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  And yet, she found herself softening against him, the decadent desire to melt into his warmth sucking at her. She told herself she would only give in for a minute. Or two.

  When his gaze dropped to her mouth, she added one more.

  But the kiss she yearned for never came.

  Without taking his eyes from her, he gave a casual flick of his wrist, and the door was thrown open, ending the private moment that only she had wanted more of, it seemed.

  Zufar stepped out, and held out a courteous hand for her.

  Niesha placed her hand in his, struggling to reconcile the man who’d driven around the streets of Paris just so she could take a nap with the man who had clearly seen her invitation and declined it.

  The baby.

  Of course, it was all to do with the baby. How could she have forgotten?

  At the first opportunity, she drew her hand from his, vowing never to repeat her mistake. Besides, with her future in turmoil, the earlier she learned to stand on her own two feet, the better.

  She ignored the sharp look he sent her and hurried to board the plane.

  For the duration of the flight, she stayed in the bedroom with her tablet for company. By the time they landed in Khalia, she’d devoured everything she could find on her family. And shed a few tears along the way.

  Zufar scrutinised her face as they stepped out of the plane but didn’t comment. The ride to the palace was also conducted in silence, but when they approached their bedroom, she couldn’t hold back any more.

  ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘Once we have irrefutable confirmation, my special council will meet with yours and we’ll take it from there.’

  It wasn’t what she’d wanted to know, but discussing their bedroom arrangements when two kingdoms stood to be plunged into uncertainty felt trivial.

  ‘What do you mean, take it from there?’

  He shrugged. ‘You will appreciate that this is a unique situation for both of us. We’ll need to strategise the best way forwards.’

  ‘You’re speaking but not really saying much.’

  He dragged a hand through his hair, the first sign that the circumstances they found themselves in weren’t straightforward. ‘I can’t give you an answer I don’t have. Not without further investigation.’

  ‘Investigation?’ she echoed.

  ‘All signs point to the fact that Rumadah needs its rightful ruler back on the throne. It hasn’t had one for two decades.’

  ‘Because a new one couldn’t be crowned for twenty-five years,’ she added, recalling what she’d read about her country’s constitution on the plane. According to the laws, a missing heir to the throne couldn’t be ruled out until twenty-five years had passed. In that time a twelve-member council, the same that had served the last King, would rule the kingdom.

  In another five years, she would’ve lost her birthright.

  But was it one she wanted, if it meant what she was beginning to fear? Because how could she claim her Rumadian birthright and still remain Queen of Khalia? Zufar’s wife?

  Her insides shook at the mere thought of walking away from him. It seemed more impossible now than ever. Because the loss of her family wasn’t the only reason she’d cried on the plane. She’d also cried because she’d finally accepted that she was in love with Zufar. And painfully accepted that that love would never be reciprocated.

  ‘Perhaps we shouldn’t jump the gun just yet. This could all be an elaborate hoax,’ she said, more in hope than expectation.

  The look in Zufar’s eyes told her the same. ‘A few days ago I urged you to reconcile yourself to never discovering your past. That landscape has changed and delivered everything you hoped for. Perhaps you should reconcile yourself to this blessing?’

  She flinched at the trace of censure in his voice. Before she could respond, he turned from her. ‘I need to catch up on a few engagements. Don’t wait up for me.’

  The last statement was both a blessing and a curse. He intended to find her in their bed when he deigned to return but he didn’t care whether she was awake or asleep now that she was pregnant?

  Niesha was rubbing at that agonising spot in her chest when the doors opened again and Halimah and the rest of her retinue descended on her.

  She forced herself to respond that, yes, she was happy to be back, and that, yes, her honeymoon had been everything she’d dreamed about as they helped her undress and ran a bath for her. She withstood their attention for as long as she could, until she felt as if her face would break if she smiled one more time.

  They respectfully retreated when she asked for privacy. With a sigh, she sank into her lavender and jasmine-scented bath. Immediately, a few dozen questions crowded her mind.

  Zufar had suggested she be grateful to have her birthright back. But would everyone else feel the same? Would her people even want her once the inevitable announcement was made?

  With no definitive answers in hand, she ate a light dinner and went to bed early.

  If Zufar came to bed at all, he was gone when she woke, and when Kadira arrived, she was told His Highness had instructed her workload be kept light until further notice.

  If he wanted to set tongues wagging about a possible pregnancy, he couldn’t have done a better job, she thought with a bite of irritation. All day, Kadira slid smiling, speculative glances at her. And Halimah and her attendants joined in as they helped her prepare for bed.

  Again, she didn’t see Zufar, even when she woke in the middle of the night.

  When she next woke, it was with a heavy, pounding heart.

  Today was the day.

  Dr Basim had been given forty-eight hours. Whatever happened, she would have a choice to make.

  * * *

  His wife, his Queen, who carried his heir, was herself an heiress to another kingdom. Even though Zufar had known it was inevitable the moment he’d clapped eyes on the pictures of Niesha’s parents, he wasn’t ashamed to admit a small part of him had hoped that the information would be proved wrong.

  Dr Basim and a team of doctors in Rumadah had proved conclusively that Niesha, or Nazira, as she was being addressed in his conference room, was the rightful heiress to the Rumadian throne.

  Not that he’d wished for her past to remain a closed chapter to her, but this situation was not at all what he’d anticipated or remotely wanted.

  With their reports, however, another bombshell had been dumped into his lap. One that demanded immediate remedy.

  He watched the councillors who had accompanied Dr Basim bow and scrape before Niesha. Watched her shy, smiling acknowledgement, and the eagerness with which she absorbed every morsel of information they delivered to her.

  For the most part, her seeming return from the dead was very welcome news indeed. And with each moment that passed, he could see the wheels turning in the councillors’ minds regarding how to swiftly reclaim their Queen.

  A few cast furtive glances towards him, wary of his silence.

  The simple truth was that to vocalise his true feelings would’ve shocked them all. The churning in his chest that had begun long before Niesha’s past had been revealed, and which had grown considerably since the revelation, exploded into gut-clenching proportions as he watched them slowly sink their claws into the woman he had claimed for himself.

  Or attempted to claim.

  Behind his back, his fists curled, his whole body tensed up in battle mode. The thundering of his blood hissed that, regardless of his acceptance of her birthright, he wasn’t about to let her go that easily.

  You may not have a choice.

  He ignored the voice that had been growing louder. By his own bargain, he’d placed an exit clause on their marriage. Whether he chose to accept it or not, a termination date could very well be on its way back to bite him.

  He noticed his own councillors sending him quest
ioning looks, but for the first time in his life, he didn’t have ready answers available. He hadn’t had them back in Paris when the thought had first occurred to him that he might lose Niesha.

  ‘Your Serene Highness, we will need to make an announcement soon. When can we expect you to return to Rumadah?’

  This came from the chief councillor, a cunning old man who’d been eyeing Zufar since they entered his conference room.

  ‘Return?’ Niesha echoed.

  ‘Of course. Once the announcement is made, your people will wish to see you, to reassure themselves that you are well.’

  ‘She is well, as you can very well see.’ Zufar attempted to modulate his voice, but knew he hadn’t succeeded when more eyes turned wary.

  ‘Of course, Your Highness, and we will be grateful to you and to your people for ever for taking such good care of our Queen.’

  ‘But...?’ he trailed softly. There was a but. It was written on all their faces.

  ‘But...with a thousand pardons, her rightful place is back in Rumadah. Her people need her.’

  Simple words.

  Heavy, life-altering words, as he very well knew.

  Not too long in the recent past his own councillors had pleaded with him in the same manner, urging him to save Khalia after his father’s abdication.

  Even now, his people needed him. Khalia might have regained her rightful position as a powerful state to be reckoned with but Rumadah had merely trundled along, no one stepping up to make the bold decisions that would take it from a game player to a shot caller.

  Without a bold leader to ensure its considerable power was harnessed in the right way, it risked falling into apathy or, worse, into enemy hands. From the research he’d done himself, Zufar knew that the oil-rich country had only stayed on an even course because of its substantial deposits.

  A glance around the room of ageing councillors delivered the hard truth that it was only a matter of time before the situation altered for the worse. They needed a true leader, a visionary, who would rule with a firm but compassionate hand.

  Someone like Niesha.

  His wife.

  His Queen.

  The mother of his unborn child.

  It was impossible.

  It was also inevitable that a decision needed to be taken. And soon.

  He turned and looked at the two dozen people in the room.

  Niesha sat at the head of the table, nodding and making comments where necessary, but he knew her head wasn’t in the game. How could it be, when they were all speaking at once?

  Over their heads, her gaze snapped up. Wide amethyst eyes met and locked on his, and something deep and profound moved in his chest. That sensation had also been escalating, confounding him at the oddest moments.

  But far too soon, her gaze dropped away from his as she turned to address the man seated to her right. Whatever he was saying to her wasn’t good because after a few minutes she paled a little, even as she nodded.

  Enough.

  Realising he hadn’t vocalised the word, he spoke again. ‘Enough.’ When he had their attention, he went to Niesha, placed his hand at the back of her chair. ‘Give us the room,’ he ordered, stamping his tone with implacable authority. ‘I wish to speak to my wife in private.’

  The councillors looked a little surprised, but one by one they filed out.

  ‘Thank you. I needed a break,’ Niesha murmured.

  ‘Then you should’ve asked for one.’ Realising his voice was still brusque, he modified it. ‘This must be overwhelming for you.’

  ‘Despite their collective age, they’re like a pack of overzealous wolf pups, all with sharp teeth they don’t know can hurt.’

  Her description couldn’t have been more accurate. He also remembered that pups grew into adulthood, some into alphas who relished a challenge. ‘The trick is to train them early, show them who’s in charge. Yours doesn’t need to be the loudest voice in the room, but it needs to be the final authority.’

  The look she gave him was filled with gratitude. As much as he welcomed it, Zufar yearned for another look. One whose absence made the band around his chest tighter by the day.

  ‘I need to write these things down, don’t I? To remember them for later.’

  ‘You won’t need to. You’re their Queen. Leadership was bred into you from birth.’ And soon, if her councillors succeeded, she would take it and herself away from him.

  She sighed and lifted a hand to rub her temple. A moment later, she straightened her spine, a resolute look settling on her face.

  How could he not have spotted signs of her breeding from the moment they met? Royalty was stamped into every fibre of her being, every drop of her blood.

  ‘You wanted to talk to me?’

  Words eluded him for a moment as the combination of delicate jaw, sensual mouth and alluring eyes flattened him. But he forced himself to focus. He’d cleared the room to give her breathing space but there was another subject that needed discussing. ‘Dr Basim hasn’t told them you’re pregnant. Is he planning on telling them?’

  It would be one way to force her quicker return to Rumadah. A risen-from-the-dead queen would please her people. One expecting a royal heir would be euphoric.

  He wondered whether it was a card she intended to play.

  She laughed. ‘I’ve barely managed to get their names right.’

  Her self-effacing response didn’t please him. ‘It’s customary to keep news of pregnancy under wraps for the first trimester,’ he pressed.

  She blinked, then rose and went to stand before the floor-to-ceiling windows. Framed against it, she looked almost delicate. But her spine was straight, her resolve absolute. ‘I’ll tell them when I’m ready.’

  Relief and the breath he hadn’t realised he held burst through him. She burst it a fraction of a second later.

  ‘Half of the advisers are returning tomorrow. The other half leave on Friday. They want me to accompany them when they return to Rumadah.’

  When had these arrangements been made? While he’d been tuned out, feeling sorry for himself? ‘Friday is three days away,’ he growled. ‘We just returned from our honeymoon. I can’t leave again so soon.’ Especially when he didn’t have an answer on how to stop the freight train he could sense heading his way.

  Her lashes swept down, veiling her expression. ‘I understand. I’m sure I’ll be fine on my own,’ she said.

  That vice threatened to squeeze every last breath out of him. ‘I see. And how long will you be gone?’

  ‘Three days. Maybe four.’

  The prompt answer froze the blood in his veins. ‘Was that the plan all along?’

  Her eyelashes lifted. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Use my duty to my people against me?’

  She gasped. ‘Zufar, I don’t know what you’re talking—’

  He stared down at her, the inevitability of loss continuing to suffocate him. ‘And what happens after that?’

  Her eyes widen. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Do you intend to commute back and forth between your kingdom and mine?’

  Her forehead gathered in a delicate frown. Then she shrugged. ‘This is all new. I don’t have the answers, Zufar. But I think you know that I owe it to my people to at least let them know who I am.’

  A part of him felt shame for her hurt, but it wasn’t enough to overcome the terrible anguish scything its way through him. He despised the feeling. Enough for him to approach her, despite his vow to refrain from touching her.

  She had enough on her plate without his ever-growing hunger for her saturating the atmosphere between them. It was a decision he’d made in Prague after watching her sleep, seeing the shadows beneath her eyes, and knowing that he was partly to blame for it.

  For the first two weeks of their marriage, he’d never let a night pass with
out making love to her, his need so great it had confounded him even then. That need had grown into unbearable proportions by the time they’d arrived in Prague.

  When the demands of his duties had kept him way from the marriage bed for that first night, he’d watched her for signs that she’d missed him the next morning. There had been none.

  The idea that the carnal weakness was on his part alone had brought him up short. And when, night after night, Niesha had made no attempts to reach for him, he’d had his answer. He’d roped her into a bargain to provide him with an heir, but was that all it was for her? Was that the only reason for her welcoming him into her body?

  Perhaps that was the reason she could speak so freely of leaving him behind for four days.

  ‘If that’s the plan, you’ll need to rethink it because it won’t be sustainable,’ he bit out.

  She paled a little, but continued to hold his gaze boldly. ‘What are you saying, Zufar?’

  ‘I’m saying that even the shortest of separations has a habit of growing. It’s not healthy for any marriage. My parents led separate lives, my mother lived in the east wing and my father lived in the west. Even under the same roof, their marriage was a sham. I do not wish this for myself.’

  ‘I agree, but—’

  ‘I know what I want and it certainly did not involve living in separate countries.’

  ‘So you wish me to renounce my birthright?’ she demanded with a hint of tears in her eyes.

  Ice gripped his nape hard. ‘I’m saying that hard choices need to be made.’

  ‘And you want me to be the one to make them?’ Her eyes brimmed, her mouth trembling for one second before she pursed it.

  He wanted to lift his hand to her face, brush away her tears, but that would be giving in. For as long as he could remember his father had given in to his mother’s every whim, making himself deeply miserable at every turn. Zufar had vowed never to leave himself that vulnerable. But...was it already too late?

  ‘We had an agreement,’ he threw at her.

  She took in a heavy, shaky breath. ‘And I am not reneging on it. I’m only trying to find a way—’