Beth looked down at her hands clasped in her lap, wishing the torture would end. Because for the rest of the banquet, during all the interminable courses and speeches, she felt Omar’s every movement beside her. She felt his every breath. She still felt him inside her. And most of all, she remembered the adoring gleam in his dark eyes when he’d held her, so briefly, to his heart.
All gone. All over. So she forced herself to smile through the pain. Because even though he was her husband, he’d never truly been hers.
Glancing at her face, Omar rose abruptly to his feet.
“My friends, we thank you for your congratulations. Now, my future bride and I must take our leave. She has had a tiring day, and we have much to discuss for our upcoming wedding.”
With a slight bow, Omar took her hand, helping her from the table. She pasted a frozen smile on her lips as they departed the hall, hand in hand.
But the moment they were alone, she yanked her arm from his grasp. Or at least, she tried. “You don’t need to escort me back to my bedroom.”
“Wrong,” he said grimly, holding her fast. “How else do I know you won’t try to run away?”
“I won’t!”
“We’ve already established I can’t trust you.” His hand was tight as he pulled her up the twisting stairs of the tower. He hesitated at his own bedroom door, then took her to the queen’s chamber. Once inside the elegant bedroom suite, Omar shut the door behind them. His eyes were grim as he faced her.
“Fine,” Beth said, wrenching her arm away, desperate for him to leave before she fell apart. She yanked the elaborate headdress off her head. “I’m safely in my room. Now you can go!”
He watched as her hair tumbled down her shoulders.
“Yes,” he muttered. “I will.”
But he did not move.
Trembling beneath his gaze, Beth leaned her hand against the cool stone wall for support. “Please,” she whispered. “Go. Now.”
“Yes,” he whispered, even as he drew close to her in the shadowy room, lit with dappled moonlight from the open windows. She could smell the faint scent of salt from the sea, exotic jasmine and spices. “I’ll go.”
He was so close to her. She licked her lips, and he groaned.
“Beth,” Omar said hoarsely, “you’re killing me—”
And he swept her into his powerful arms, pushing her against the wall as he lowered his mouth to hers in a rough, hard kiss.
* * *
Omar had wanted to humiliate Beth. To make her pay.
All night, he’d been simmering. She’d lied to him. She’d made a fool of him—and his country’s traditions. And for that, he’d never forgive her. For that, he’d intended to make her pay.
But it seemed hating her wasn’t enough. Because he was already doing the one thing he’d sworn to never do again. Kiss her.
With a low curse, he abruptly let her go.
“Why did you do that?” Her big hazel eyes were agonized, filled with both pain and desire. The same way he felt right now.
Everything about Beth in this moment, from her elaborate Samarqari gown to the firm posture of her shoulders, made her look like a queen. He would have been proud to have her as his bride, if she hadn’t lied. If things had been different—
Closing his eyes, he turned away.
He took a deep breath, then said in a low voice, “I should not have kissed you.”
“No.” Her voice was heartbreakingly quiet.
Setting his jaw, he took three steps toward the adjoining door to his own bedroom, then tightened his fists and turned to face her. “This is intolerable. Starting tomorrow, you will do your best to make my people hate you. Until they are begging for me to take someone else as my queen.”
“So you said. But how can I be rude?”