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Were it not for an inner-strength forged by the irons of rejection, she too might have found her husband’s ability to ignore her too painful to bear.
“She loved you,” Chloe said softly.
He stepped away from her, returning to the table. When he reached for his wine, she saw his fingers weren’t quite steady and his jaw was clenched as though he was grinding his teeth together. “Yes,” he said finally, the word spoken as though it were a hoarse expletive. His eyes latched to hers and there was anger and blame in them. “She loved me.”
“You’re angry.”
With an effort, he schooled his face into a mask of disinterest. “I am not interested in having this discussion,” he corrected. “It serves no purpose to rehash the past.”
“But the past is still in the present,” she said with impeccable logic. “She bore you a son and he lives within the palace walls. He is a young man now, and he needs a father to be a part of his life. How is Amit going to feel when we have a baby? When he is usurped by a child you will acknowledge?”
A muscle jerked in Raffa’s cheek and he spun away, striding to the edge of the parapet, propping his elbows against the wall there, and staring out at the crisp night sky. The moon was splitting the clouds like a beam, and it caused the sand to shimmer like diamonds beneath them.
“Amit is my son,” he said after several beats. “But he will never be Sheikh. He knows this. He understands my need for a legitimate heir.”
Chloe let the words sink in, her mind trying to digest the ramifications of this. “You’ve told him about me, about us?”
“He was at our wedding.”
She shook her head, moving to stand behind him. “I mean that we’re trying to conceive a baby.”
Raffa spun around to face her, his strong, sharp face staring down at her. “As you say, he is growing into a young man. He will no doubt have guessed at the reason for your installation at the palace.”
“God, he must be seriously messed up.”
“On the contrary. He takes after his mother,” he said with a smile that made Chloe’s heart thump painfully in her chest. For there was love in that smile. Love and affection and sweet reminiscences that were utterly distinct from anything her husband had ever shown her.
She had lived her whole life in the shadows of others. Her mother, her father, her brother. And now, her husband’s child’s mother! She couldn’t have said where Elena was, but suddenly, the idea that she might be in the palace, that her hus
band might still be involved with her, filled Chloe with an icy numbness.
“Eat something, Chloe. If you’re to carry the royal heir, you need to look after yourself.”
And that was what this all boiled down to. Raffa needed an heir, and she was his wife. She was the only one who could provide him with the legitimate child he required. Whatever passion hummed between them, whatever power she had to drive him wild, was contained to a very limited set of circumstances.
She returned the table and did as he said, but the food had lost its flavor and the stars their shimmer.
7
IT WASN’T EVEN TWO weeks later that Chloe awoke to discover she wasn’t pregnant. Despite having shared her husband’s bed every night for three weeks, no baby had found its way into her belly.
Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how desperate she was to conceive. How much she’d wanted that baby. How despite the fact it had only been weeks, she’d begun to hope beyond hope that there was a child growing inside of her. That she’d begun to think of it as real and tangible and true.
She’d been wrong.
“Aysha,” she murmured, after her shower. “I’d like to go to the city.”
“Yes, your highness,” Aysha had bowed low, but when she’d lifted her head, there was empathy in her gaze.
Chloe didn’t hold it for long.
She took a piece of paper from the bureau and scrawled a note to Raffa:
I’m going away for a week or so. Chloe.
It seemed appropriately business-like. Since their night under the stars, they had barely spoken beyond the perfunctory civilities. In bed, he had set fire to her body, burning her blood with passion and needs that controlled her utterly, and she knew that raging desire was mutual. She knew he felt it too. Only he controlled it so much better than she ever could. No matter how tempestuous their coming together, he never stayed the night. He never held her afterwards.
It was lovemaking with a purpose, and the purpose had failed.
