The Santina Crown Collection. Кейт Хьюит

as a woman.

      The journey to her room seemed to take forever and she found herself wondering how she was going to be able to endure such an empty and lonely existence, knowing that there was no hope it would ever change.

      ‘Here we are,’ he said abruptly as he stopped outside the door to her suite. ‘I’ll leave you here.’

      ‘Yes.’ She looked up at him, surprised by the ravaged look on his face. What had put that terrible bleakness in those eyes of his? she wondered. Had she? Had her failed attempt to seduce him reminded him that she shouldn’t even be here? That she wouldn’t be here were it not for the baby? ‘Hassan, those things I said at dinner. I, well, I shouldn’t have said them. I shouldn’t have come on to you like that.’

      There was silence for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice sounded as if it was being half strangled out of him.

      ‘I don’t want to hurt you, Ella,’ he ground out.

      She looked at him in confusion. How could he hurt her any more than she was already hurting from him pushing her away? ‘I don’t understand,’ she whispered.

      At that moment she looked so damned soft that Hassan felt the unfamiliar prickle of guilt. Usually he used women before they could use him and he had no compunction about doing so. But Ella was different. Even putting her fragility aside, what if deep down she had expectations of him which he could never honour? What if she expected him to be like other men, to feel the things which women wanted men to feel? Could he really bear to crush her hopes and her dreams when she realised that his words had been true. That his heart was cold. That it would be easier to facilitate an end to this marriage if they had not grown close through sex.

      He made one last appeal as he looked down into the rose-pink gleam of her lips. ‘Don’t you realise that this is going to complicate everything?’

      ‘What is?’

      ‘This is,’ he ground out. ‘This!’

      She honestly didn’t realise it was coming until he pulled her into his arms and started kissing her with a fierce urgency which instantly set her on fire. Her arms snaked up round his neck and she clung to him, almost wanting to sob aloud with joy. So he did want her—and judging by the tension in his powerful body, he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

      She wondered whether this wasn’t a bit public, standing, making out in the corridor of the darkened palace, until she remembered that they were newlyweds. This is exactly what they were supposed to be doing, she thought exultantly as he pushed open the door to her suite and pulled her inside.

      His hands were shaking and so was his voice as he pulled his mouth away from hers and cradled her face in his palms. ‘I don’t know how gentle I can be.’

      ‘You don’t have to be gentle.’

      ‘You’re carrying my baby, Ella.’ She turned her head so that her lips brushed against his fingers. ‘Well, unless you were planning to tie me up and suspend me from the ceiling.’

      ‘Stop it.’ For a moment he bit back unexpected laughter as he ran his fingers through her hair so that the glorious waves of her red-brown hair tumbled free. ‘How about if we take it very slowly this time?’

      ‘I’m not sure that I can,’ she whispered. He wasn’t sure that he could either, but he would make sure that he was careful. He led her over to the bed and slowly peeled the silken robe from her body. And this was a first too. He’d never undressed a woman who was wearing his own traditional robes and it seemed to add another dimension to the surreal aspect of what was taking place. It was as if all his certainties had been shaken up and scattered haphazardly, like a handful of dice thrown onto a gaming table. And everything was up for grabs. Including his blushing wife.

      Clad in exquisite lingerie, her lashes half shaded her blue eyes as she watched his reaction. The cami-knickers clung to her slender hips and the silk bra caressed the curve of her breasts. Eyes narrowing, he studied the pale, creamy colour of the garments which looked distinctly bridal.

      ‘Did you choose this especially for me?’ he questioned unevenly, curving his finger around the lace edge of her bra.

      ‘Of course I did. I went out shopping especially.’ Hadn’t she slunk out almost shamefacedly to buy it in the few hours available before their rushed wedding? Wondering if she was being a hypocrite by purchasing brand-new underwear for a wedding which felt distinctly empty. Yet now Ella was pleased she’d done it. It had been worth all those doubts just to see the dark fire which had shifted the emptiness from his eyes. ‘It’s called a trousseau. It’s what every bride should wear on her honeymoon. I know that, traditionally, it’s supposed to be white, but I don’t really qualify for white, do I?’

      ‘Who cares about that?’ he questioned roughly.

      ‘You mean you don’t?’

      He shook his head. He hadn’t seen her body since the night of the party and it had changed. Of course it had. The breasts were fuller and her belly curved over the edge of her lace panties. He gave a groan which was part lust and part admiration as he let his fingers curl over the gentle swell, because beneath her silken robes, he hadn’t realised how big she was getting. Did all men experience a rush of possessive pride when they witnessed their child growing in a woman’s belly? he wondered.

      ‘You look beautiful,’ he husked as he pushed her down onto the bed, quickly removing his own robes before joining her and pulling a throw over them both.

      ‘I’m not cold,’ she murmured as they were cocooned in the light concealment of silk.

      ‘No?’ He kissed the soft flesh of her shoulder. ‘Then why are you shivering?’

      ‘You know very well why,’ she whispered as she curled her hand around his neck and brought his head down to kiss her. It was the second assertive thing she’d done that evening and it seemed to liberate Hassan from his porcelain-like treatment of her as he opened her lips with the thrust of his tongue.

      Ella could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with hers. His kiss was like a drug—one taste and she was hooked. Deeply and passionately she kissed him back, her fingers kneading at the silken skin which played over the muscles of his back. And then he began to touch her.

      Everywhere.

      She closed her eyes. This was unbelievable. Even better than last time. She could feel the relentless heat building inside her as he unclipped her bra to free her aching breasts, capturing first one and then the other in the hot, moist cavern of his mouth. She was restless and gasping by the time he slid her panties off. She knew he’d said he was going to take it slowly, but really …

      ‘Keep still,’ he urged her mockingly.

      ‘I can’t!’

      Concerned that his weight might press on the baby, he brought her instead to sit on top of him, positioning the tip of his erection against her slick, moist folds. But even as he gripped her hips to slowly guide himself inside her, he was aware of a sudden sense of discovery. Of something unfamiliar happening to him. He felt the warmth of her thighs as they pressed into his sides and he shuddered as she pushed her hips forward to make him go even deeper. And then he realised what it was. That this was the first time he’d ever had sex with a pregnant woman, and the first time he’d never worn protection.

      And it felt …

      He closed his eyes. It felt unbelievable. He’d overheard men talking about the joys of ‘riding bareback’ while knowing that, for him, it would never be an option. Because royal seed was too precious to squander by careless lust or an inability to wait. But now he was experiencing it for the first time in his life, and it felt almost unbearably intimate as he thrust deep inside her. Skin on skin. Her slick heat against his hard heat.

      ‘I’m not hurting you?’ he managed.

      Ella shook her head, barely able to speak, realising that she had wanted this so much. To feel