‘Correction. He would be delighted for you to marry me. It was always what he wanted.’
She shook her shorn head distractedly. How could her father, her sweet gentle father, possibly have agreed to let his daughter be given to this…this…? ‘Barbarian!’ she spat at him.
He gave a low laugh. ‘Oh, how I enjoy your protestations and your defiance, Jenna,’ he murmured. ‘Your capitulation will make a worthy prize, and you, my sweet, will make a most stimulating partner!’
Defensively, she locked her long fingers around her neck. ‘Partner!’ she echoed. ‘I can’t believe you have the nerve to use an expression which describes some kind of sharing!’
‘We will share many things,’ he promised. ‘And I will show you how much lovemaking can be enjoyed.’
She felt sick.
Sex.
That was what this was all about. Sex and pride and blood-lines and showing her just why he was considered one of the world’s greatest lovers. Whatever had happened to the mention of love? But more fool her for wishing for the impossible. It had never been anything other than a business arrangement, and one which he had been happy to avoid for as long as possible.
And when he tired of her, as he inevitably would, what then? For Rashid had known many women in his life—why on earth should he settle for a life of marital fidelity when he was used to variety in the most exotic sense imaginable.
Could she bear it? She imagined some not-too-distant day when he would go abroad on ‘business’—but in reality would no doubt be seeking out the experienced warmth of Chantal, or women just like her?
But what else could she do?
She asked herself what alternative she had, tried to imagine the scenario of thwarting his wishes and risking her father’s wrath. She thought of Nadia, too—and her loving but clandestine relationship with Brad. What if Rashid followed her back to New York, determined to get his own way, and discovered the truth about her sister and her American lover, as doubtless he would?
He would put a stop to that, as well—she wouldn’t put it past him. And how could she threaten her dear sister’s very obvious happiness because of a bizarre sequence of events which had culminated in her losing her innocence to Rashid?
She had no choice—she was doomed if she did and doomed if she didn’t. Her fevered mind could not see any alternative to the one which lay so darkly in front her.
She nodded her head, her face full of resignation, but she did not flinch from his piercing gaze. ‘You may take me as your bride, Rashid,’ she said, with quiet dignity. ‘But you cannot make me a willing partner! And here is something else that might make you change your mind—I will never enjoy sex with you. Never, ever, ever!’
By the shafts of his silken-clad thighs he clenched his fists with anger, but only for a moment. He must maintain control—at least until after the ceremony. But it wasn’t easy—not with her lips parted in protest and just begging to be kissed.
Resisting the urge to crush her into his arms and to prove her wrong in the most unequivocal way possible, he stood up and towered over her, like some dark, avenging statue.
‘You must know that I like nothing better than a challenge, my impetuous Jenna,’ he said softly. ‘How I will take pleasure in making you take those words back, in having you sigh my name over and over again as you beg for more, and yet more.’
‘Never!’ she said again, but that look of dark intent in his eyes was difficult to challenge.
‘We shall see,’ came his cool retort. ‘Now, come. Let us go to your father. Let us break the happy news to him.’
CHAPTER SIX
‘YOUR Sheikh awaits you, mistress. The w
edding draws near.’
The words seemed to come at her from a long way away, and Jenna forced herself back into the present from out of the wistful thoughts which had occupied her mind for much of the last week. And one thought alone had dominated.
There was to be no baby.
The discovery had not surprised her, for physically she had not felt any different—and surely she would have felt profoundly and completely different if Rashid’s child had been growing inside her womb?
But she had been unprepared for the primitive swamping of despondency when she had learned that she would not start her married life as a pregnant woman. At least a baby would have given her some reason for being. Some reason for being married to a man who did not love her.
She had spent sleepless nights weeping silently into her pillow as she mourned something which all common-sense told her was the best thing which could have happened.
Yet Rashid, too, had not reacted as she might have expected. There had been none of the expected exultation and relief. She had quietly told him and he had taken the news in silence, his dark eyes hooded, and then he had nodded his dark head.
‘It is as destiny wills it,’ he had said, his voice sounding cold and toneless.