Chapter 7
Kardal left his office shortly after six that evening. He generally worked later but since Sabrina had arrived at the castle, he’d found himself stopping earlier and earlier.
It was simply a matter of wanting to train her, he told himself as he walked along the stone corridors of the castle. The more clearly she understood what would be expected of her, the better chance of success for their marriage. If he married her. He still hadn’t decided.
Their kiss earlier in the week had showed him that physically they got along exceptionally well. He’d hoped for passion, but that single word didn’t begin to describe what had occurred between them. It had been more of an explosion. He’d been seared down to his soul by a need he’d never experienced before. All that from a kiss. What would occur if they became intimate?
His initial plan had been to find that out for himself…if he decided to continue the engagement. But now he wasn’t so sure. From the first Sabrina had claimed to be innocent. He hadn’t believed her but now he wasn’t so sure she lied. There had been a hesitancy when he’d touched her. An awkward eagerness. While she could fake shyness, her blushes had been real, especially those during his bath. If he didn’t know better, he would swear she’d never seen a naked man before.
A virgin. He shook his head as he approached the door to her room. How could that have happened, given the life she’d lived? Yet he was more and more convinced she was untouched. Which meant he had no right to claim her as his own until they were married. Doing so before, even with the betrothal, invited the well-deserved wrath of her father.
Kardal pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into Sabrina’s quarters. As usual, she was waiting for him, but this time she did not greet him with a smile.
“I can’t believe it,” she announced, darting toward him, her hands clenched in fury, her eyes flashing with fire. “They’re not yours and you have no right to keep them.”
“Them?” he questioned. “I thought you were the only slave in the castle.”
“I’m not talking about myself. I’ve seen some of the treasure. You can’t mean to keep it. That would be unconscionable. It must be returned.”
“Ah, yes. The treasure. Rafe told me about your wanderings in the dungeon.”
He walked to the tea cart by the window. Adiva had already been by to leave a tray of drinks. Kardal had been raised to respect the ways of his people, so he did not drink alcohol when he was among them. When he was with someone from the west, he occasionally indulged. Around Sabrina, he seemed to drink more than he ever had.
“They have to be returned,” she told him, planting her hands on her hips. “They belong to their respective nations. They’re a part of the country’s heritage.”
He poured scotch over ice and took a grateful sip. “An interesting notion. But to whom should I return them? The nations in question have changed.”
“Not all of them.”
“Enough. What about the Imperial Eggs? The czars are long gone. The Russian government has changed several times in the past ninety years. Who owns the eggs? Do I find a long-lost relative of the czar? Or should I hand them over to the current regime?”
Sabrina hesitated. “Okay, the eggs are a problem, but what about the tiara owned by Elizabeth the First, or gems you stole from El Bahar and Bahania?”
He put down his drink on the tray and held up both his hands. “I have not stolen anything. I am simply holding those items in trust. If the nations who let them go want them back, they should come steal them, as my relatives did.”
“Not everyone wants to be a thief.”
Color stained her cheeks. She looked even more attractive than usual when she was furious with him. Her chest rose and fell with each angry breath. He watched the movement of her breasts under her dress. While he had enjoyed seeing her in her silly harem costume, he preferred her in the conservative dresses he had provided. In some ways, imagining how she looked underneath was more interesting than simply being able to see it.
Today she wore her long red hair pulled back into a thick braid. A few curls brushed against her cheeks. Wide brown eyes glared at him. She had the most unusual coloring, he thought. The deep red hair, brown eyes and skin the color of honey. Not a single freckle marred her beauty. She would produce attractive children.
“Are you even listening to me?” she demanded.
“With bated breath,” he assured her. “My heart beats only to serve you.”
She turned to the window and stared out at the approaching twilight. “I hate it when you’re sarcastic. My point is illegally taking things isn’t a tradition to be proud of. It’s a disgrace.”