He shook his head. But in the few minutes since he’d slid out from beneath her, he’d altered. He looked sterner, his gaze shuttered. There was a distance between them far greater than the width of the bed. Salim was back in regal mode and she hated it.
Because she knew what that meant.
‘Not bad news. Actually, it’s good. There’s been an unexpected breakthrough in some international negotiations.’
Rosanna said nothing, waiting for what she knew was coming.
‘But it means I’m needed. This final stage of the negotiation will be between heads of state.’ He paused and she saw a fleeting expression that looked like regret. ‘Either I go to the capital or I bring the negotiations here.’
Which he wouldn’t do. This was his private bolthole. Nor would he want to advertise her presence.
‘When do you leave?’
For a long moment he didn’t answer.
‘Now.’
Salim watched her flinch and had to brace himself not to lunge across the bed and gather her close. He wanted to bury his head in her fragrant hair, bury himself in her warm, lush body and forget about the outside world.
He wanted to ignore duty and the peace treaty that had been his priority since taking the throne.
He wanted to curse and throw his phone across the room and stick his head in the sand.
He wanted to stay here.
He wanted Rosanna.
That was the problem. He still wanted her as much as he had when they’d arrived. More so. If anything their time together had strengthened their bond.
How could he have fooled himself that this short interlude would satisfy him? That he could easily put her aside and move on with the future he must embrace for the sake of his country?
Dhalkur would accept his choice of bride but he owed it to his people to choose someone with the skills and background to help him achieve what needed to be done. Someone ready for life as a royal, ideally with some understanding of their language and culture or able to promote his renewal projects.
Not a woman whose prime asset was the fact that he wanted her and she made him feel good.A woman he cared about.
His parents had taught him duty and responsibility. To sacrifice personal desires for the greater good. That had been reinforced by the debacle of Fuad’s time in power.
Yet for the first time he wondered if the greater good justified the personal sacrifice. Parting from Rosannawasa sacrifice. The idea caught him by the throat. The floor shifted beneath his feet and he was glad when Rosanna’s terse words fractured his thoughts.
‘I see.’
She sat up and shuffled back against the pillows, her breasts jiggling delectably, and Salim’s mouth dried. Then she lifted the sheet and tucked it under her arms, something she hadn’t done in all the time they’d been here. Salim felt something sharp scrape through his chest and plunge into his belly.
She spoke again, her voice cool and measured. ‘You won’t be back, will you?’
He stared. Had hewantedher to cling and beg him to stay? ‘No. It will take some time.’
And their time here was due to end in two days. He had a full schedule lined up after that.
Rosanna nodded. ‘You shower while I start packing.’
Salim frowned. He should be glad she was taking this with good grace. That she was being practical.
Instead something like fury ignited. At the negotiators who’d done their job too well. At the foreign king who’d proved ready for a treaty. At Rosanna for not caring that their time was done.
He couldn’t imagine driving with her back to the capital. He didn’t have enough command of his emotions to act for an extended period as if none of this mattered.
The pain searing his gut was proof itdidmatter. To him at least. Though it wasn’t supposed to. Though his lover looked as calm as if he’d commented on the weather, not broken up their affair.