‘We’re not.’
The conviction in his tone chafed her already raw nerves. ‘But we have to.’
‘I don’t know why you’re fighting this so much. Your life is about to improve out of sight.’
‘Improve?’ She laughed, because what else could she do? ‘That’s because you’re nothing but an arrogant, egotistical, high and mighty prince whose shoe size is larger than his IQ.’
His slow smile told her that her insults had landed on fallow ground. ‘Careful, habiba, or I might start to think that you like me.’
Oh, but he had a way of pushing her buttons. ‘That will never happen,’ she assured him loftily.
‘No?’
‘No.’
‘But you like my touch.’ He came towards her all long, lean and muscular. ‘Don’t you, Farah?’
She swallowed hard. ‘No.’
He paused and cocked his head. ‘Have you forgotten what I said would happen the next time you denied you wanted me?’
‘You know you’re redefining the term “egotistical,” don’t you?’
He laughed. ‘And you’re redefining denial. But I find myself wondering why I’m denying myself something I’ve already been accused of taking.’
Farah’s hands came up to ward him off, a thrilling sort of fear coursing through her as he kept coming until she was forced up against a wall, his towering body just inches from hers. He planted his hands by both sides of her head, caging her in. ‘Give me one good reason, habiba, one good reason why I shouldn’t unwrap you from that pretty dress and give you exactly what we both want?’
Feeling as if she’d just run a marathon, Farah could barely breathe let alone speak. All she wanted to do was smooth her hands up over his wide chest and finish what he had started back in the garden. The urge was almost overwhelming but she knew there would be no going back after that and she definitely wasn’t ready for that.
‘Tell me,’ he said softly, ‘How far did you and the knight go?’
Not sure what he was asking, she frowned, and then she caught the suggestive glint in his eyes and she knew. Struggling to get her thoughts in order with him this close, she frowned again. ‘We haven’t... I’ve never...’
A slow smile spread across his face. ‘He didn’t touch you.’ He shook his head as if in wonder.
Knowing there was in insult buried in that look, she pushed at his chest, relieved when he let her pass. ‘I won’t do it,’ she muttered, ‘I refuse to marry you.’
‘You have to.’ His gaze turned implacable. ‘Have you forgotten that my honour and your reputation are at stake?’
‘No, but I don’t care about my reputation!’ she cried. Her vision of a future in which she directed her own life was falling away from her before her very eyes. If she couldn’t do anything about it, she was going to be married, and she couldn’t think of anything worse. Well, her father dying in a prison cell was worse, and perhaps never experiencing the prince’s hot kisses again... But, no, how could that be worse?
‘Well, I care about my honour,’ he said coldly. ‘Especially at a time when I need the support of our people. And let’s not forget your father’s small threat of war.’
‘But—’
‘Enough. I find I am exhausted from all the excitement of the past week, not to mention tonight. We will be married, Farah. Perhaps it is fate.’
A sense of inevitability stole over her at his words. She had always known there would be a price to pay for her father’s actions; she just hadn’t expected that price to be her marriage.
Shaking her head, she swallowed past a lump in her throat that extended all the way to her stomach. ‘I’ve never liked fate,’ she said dully.
The prince gave her a faintly mocking smile. ‘While I have never believed in it. But it won’t be all bad.’ His tone softened. ‘I will be gentle with you, habiba.’
Heat bloomed across her cheeks as she realised how exactly he was going to be gentle with her. ‘I don’t want you to be gentle with me,’ she blazed. ‘I don’t want you to be anything with me.’
He smiled as if he knew better than she did. ‘We’ll see.’
CHAPTER TEN
THREE DAYS LATER Zach found himself a married man. Something he should have felt worse about, given that he wasn’t in love with his bride, but didn’t.