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“I do not see why you would ask.”
“I’m not asking you to understand, simply to answer.”
“No.”
She almost asked if his negative was a refusal to answer, but then she looked into his gray eyes and saw the smallest glimmer of pity. He knew she had feelings for him he did not return.
The pain his answer caused wasn’t mitigated by the fact she’d been expecting it. Though she really wished it had worked like that. Knowing he did not love her and hearing it from his lips were apparently in totally different realms of experience.
She managed to nod. “That is what I thought.”
“Love is not necessary in a marriage such as ours.”
“I don’t agree. I will not marry a man who has no hope of loving me.”
“I—”
“Have not found something worthy of love in my person in ten years—you are not likely to find it now.” In fact, she was so certain of that impossibility, she was ready to take desperate action.
“You are all that is admirable in a future princess and eventual queen.”
But not as a woman he could love. She left the words unsaid as he did. “You deserve the happiness your brothers have found.”
“It is not in my stars.” His tacit agreement sent another javelin of pain straight through her, but she refused to buckle under the fresh wound.
She had a plan and in the end, it would be best for both of them. “It can be.”
“I will not turn my back on my duty.” And his tone censured her for suggesting he try.
“I will.”
CHAPTER TWO
ZAHIR felt those two small words like they were blows from the strongest of sparring partners. Part of him had always expected some kind of betrayal from Elsa Bosch, though not to the extent she had gone to. He had never been able to give her what she craved: commitment for the future.
However, he had believed Angele a woman of supreme honor and understanding of her duty.
“You are not serious.” He looked closely, trying to see evidence of too much champagne, but her pupils were not dilated.
Her cheeks were flushed, but the topic of their conversation could easily account for that.
“I am.” She looked down at the Bedouin figure and reached out to touch it almost wistfully. “I will not allow you to be locked into a marriage with a woman you cannot love.”
“And you expect to be loved by your husband.” Where had she gotten her romantic notions of marriage? Certainly not from her parents.
“Yes.”
“You appear to forget the importance of duty and family obligation.”
A deep, burning anger flickered briefly in Angele’s dark eyes. “My mother’s adherence to duty is one of the primary reasons I am so determined not to follow through on this farce of a marriage.”
“There is no farce in joining the royal houses of Zohra and Jawhar.”
“I am not of the royal house of Jawhar, no matter how indulgent King Malik is toward me and my father.”
It was true. From one of the most influential families in Jawhar, Cemal had been fostered in the royal household when his parents died. He’d been raised like a brother to Malik, but they shared no blood relation. Which had actually played in favor to the agreement drawn up ten years before as Zahir and Angele had no blood common between them.
“I did not think this bothered you.”
