The Santina Crown Collection. Кейт Хьюит

you approve?’ Hassan had watched with interest the movement of her ice-blue eyes as they quickly assessed her surroundings. Was she silently adding up his worth and realising that never again would she want for money?

      ‘It’s beautiful,’ she breathed. ‘Absolutely beautiful.’

      Briefly, he found himself wondering whether he should have taken his lawyer’s advice and made her sign a prenuptial agreement. But something about that action had made him baulk. It had seemed inherently wrong to ask that of the mother of his child. No matter how outrageous her demands for any divorce settlement, he could easily afford it. And a woman who was satisfied with her pay-out would be less likely to cause trouble in the future …

      ‘So … you must be tired after the long journey,’ he said. ‘Would you like to see your quarters?’

      ‘My … quarters?’ Ella’s smile was uncertain. ‘Um, you’ve left the army now, Hassan.’

      ‘Forgive me.’ His answering smile concealed a faint confusion, an unknown feeling of being out of his depth. Who cared what he called it, the detail was surely insignificant? Usually, he would have gone straight off to long meetings with aides and ministers, followed by a hard ride on one of his horses. But now the comforting familiarity of his routine had been broken by a woman with rose-pink lips and ice-blue eyes.

      His wife.

      If it was anyone else, he would have assigned a servant to show her around. But because it was Ella and she was pregnant and therefore vulnerable, he found himself in the unheard-of position of being her guide. And for the first time in his life, he felt out of his depth. ‘I will show you to your suite of rooms. Does that sound better?’

      ‘My suite?’ She looked at him in surprise. For weeks, she’d been psyching herself up for married life. She’d vacillated between wondering if she was crazy to go through with it, or whether it was the only sane choice. But once she’d decided to marry Hassan, one comforting thought had remained to sustain her. At least sex with her new husband was guaranteed to be amazing. He’d shown her that she could experience pleasure in his arms, and the truth was that she couldn’t wait to sample it again. She edged him a tentative smile. ‘But surely we’ll be sharing a suite, as a married couple?’

      Hassan shook his head, wiping out the tempting thoughts provoked by the soft curve of her lips. ‘It is not the tradition, no, not here. It dates back from the days when a monarch always had to be ready to go to war and did not want to disturb his wife if he left for battle in the middle of the night. So his isolation was a necessity, rather than a luxury.’

      Ella’s heart missed a beat. ‘You’re joking?’

      ‘No, I am not. I am simply abiding by tradition, as well as giving you the opportunity to have some private space of your own.’ He saw the way her blue eyes had clouded, but for the hundredth time, he told himself it was better this way. Better for both of them. For a divorce would be far simpler if there had been no intimacy. His voice gentled by a fraction. ‘My culture is very different from the one you’ve grown up in, Ella, and you’ll need to accept that if you want to find any kind of contentment here.’

      Contentment? Did he think she was going to be content if she was going to be locked away like a nun without even the warm comfort of her new husband by her side? She stared at him, daring herself to voice the truth. ‘So we aren’t going to be a proper married couple?’

      Almost reluctantly, Hassan let his eyes drift over her. With the golden veil framing her pale face he thought how lovely she looked, like some fragile, shimmering statue. In that moment, he could have pulled her close to him and drunk in her exquisite beauty with a passionate kiss. But something stopped him and that something was logic. This was nothing but a marriage of convenience, made with the sole purpose of legitimising their baby. Much better by far to keep their relationship on a formal footing.

      ‘But we aren’t a proper married couple, are we, Ella?’ he questioned, his harsh tone subduing the sexual hunger which had flared inside him. ‘We were never intended to be. And I think it best if we don’t complicate this already difficult situation by pretending to be something we’re not.’

      Ella felt his words rip through her like a chill wind and she stared at him in dismay, realising how isolated her life was going to be if Hassan was planning on distancing himself from her.

      Well, she certainly wasn’t going to beg him to sleep with her! Biting back her hurt, she accompanied him along the wide expanse of marble corridor, wanting to ask him why the hell he hadn’t told her all this before he’d made her his bride.

      Because he couldn’t have told her, that was why. If he’d given her any intimation of how constricted her life would be in his country then she would have refused to come. No amount of money or the promise of a quick divorce would have tempted her to a life of virtual imprisonment. She would have found some other way to support herself because she would have had to.

      To all intents and purposes, Hassan had deceived her. But that was now irrelevant. She couldn’t change what had happened. All she could do was react to it. And she would do what she had done all her life, no matter what fate had thrown at her. She would adapt to circumstances and she would make the best of them.

      But her determination wavered as Hassan informed her that dinner would be at eight and that a servant would come to collect her.

      The door closed behind him and she was left alone in the gilded suite. She looked up at the glitter of the crystal chandelier and breathed in the deep scent of the roses which had been crammed into beautiful golden vases. It all looked so perfect, but so unreal. And it felt unreal too. As if someone had put her down in the middle of a film set and if she pushed too hard she might discover that the walls were made of cardboard.

      Another wave of sickness washed over her and quickly she lay down on the bed, clutching one of the brocade cushions to her stomach as she tried to fight against a tide of tears.

      CHAPTER TEN

      ANOTHER day in paradise.

      Ella stared out of the window which had just been unshuttered by one of the sweet maids whose job it was to attend her. The early-morning scent of flowers wafted fragrance into the room and vied with the perfume of the jasmine tea which stood on the filigree cabinet beside her large bed.

      Leaning back against the feathery plumpness of the pillows, she contemplated what the new day might bring. Outside, there was a vast swimming pool which she could use any time she wanted. The beautiful gardens were enormous and varied, with plenty of shaded paths for her to walk along. Benches were positioned at eye-catching vantage points where she could stop to read a book from the palace’s vast and comprehensive library. Anything Ella wanted, she could have.

      Except it wasn’t quite like that.

      The one thing she really wanted constantly eluded her.

      She wanted her husband.

      She wanted to relive the passion they’d shared that night back in Santina, when she’d tasted pleasure for the first time in her life. And surely as his wife she was entitled to that?

      The sickness she’d experienced had now passed and she realised that she hadn’t been herself when she’d agreed to this marriage. He had asked her—or rather, told her—that she would be his wife when she had been at her most vulnerable. Still reeling from the discovery of the baby and weakened by nausea, she had allowed Hassan to take command.

      But something had changed. Now that she felt better, it seemed as if she had got some of the old Ella back, and then some. She was filled with a new vigour, buzzing with energy and life. And not only was she growing increasingly frustrated at the celibate state of her marriage, she was determined to do something about it. So what if she was only destined to be here for months. Couldn’t they at least be pleasurable months?

      Had the desire Hassan felt for her disappeared? Ella didn’t think so. She may not have been the most experienced woman in the