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He watched her slow movements towards the door—she seemed fatigued and ill and, despite what had happened between them, he found it impossible to ignore her obvious suffering. Clenching his hands into fists at his sides, he moved to catch her, his stride easily doubling hers, so it was only seconds until he was with her.
‘Stop.’ He spoke with easy command.
She didn’t. At no point had she acquiesced to his wishes. Not before she knew who he was, and not now, even when surrounded by this palace and an army of guards.
‘India, do not take another step.’
She whirled around to face him then, her face so pale his worry spiked. ‘Why not, Khalil? Do you need to insult me a little more for my apparent lifestyle? Or are you going to tell me you need a paternity test before we can discuss this further?’
The reality of her words began to crack through his frozen brain, and for the first time it occurred to him that she was telling the truth. That India was pregnant—and with his baby? Or another man’s she was looking to foist on him? Perhaps the paternity test was a wise place to start. ‘Could you blame me, given your vocation?’
Her skin paled but she tilted her chin, her gaze defiant even as her lips were trembling. ‘I haven’t slept with anyone else in a long time, so there’s no doubt in my mind that this child is yours. But if you don’t believe me, I don’t even care any more. I did what I came here to do—I told you about our baby. Now I can go home with a clear conscience.’
He felt hot and cold at once, as Fatima morphed into his mind, the way she’d thrown her abortion at him at the same time as ending their engagement. The baby he’d been unable to protect had been a dagger in his side ever since. There was no way he’d allow this baby to come to any harm. He would die to protect it. Who knew what India would do when she left here?
But he needed to act with care—this was a delicate situation and, despite the fact he could block her from leaving the country, he didn’t want to strong-arm her into anything unless it was absolutely necessary, and only because he would do whatever it took to protect this baby.
His expression was grim as he regarded her, his body strong and unyielding even when his heart was thumping into his ribs so hard it was like an anvil. ‘This is not the place to have this discussion,’ he said, after a moment, looking around the room. He’d brought her to the least comfortable place he could think of, intentionally seeking to inspire awe of his position, but she was clearly not well, and he wasn’t so barbaric that he didn’t feel a responsibility to protect her—pregnant or not.
‘You think?’ she snapped, moving away from him. ‘I’m not sure there’s any place to discuss this that would make a difference, though, to be honest. You’ve made up your mind about me and nothing I say or do is going to change it. I’m glad I told you, but now you can go back to ignoring me. I don’t need anything from you.’
He didn’t bother arguing with her—there was no point. He had a pretty clear idea of what her pregnancy would mean for them both, it was simply a matter of working out the finer points of the arrangement. ‘You will spend the night here. In the morning, we can speak about this further.’
Her lips parted. ‘I will do no such thing. Do you honestly think I would ever go near you again?’
It took him a moment to understand what she’d meant. That he was propositioning her to join him in his bed? ‘One night with you was a mistake—and I do not intend to repeat it,’ he said firmly, even as desire stirred, tightening his body, making him ache for her. ‘I meant for you to sleep in a guest bedroom.’
‘I have a hotel room booked,’ she demurred, stepping backwards.
‘It is too late to be travelling into the city on your own.’
‘And whose fault is that?’ she demanded with a stamp of her foot. ‘I was kept waiting for hours.’
He crossed his arms. ‘Let us not lay blame now. The past is irrelevant. We need to focus on the baby, and what is in their best interests.’
She nodded, but her eyes were wary, looking for a trap. ‘That’s exactly what I think. I despise you after the way you treated me but that doesn’t change the fact you’re going to be this baby’s father. And so long as you can treat him or her with respect and love, then I don’t see why you can’t be a part of the baby’s life, in some way or another.’
He instantly rejected the picture she painted—that he would be the kind of father who flew in and out of his own child’s life, a temporary, transient parent that the child never really got to know.
‘We can discuss the details in the morning. Come, I will show you to a guest suite.’
In truth, India was so exhausted, she would have much preferred to simply go along with his suggestion, but a warning beacon blared, so she shook her head again. ‘I have a hotel room booked. All I need is a ride into the city. We can meet for breakfast and discuss this further. The hotel has a nice restaurant—’
‘If we were to meet at a hotel restaurant, everyone would know our business,’ he snapped. ‘And as you seem unaware of the importance of your pregnancy, allow me to spell it out for you: the baby you claim to be carrying—if true—is the heir to the throne of Khatrain. As such, for the duration of your pregnancy, you are one of the most important people in the kingdom and your security is my responsibility. I will not have you wandering through a hotel lobby in the middle of the night, understood?’
Her lips parted on a rush of breath. ‘But...no one knows about us and no one knows about the pregnancy! There is no risk to me.’
‘That is a decision I will make.’
‘You cannot make decisions about my life with such unilateral authority,’ she insisted, and he felt it again, that sharp spurt of desire, like an electric livewire—just the same as the night they’d met, and often since. What was it about this woman that made his body burn?
‘Actually, I can,’ he said with a shrug, as though it barely mattered to him. ‘You are in Khatrain, pregnant with my child. That makes you my responsibility. Furthermore, here my will is absolute, and I will not allow you to leave the palace given your situation, and the political importance of this pregnancy. So you might as well stop arguing and simply accept the hospitality I am offering.’
‘Hospitality?’ she spat with a flash of her eyes. ‘You are turning me into a prisoner!’
‘Don’t be so melodramatic.’ He half laughed, even as tension of a different sort cut through him now, a tension that was born of his own behaviour, and the choices he was now making to protect the baby she purported to know was his.
‘Ha,’ she said with obvious sarcasm. ‘You think my freedom is melodramatic?’
