She shrugged, but there was nothing easy about the movement. She looked as rigid as he felt.
‘Who knows what the future holds? If, later on, I fall in love, I might consider having another child.’ She paused and glanced down at Oliver, nestled quietly at her shoulder. ‘A brother or sister for Oliverwouldbe nice one day...’ she mused, as if the idea had just struck her.
Ashraf stared, outraged that she was still apparently rejecting him, even after tacitly accepting him last night. Forget tacitly. She’d beenblatantin accepting him. Choosing him. Could she have been any more forthright? And that sultry smile she’d given him this morning as she straddled him...
His hands fisted as all his fighting instincts roused.
The idea of Tori,his woman, in love with some other man,givingherself to that unworthy stranger, filled him with a taste for blood he hadn’t felt since he’d been a teenager, facing his father’s sneering contempt.
‘You gave yourself to me.’
His voice sounded strange, as if it came from a distance. Ashraf felt a constriction in his throat that matched the sudden cramp in his gut.
Her gaze turned to him and he watched understanding dawn.
‘That was sex.’
She had the gall to make it sound like nothing.
‘You wanted me. You accepted me.’
‘Yes, Iwantedyou.’ She said it slowly, enunciating each syllable. ‘And you wanted me.’ That was pure challenge—as was the flash of defiance in her fine eyes. ‘But it was sex. It had nothing to do with...’ Tori waved her hand, as if struggling to find the words.
Ashraf found them easily enough. ‘My marriage proposal?’
Tori shook her head, her pale hair slipping around the deep rose-coloured robe that reflected the colour cresting her cheekbones. She wriggled to the side of the bed, holding Oliver close.
Ashraf caught tantalising glimpses of her slender thighs, then she stood, clutching her robe closed with one hand, the other cuddling Oliver.
‘You neverproposedmarriage. You put it forward as a solution to a problem. Oliver isn’t a problem.’ Her voice rose to a wobbly high note.
Ashraf felt his forehead knot. What had happened to last night’s passionate, accommodating woman? The woman who, he was sure, had finally agreed to be his?
Impossible as it seemed, his intended bride was rejecting him.Again. He clenched his teeth so hard that pain radiated from his jaw.
Never had a woman rejected him. Yet this woman made a habit of it.
‘Is that what you want? Me on bended knee? Or would you prefer a candlelit meal with violins playing and a shower of rose petals? Would that satisfy you?’
Anger tightened every muscle. Disappointment, sharp as acid, blistered and scorched its way through his body.
And there was more.
Hurt.
Ashraf told himself it could only be hurt pride. He’d never considered offering any other woman what he offered Tori. His name, his honour, his loyalty.
‘There’s no need for sarcasm, Ashraf. I thought men were supposed to be good at separating sex and love or marriage.’
Despite the jibe, and the arrogant angle of her jaw, Tori’s voice was brittle, her mouth a crumpled line. And abruptly, despite his roiling emotions, Ashraf realised something his anger had blinded him to.
Tori was scared. He read it in the obstinate thrust of her jaw and those over-wide eyes. In the protective way she held their son and the tremor she couldn’t hide.
Scared of committing herself?
Or scared that he’d take Oliver?
That, as absolute ruler, he’d force her into a life that terrified her?