Tamir angled his face so that she would not see the emotion her words had brought him. Shame, as strong as it was unfamiliar, almost buckled him. “There was nobility in your decision.” He said finally. And there had been. But not in his. What he had done, unashamedly, was to take what he wanted, anyway he could.
She toyed with her fingers, in her lap. “I’m glad Jack is going to be okay.”
Tamir cringed inwardly again. “You were close to your father?” He asked, trying to recollect the direction of their conversation.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He sighed. “It must have been hard for you, when he died?”
“Why do you care?” She mumbled angrily.
“Because you are my wife, and I wish to underst
and you better.”
“Then perhaps you should have got to know me before kidnapping me and forcing me into a marriage I knew nothing about.” Her words were saccharine sweet, her lips pouted with frustration.
He was unable to avoid the laugh that caught in his throat. “Perhaps I should have,” he agreed with a shrug. “But I didn’t. So answer my question.”
She sighed heavily. She was rapidly coming to appreciate that Tamir was not a man who could be argued with easily. “Was it hard for me to lose my father as I did?”
“Yes.”
She nodded slowly. “He was far more like me than my mother is. We were so alike. He was a feminist before his time.” She couldn’t help but smile as she remembered him. “Dad refused to allow me any girlish traits, as a child. While my friends did ballet and singing lessons, I was off doing three day hikes with dad.” She laughed. “He was a wonderful father, right up to the day he died.”
“I see.” Tamir felt a pang of envy. For though he had loved and respected his own father, theirs had not been a close relationship. It was impossible to be truly close in the royal family. Their duties prevented it.
Olivia was beautiful. A perfect bride; educated, intelligent and stunning. But she was exhausted and terrified. “You are tired. It is time for you to shower. Prepare for bed.”
Her eyes were wide. “You mean… this bed? Here? With you?”
He nodded, his expression mock-sombre as he closed the space between them and put his hands on her shoulders. “Relax, my beautiful princess. I have no interest in making your body sing as it can for mine. Not tonight. You’ve been through quite an ordeal today. You need to sleep.”
She stood so that he wouldn’t see the searing disappointment on her face. As she scrubbed her body in the shower, she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of idiot she was. How could she still want him? Out of nowhere, her body seemed to burn with heat, as she recalled what it had felt like to have him moving inside her. His hands had tortured and pleasured her in equal measure. She moaned, remembering how desperately she’d wanted to stay in his bed forever and ever. Had that truly only been earlier that day? She shook her head, letting the water from the enormous shower run over her long blonde hair.
When she emerged, warm and clean, and smelling like lavender, she wrapped herself in a towel and walked into their bedroom. Tamir was already in bed, sitting propped against the bedhead with a newspaper in hand. The gold and cream bedspread covered to his hips, but his chest was exposed, and bare. She gulped at the sight of his firm wall of muscles and looked away quickly.
“Are there pyjamas in that wardrobe?”
He didn’t look away from the paper. “Yes. Though don’t anticipate needing them too often, will you?”
She sent him a withering look and waded into the wardrobe. It was enormous, and completely stocked. As she went through the clothes, she realised they were all in her size.
“Tamir?” She asked, poking her head around the wall. “Who organised this?”
“One of my assistants,” he said disinterestedly. “Why?”
“It’s just… it’s a lot of clothes. And they’re all in my size. It seems like a lot of work to have done very quickly.”
“Not so quickly. It took us several hours to fly here.”
She nodded. “Still…”
Tamir put aside the newspaper he’d been reading with a sigh. “Though I would enjoy seeing you walk around naked all day, it didn’t feel entirely appropriate.”
Olivia ground her teeth together. “And tricking me into marrying you is?”
Tamir pushed the quilt aside. He was wearing white cotton boxer shorts, which showed off the deep caramel colour of his tan. He walked across to the wardrobe and stepped inside, immediately dwarfing it with his size. “Listen, Olivia. My security chief was braying for blood. He does not tolerate foreigners. And he has a particular dislike for foreign women. Though you don’t see it now, I have saved you and Jack from a world of hurt.”