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The idea filled her with a slick of warmth. She sipped her coffee again, dipping her eyes away from him. “You didn’t say why you’re here. In London.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
His eyes were darkened by the full sledge of emotions he was experiencing. When he spoke, though, his voice was without feeling.
“I have come to meet my wife.”
She spilled her coffee in her haste to put it down on the table. She felt self-conscious, as though every movement was unnatural and jerky. “Who is she?”
To take the idea from the abstract to the particular was a whole different situation.
“I have three possible choices. All are suitable. Finally, it comes down to … compatibility.” She chose to believe he meant personality, rather than sexually. She could not bear to imagine him making love to another woman. “It would be embarrassing to the two who are not selected if it became publicly known that they were being considered. Coming to my palace would make my interest obvious. This is why we meet in London.”
“I see. Very clever.” She crossed her legs in her seat and winced. They’d made love a lot. In a variety of positions, and with a pretty demanding intensity. She was sore all over, but in a way she relished. It would remind her of him for days.
“It was sensible.”
“Yes.” She forced herself to meet his gaze with hers. “And you’ll marry her straight away.”
“Within a month,” he agreed. “A baby is imperative. We will need to begin trying to fall pregnant as soon as we are husband and wife.”
Bile rose in her stomach. She told herself it was because she’d barely eaten all day. Her eyes couldn’t quite meet his. Her possessive feeling was completely unwarranted, and yet it was also unmistakable. He was hers.
And she was his.
Was it possible to come to claim someone in that way after a week?
Some couples dated for years and probably didn’t share the same connection that she felt with Layth. Did the time they’d known one another really matter?
No.
But the fact he was actively looking for a fiancé did.
He was not hers. He never would be. No more than he was in that strange moment.
We will need to begin trying to fall pregnant as soon as we are husband and wife.
“So this wife of yours … she’ll be … innocent? Virginal?”
He was quiet for a moment, while he cut a pastry in half.
“Yes,” he agreed finally.
“Is that important?”
“To some.”
“To you?”
“No.”
She sighed. It was almost impossible to untangle the knot of her feelings.
Silence returned. She watched as he lifted the pastry and ate a half in one bite.
“Why do you do what you do?” He asked when he’d finished chewing. His voice was weighed down by the strength of his own thoughts on the matter.
