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Yet no amount of mental preparation could make him immune to the feelings which bombarded him as he stared down at a pair of jet-dark eyes so like his own. He walked over to the window, so that he could study it properly in the autumnal light. Judging from the bland background it was a formal shot, though the little boy’s silky black hair flopped untidily over his forehead, as if no amount of careful brushing could tame it. Kadir narrowed his eyes as he noticed a tiny chip on one of the child’s front teeth and a rush of indignation heated his blood. Had he fallen and hurt himself? he wondered. And why had nobody been there to protect him?
He turned away from the window to find Caitlin’s eyes on him, the uncertainty of that blue gaze clearly seeking some kind of reassurance. And didn’t it fill him with a vengeful amount of pleasure to discover that he wasn’t going to provide her with any?
His lips flattened.
None at all.
‘I want to see him in the flesh,’ he clipped out. ‘And as soon as possible.’
Caitlin nodded, her heart sinking as she heard his words, even though she’d been expecting him to say that. Of course she had. What else could he possibly say in the circumstances? Her heart twisted with a complex mixture of emotions, though she was ashamed of the one which was dominant. Which bubbled to the surface in a dark and angry tide and had nothing to do with her little boy but everything to do with her.
Jealousy.
Hot and black and potent.
‘And what about your wife?’ The words rushed from her lips and she could feel her cheeks flush. ‘Will she want to see him, too?’
There was the briefest of pauses as his face darkened but his voice was devoid of emotion as he delivered his response.
‘My wife is dead.’
And wasn’t Caitlin appalled by the primitive rush of relief which flooded her body on receipt of these words? ‘I’m sorry,’ she said automatically.
‘No, you’re not.’
‘I am sorry for every person’s loss,’ she defended truthfully. ‘But mostly I’m sorry I ever slept with you, without knowing you were a married man!’
‘That’s history, Caitlin,’ he ground out. ‘I’m not concerned about the past. The present is what occupies me. I am not leaving here—and neither are you, by the way—until you have agreed a date for me to meet my boy.’
‘Cameron,’ she corrected automatically.
‘Cameron,’ Kadir repeated and Caitlin thought how his rich voice made the traditional Scottish name sound somehow exotic and distinguished.
And wasn’t that one simple fact enough to make fear whisper through her body, as she acknowledged his power and might? Because not only did he look different from the man into whose arms she had fallen so willingly, he sounded different, too. Along with the flowing robes and headdress, he seemed to have acquired a steely patina, which made him seem distant and aloof. Influence radiated from every pore of his muscular body and instinct told her that he would take total control of the situation if she let him. So don’t. State your terms, she told herself fiercely. Show him you won’t be pushed around by anyone. She wasn’t one of his subjects. She was a free and independent woman and, moreover, they were in her country.
‘Of course you must meet, but I would like it to be on neutral territory,’ she said, as it occurred to her that maybe she was ashamed of her little croft cottage. Scared how tiny it would look in contrast to his soaring palaces. Or was it because she couldn’t bear the thought of Kadir’s powerful presence stamping itself on her humble surroundings like a dark smash of stone? So that when he left—as leave he inevitably would—the place would somehow seem empty and diminished without him? ‘How about here in Edinburgh? That would be as good a place as any.’
‘I’m sure it would, but I’m afraid that doesn’t fit in with my schedule. I have to be in London this week,’ he said coldly. ‘You can meet me there.’
‘London?’ repeated Caitlin.
‘There’s no need to make it sound like Mars,’ he purred. ‘It’s no great distance. Just over an hour by plane, in fact. My business interests are centred there and my time in your country is short.’
‘It is?’ she verified, unable to keep the hope from her voice.
‘Indeed it is.’ He inclined his head, almost courteously, as if he hadn’t noticed her telltale slip of the tongue, but the flashing of his black eyes indicated that maybe he had. ‘Bring Cameron to London. Is he familiar with the city?’
‘No,’ said Caitlin, acknowledging the humble limitations of Cameron’s upbringing. He’d never even been out of Scotland before, let alone flown to London. But that had been deliberate. She’d wanted to shelter him from the world and from people. She’d wanted to protect him from the harsher side of life.
And hadn’t there been part of her which had thought that if she hid herself away successfully, then a scenario like this would never have arisen? ‘No, he’s never been there.’
‘Well, then, that’s decided. I’m sure it will be an exciting destination for one so young, and there will be much to entertain him.’ He flickered her a businesslike smile. ‘I will arrange for my plane to collect you.’
Caitlin blinked. His plane? He had his own plane? Well, of course he did—could she really imagine the king of one of the wealthiest countries in the world standing in line with ordinary people at the airport? She licked lips which suddenly felt dry. ‘It’s very kind of you to offer,’ she said stiffly. ‘But I’m perfectly capable of getting to London under my own steam.’
His black gaze slanted over her sweater and, briefly, travelled down her knee-length tweed skirt, his lips curving slightly as he registered her woolly grey tights. ‘But presumably not with any kind of style?’ he offered cruelly.
