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Natalia gave a small gasp as he took hold of her arm and wrenched her round into the light so that he could look down into her unprotected face.
‘You dare to talk to me of the fathering of a child? Before this marriage of ours is consummated I shall require you to provide me with evidence that you are not carrying the child of another man.’
‘That would be impossible since the last man, the only man in fact for a very long time, that I have been intimate with is you.’
‘You expect me to believe that?’
‘Why not when it is the truth? You are very quick to demand that I give you an explanation for my behaviour but you are just as culpable.’ Natalia could see how little he liked her reminder. She was feeling so tired now and so emotionally vulnerable. A part of her was longing to be able to take hold of his hand and tell him how much she longed right now for the luxury of being able to be honest with him, and of being able to tell him that it was his own devastating effect on her that had led to her totally uncharacteristic need of him. Could she do that? Could she take that risk and beg him to give them both the chance of a fresh start, and one in which as his wife-to-be she was free to say openly how physically desirable she found him? They were to be man and wife, after all. Hope filled her. Surely it was worth her lowering her pride to ask him and to be honest with him…
‘I am a man; it is several weeks now since I last spent any time with my mistress…’
He had a mistress. Natalia felt as though she had been plunged into a vat of icy cold water and held there until every bit of her burned with the pain of what she was being forced to endure. He had a mistress. Of course, he would. Of course he did! Why, why had she not thought of that simple explanation for his fierce possession of her for herself, instead of being foolish enough to imagine that he had wanted her for herself?
As though someone else had taken her over she heard her own voice saying with brittle emphasis, ‘Really? Well, I am sure she will be delighted to learn that you haven’t allowed yourself to suffer any sexual frustration whilst you’ve been apart from her.’
Kadir cursed himself under his breath. Why had he allowed her to infuriate him into saying anything about Zahra, especially when their relationship was already over? Kadir had his own self-imposed personal moral code and it did not include having sex with a mistress when he was a newly married man. Somewhere at the back of his mind there had been the intention of establishing at least a working sexual relationship with his bride, even whilst he had also realistically acknowledged that it was all too likely that there would not be any real passion or desire between them.
How fate must be laughing at him for the trick it had pulled on him. There was no way he could establish a comfortable sexual relationship with this woman, whilst when it came to passion and desire…He did not feel passion or desire for her. Logically speaking it was all too likely that he had been driven to possess her in the way that he had because he had been living a celibate life. That was all. Nothing more. Nothing personal…Nothing that meant that he had actually wanted her so much that that need had overridden everything else.
That intense, unbearable pain inside her couldn’t really be because Kadir had told her he had a mistress, could it? It mustn’t be. Not now that she knew what he really thought of her. She could not, would not, endure a marriage in which she wanted a man who felt only contempt for her. She could not take the risk that that might happen and there was only one way she could ensure that it did not. A quick slicing shaft of swift agony now to separate her from him for ever and it would be over, leaving her free to make her own life, if necessary away from Niroli. That would bring more pain—she loved her country so much—but she must not think of that now. Natalia took a deep breath.
‘Look, why don’t I save us both from a situation neither of us want?’ she told Kadir briskly. ‘I’ve changed my mind, Kadir, and I do not intend to marry you. I shall tell the countess in the morning and ask her to inform—’
‘No!’ The vehemence of his own denial shocked through him. ‘No,’ he repeated. ‘You will do no such thing. You will marry me and you will do as I say.’ Not because he wanted her. Never that. No, it was for Niroli and the future that she had to be his wife. King Giorgio had rejected many heirs already; Kadir wasn’t about to give him a reason to reject him.
‘This is Niroli, not Hadiya,’ Natalia told him angrily. ‘You may have been proclaimed as Niroli’s Crown Prince, but there is no rule of absolute royal law here. Niroli is a democracy; we have laws that protect the rights of the people. Enforced marriage does not happen here.’
‘You will marry me.’ Kadir continued as though she hadn’t spoken, ‘because if you don’t, I shall tell the world that I am the one who is refusing to marry you because of your behaviour.’
She was trapped, Natalia acknowledged bitterly. She might not care what he told the world for her own sake, but she did care for her grandfather’s. He would be shocked and hurt and, not just that, he would feel publicly humiliated, as well.
‘You will marry me and from now until the day you conceive my child I do not intend to let you out of my sight. I will make sure you are watched day and night to make sure that you are never given the opportunity to foist someone else’s bastard on me. Since it is necessary for me to have heirs, you had best hope that you conceive as quickly as possible—once our month of abstinence is up, that is. I need to make sure you aren’t carrying someone’s bastard.’ He released her so abruptly that she almost staggered into the corridor wall, her arm throbbing where the blood was returning to it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
NATALIA looked unhappily round her bedroom. Later on today Kadir would make his formal oath of allegiance to Niroli and King Giorgio and in return the king would proclaim him Crown Prince. Tomorrow morning she would be married to Kadir in Niroli’s cathedral, and then the next day they would board the private jet taking them on their honeymoon journey to Hadiya.
Tonight, as on every night since their engagement had been announced nine days ago, two guards would be on duty outside both exits from her apartment. It was a formality Kadir had somehow or other managed to persuade the countess was necessary. During the daytime there was never a minute when she was left alone. Either the countess, or one of her maids or, even worse, Kadir himself was at her side. The countess had told her that Kadir was concerned that her new duties might prove too onerous for her and so had asked the countess to be on hand at all times to help her. The maids seemed to think that without them in attendance she would not be able to manage the lavish couture outfits Kadir had insisted he wanted to see her wearing in preference to her casual clothes, clothes which in their way were as constricting and imprisoning as any lock and key. And then there were those worst of all times when Kadir would put his arm through hers, the gesture of a devoted tender fiancé asking her to walk in the palace gardens with him so that she could acquaint him with the history of the Nirolian people.
Part of her, the weak part that she privately despised, longed for her to get pregnant as soon as possible so that she could escape this cons
tant stifling monitoring but another part of her, the real, stronger part of her, hated the thought of her bringing a vulnerable child into the world under such circumstances, and longed to find a way to escape from her marriage.
On their return from their honeymoon they would be sharing the royal apartments traditionally made available to the Crown Prince, and in a few minutes’ time she was due to make a tour of them with Kadir and the Comptroller of the Royal Household. Was this what she had given up her freedom for? This marriage based on suspicion and mistrust to a man she now felt she despised as much as if not more than he so obviously despised her, and certainly far more than she had ever wanted him? How foolish the high-minded ideals that had motivated her to agree to marry Kadir seemed now. How empty the promises she had made to herself of what she would do for her husband and their people.
‘So when was the last time these rooms were decorated?’
It surprised Natalia that Kadir should ask such a question. It seemed out of character for him to concern himself with something so trivial.
‘They were last decorated for occupation by the king’s late son and his family.’
Did that explain the air of sadness that seemed to haunt the now-empty rooms? Natalia wondered. The king’s first-born heir, Queen Sophia’s son, had after all died in tragic circumstances and prior to that there had been the trauma of the kidnap of one of his twin sons.
The remaining twin, Prince Marco, might be happy now married to his English wife, Emily, but he had freely admitted that his childhood had been shadowed and difficult and that he had as an adult felt alienated from his birthright. So much so in fact that he had rejected the throne. She had no wish for her children to suffer the same fate. The burden of royal birth could be a heavy one if it was not lightened by love and the closeness of a shared family life and sense of purpose. She wanted her children to grow up in the sunshine of Niroli’s future with their hearts attuned to that future and the way in which they would share it with the people of their country.
The room they were in had windows that opened out onto a private inner courtyard garden on one side, and the sea on the other. Impetuously Natalia turned to the comptroller, addressing him directly for the first time.
‘Are there no rooms we could have that have windows overlooking the city?’
