For Duty's Sake. Lucy Monroe

had foolishly allowed his emotions to get involved. So, when he’d discovered he was not her only lover, he had been hurt. And he was still angry with himself for being that vulnerable.

      In the midst of his own self-allowed turmoil and the growing crush of his responsibilities without outlet, he had neglected to notice the impatient discontent in the woman he was slated to marry. Yet another casualty to the folly of allowing emotions to reign in one’s life.

      Angele shook her head and glared at him. “Stop it.”

      “Stop what exactly?”

      “Thinking so hard. I just know you’re trying to figure out a way to guilt me into maintaining the status quo. And that is not going to happen.”

      “No, I can see it is not.” Angele needed reassurance that their marriage would not be devoid of passion.

      Something he had done nothing to convince her of in the intervening years since the original contract was negotiated. Considering how his member stirred in his trousers at the sight of her in the sexy dress, he knew he would have no problem reassuring her now, however.

      “You want to have sex with me.”

      She flinched, but squared her shoulders and nodded. “I’m offering you your freedom. I do not think a single night of lovemaking too high a price to pay for that.”

      The words were just noise to cover her sexual fears and insecurities. He understood that, but one thing stood clear. She considered a night in his bed a gift.

      He looked deep into her eyes and made another realization—one that both inexplicably pleased him and stirred pity in his heart. “You are in love with me.”

      Zahir had always known Angele fancied him something rotten, but he’d considered it a mere girlish crush. However this woman before him was no child and the feelings so apparent on her features had a depth that shocked him. Love was not a comfortable or safe emotion. From this point forward, it would not hurt her to love him, but she did not know that. He would never betray her as Elsa had betrayed him.

      “What was your first clue? My clumsy attempt at a kiss at eighteen, or my slavish devotion and refusal to date other men despite the fact we are not formally engaged?”

      If he expected shock from her at his revelation, or horror, he would clearly receive neither.

      He did not point out that her love for him made no sense in light of her demands and threats to back out of their families’ arrangements. He had already decided she had no real desire to do that, she was simply looking for reassurances.

      The need for which made even more sense in the light of her feelings for him.

      Nor did he point out that her love was based on a distant relationship. How could she know him well enough to love him? But she believed herself in love and that was enough to cause her pain and worry in their current situation.

      “I apologize for not realizing your feelings sooner.”

      Acknowledging the hurt she must have experienced over the years of their pseudoengagement, was not comfortable, but he was not a man to shirk from his responsibilities. “Love is a painful emotion.”

      “You’re telling me?” she asked with disbelief and then the horror came. The color drained from her face as her eyes registered a mortal wound. “You are telling me … that you loved her.”

      For the first time in his life, he was tempted to outright lie. He had learned the art of misdirection and when it was most politic to withhold information at an early age, but he made it a practice never to tell a direct falsehood. Even for the sake of politics.

      His honor would not stand for it.

      “It does not matter. Ms. Bosch and I are finished.”

      “But you loved her, didn’t you?”

      “That is not something I’m ever going to discuss with you.” The past was over. He and Angele had a future to build.

      His youthful feelings embarrassed him and they were over regardless.

      “You don’t need to. The photos show the truth, if you look for it. I didn’t … I don’t think I wanted to believe it was possible. It was painful enough to accept you were so much more relaxed and happy with her.”

      “You gleaned all this from a single photo?”

      “No, but that’s not something I want to discuss right now.”

      No, right now, she wanted reassurances he was more than happy to give. Nevertheless … “We can hardly disappear from my brother’s wedding feast.”

      “Why not? You did.”

      “I had business to attend to if my father was to remain free to preside over the festivities.” “You often sacrifice for your family.” “It is my privilege to do so.” “I believe you mean that.”

      “I do.”

      “You’re an amazing man.”

      “And you love me.” He had no intention of opening himself to that depth of emotion again, but he would protect hers. It was his duty to do so.

      And he always did his duty.

      “The wedding festivities will last into the wee hours of the morning. Tonight is not the ideal time for us to share our bodies for the first time.”

      “What do you suggest?”

      “You are in the country for the next three days?” “Yes, we’re staying for the full wedding celebration.”

      Despite Angele’s refusal to play a role in the wedding, her family had been at the palace since the prewedding festivities began. He had seen very little of her because he had been busy with state business. He had believed she was busy with the bridal party, even if she wasn’t an official member of it.

      “I will make arrangements for your last night here. There are no official events after the final breakfast that day.”

      He put his arm out. “Now, I believe it is time we returned to the feast.”

      She laid her small hand in the crook of his arm and let him lead her from his study, the stress this discussion had caused her evident in the fine tremors of her delicate fingers against his jacket sleeve.

      Two nights hence, he would show her she had nothing to fear from him in any way.

      Despite the sun having set an hour before, the tile floor on the balcony off Angele’s room warmed her bare feet. She’d long since discarded the expensive but uncomfortable glittery heels she’d worn for the final celebratory feast of Amir and Grace’s nuptials.

      She still wore the figure hugging silk sheath. By an as yet undiscovered New York designer, its subtle composition made the most of her figure, hinting at bedroom seductions while having no single element that could be pointed to as anything other than proper.

      Her father had been angry she’d foregone the traditional dress the women of the Jawharian royal family had opted to don for the evening feast. Only Angele wasn’t a Jawharian princess, no matter how much her father might wish otherwise.

      Her mother had stood up for her. Looking like American royalty in a beautiful European-designed gown, Lou-Belia had told Cemal to take a chill pill. The look on Angele’s father’s face had been worth the price of admission and then some.

      But the expression that flashed over Zahir’s features when he’d seen Angele’s dress had been even better. His gray eyes had heated to molten metal and his lids had dropped in a look of pure sexual predatory interest before he’d schooled his features into diplomatic blank-ness. It hadn’t been just the once, either.

      She’d caught that heated stare directed her way more than once over the course of the evening. Each time, it increased her desire for the feast to be over, for her one night with Crown Sheikh