‘We’ll kiss for the cameras,’ James said. ‘We’ll hold hands in public and we’ll share a bed for the sake of the servants.’
‘They are your servants,’ Leila said. ‘Surely you can pay for their silence.’
‘Oh, my,’ James laughed in her face. ‘You know nothing about hourly rates, do you? Poor princess...’
She slapped him.
A little unmerited perhaps—he’d only called her by her title—but it felt so good. It felt better in fact than kicking a tree. She slapped him not just for that though, but for telling her he would shame her again by leaving her in seven years. For admitting that it would be a loveless marriage. It was the nightmare she had run from and she had no desire to live with a man void of feelings for her.
‘If you weren’t pregnant I’d slap you straight back,’ James warned, and then he saw her gold eyes and acknowledged to her he lied. ‘Actually, I wouldn’t. It would seem that I come from slightly more modern stock than you.’
She went to slap him again but he caught her wrist.
‘Savage lot the Al-Ahmars,’ James said. ‘But don’t worry, dear Leila, because I’m not. You might not be familiar with them but I’m actually a gentleman.’
‘You are no gentleman, James. Ask your sharmotas.’
Inexplicably he was almost smiling. Leila was like no one he had ever met, but instead of smiling James went and poured a very large drink of whisky and then went to pour her one but stopped. ‘I guess you can’t have one.’
‘No,’ Leila said, and her lips pursed when he took his drink and went to the bed. He kicked off his shoes and lay on top of the bed. ‘I think that is rude,’ Leila said. ‘I can’t have a drink and yet you do.’
‘I do,’ James said, and grinned as he took a sip. ‘I’m not going to go on the wagon for the next six months.’
‘So, you’re just going to carry on as before...’
‘And so the nagging starts.’ James sighed and stretched out on the bed, propped up on one arm.
‘Why did you bring me here and not to your home?’ Leila asked. ‘There we could have separate rooms.’
‘We’ll go there once we’re married,’ James said. His home was his haven and the thought of sharing it with anyone made him shudder, though he didn’t tell Leila that. ‘I think we might have slightly less chance of killing each other here. There’s the restaurant, there’s the gym, you can take yourself off for a spa, or whatever...’
‘And it’s public,’ Leila said.
‘Exactly.’
‘James...’ Leila took a breath. She didn’t know how to tell him her truth but she made herself say it. ‘I can’t share a bedroom with you. I get bad dreams...’
‘I’m having one at the moment,’ came his glib response.
‘I shout out,’ Leila said. ‘I cry.’
‘You didn’t the night...’ His voice trailed off, for James did not want to think about that night.
‘I forced myself to stay awake.’
‘Do you grind your teeth?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘We’ll go with the positives then.’ He gave her a thin smile. ‘So here we are.’
Here they were.
She looked at her finger marks on his cheeks. ‘I am sorry I hit you.’
‘Not that sorry,’ James said. ‘Given you went to again...’ Then he saw tension in her features. ‘It was a row.’
‘Even so.’
‘People row.’
She felt like crying. Leila had spent her life avoiding rows. She was just terrified of them and rightly so because the one row she’d had revealed her mother’s truth.
‘You don’t have to force yourself to stay awake, Leila, and I’m not going to ship you off for a bit of noise. We all have our things. I’m sure, perfect though I am, there might even be a couple of things about me that annoy you...’
Oh, there were many things, but she chose not to deal with the biggest one— that he had been with another since her.
‘Like forcing me into a marriage I don’t want?’
‘Yep!’
‘Like your socks?’
‘Excuse me?’ James frowned.
‘They are horrible.’
‘They’re black socks,’ James pointed out, but then he remembered her instruction to remove them, with so much authority to her voice that he’d thought she was about to produce a whip—they really knew anything about each other. ‘You want me barefoot in robes, do you?’ He peeled off his socks and threw them. ‘Better?’