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Hell, it was because she was innocent, and in this part of the world a woman was expected to save herself for the man she married.
The woman he’d thought of as his had been doing exactly that, saving herself, just waiting for the day she would take a husband—and she’d been on her way to do that when she was kidnapped.
Reality came hard and fast.
This wasn’t a bed; it was a pile of leaves. This wasn’t an idyll on a mountaintop, it was a moment torn out of time.
And the woman lying beneath him wasn’t his. She never had been; she never would be.
Amazing, how quickly desire could die.
Dec rolled away, got to his feet, grabbed for his pants and yanked them on.
“Declan?”
He didn’t look at her. Instead, he scooped up her clothes and tossed them to her.
“Get dressed.”
“Are you upset because I’ve never—because I’ve never been with a man? I know I should have told you—”
“It’s late. I need to check on the horse.”
“Declan. Wait…”
Dec strode into the night, but he didn’t go very far. He sank back against the cliff and rubbed his hands over his face.
Jesus, he had to be crazy. He needed to get her out of his head and instead, he’d almost planted her there permanently. He’d never taken a woman’s virginity, but he knew damn well it was the kind of thing that a man would not forget. It would have stayed with him, probably forever.
That was the last thing he needed.
The Princess of Qaram, inside his skull for the rest of his life.
Women were for fun. For sex, for laughter, for good times. And if some guys found more than that, well, good for them, but he’d never figured on being one of them.
Forever wasn’t on his agenda.
And then Annie had come into his life and everything had changed.
She’d filled empty spaces in his head, his heart, fuck, in his soul, empty spaces that he’d never even known existed. Then she’d left, and all his empty places had been empty again.
He’d told her she hadn’t hurt him.
What a lie.
She’d hurt him beyond anything he could have imagined, but he’d been getting over it. Of course he’d been getting over it.
Which was why he didn’t want her in his life again.
What he wanted was her out and gone. Then maybe he could get back to being himself, Declan Sanchez, a guy who lived for risk and excitement and—
And what?
Hell.
And for getting this mission accomplished.
He’d lost sight of that. The questions he hadn’t asked had to be asked. Why didn’t she want to go back to Qaram? Whose prize was the Princess Anoushka supposed to be?
