forcing open his eyelids to see Hannah on the other side of the bedroom, tipping strong coffee into two tiny glimmering cups. Sitting up in bed, he raked his fingers back through his tousled hair—scowling in confusion as he noticed slats of bright sunlight slanting through the shutters.
‘What time is it?’ he demanded.
She was undulating towards him, her silken gown flowing around her like a waterfall as she carried one of the tiny golden cups.
‘Almost nine,’ she replied, putting the coffee down beside him. ‘You slept right through.’
Was he imagining the hint of triumph in her voice and the look of satisfaction on her face? ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ he questioned, pushing aside the sex-scented sheets and watching her aquamarine gaze automatically flicker towards the hardness at his groin, before she lifted her eyes to his face. ‘You know I like to exercise my stallion before dawn.’
‘I know you do. But you looked so peaceful lying there that I couldn’t bring myself to wake you. And I assumed one of the servants would take your horse out in your absence.’
His mouth thinned. ‘How quickly you have become used to having servants, Hannah,’ he commented drily. ‘But I think we’re both aware that nobody gives Baasif a ride quite as hard as I do.’
He saw colour creep into her skin and knew that she wasn’t thinking about horse-riding. The throb at his groin intensified. Neither was he. But she needed to understand that this wasn’t going to become like a regular marriage, with them spending every constricting moment in each other’s company. Did she think he would give up his morning ride and become sedentary and fat? To lie in bed with her, drinking coffee and eating pastries? He scowled as he reached for his robe.
‘Why don’t you drink your coffee, Kulal?’ she said calmly and her words suddenly felt like the domestic kiss of death.
‘I don’t want any coffee,’ he snarled.
He pulled the garment over his head and saw the disappointment on her face. But he would be tolerant with her. He wouldn’t berate her for forcing him into something he had told her he didn’t want—not when it was his own fault for falling asleep like that. But it would not happen again, he thought grimly. Never again would he waken to some commonplace scene of domesticity, with her giving him that doe-eyed look which was suddenly making him feel so trapped.
He thought she might be about to do the sensible thing and just let him leave, but she didn’t. She crossed the room and stood in front of him, reaching up to cup his jaw and to run a questing thumb over it—as if testing for herself how rough his new growth of beard was first thing in the morning. It was as much as Kulal could do not to flinch, but somehow he stopped himself in time. And then she started to speak.
‘Kulal?’
He stepped away from her touch. ‘I hope this is urgent, Hannah,’ he said warningly.
She drew in a deep breath as if she hadn’t heard him. ‘Must you leave my bed every night, as though I am your mistress instead of your wife?’
He raised his eyebrows, trying to keep it light. ‘You don’t think that such behaviour adds a piquant spice to our relationship?’ he drawled.
‘You’re all the spice I need, Kulal,’ she said almost shyly and then did something she hadn’t done for many weeks.
She blushed.
She blushed and Kulal felt the whisper of danger.
‘Haven’t we already had this discussion?’
‘Yes, but I wondered whether we might review things.’
‘Review things?’ he echoed. ‘Like what?’
She shrugged. ‘I like waking up beside you,’ she said shyly. ‘Just as I like you holding me tightly all night long.’
He frowned. ‘Was I holding you all night long?’
‘You don’t remember? You certainly were. You were murmuring things to me in Zahristanian in the middle of the night.’ She smiled, and the blush deepened. ‘I didn’t have a clue what the words meant, but they sounded...’
His head jerked up. ‘Sounded what?’
Nervously, she ran the tip of her pink tongue in a moist and curving path over her lips as if she had suddenly recognised that this line of conversation was unwise. ‘Nothing,’ she said quickly.
But it was too late because just then, Kulal did remember. Something she’d whispered in his ear in the deepest point of the night when he was deep inside her.
Kulal, I love you.
Kulal, I love you so much.
Had that been her response to his own words of appreciation, which had probably been nothing more than murmured praise for her ability to make him orgasm so often? Had she misinterpreted them—seen her opportunity to strike, by professing for him what he had emphatically told her he didn’t want? He felt the icy clench of rage around his heart as he studied her. Did she think everything had suddenly changed just because they were sexually compatible and could spend the occasional evening eating dinner without having a row? Did she think she could disregard his wishes in order to pursue her own? ‘What’s this all about, Hannah?’ he questioned.
She paced around the suite a bit, moving her shoulders restlessly like someone eager to get a whole load of stuff off their chest. ‘I’ve read various things about your childhood,’ she said at last. ‘Although the information available was quite patchy.’
‘And?’ he questioned, though she appeared not to notice the warning in his voice.
‘And I can see you probably had to learn to be independent because your mother died when you were so young and your father was away a lot. But I can understand that independence, because I had to grow up fast, too.’
‘That’s enough!’
‘Please, Kulal.’ Her words started to falter when she saw his expression, but she forged on. ‘Let me just say this.’
‘I would strongly advise against saying anything else, since I need to shower and get dressed and go to see my advisors,’ he said, but she carried on as if he hadn’t spoken and fleetingly Kulal thought how audacious it was that the one-time chambermaid should so openly disregard the wishes of the King.
‘I’m not asking for the impossible,’ she said, still in that same soft voice. ‘Just that you relax and let what happens happen. That you stop leaving my bed straight after we’ve had sex.’ She cleared her throat and slanted him a hopeful smile. ‘I’ve never seen you looking so contented as when you were asleep this morning.’
It might have worked if he hadn’t remembered her words and Kulal realised it would be easier to pretend he hadn’t heard them. But he knew women well and once that phrase was out there, she would say it again. Oh, it might not be for a week—maybe even a month—but there would be some vulnerable point when she mistook passion or kindness for something more. She would say them again and expect him to start saying them back. And that was never going to happen.
‘Have you fallen in love with me, Hannah?’ he questioned softly and as she drew in a sharp intake of breath, he could see the flicker of hope in her pale eyes.
‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘I’ve tried so hard not to but it’s happened almost without me realising it. I love you, Kulal. I love you so much.’
Kulal stared at the woman before him, her eyes bright with passion and her cheeks flushed with emotion.
His wife.
His wife who had just told him she loved him.
His lips curved as he felt anger course through his veins. ‘What do you want me to say, Hannah?’ he snarled. ‘That I love you, too? Because, believe me—that is never going to happen.’