at her wrist, seeing the livid marks of his fingers against the paleness of her skin.
Kahlil dragged the heavy velvet drapes closed. The violet-purple fabric fell in deep inky folds, hiding them from the rest of the restaurant.
He was pulling her back into his world, forcing her to submit. She couldn’t let him. She wasn’t just his wife. She was a mother, Ben’s mother.
The tears that she’d fought so hard to contain trembled on her lashes, slipping free. She pressed her lips together, fighting to keep control.
“Do not cry,” he said roughly. “I won’t have my wife weeping in public.”
“You’ve drawn the drapes. No one can see.”
“I can see.”
Everything about him was so hard. Every word sounded harsh. She clamped her jaw shut, refusing to engage in a battle of wills with Kahlil. He was a far better debater than she. He was far better at everything than she, but that didn’t make his needs more important, his feelings more correct.
Kahlil must have accepted her silence for submission as his hard expression gentled a fraction. “If you don’t want a fight, don’t provoke me. I didn’t travel all this way to be scorned by a woman.”
Had he always been so arrogant? So damned condescending? Maybe once she’d found his machismo attractive but now it filled her with terror. Terror not just for herself, but Ben, and Ben’s future.
If Kahlil knew he had a son, he’d insist that Ben be raised in Zwar, his small oil-rich kingdom in the Middle East. Zwar was beautiful but far removed from the freedom she and Ben knew in Texas.
Abruptly Kahlil leaned forward, grasped her chin, drawing her toward him. She nearly flinched, inwardly shrinking from his touch, but steeled herself outwardly, not wanting him to know how strongly he affected her.
Yet when he stroked her lips with the pad of his thumb, her whole body shuddered, a response she couldn’t possibly hide from Kahlil.
“You’ve become quite skittish,” he drawled, clearly intrigued. “Doesn’t Stan ever touch you?”
“My relationship with Stan is none of your business.”
“A bold answer for a woman in a precarious position.”
Her lips twisted, her smile forced. She ignored the truth in this, realizing she was indeed caught, but pride overwhelmed her common sense. She couldn’t back down. “I have changed, Kahlil. I’m not the girl you married.”
“Good. Then we both have adjustments to make. I’m not the man you married, either.” He smiled without humor, his gaze never wavering from her face. “And you have changed. You’ve grown more beautiful.”
“Don’t flatter me.”
“I’m not flattering you. I’ve met a lot of women in my life, but I’ve never met another woman like you. No one with your sweetness, softness—”
“Stop.”
“Your pale, flawless skin. Your eyes, the dark blue of precious sapphires. Your mouth softer than a rose.”
Her spine tingled, her skin prickling. Don’t listen to this. Don’t let him get under your skin. You’ve survived him once. You can do it again. “You only want me because you can’t have me.”
His fingers opened, freeing her, and his smile remained the same. But his eyes looked harder, the glints brighter. “I can have you. I just haven’t been aggressive.”
No, he’d never been aggressive with her before tonight, but she suddenly knew he could be extremely ruthless, correctly reading the menace in his hard features, and danger in the crooked curve of his mouth.
His smile faded. “Does Stan know you’re a flighty little wife?”
Oh, low blow. “He knows I left you.”
“Did you tell him you left without leaving a note? Or giving me a kiss goodbye? He knows you just took your purse, your passport and walked?”
“He knows I took my purse and ran.” Her gaze locked with his. If he wanted to make it tough, she could play tough. That’s all she’d been doing since leaving Zwar anyway. Cutting coupons to buy breakfast cereal. Shopping for clothes from a secondhand store. Working double shifts at the insurance agency. She’d shouldered parenthood on her own, and succeeded.
“Did Stan ever ask why you left me?”
“He knew I was unhappy, and that was enough for him.”
Kahlil lifted his wine goblet, swirled the glass, ruby-red wine shimmering in the candlelight. “What an understanding man. Will he be so understanding when you toss him away, tired of that marriage, too?”
His sarcasm was as sharp as razor bla
des and cut deep. If she thought she could get away with it, she’d run. But she wouldn’t get away from Kahlil, not like that, not this time. “I never tossed you away.”
“No? It felt that way. It looked that way, too. The palace was wild with gossip. The scandal affected the entire kingdom. I didn’t just lose face. My people lost face.”
“What scandal?”
“Rumor has it you were…unfaithful.”
CHAPTER TWO
“NEVER.” Color suffused her cheeks, embarrassment and surprise. How could he think such a thing? How could he think the worst?
The realization that he did, hurt far more than she’d expected.
