Annie West - Royals Untamed!

‘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 we talked that night in my flat, not once did you mention your need for an heir. What were you planning? To seduce me then send me away again as soon as I’d had the child?’ Hurt spiked in her heart at the very thought of such a suggestion. Would he really be that hard and unfeeling? A few days ago she would have said no, but right now, as he looked at her, she wasn’t at all sure.

‘That’s outrageous!’ he protested. But she stood firm, his reaction proof enough that that was exactly what he’d planned.

As if to test her further, the wailing of the wind increased and the tent walls seemed to flap wildly, and she wondered if it would at any minute fall down around her. Just like her marriage had. Now it seemed her life was doing the same thing. For a few short days in England she’d glimpsed what could be, sampled the delights of loving, but since arriving back in Barazbin everything had fallen apart. Her dreams and shattered hopes were crushed almost beyond recognition. He’d never wanted her, not in the way she wanted him. He needed her, not as a woman, but in the same way an actor would need a prop.

‘It’s the truth, Kazim, and you know it.’ Oh, how she wished she could storm off somewhere and give vent to her ever increasing frustration.

‘Truth seems to be something you are not familiar with.’ He spoke softly, his voice lowered and his inky black eyes fixing hers with a piercing gaze. ‘From the minute I saw you in that club, you have lied to me. You can’t deny that, Amber. Everything you have said has been wrapped in deceit.’

‘That is not true,’ she gasped, remembering the way she’d allowed him to jump to conclusions about the money. She’d let him assume she’d spent it all, had frittered it away on frivolous things. ‘I’m not in the wrong. You’re the one who always made assumptions because His Royal Highness is always right, no matter what.’

‘Now you are talking nonsense.’ He shot the words out, his anger at her ridicule obvious.

‘I’m speaking the truth and you know it. You deceived me about the reason I had to return here with you, not to mention the callous blackmail tactics you employed.’ The tent seemed to bow inwards to them, as if the wind wanted to join in, but she didn’t take her eyes from his.

* * *

‘This has gone on long enough,’ Kazim snapped as fury and frustration boiled over inside him. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing more to discuss. They were married and that marriage would produce the heir he needed.

He watched as Amber took in a deep breath. He’d never met such a challenging woman. Neither had he met a woman he wanted so much. Even now, with furious words flying between them and the undisguised mistrust radiating from her, he still desired her.

‘Yes, it has and as soon as I can I am leaving. I want to go back to my flat in Paris, and to start my art course. I want my life back, Kazim. I will not be a part of your power games.’

‘Strong words for a woman in such a weak position.’

‘I’m not the one who needs the heir,’ she said slowly, her delicate brows raised in mockery. ‘Which I think will put you in the weak position. And yes, I intend to be strong.’

‘You are back in Barazbin as my wife, truly my wife.’ He watched as annoyance flashed across her face. ‘That, at least, is something we can build on.’

‘What is?’

‘The attraction we have for one another. You can’t deny that, even now. You don’t want me to kiss you?’ He watched her eyes turn a deeper brown and become heavy, but as her lips pressed together he saw her expression change, as if she’d just stepped behind a protective barrier. A wall meant to keep him out.

‘I most certainly do not,’ she retorted as she walked away.

She wasn’t getting away with it that easily. If he had to face up to things then so did she. Love was what she’d called the simmering tension that stretched tautly between them every second they were together. He called it lust.

‘Prove it,’ he said as he followed her, grabbing hold of her arm and pulling her against him, the silk of her abaya whispering softly. Her breasts pressed against his chest and a hot stab of lust hurtled through him. All he was doing was proving he was the one attracted to her, while she remained rigid in his arms. Unyielding and unrelenting.

‘No, I will not.’ Each word was razor-sharp and she glared up at him.

The challenge was too much.

‘Then I will.’

With that his lips claimed hers in a demanding kiss, one that made his pulse race. Beneath his lips, hers remained still and pressed tightly shut, but as his hand plunged into the softness of her hair they parted and a sigh escaped. His heart rate rocketed and desire thumped in his blood.