Because hadn’t Zabrina of Albastase smashed down all his carefully erected defences that night? Hadn’t he found himself unable to resist her in a way which had been mind-blowingly unique? His mouth hardened. She had made him lose control in a way which was alien to him, transforming him into a man he didn’t recognise, or particularly respect. In her arms he had felt as if he had died and gone to heaven and it had been terrifying and delicious. But he realised it had put her firmly in the driving seat and he wanted to shift the balance of power back in his favour. And that was why he continued to distance himself from his future bride, no matter how great the cost to his equilibrium.
She wanted him. Of course she did. Every woman had always wanted him, ever since he’d reached puberty. But what he felt for her was right off the scale. It was as though provocative and carnal invitation thrummed from every pore of her delicious body. At times it became almost too much to bear and he was tempted to throw caution to the winds and take her in his arms. His fantasy involved either the slowest removal of lingerie in the history of the world, or ripping off her panties and plunging deep into her syrupy heat as her little cries of encouragement urged him on.
But he wasn’t going to do that. He was going to make her wait, even if he half tortured himself with frustration in the process. He would demonstrate icy control and defer delight until the appropriate time and that would be an invaluable lesson in self-denial. Zabrina would come to him on their wedding night, humbled by his restraint and eager to taste pleasure once again. Because delay heightened hunger.
His mouth twisted.
Or so he’d heard.
He looked at the gleam of wavy dark hair which fell so abundantly over her shoulders. At the green silk dress which matched her eyes and clung so enticingly to t
he small and perfect breasts. He’d thought about those breasts a lot recently, especially at night when he’d been lying in his lonely bed, sleeplessly staring as the shifting moon painted the walls silver. Just as he’d thought about her strong, slim thighs and the way his head had fitted so perfectly between them.
‘Of course I’m planning to do something with the Marengo Forest,’ he said, reluctantly dragging his thoughts back to the present, knowing he had no one but himself to blame for the hard throb of his erection. He cleared his throat. ‘Its return has been in my sights for a long time and I have big plans for it.’
She looked up from where she had begun to pleat her napkin with those tanned fingers which had worked such magic on his shuddering flesh. ‘You do?’
He frowned. ‘Why else do you think I should go to so much trouble to acquire it? Why I’m prepared to pay such a monumental amount of money for it, in the form of your dowry?’
‘I hope you think I’m worth it.’
He saw her cheeks colour and momentarily felt a little bad as she made the sardonic comment, but only for a moment. Hadn’t they both agreed to be pragmatic about the situation? ‘It’s a deal, Zabrina,’ he said simply. ‘Remember? And this is not just about territory—about me having some hypothetical need to return the Petrogorian flag to its rightful place. I want to build an airport nearby—it’s a pristine, natural wilderness which is ripe for sympathetic eco-tourism.’
‘Oh.’ Her fingers stilled on the napkin, the white linen folds making her skin look like softest gold. ‘Oh, I see.’
‘So what makes you appear so crestfallen?’ he enquired idly. ‘The price I’m paying for that piece of land is more than you could have ever hoped of achieving, if you’d sold it on the open market. Even you must realise that.’
‘Yes, of course I do. It’s not that.’
‘What, then?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ She shook her head. ‘It won’t be of any possible interest to you.’
‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?’ He took a sip of coffee. ‘I’m interested to know what’s making you bite your lip as if you have all the cares of the world on your shoulders.’
Imprisoned in the grey spotlight of his narrowed eyes, Zabrina hesitated. Should she tell him what she’d been thinking? This was to be nothing but a marriage of ‘convenience’, which presumably meant they could keep things on a very superficial level. But what was the point of keeping everything buttoned up inside her? Wasn’t one of the benefits of a live-in relationship supposed to be that you were at liberty to confide in your partner? And surely it would be good to talk to someone who might actually listen, rather than her mother—on whose deaf ears Zabrina’s concerns had always fallen, so that she’d given up expressing her fears a long time ago.
‘If you must know, I admire your ambitious plans about a region which has lain neglected for so long...’
‘But? I suspect there’s a “but” coming?’
‘I guess I’m also slightly frustrated that my country didn’t think of doing it first.’
‘Either nobody considered it, or they didn’t have the wherewithal to carry it out. Presumably the latter.’ He looked at her with a steady gaze. ‘It usually boils down to hard finance, Zabrina.’
‘I know it does.’ She puffed out an unsteady breath. ‘I suppose I’m also concerned about the amount of money you’re paying for the land. And for me,’ she finished drily.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘You don’t think it’s enough?’
She gave a short laugh. ‘Nobody in the world could think that. It’s an extremely generous amount of money. I’m more worried about what’s going to happen to it when it lands in my father’s bank account.’
‘He could spend it wisely. Make sure it’s ploughed back into the country.’ He gave a shrug. ‘You know. Invest in some new infrastructure.’
Zabrina could feel her cheeks colour as she wondered whether it might be wise to close the subject down. Anyone who had been to Albastase knew it was getting very frayed around the edges, but few people knew just how inept the King was at managing finances. Sometimes she wished this money had been transferred directly to the government, bypassing the royal coffers, giving him little opportunity to fritter it away—but she could hardly denounce her own father.
‘I hope so.’
‘You don’t sound very convinced.’