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Niesha had certainly witnessed how ruthlessly calculating her new husband could be when he desired a specific outcome. Her current position was the living embodiment of that ruthlessness.
She strove to speak despite the unease flaring through her body. ‘I know that...but we both know this isn’t a real marriage.’
Sensual lips that had kissed hers only a short while ago twisted in faint derision. ‘I’ve just taken your virginity, Niesha. We have agreed to have children. It doesn’t get more real than that,’ he pointed out, his voice deeply husky and painfully direct.
Her chin dropped, every skin cell flaming. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘Do I?’
Her head reared up. ‘Yes!’ She lifted her hand to her slightly throbbing head and pushed back the heavy curtain of hair. ‘Look, we both know I wasn’t your first choice. I wasn’t even in the running.’ If Amira hadn’t been seduced by another man she would be here right now. The thought lodged a hard knot in her stomach, but she pushed it away. ‘So it’s completely understandable if you want to maintain your private quarters.’
He took a step closer, braced one knee on the bed. It took everything in her power not to drop her gaze to the impressive manhood between his legs. A part of her felt bitter jealousy for his ability to be so confident in his own skin, especially when she couldn’t even control her own stupid blushes.
Her breath stilled as firm hands captured her chin.
‘I ask again, is that what you want?’ Piercing eyes probed hers.
He seemed to be fishing for something specific. Something she had no clue about. She blinked, glanced at the tousled bed. Unbidden, the image of going to sleep in the same bed as Zufar, surrounded by his unique scent, his magnificent body, the sizzling mastery of his possession, and waking up with him, loomed in her mind.
Did she want that?
Not if each one ended with him staring at her with such remote, almost indifferent eyes. But then how else would she live up to her end of the bargain? Surely it was better to remain here, ensure the deed was done in the shortest possible time?
‘As you said, the quicker we ensure that I’m...pregnant, the better for everyone, I think—’ The words stuck in her throat, most likely because they were far too clinical, stripped of any emotion, and it wasn’t a true reflection of what was happening inside her.
But he was nodding, as if in complete agreement with her.
It drove home the fact that she couldn’t afford to let her emotions run free. Or give into foolish dreams of this union being anything but the stark bargain she’d struck. She was only here because another man had stolen the woman he’d chosen.
As for hoping her child was conceived in contentment and warmth, it was really past time she put those fairy-tale notions behind her. Not when she was the epitome of what came after conception.
Abandonment. Loneliness. Deprivation.
All things she needed to ensure never happened to her child, no matter how it was conceived.
He dropped her chin and slid into bed. ‘I’m glad to hear it. And for the record, this is what I prefer, too. Tomorrow the palace designer will contact your assistant with a view to setting up a meeting.’
‘What for?’ she asked.
‘To discuss what you intend to do with the suite next door. You can turn it into a giant dressing room. Or perhaps a nursery. Entirely up to you.’
Niesha was grappling with that when he pulled the sheets from her with a firm tug and began to rearrange the covers over them.
‘You’ve had a challenging day. Tomorrow will not be any less so. I suggest you get some sleep now.’
On that none-too-reassuring pronouncement, he turned away and doused the bedside lamps.
* * *
Niesha awoke to the breath-stealing sensation of a stubbled jaw grazing her cheek. Still lost in a jagged dream of smoke and fire and screams, it was a relief to awaken.
It wasn’t the first time she’d had those dreams. Along with the soft voice that echoed reassurance in her mind in times of distress, the disturbing dreams had also been part of her life for as long as she could remember.
It wasn’t a stretch to conclude it was her psyche grappling with whatever dark shadows lurked in her past. That the thoughts and fears she pushed to the back of her mind during her waking hours transmitted to nightmares in her sleep.
Despite knowing this, she still woke most mornings with a panicked, racing heart and a sinking sensation that her past would always remain a pitch-black, desolate landscape to her.
Not this morning, though. Before her anxiety could take hold, firm masculine lips moved along her jawline to the corner of hers.
