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“Yes.” Glancing at the open bag on the bed, he slides his hand though his hair. “That’s why we’re packing.”

“Oh.” My eyes widen, a pinprick of fear poking my chest. His bloody knuckles. He’s in trouble? “You have to go away.”

“For a little while.”

“Is it bad?”

“That all depends on your perspective.”

“I’ll go back to Scotland.” I drop heavily onto the edge of the mattress. “Don’t worry about me.”

“No.” He lowers himself next to me and takes my hand. “You misunderstand. I’m not going away. We are.”

“What?” I try to pull away when his hold tightens. “No, Niko. I’m not running away.”

“Who said anything about running?”

“It’s not like we’d be going off on holiday.”

He inclines his head as though considering. “No, not a holiday,” he agrees. “Strictly speaking, we’ll be on honeymoon.”

Wait, what?

29

Van

Her open-mouthed shock doesn’t exactly elicit joy inside me. Isla is my person though, given the option, I’m sure she’d deny it. Seeing her happy makes me happy, being responsible for her happiness increases my pleasure tenfold. Confusion, sadness, mistrust, these are the emotions her expression cycles though next, and though I hide it well, it causes me pain to be responsible for such things. I told myself I’d tear off my arm before I’d be responsible for her unhappiness again, yet here we are.

She inhales audibly, her spine lengthening. “I’m sorry.” She gives her head an almost infinitesimal shake. “But can you say that again? I think I must’ve misheard.”

“You didn’t.”

“This feels so odd. You know when you’ve been swimming under water and then you break through to the surface?” It’s not a question she’s asking, so I stay quiet even as her eyes seek mine again. “Everything feels water muffled and not quite real.”

“I spoke to your brother.”

“What?” Her tone is much sharper. But what’s interesting is that her reaction to involving Alexander seems stronger than her aversion to marring me.

“I had to tell him what happened.”

She springs up from the bed like a prize fighter ready for action. “You spoke to him after I explicitly asked you not to?”

“In a word,” I answer, standing slowly, “yes.” Her gaze narrows as it tracks my unhurried motion, the unconcerned flick of my shoulder, and the way I slide my hands into my pockets. I play the part of arrogant overlord well. Of course, I am the arrogant overlord, but never with her. “I did what I felt I ought to. In the interests of expediency.”

“What about in the interests of me? I asked you not to—there was no need to worry him unnecessarily.”

“You think this is about me?” I ask, because her point is ridiculous.

“I don’t know what this is about,” she says, throwing up her hands. “All I know is I must be bloody hearing things.” Her chest heaves as she tries to control her anger, though she eventually settles on sliding me a dirty look. “This might well be about you. Sandy said there was a side to you I don’t know about. Is there, Niko? Have you hidden things from me?”

“I never want to hurt you.”

“That’s not an answer, that’s a sidestep.”

“I’ve done what I must to protect you.”

“But I’ve never sought your protection,” she retorts vehemently.

“It was me you came to today. My phone you called. My doorstep you turned up on.”

“I’m regretting it now!”

“Regardless, you have my protection.”

Isla stalks to the window, gazing down at the street below. “And this is your form of protection? Marriage?”

“So you did hear me.”

“What exactly did you tell Sandy?”

“I told him what you told me. The real reason you’re in London, who you’d met with. I left the murder accusations out. I have to say, Isla, Alexander had the same response. He found it hard to believe you’d be so foolish.”

“God,” she groans, pressing her palms to her temples. “This isn’t the fourteenth century. I get to make my own decisions. It is allowed.”

“Who’s saying otherwise?”

“You are! Because don’t for one minute think I’d believe my brother is in on this madcap marriage scheme.”

“That’s true. How could I tell your brother the only way I can protect you is by making you my wife?”

“We’re you imagining he’d take the news well afterward?” she snipes.

“I was hoping you would see sense, if nothing else. Whether Alexander knows before or not won’t alter the fact that we must get married.”

“Stop saying that!”

“Stop speaking the truth? Why? Because it doesn’t suit you? Or perhaps you’d prefer to follow Aslanov’s plans?”

“This can’t be happening,” she mutters to herself, her fingers moving restlessly by her sides.

“Saying so doesn’t make it true. And whether it pleases or enrages Alexander, he did agree that it was reckless of you to agree to meet Aslanov by yourself. And by reckless, I mean stupid.”

Before my eyes, Isla becomes the human form of a pufferfish, her indignation making her shoulders rise, her outrage taking on a deadly edge. “How dare you.”


Tags: Donna Alam Romance