“I didn’t mean to displace you,” she said, reluctantly, because there was nothing good that could come from discussing the past.
He leaned closer to her, and she held her breath, her heart telling her to be strong, to fight this, to fight the temptation to sink into him.
“You took my breath away, from the first moment I saw you. But it was at your seventeenth birthday when I realised what I felt wasn’t jealousy of you, for your friendship with Addan.”
Her eyes closed as she remembered that night – his palpable anger. “I was so jealous of Addan. He announced your betrothal and I wanted to lift you up and take you away, to hide you all for me. I wanted you all for myself, Sophia.”
She shook her head – it wasn’t true. There was no way that made sense. “You hated me.”
“Yes. I hated you. I hated you because of how you made me feel. Addan and I had been so close, but knowing you would marry him, I began to hate him, too. To feel such envy that it sickened me. He was my brother and I found myself wishing our place in the order of succession had been reversed. I found myself wishing my father had thought you would be a suitable bride for me. When Addan died…”
“Don’t.” She shook her head. “You didn’t will that.”
“Didn’t I?” He glared at her and she felt the cold despair in his heart. “I didn’t care for his throne or rule, but I wanted you in a way that appalled me. I told myself the only way to atone for how I had envied him and coveted you was to ensure our relationship was never more than sex. He had held your heart, and taking that from him was too low. It was too much to hope you might love me, as you had him. I had to content myself with your body.”
His words were striking against her sides. She heard them but wanted to roll them up and throw them back at him. She wanted… she felt stronger now, fight filling her.
“I told you again and again that what I had with Addan was different.”
“Yes. And I was so glad for that. Glad that you were so much happier with him. Glad that he was the man you had chosen to marry. Remembering that I was your consolation husband almost stopped me from wanting more from you.”
“I gave you more,” she said with impatient disbelief. “I gave you everything.”
“Yes,” he admitted, his nod a jerk of his head. Their daughter had drunk all of her bottle. He lifted her over his shoulder, burping her gently, and then passed the little one to Sophia. She cradled their daughter, her heart twisting inside her chest. “You gave me everything, and it only made me more determined. The more you tried to convince me we could be friends, the more I insisted we wouldn’t be. When you told me you loved me, I wanted to die, Sophia, for how much I craved those words. He was my brother.” The last sentence was anguished. “And you were his fiancé. He loved you, so much. He loved you and to hear you say you love me… I was so angry.”
“I remember.” She swallowed.
“But I wasn’t angry with you. I was furious with this life – with fate – with the fact you’d been chosen for him, and acquiesced so readily to those wishes. I was furious that you and I hadn’t simply met, two people, unencumbered by any of this. I was so angry that what my heart wanted felt impossible to attain.”
She dropped her head forward, her eyes filling with tears once more.
“I told you, this is different. You cannot compare what Addan and I were to one another to what you and I… to what we… had.” She finished softly, because it all felt so different. She didn’t doubt her own heart – love was not so fickle. Having fallen for Malik, she knew she would always love him like this. But the connection she’d imagined had been eroded by his months of coldness and rejection, so that even now, hearing his explanation, her feelings remained shielded deep within her.
“At seventeen, I told myself things would change. You were still so young. You had no concept of what you’d agreed to – maybe you would change your mind, or your mother would refuse to let you go ahead with this. I went away, yet every time I came back, you were happier and more adored, and I realised you would never be mine. Wanting you and seeing you with him was torture. I taught myself to hate you, to hate your wedding, to disapprove of it in every way, to stop myself from acting on these feelings.”
His eyes bore into hers. “You do not know how often I dreamed of that – you beneath me, calling my name. I hated my own brother, Sophia, because of how much I wanted you.” He stood up then, pacing away from her, his back ramrod straight.
“When he died, and your betrothal passed to me, I wanted to push you away because I have no doubt I willed this.”
“Stop it,” she snapped then, and the daughter in her lap startled. She lowered her voice with great effort. “What happened to Addan was a terrible accident.”
He whirled around. “And if he’d lived, you would have married him. And I would have spent my lifetime wanting my brother’s wife. Do you not see how there was gladness inside of me?”
She shook her head angrily and then, sympathy exploded. “You say you hated your brother, but I see the actions of a man who sacrificed what he wanted, again and again, out of respect for his brother.”
A muscle jerked in Malik’s jaw.
“I see a man who chose to respect his brother’s wishes even when it brought him pain. You didn’t fail Addan, Malik.”
“I could not be in the same room as the two of you.”
“He never suspected why,” she promised. “He went to his grave with no idea you felt any of this. But I know, because he was my best friend and we talked about anything and everything,” she saw her husband stiffen and hated paining him. “That he adored you and admired you in every way.”
His eyes were haunted. “It … means so much to me.” His eyes swept shut for a moment. “I could not bear him to have known how I longed for you…”
“Believe me, he didn’t,” she promised. “He was saddened that we didn’t get on. He had no idea there was anything behind that.”
“I couldn’t be with you, Sophia. I couldn’t be in the same room as you without wanting to kiss you, to touch you, to make you laugh.”