Annie West - Royals Untamed!

‘No,’ she whispered so softly he almost didn’t catch it. ‘You need to go to your meeting.’

To hell with the meeting, he wanted to say, but it was his duty—a duty he took very seriously—and now he was duty-bound to finish what his father had started.

He clenched his jaw against the guilt that rushed through him, sweeping every other emotion to one side, including the warm, tender feelings for Amber. At the same time he sensed her withdrawal, saw the shutters come down over her eyes, blocking him out.

Should he have just sought her out in Paris and insisted on a divorce—something she’d been more than willing to do? Reclaiming his wife would not only resolve the issue of his ability to be the heir and continue the family line, but he’d always hoped, yet never admitted, that in doing so he would also regain just a little bit of his father’s respect. Although why he sought respect from a man who’d bullied everyone he should have loved was still very much a mystery.

‘Later we will have much to discuss, Amber,’ he said as he let go of her, his body instantly missing the warmth of hers. ‘We have the future of Barazbin in our hands. Whatever we do will affect so many people. We have to get it right.’

‘I know,’ she said, her chin lifting defiantly, her eyes calmly fixing on his, her tone resigned. ‘It is our duty.’

CHAPTER NINE

DUTY.

The word tasted sour in her mouth and, as dusk had given way to darkness, Amber began to doubt what she was doing. Had she been right to expect she could turn her back on Barazbin and walk away from Kazim? Everything had suddenly become much more complicated than it had seemed as they’d stood talking about it in the small flat in Paris.

If she wasn’t marooned in the desert she would probably want to get the first plane home. But where was home? Annie and Claude were in America, and her father still showed no interest in reconciliation, despite her mother’s impromptu visit and unexplained message.

Outside the tent she heard voices and hurried activity as the wind picked up, but was too distracted with her thoughts to give it much more than a fragment of her attention. Instead, she made her way into one of the large bedrooms that was hung with deep purple and gold cloth. It was most definitely regal and every comfort had been catered for. The bed, although almost at floor level, was large and sumptuous, adorned with so many cushions of gold and purple she wondered if she should just curl up among them. It was late and tiredness made the prospect of doing exactly that so very enticing, but the heat in Kazim’s eyes when they had arrived stopped her. He’d said he’d wanted her to stay here with him. Each word had been full of the promise of possession and, right now, she wanted that. Wanted to be with him, share the midnight hours with the man she loved and pretend he loved her back.

At that moment, as if conjured up by a dream, Kazim pulled back the curtains that served as a door and walked in, his presence totally overwhelming the splendour of the tent. The incense that had earlier smelt so uplifting had become masked by his intoxicating scent, desert mixed with musky aftershave. Her heart started the pounding it always did when he was near but, remembering their parting discussion, she stood tall, the strength of her gaze locking with his.

Was he here in her quarters of this lavish tent out of a sense of duty, as his parting words to her had suggested? Or did he want to continue what he’d started at the polo weekend? Questions whirred in her mind. Had that night been his dutiful seduction routine? His quest for an heir?

‘Should we continue discussing our duty towards your country?’ Her words, sharper than any blade, were delivered with fierce accuracy as those last thoughts sank in.

He didn’t flinch, his steady gaze, as hard as obsidian, never left her face. He stepped into the sanctuary of her quarters, allowing the curtain to fall back into place behind him, cocooning them in a world as unreal as anything she’d ever known.

‘When were you going to tell me, Amber?’ His question was delivered with slow precision and she blinked against the icy tone of each word, unable to decipher what he meant.

‘Tell you what, exactly?’ Not sure how to answer, she tried for nonchalance but, with her heart hammering wildly just from seeing him standing, raw and potent, before her, she knew she hadn’t pulled it off. If anything, she’d sounded guilty. But guilty of what?

‘That you and your father have been funding the rebel attacks on my people.’ His face darkened as if storm clouds had rolled in across the desert and at any moment she expected a crack of thunder and a flash of lightning before a deluge of rain. But he remained as firm and resolute as before, condemnation etched deep into his handsome face.

Amber stood motionless and took in his words, the harsh accusation in his eyes watching her every move. Even when she blinked she was sure he was aware of it. It didn’t make sense. She had hardly had enough money to live this past year, having not had any help from anyone, not even her parents. Just how had he come up with the idea that she and her father were paying rebels to attack his people?

‘Who told you that?’ Like a lioness on the prowl she pounced to deny the charge, throwing her own question back at him. How dare he come marching into her quarters insinuating she was behind such a thing?

‘It doesn’t matter who told me—what matters is your answer. So I will ask again. When were you going to tell me that you have been using the money I sent to your father, for you to live in a manner befitting your role as my princess, to support the rebels?’ He moved closer to her, unnerving her with every glance, every stride. It wasn’t his obvious anger but much more the man himself—a man she wanted and loved, but a man who only wanted her out of duty.

‘Whatever it is my father has done, I have had no part in,’ she said and tossed her head to flick her hair from her face, the movement drawing his eyes, his scrutiny.

She thought of her mother’s visit, the bizarre claim that it would ruin them if Kazim found out. She’d looked anxious and for the first time Amber wondered if her mother was more afraid of the man she’d married than she was of the man she’d married her daughter to. She closed her eyes briefly, knowing she should have told Kazim as soon as her mother had left. She should have pushed aside any ill placed loyalty for her father. So why hadn’t she?

The look of terror on her mother’s face, the tremor in her voice, the like of which she’d never seen her mother display before, had held her back.

‘Is it not true you knew he’d used my money and you didn’t even tell me? Instead, you acted as if you were a complete spendthrift when we were in London.’ He stopped talking and looked at her, as if willing her to say something else, to deny his words. But they were in part true. She had let him think she was looking for more money, more gifts.

She’d let him think the worst of her out of self-preservation. What she hadn’t told him was that she’d never seen any of the money he’d sent to her and that her father had kept it all. She hadn’t even known about the money until those first comments in Paris. His questions hadn’t been direct, but still she’d hidden behind the lie. She’d been protecting her heart then and now she was saying nothing out of loyalty to her mother.

Kazim swore harshly and strode to the far side of the tent before turning quickly. ‘Damn it, Amber, I trusted you! I believed every word you said when all along you were only after as much as you could get.’

She watched in stunned silence as he ploughed his fingers through his thick dark hair and wondered if there was anything she could say to sort this. But whatever she said would expose her true feelings for him, so wasn’t it for the best, just as she’d thought in Paris, for him to think the worst of her—that she was a money-hungry woman? At least then they could go their separate ways.