More heat rushed into her cheeks. ‘No, of course not. I didn’t mean to imply—’
‘You didn’t imply anything. I’m just clearing up misconceptions, should there be any.’ He reached for the pitcher of water and poured himself a glass. ‘Those rooms were the Sultana’s. Most recently, my mother’s.’
Ivy stared. ‘Your...mother?’
He shifted on the cushion, one leg bent, his elbow resting negligently on his knee. ‘Didn’t you know? I’m the previous Sultan’s bastard.’ His tone was casual and yet there was a sharp glint in his eyes that suggested otherwise.
‘Oh,’ she said, trying to sound neutral. ‘No, I didn’t know.’
‘My father was Commander of the Inarian army. The Sultan was a cruel and cold man, and my mother was lonely.’ Candlelight flickered off the glossy black of his hair and danced over the stark planes and angles of his face. ‘She would come out here to spend time away from the palace, and he would often go with her.’
An unwilling curiosity tugged inside her. ‘And so, you own the fortress now?’
‘The Sultan gave it to my father eventually.’ The Sheikh gave a faint smile that now held no amusement whatsoever. ‘Though it wasn’t a gift. It was a banishment.’
‘Why?’ Ivy couldn’t help asking. ‘What did he do?’
‘The affair with my mother was discovered.’ He still made no move to drink the water he’d poured for himself or to eat. ‘To say the Sultan was displeased would be an understatement.’
Ivy’s curiosity intensified. ‘So what happened—?’
‘However, we’re not discussing me or my parents,’ he interrupted mildly. ‘We’re discussing you and my child.’
She bit her lip in annoyance. She didn’t want to be curious about him in the first place, so why she should find his change of subject irritating, she had no clue. Briefly, she debated pushing him about it, then decided not to. Perhaps later she might ask him, or maybe she would have forgotten about it by then. Either way, it didn’t matter, since it wasn’t going to have any bearing on what was happening now.
‘Very well.’ She put down the food she’d been about to eat. ‘You can’t possibly want to go through with this marriage idea. It’s ridiculous.’
He glanced at the food she’d put back on her plate and frowned. ‘You need to eat. And while you’re eating, I’ll tell you what’s going to happen.’
‘What do you mean you’re going to tell me? Weren’t we supposed to “discuss” it?’
That hot, possessive glint was back in his gaze. ‘Semantics,’ he said dismissively. ‘The marriage will happen whether you want it to or not, as will you staying here in this fortress. Anything else is up for discussion.’
Ivy bristled, trying to ignore the small thread of panic that was unravelling inside her. ‘But I can’t stay here. I already told you that I have a job back in England that I—’
‘The children’s home you manage will be taken care of. I’ve already placed someone exceptionally qualified to take over and naturally all the funds necessary for the optimal running of the home will be made available.’
She stared at him, panic continuing to unspool inside her.
You’re replaced so easily...
‘No,’ she said. ‘No, you can’t do that.’
His gaze roved over her, but it wasn’t either icy or impersonal the way it had been out in the guardhouse earlier. It was territorial, as if he were an emperor surveying a new land he’d just conquered. ‘But I did, Miss Dean. And the person who has been looking after the home for you was very relieved to hear it.’
More emotion was welling up inside her, a thick, hot fury to cover the growing panic. That home had been her life. She’d grown up there, she’d worked there, she’d created as much of a family as she could there.
And you were rejected there over and over again. Why did you ever stay?
Ivy gripped her hands together hard in her lap, her knuckles white. She wanted to reach across the table and punch his arrogant face and then maybe scream at him a little—no, a lot—for interfering. But that wasn’t going to help. It would also give away far more than she wanted to reveal to him.
‘That home is my life,’ she said in a low, furious voice. ‘How dare you?’
He didn’t look away and she could see the force of his will burning in the depths of his gaze, iron hard, diamond bright. ‘Then you have had a very small life, Miss Dean. Perhaps it’s time to step outside the bounds of it.’
Fury welled up inside her. At him for how he’d taken charge, casually removing her from the only home she’d ever known. Negligently telling her she was going to have to marry him and then basically imprisoning her here in this godforsaken desert fortress. And all without discussion, as if her own wants and desires didn’t matter.
As if she didn’t matter.