Modern Romance July 2018 Books 5-8 Collection. Annie West

than love them.

      She blinked to clear her blurred vision, her gaze colliding with his.

      ‘Thank you, Sayid. I appreciate that you’re willing to do so much for me.’ The ache inside welled so high she had to force the words out through a throat that worked convulsively. ‘But the answer is no. I can’t marry you.’

      * * *

      Sayid stared, reading emotion in Lina’s over-bright eyes.

      Yet it was nothing to the slam of astonishment that rocked him back on his heels.

      She couldn’t marry him?

      She was sorry?

       Not good enough, Lina! Totally unacceptable, in fact.

      Did she have any concept of the honour he bestowed? He thought of the royal princesses and wealthy, sophisticated women who vied for his attention, who’d accept whatever terms he set to become his wife.

      And little Lina Rahman, who’d come to the palace as his servant, his slave, demurred?

      Fire blasted him, searing his belly, coursing through his veins, burning his retinas as a red mist of fury descended.

      She was his lover. She shared her body willingly, no ardently, as if she had but one thought—to make him happy. And she had. Supremely, breathtakingly happy. He’d never felt as good as he had this week. Even interminable negotiations and royal red tape dissolved into inconveniences to be laughed off at the prospect of bedding Lina again. Of simply being with her.

      He’d seen the dazzled look in her eyes, registered the needy way she clung to him, even if she never put that neediness into words or demands for his time. She was the perfect lover in fact. Passionate, sensual, generous. Attuned to his needs even, he realised with a stir of disquiet, when he hadn’t known what he’d needed. Like this morning when he’d found peace in her quiet conversation. Like the other times she’d chivvied him into laughter and he’d realised how little time he’d had for humour.

      Like the times, after sex, when instead of pulling away because he didn’t do post-coital cuddles, he’d let her enfold him in her slender arms, stroke his heaving back or thread her fingers through his hair and he’d discovered he wanted those moments of tenderness as much as she!

      A shudder racked him. Annoyance, he told himself. Indignation.

      ‘You presume too much,’ he bit out. ‘It wasn’t a question. I’ve decided we’ll marry.’ He’d brook no argument.

      Those violet eyes sparked, reminding him of thunderstorms over the mountains and the savage lightning strikes that did such damage in that wild landscape.

      ‘You’ve decided, so I’m supposed to agree.’

      Sayid nodded. ‘It’s for the best. For you.’ Couldn’t she see he did this to protect her?

      Her chin jerked up as if pulled by a string and she let go of the chair. Her hands rammed down onto her hips. She was ridiculous, trying to defy him, for she was doomed to defeat. Yet she looked stunning. Like some haughty princess of old, demanding obedience.

      It hit him that far from being unsuitable as a royal wife, Lina was perfect. She wasn’t a burden but an asset, publicly and in private. He defied anyone to find a woman who’d be better for him and his people.

      ‘You can’t just command me to marry you!’ The mulish set of her lovely mouth and the obstinate angle of her jaw said this wasn’t Lina being coy.

      Sayid frowned, scrubbing a hand around the back of his neck where the muscles drew so tight, a headache began to throb.

      For the first time he wished he knew how women thought. He’d been content with perfectly satisfying, albeit shallow relationships. His liaisons were for physical release, not for sharing souls. He hadn’t a clue what motivated Lina.

      His was a man’s world. He’d loved his mother, but from an early age he’d focused on learning and living up to his father’s warrior code. At fifteen, soon after his father’s death, he’d become a man, defending his mother from rape and forced marriage. His mother had died soon after, of a broken heart, some said.

      Which meant he’d spent almost half his life with no women close to him. No sisters or aunts. No woman who could unpick the intricacies and absurdities of the female mind. For Lina’s refusal was nothing short of absurd.

      How could she not want to marry him?

      A stray thought filled his mouth with bile. ‘Is there someone else? Someone you want to—’

      ‘No!’ She looked so horrified relief filled him. For a moment there he’d wondered if she’d felt compelled to become his lover even though she cared for someone else. Nausea still swirled in his belly.

      He hadn’t compelled her. She’d been free to choose. And there was no mistaking her enjoyment of what they did together.

      Yet a seed of doubt lingered. When she’d come to the palace originally she’d been morally if not legally too young to choose a lover. He’d done the right thing, sending her away, keeping his hands off her. Sayid told himself she was now an independent woman who’d chosen to accept an affair. But was there a chance that she’d felt...obliged to take him into her bed?

      His gut churned in horror.

      Sayid refused to believe it. Lina had learned to say no. Look at her now, all defiance and pride. Yet he knew he could sweep her into his arms and persuade her.

      But that shred of doubt stopped him. He couldn’t bear even the tiniest possibility she’d given him sex out of gratitude. Or out of coercion. Which made it all the more imperative he right the wrong he’d done her, putting her reputation in danger. They must marry!

      Yet his honour demanded she come to him freely.

      It was time to be magnanimous. ‘I’ve rushed you. I know it’s a surprise. I’ll leave you to digest the idea.’ He even conjured a smile, though his facial muscles felt stretched taut. She probably just needed reassurance. ‘But it will work out, you’ll see. You’ll make a fine Sheikha.’

      ‘I’m sorry, Sayid. But I’m not marrying you.’ Her hands were clasped before her now. She looked so damned earnest.

      Impatience rose. Sayid had never been rejected in his life. It was impossible he’d be refused now. He turned and marched across the room then back again, needing an outlet for the tide of furious energy that made him want to grab her and kiss her into submission.

      Only his promise to himself that he wouldn’t coerce her stopped him. Frustration tore at him, yet he forced himself to keep his distance, just. He stopped out of touching distance, his breath laboured at the effort of restraint, his temper spiking at her obstinacy.

      Lina stood there in one of her western dresses, lilac this time, looking sexy and seductive and mutinous and he wanted to kiss her mouth till it softened, strip her bare and stake his claim over that glorious body in the most primitive, definite way possible. He was aroused just watching the quick rise and fall of her breasts and the flare of emotion in her bright stare.

      That enraged him even more than her refusal. She stood there, not calm, but at least self-possessed, saying no, and he felt utterly adrift, as if every tie that tethered him to the real world had been ripped away.

      He prowled towards her, in the grip of an unholy mix of hunger, indignation and determination. Slowly he lifted his hand, watching her shiver in anticipation of his touch. He brushed his knuckle down her cheek and the shiver became a shudder, her tight mouth opening on a silent gasp of delight.

      Satisfaction thundered through him.

      If there’d been any question that Lina hadn’t shared this sexual obsession her reaction banished it. She quivered, leaning towards him as if needing more than that light touch.

      Sayid’s mouth turned up in a possessive smile as his hand trailed