‘So what did you suggest?’
She bit down on her lip, and looked out of her window for a second before swinging her head back. ‘I merely suggested that if—if—they accepted your offer, that one day, when you married, with the eyes of the world upon a royal wedding, you might wish your bride to wear a gown fashioned from the most glorious fabrics that the Marrashi women could provide.’
He blinked, slow and hard. ‘You promised what? A royal marriage? A wedding gown? But I have no plans for marriage—ever! Which means no bride for the women of Marrash to dress. What kind of position do you think that puts me in? What the hell were you thinking?’
She snapped her head around, her dark eyes flaring like coals. ‘I was thinking you wanted the deal closed today!’
‘But to promise them a wedding. My wedding!’
‘I could hardly promise them Prince Kareef’s! He will no doubt have to marry soon, to provide the kingdom with an heir, but I could hardly commit him to the same arrangement when the deal is purely to benefit you!’
She dragged in a breath as she cast her eyes downwards, and when she resumed her voice was softer, more controlled, reminding him of how she had sounded, so meek and docile, when they had started this journey. He hated how it sounded.
‘I did not say that a marriage would definitely take place, or when, but I thought you, at least, would understand my reasoning. It is important to the women that their fabrics and their expertise be recognised in their own land. And what else did you give me to negotiate with?’
‘I never gave you a wedding!’ But even as he said the words he realised how churlish he sounded. He growled in irritation and turned his head away, knowing the cliff at his side had more cracks and faults than her logic. She’d got the women’s agreement. She’d got the contract in the space of one not entirely short meeting.
And yet marriage…?
Sera had built into the negotiations an expectation from the women of the village that he would marry. The women would expect it now. The women would be waiting for any hint…
And his mind reeled back to the cheers and whoops that had met his impulsive reaction when Sera had emerged with the news.
He had kissed her.
Sera.
And the women had cheered and laughed and cried their blessings. Their laughter had made him remember he wasn’t in Australia, that it wasn’t the usual thing to pick up any unmarried woman, even if a widow, and kiss her in public.
But still he’d thought they were merely celebrating the contract.
But they wouldn’t be delighted, would they? They’d normally be shocked at such bold behaviour.
Unless…
And suddenly the chains that had worked their way so tightly around his gut this day started tightening their grip around his neck. The women of Marrash expected that Sera would be his bride. Hadn’t Abizah already assumed that she was?
He turned to her. ‘The women think I’m going to marry you. It is our wedding they are contemplating. It is you they see wearing the bridal gown of Marrash.’
She was shaking her head, her eyes swirling with panic. Because she’d been caught out? ‘No, I’m sure they don’t think that.’
‘I kissed you.’
Still her head shook from side to side. Her cheeks flushed, as if the very idea was anathema to her too, and that only made him more annoyed. She should be so lucky!
‘You didn’t mean anything by it. You didn’t know. You weren’t to know. It meant nothing.’
And even he, who wanted it to mean nothing, who needed it to have meant nothing, had to question her words. Had it meant nothing? Then why had it felt as if he had poured everything into that kiss? His frustrations at waiting, at not being permitted to negotiate himself. His relief when Sera had emerged victorious from the meeting. All of it he had poured into one impulsive kiss as he had spun her around, the feel and taste of her lush lips giving him a thirst for more, a thirst he intended to slake tonight.
So maybe that kiss had meant something—a physical need, an itch that had never been scratched. But it still didn’t mean…
He leaned across the seat and put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close, murmuring in her ear so that those in the front seat could not hear, so close that in other circumstances his words might almost be interpreted as a lover’s caress. He touched the fingers of his other hand to her cheek, drinking in the softness with the pads of his fingers until she shuddered under his touch.
‘I won’t marry you, Sera. It doesn’t matter what the women of Marrash think. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. I won’t marry you. Ever. Because there is no way I could marry you after what you did.’