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‘Nervous?’ he queried softly. ‘Or guilty?’
‘Neither,’ she assured him with the spirit he loved.
The sweep of her eyelashes created crescent shadows on her cheeks, making her even more beautiful, if such a thing were possible. She was young and vulnerable, and he should have known better, but when he was committed to a certain path he had never been known to change direction. He’d missed her more than he’d realised, and not just the sex, which, admittedly, had been astonishing. He’d missed Lucy—the essence of Lucy, and every little thing about her that made her unique. No other woman had ever come close, and nor would they. The royal marriage mart was a bank of tedium, full of women who held no appeal. At least, not for him. Who could after Lucy? But he’d always worked in the best interests of Qalala, and he always would, and a state marriage was just one more thing expected of him. Finding a suitable wife was—
‘Stop,’ Lucy gasped, pushing him away as he drove his mouth down on hers. ‘You’re kissing me as if this is your last day on earth. Why?’ she asked, her green eyes full of what he believed to be genuine concern.
‘You,’ he said honestly. ‘You drive me to the edge of reason.’
‘Funny,’ she said without a smile. ‘I’ve thought the same about you. Truce?’ she suggested.
Tempting, he thought. Nothing had changed since their first night together. He still wanted her, and Lucy’s response to him said she felt the same. The initial shock of learning he was about to become the father to her unborn child was fading. They were consenting adults with no restrictions, and a loving mistress would always be better than a compliant wife. He kissed her again, this time tenderly, and as he caressed her face he was convinced that a dynamic relationship such as this was infinitely preferable to a negotiated marriage. Savouring their reunion was becoming easier by the moment. They were good together, and good for each other.
‘Are you seducing me?’ Lucy asked when finally he let her go. ‘You’re doing a pretty good job,’ she told him before he had chance to answer.
Nothing fazed her. Lucy kept his feet on the ground, which was a big plus in her favour, especially when he recalled some of the over-indulged princesses who were paraded in front of him on a regular basis, so he could assess them as potential brides. ‘You don’t sound too unhappy about being seduced,’ he observed.
‘Maybe because I’m not.’ Her low, sexy laugh vibrated through him. ‘Just not here in the library while we’re waiting for tea.’ She gave a sharp cry of pleasure as he teased her by rasping his stubble just below her ear.
‘So, don’t scream too loud,’ he advised. ‘Would you like me to lock the door?’ When it came to choosing between a mistress like Lucy and an obedient wife, Lucy made it no contest. His hunt for a wife could wait.
I’ve missed you so much it hurts, Lucy thought as Tadj brought her into his arms. Heartache, she had discovered, was a real, physical pain. Would it ease, or would it have been better if they’d never met again? For Tadj, she was certain the answer to that was yes, but she must leave the country, and he was her best, perhaps her only chance, so, while this was everything she needed and wanted, guilt reminded her that it was also a form of deceit in its way. This magnificent mansion with its history and elegant architecture only emphasised the fact that it was just a fraction of Tadj’s global wealth. Whatever she did or said, when he found out she was using him to leave the country, he could only think she was after his money like all the rest.
‘We’ll be leaving for Qalala in the morning,’ he said, distracting her with kisses.
‘So soon.’ She knew she should be glad, but, though they’d shared the greatest intimacy of all, they didn’t know each other that well, and with every step it seemed she was leaving the familiar behind, and moving deeper into a world she didn’t know.
‘Don’t look so worried,’ he said, pulling back to stare into her face. ‘You’ll enjoy every privilege that comes with the position of official mistress.’
She gasped at the gulf between them, and Tadj’s lack of understanding for how that statement made her feel. He couldn’t have heard her, as he went on, ‘I accept the term mistress might sound quaint to you, but it’s all I’ve got.’
If that was meant to be funny, it missed its mark. ‘Your whore, don’t you mean?’
Tadj’s expression changed in an instant. ‘I’m sorry you see it like that,’ he said stiffly. He moved away from her, as if putting space between them would somehow help.
How else was she supposed to see it? Lucy wondered as a polite tap came on the door. ‘That must be tea,’ she said, realising how close she had come to spoiling her chance to escape the reach of her stepfather. She had a baby to think about now, as well as her mother. This wasn’t all about her and what her pride would allow.
Standing up, she crossed the room and opened the door to admit the smiling housekeeper. She even surprised herself with her acting skills as she made space on a low table for the tray. ‘Thank you. This is just what we need.’ Any distraction would do, even when it came in the form of scones and jam.
‘So, you agree to my proposal?’ Tadj demanded the moment the door had closed behind his housekeeper.
‘To become your mistress? I can’t say it’s my career goal. If I accompany you to Qalala, it will be because I want to.’ And because I need to, Lucy silently admitted, feeling conflicted and wretched as she added distractedly, ‘And because it will give us chance to decide on visitation rights.’
‘Visitation rights?’ Tadj exploded. ‘This is the child of the Emir of Qalala you’re talking about.’
She must calm things down. Everything depended on how she handled this. ‘I’ll come with you, not because of any so-called privileges, but because I choose to come for the good of the baby.’ She drew a deep breath, relaxing a little, because that much was true. ‘I’m quite capable of earning my own living.’
Tadj said nothing. He’d turned his attention to some documents on his desk. ‘No tea,’ he said curtly when she filled a cup and put it in front of him. ‘You might as well go to your room.’
She was being dismissed like a child? ‘Before I go, I need this address, as well as our address in Qalala. I need to let people know.’
‘Qalala?’ He glanced up briefly. ‘The palace, of course.’
‘Fair enough,’ Lucy replied, carefully staying calm. ‘But I can’t just say “country house in the middle of nowhere”, can I?’
He was silent for so long, she thought he intended to ignore her. This was proving harder than she’d imagined, but if he thought she was a commodity to be traded between countries and palaces at the Emir’s convenience, he was about to discover he was wrong.
‘Tadj, I—’ Her jaw dropped when he picked up the phone and started talking in Qalalan. She was tempted to ask the housekeeper to call a cab so she could leave, but how would that help her baby and her mother?
‘Address,’ he said curtly after he’d ended his call. ‘That is what you asked for, isn’t it?’ he demanded as he scribbled something down on a piece of paper. ‘You’ve got everything you need from me now, I presume?’
If he thought that, Tadj really was a changed man.
‘Call the friends and employers,’ he insisted as he held out the phone. ‘Tell your landlady you’re safe with me. What else does she need to know?’ he demanded when Lucy stood dumbstruck in front of him.
Perhaps it was hysteria, but she began to laugh. ‘You don’t know Miss Francine.’ Lucy’s landlady, the owner of the laundry where she worked, was noted for defending the women beneath her roof like a tigress with its cubs
.
‘Just tell her we’re at my place in the Cotswolds, and reassure her that you’re safe,’ Tadj rapped impatiently.’
Safe? Lucy doubted she knew the meaning of the word. How would Tadj feel when he found out about her stepfather? Would she be safe then, or would she be prevented from seeing her child and sent home when he realised she had criminal connections? However big the risk, she had to do this, she decided as she placed the first call.
‘Your decision about becoming my mistress?’ Tadj prompted when her conversation ended, and they were waiting in tense silence for the housekeeper to knock on the door.
‘Hasn’t changed,’ Lucy confirmed, still wondering if this aloof stranger was the same man she’d kissed, and with whom she’d shared such an explosion of joy when they’d made love. When they’d first met he’d seemed so humorous, and approachable, but now her hackles rose. ‘How would you feel if I asked you to be my official lover?’
‘Pretty good,’ he said without missing a beat.
Not so aloof now, she thought, still feeling needled and demeaned by Tadj’s suggestion. ‘It’s different,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You’re suggesting I become the Emir of Qalala’s concubine. Do you know how cheap that makes me feel?’
That’s your problem, his look suggested.
‘Let’s turn this on its head,’ she said. ‘I ask you to be my lover, making it clear that all I need from you is sex and laughs, with no expectations on either side. When I’m tired of you, I ditch you. I’d like to say I’d give you a pension when you leave, but I’m afraid that won’t be possible.’
‘Lucy!’ Tadj rapped impatiently, ‘That is not what I’m suggesting.’
‘Well, it sounds like it,’ she flared. ‘Can’t you see how ridiculous your suggestion is in this day and age? No,’ she warned when his eyes flashed with humour. ‘This isn’t a joke. Don’t mock me. I need you to take this seriously.’
