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‘Your wedding will be arranged soon and your coronation immediately after that.’
‘My destiny.’
It was stronger this time, infused with the defiance he had expected. But there was something else, something that stiffened her slender neck, brought that pretty chin up just a touch too high. There was a new sheen behind those thick, lustrous eyelashes, something that betrayed an emotion she was determined to hold back and not quite succeeding.
‘I will be Queen of Rhastaan.’
‘You will.’
It was strangely difficult to nod in response. His own neck seemed to have seized up, his head refusing to move. He had been forced up against the thing he didn’t want to think of. The image of Clemmie—Clementina—as Nabil’s wife. In Nabil’s bed. That long sexy body entwined with the younger man’s plumper frame, her mouth kissing him, her legs opening...
Hell and damnation—no! With a ruthless effort he forced his hands to uncurl from the fists into which they had clenched, knowing without looking that the crescent shapes of his nails would be etched into his palms from the pressure he’d exerted on them.
The memories of the Clemmie he had known were the ones he had to push aside—for good. If anything brought home to him why that was vital then this woman, the tall, regal creature whose ornate make-up had nothing like the impact of her fresh-faced beauty, was a statement without words of all that came between them.
Clemmie was the woman he wanted most in all the world. But she was not just any woman. And he was not just any man. What he wanted had no place at all in what must happen, no matter how it clawed at his soul to acknowledge it. The Clemmie of the cottage no longer existed. There was only the future queen of Rhastaan. This was the Princess Clementina he must turn his back on or bring his country and his family’s reputation down lower than Razi had already taken it.
‘And my part in all this is done. I heard this morning that Ankhara’s man has been found and captured. He will not be able to interfere in anything ever again. And you will be in no further danger from him.’
‘So you are free to go. To get back to your own life. I should thank you for bringing me here safely...’
Could her voice have any less life in it? Clemmie wondered. She couldn’t find the strength to say anything more, or ease up on the rigid control she was imposing on herself. If she did then she feared she would break down, reveal the turmoil that was churning viciously inside her, maybe even risk saying the one thing she knew she should never say.
‘Don’t go...’
The words reverberated inside her skull, making her head go back in horror as she heard her own voice and realised that she had done exactly what she had told herself she must not do. She should have clamped her lips tight over the words but they had escaped and now that they were said she couldn’t call them back.
‘Don’t...’
Could his eyes get any blacker, his face stiffen more into marble stillness? He was looking at her in such shock that she wished the ground would open at her feet and swallow her whole.
‘Do not say such a thing.’
His hand had come up, flattening against his chest, just below the base of his strong throat. Underneath his fingers, hidden now by the fine white material of his robe, were the scars she had felt on his body, the marks that had marred the beautiful tanned skin. Skin she had once been able to touch, to kiss. But only once.
‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’
‘Oh, but I do.’
In for a penny, in for a pound. She’d told herself she must never say anything—but, now that she had, there was little point in holding back any more. They had no future. No hope of any time together. But they did at least have this. And she was going to snatch at her one chance of letting him know how she felt.
‘I’ve missed you. So much.’
‘I’ve been busy.’
What had she expected him to say? That he had missed her too? Stupid, stupid, stupid! A naïve fantasy—a child’s dream.
‘Busy with more of those duties that are so important to you?’
The dark frown that snapped his black brows together almost unnerved her. But she didn’t care. She refused to let that icy stare freeze her into silence. If this was the last time she could spend with him—the last time she would see him—then she wasn’t going to waste it in pretending to feel anything other than what was really in her heart.
‘I hope they were fascinating—and fulfilling. Unlike our night together.’
That made the heavy eyelids drop down over the glittering eyes, narrowing them to just slits, the burn of his scrutiny gleaming behind the thick black lashes.
‘We did not have a night together.’
His voice was thick with a rejection that burned like acid deep inside. But her memories—memories she had relived over and over since she had arrived in Rhastaan—gave her the strength to go on.
‘We could have had.’
Violently he shook his head, swinging away from her, turning towards the door.
‘You were unhappy—afraid. You had nightmares... and I comforted you.’
‘And that was all you did?’ Clemmie challenged.
‘All...’ It sounded as if it came from a strangled throat, rough and raw, and that determined her that she was not going to let him get away with it.
‘Liar,’ she said softly, then, encouraged by the way he had frozen, absolutely still, she made herself go on. ‘You are a liar,’ she said more forcefully, ‘and a coward not to admit it. I’m not afraid to say I wanted more.’
Had she overstepped the mark, pushed him to a point where he wouldn’t take any more? She saw his long body stiffen, recognised with a clench of the nerves in her stomach, a twist to her heart, the small movement towards the door, away from her. A movement that he stilled then reversed only a moment later.
‘I wanted more...’ he conceded and it was only as she tasted the faint tang of blood on her tongue that Clemmie realised just how hard her teeth had been digging into her lower lip, breaking the skin under their sharpness.
‘I wanted you,’ she croaked. ‘And you...’
The words died in her throat as he swung back to face her, the livid burn of his eyes stark and harsh against the tautness of his skin, the white marks that were drawn tight at his nose and mouth.
You wanted me...
She tried to say it. She opened her mouth, once, twice. Her lips moved but no sound came out. No words were needed. But then she looked into his eyes and what she saw there meant that the words didn’t need to be said.
Not those at least. But there was something she had to say before she could let him go. He had to hear it and then she would see if he could still walk out of the door.
CHAPTER NINE
‘YOU WANTED ME but it was more than that.’
‘How could it be more? We were just a man and a woman...’
‘We weren’t just anything. Don’t you believe that there must be one person who is truly special—one person who’s meant for us, for however short a time? Someone we meet who changes our life, puts our existence on a new path once and for ever.’
She thought he wasn’t going to respond. That his mouth and his whole being had frozen so that he had lost all ability, all need to say a word. Then suddenly he blinked hard, just once, shutting his thoughts off from her.
‘No,’ he said, cold and stark, totally ruthless. ‘No, I don’t believe such fanciful nonsense.’
‘But your brother—he was going to be married. He must have loved... No?’ She broke off as the violent shake of his head, the tight line of his mouth rejected everything she said.
‘What has love got to do with it?’ he said.
‘It’s usual...’ Clemmie began then caught the way he was looking at her and backed down hastily. Karim nodded grimly.
‘My brother’s marriage was carefully arranged, planned for the best, for the future, to bring together our country and hers for their mutual benefit—like yours.’
It was stabbing, pointed, deliberately so.
‘He knew it and so did she. They both knew their duty.’
There was something behind those words, something she couldn’t interpret. There had been an unusual emphasis on that, ‘They both knew their duty’, even with Karim’s personal emphasis on duty and honour, that scraped over nerves that seemed too close to the surface. The memory of the look he had turned on her when she had questioned his miscounting on the game of Snakes and Ladders came back to haunt her so that she shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and then back again.
‘And his fiancée—what happened to her when your brother died? What would have been her duty then?’
‘And mine.’ It was flat, toneless, as opaque as his eyes.
‘And yours?’
She had a nasty creeping sensation that she knew what he meant but she didn’t want to accept it. But his reply took away that faint hope.
