Royals Untamed!. Annie West

the effect of dampening his ardour.

      ‘You have made it clear that you are here under duress and the only reason is so that your friend’s child can have his medical treatment.’ He turned things back to her in an attempt to halt her uncomfortable questions. He stood his ground as she moved to stand in front of him, determination coming off her in waves. Was she hell-bent on making him face the past—all of it, in one day?

      ‘So you feel nothing for me?’ Boldly, she looked up at him and he had the strange sensation that it wasn’t him turning the tables, that he was losing his foothold. Somehow he was now the mouse being toyed with by the cat. He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

      He thought of the tightness that crushed his chest when his mind wandered to her, but that must be panic; it couldn’t be love. Love only brought pain. He knew that after the way it had scarred his heart all through his childhood. It couldn’t be anything else. After all, as a young man, he had vowed never to love and he had no intention of breaking that vow. He’d seen what one-sided love had done to his mother.

      ‘Love is a fool’s indulgence.’ He put every bit of anger he had into those words, delivering them with a sharp crack, but Amber stood firm before him, her chin lifted and her shoulders pulled back. Regal defiance emanated from every part of her.

      She nodded in agreement. ‘You’re right.’ She looked fiercely into his eyes and he had the sensation she was trying to read his mind, to discover his innermost thoughts. ‘A fool’s indulgence.’

      ‘Damn it, Amber, don’t look at me like that.’ He was unable to deal with the power shift that had happened as soon as she’d said those words aloud, giving them life and meaning. He didn’t want that. Not now, not ever.

      ‘What are you afraid of, Kazim?’ She took another step closer and he inhaled deeply, taking in her soft scent, which reminded him of the palace gardens—the oasis of tranquillity he had come to enjoy during brief interludes from his frantic daily life.

      What was he afraid of? That was a question he’d never wanted to answer—until now. The woman he’d married out of duty, the woman who had professed to hate him, was now the woman who was making him face the past head-on.

      He didn’t want to face it. He couldn’t face it.

      ‘It’s a useless emotion, Amber. Love serves no purpose. You and I have married out of duty, and it can’t be anything more than that.’ Control returned and he looked down into her upturned face, keeping his own devoid of emotion. She must never know the turmoil she’d unleashed with those three words. If she did, it would give her every last bit of power, leaving him completely exposed, and that was not acceptable. He never wanted to experience that harsh vulnerability or to have his inner peace hanging by a thread, one that could be cruelly cut at any time.

      ‘Ah, yes, a duty you took so seriously you couldn’t even make me your wife on our wedding night. Was it really the scandalous rumours that disgusted you, or was it the fact that you couldn’t do your duty because I wasn’t your usual choice of woman and you didn’t desire me?’

      Her words were granite-hard, laced with a hint of sarcasm like a lethal cocktail. It was as if suddenly she had turned to steel or been sculpted from ice. He didn’t really care. At least she wasn’t throwing herself at him, professing love as false as the tears that had threatened to wet her cheeks. He couldn’t take that sort of emotional display. It was too raw.

      ‘It was nothing more than the fact that I had been led to believe you were an innocent bride. Exactly what a prince would want.’ He spoke firmly, now more in control of the strange sensations that had assailed him when she’d made that ridiculous confession. ‘I certainly hadn’t been expecting a dancer, especially one so provocative and alluring. It was like I’d stepped back in time and I was a sheikh selecting from his harem. That is something I never wanted to experience.’

      It was that image, coupled with the rumours, that had made him turn from her—the image of a bullying sheikh, demanding and unrelenting. A sheikh like his father had been. It was too close to his past.

      Her eyes lowered and those lovely long lashes spread over her cheeks and he balled his hands into fists in an effort to stop himself reaching out and touching her, lifting her chin so that he could see her face. If he let his mind continue to wander that path of want and need, he would end up taking her in his arms, kissing her until she begged him to make her his again.

      ‘I’m sorry—about that night, I mean.’ She looked shyly up at him and his heart suddenly thumped like a drum. ‘In my inexperience, I was doing what I thought right.’

      He clenched his fist harder. She was testing him fully. First the soft words, then the fiery determination, then the coyness. What would be next? The tears?

      ‘It’s not important any more.’ He moved away from her, away from the intoxicating scent of her perfume and the alluring darkness of her eyes, away from the temptation of her soft lips.

      ‘As you wish,’ she said, her words quiet but firm.

      * * *

      Amber stood and watched him, his powerful body rigid with discomfort. If her confession of love had made him so uncomfortable, she had no alternative but to insist on returning to Paris and her old life. She would demand a divorce. She wouldn’t be any worse off than the moment he’d rejected her on their wedding night.

      But you will. The thought lingered in her mind. You will because you’ve loved him in every way a woman can, with your heart and your body.

      ‘Don’t play the capitulating woman with me, Amber.’ His harsh words wounded more than she was ever prepared to let him know.

      She had to concede defeat. Their marriage was doomed. No—it was over. He didn’t love her, would never love her if his last words were true, and she just couldn’t face living like that. If she went home, back to her life in Paris, she would eventually pick up the pieces, wouldn’t she? To love the memory of the man must be better than to live each day with him, knowing he didn’t love her.

      ‘I am merely being practical, Kazim. You and I, we can’t carry on like this.’ It was an effort to keep her voice steady when her heart was pounding so frantically. But if he could be in total command of his emotions, be so cold and harsh, then so could she.

      ‘We have to remain married, Amber. I have a duty to my country to produce an heir. You know that.’ His lips set firmly and she noticed the shadow of stubble on his chin. Her mind, totally unable to process what he’d just said, instead focused on the completely irrelevant fact that he needed to shave and how much she liked it.

      ‘I can’t,’ she whispered, still unable to drag her eyes from his face. Then it hit her full force. He wanted her to stay, to remain in a loveless marriage, and he wanted her to have his child, his heir.

      Disbelief robbed her of words. How could he expect her to have a child, to bring it into the world out of a sense of duty, passing on that heavy legacy to the child—her child? No, the need to be dutiful stopped here. It stopped with her.

      ‘Can’t or won’t?’ he demanded quickly, his voice deep and gravelly.

      She took a deep breath and stood her ground, instilling as much courage into her voice as possible. This was one battle he would lose. ‘I will not have your child, Kazim.’

      ‘But that is why you are here in Barazbin.’ Incredulity resonated from him and she smiled. She had dared to defy and challenge the mighty Prince Kazim Al Amed of Barazbin. Not something he was used to, she was sure, but what could he do to her now? The worst had already happened.

      ‘That is not the only reason I’m here and you know it.’ Fury pumped around her now, forcing her on because, whatever the outcome, this had to be sorted—once and for all. ‘I am here because you blackmailed me with the health of a young child, someone I care about, Kazim. How could you be so cruel?’

      His jaw clenched but he said nothing and she ploughed on.

      ‘When