Scandal: His Majesty's Love-Child

Only to discover he wasn’t talking about a proper marriage. Her insides caved in as understanding hit. What a fool she’d been, deluding herself.

Convenience was the key word for him, not marriage.

Would they even live together? He’d have lovers; she had no doubt of that. How would she cope? Surely he wouldn’t install them in the palace!

Something twisted inside and she hunched reflexively, fearing she’d give in to nausea. She felt hollow, a fragile shell.

Even after Saleem had flayed her with his brutal prejudice, she’d been naïve enough to believe that between she and Tahir there was hope for something precious. Something more than simply escaping sordid scandal.

‘Annalisa!’ Tahir’s voice was sharp with concern.

She ignored him and stumbled to the garden seat, subsiding as the strength ebbed from her shaky legs.

‘I’ll get a doctor.’

‘No!’ She tried to gather her wits. ‘I’m okay.’ His look told her he didn’t believe her. He was poised for instant action.

Wearily she stared up at the man who offered support for her and their child for the sake of respectability. For safety. Possibly even because he feared a public backlash that might affect the monarchy.

But not because he felt anything for her personally.

Annalisa’s heart clenched.

Did she have any choice?

Stupid to wish for a real marriage, a loving union    , when the only man she cared for wasn’t capable of love.

She ignored the pain piercing her. He offered security for her child.

His gaze held hers steadily. His look questioned.

‘Very well,’ she murmured, finally accepting the inevitable. This was the only option. Anything else was wishful thinking.

Yet still she hesitated, drawing a sustaining breath.

‘I’ll marry you.’ She almost choked on the words.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘EXCELLENT.’

In an instant he was beside her on the seat. The scent of his skin mingled with fresh salt air and unthinkingly she breathed deep. Behind him stars winked in a black velvet sky. It should have been a night for lovers.

‘I knew you’d make the sensible decision.’

Sensible. The word was a lead weight. How sensible to marry for public opinion, for show and security? It made a sham of the vows they’d make and all she believed in.

Her melancholy thoughts shattered as Tahir took her hand and bent his head. His lips caressed the back of her hand in a courtly gesture that dragged her straight into another reality. One where the needs of her body and the sentimental hopes he’d just obliterated rose tremulously once more.

No! She’d be a fool to fall for his practised charm.

Yet the sight of his dark head bent over her hand, the pressure of his mouth, ignited feelings she couldn’t douse.

She almost sobbed her despair that even now, with her pride and heart in tatters, she responded.

She tugged her hand but his hold tightened.

Her breath hissed as he turned her hand and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the centre of her palm. To the sensitive spot she hadn’t known existed till he’d introduced her to physical pleasure.

Under dark lashes his eyes glittered, bright and knowing. Her heartbeat accelerated and her fingers itched to stroke his soft hair as she had once before.

Tahir’s tongue swirled against her skin and every nerve cell juddered. Bone-melting bliss stole through her.

She opened her mouth to object, but all that emerged was a sigh as floodgates opened on feelings, needs she’d struggled so long to suppress.

Where was her resolve? Her strength?

As if attuned to her weakness, Tahir kissed her fingers, the tender skin at her wrist, sending her pulse racing wildly out of control.

This man was dangerous.

She tugged again, surprised when he released her hand. Bright eyes met hers from mere inches away. Fear—or was it excitement?—tugged at her belly as she saw what was in his eyes.

‘No, Tahir! I don’t—’

The rest was muffled as his mouth claimed hers. Not hard, not recklessly, but with complete assurance. Their lips met, clung, meshed as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her hands wedged against his chest. She told herself to push, hard. Yet traitorously they clung, fingers spreading greedily across the deep curve of his muscles.

A sob rose in Annalisa’s throat. Frustration at his arrogance and her instant capitulation? Or relief at the absolute rightness of it? She’d craved this so long.

Her head spun crazily as he pressed close, his kiss deepening possessively. She tried to fight, to summon strength and detachment, but his passionate mouth, his deft fingers in her hair, were exquisite pleasure.

Once this ended she’d be bereft anyway. Did it matter that for a few glorious moments she succumbed? After this she’d be strong.