Chapter Seven

      Angelina pulled her thin robe more tightly around herself and stepped out into the gardens, the cobblestones, cooled by the night air, felt good on her feet. Calming. Soothing.

      She followed one of the paths that led into the center of the lavishly kept landscape, her thoughts turning over that afternoon’s conversation with Taj. Taj didn’t know how to love. He hadn’t learned how.

      A shame since she loved him.

      She was certain of that now. That she loved him. That she had loved for him for years, and that no matter how bad their first parting had been, the good memories would always be stronger.

      “What brings you out here?”

      Angelina whirled around to find the voice in the darkness and nearly ran into Taj. “What are you doing out here?”

      “I asked first. Come now, I am sheikh and I am accustomed to being answered.” He said it with no irony. Nothing but the absolute certainty of a man who only knew how to get his way.

      She shifted her weight to one leg and put her hand on her hip. “You’ll have to be disappointed then, sugar.”

      He narrowed his eyes, clearly annoyed. Good. “Then I’ll settle for giving you my reasons. I couldn’t sleep.”

      She shrugged. “Oh, funny. I could. That’s why I’m out here. You’re just seeing my astral projection. I’m sound asleep in the house.”

      “You have such a mouth on you,” he said. “I am not complaining. I’ve benefitted hugely from your use of that mouth.”

      It was her turn to be annoyed. “A gentleman wouldn’t bring such things up.”

      “I’m not a gentleman,” he said, his tone rough.

      “Ah…no of course not. You’re a sheikh.”

      “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the fountain.

      She crossed her arms and tilted her head. “Come on now, Taj, you should know me better than that.”

      He kept his dark eyes trained on her, his face shadowed in the dim light of the garden. He moved to the edge of the fountain and sat down, then touched the place beside him. “Please, sit with me.”

      The change was so abrupt, so unlike him, that it made her chest feel tight. It made her feel like maybe he did know her. Like he might at least try to be the right man for her, instead of just asking her to be the right woman for him.

      She turned and sat down beside him, her hands in her lap. “What is it, Taj?”

      “I might ask you the same question since you’re wandering the gardens at night.”

      “And so are you.”

      “I thought…” He frowned. “I was certain I heard you, but I know that isn’t possible. My rooms are on the other end of the palace. But…I was certain I did.” His brow was furrowed, his forehead lined with concentration.

      His admission made her stomach tighten, made her chest feel full. “I’m all right, I just…”

      “You aren’t,” he said, turning and cupping her cheek, his thumb sliding lightly over her cheekbone, the movement sending a shiver through her body.

      “I will be,” she said, not sure if that was the truth or not. “Your family has ruled Rahat for…for generations, right?”

      “A thousand years.”

      “You believe in…in fate and destiny, I’ll bet.” She looked down at her hands, still folded in her lap.

      “Yes.”

      “So tell me, did I ever have a chance of escaping this?” She looked up, around the courtyard. “Or was I always meant to be Queen of Rahat, the mother of your heirs, no matter what? Is our fate written in stone or do we have…do we have any control?”

      He frowned. “Angelina…” He looked away from her, appearing to change tactic. “We both had a choice that night in Santina. We chose to follow our desire.”

      He touched her again, his fingers sifting through her hair. And she could feel the unsteadiness in his hand. “But did we have a choice in that?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

      He slid his hand down to her face and she looked at him. She saw heat in his eyes, lust, but there was something deeper. A longing that went further than the need for physical satisfaction. She knew that longing. It went so deep, felt so essential, it was painful. She wondered if he truly felt it. For her, as she did for him.

      “There is always a choice, Angel,” he said, leaning in, firm, hot lips touching hers, shocking in the cool night air. “What choice will you make now?”

      “I…” Her lower lip trembled and she caught it between her teeth, the tremor working its way through her body. She released her lip. “I choose you,” she said.

      His breath rushed from his body, a low growl behind it. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. He kissed her and she nearly sighed with relief. It had been too long.

      Everything. All of it had gone on far too long. Taj was the only man she’d ever loved. Being away from him had been like functioning with a piece of herself missing. She’d done it, she’d done what she had to do to try to be strong. But she would be lying if she didn’t admit to herself that being in his arms felt so much better than keeping her pride ever had.

      And that was frightening.

      “Wait,” she said, pulling away from him, her heart thundering. Pride would have a place here, and she would see it had a victory.

      “What?” he asked, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath sporadic.

      “How do you see me?”

      “What does that mean, Angel?”

      “What am I to you? Am I the woman you are chained to? Am I the woman who got away that you seized the chance to capture again? A salve for your wounded ego?” She put her hands on either side of his face. “What am I to you?”

      He hesitated, and in that moment of hesitation, she saw the man she’d known first. The man who had romanced her in Texas, rather than the autocratic ruler. “You are…the woman who has haunted my dreams these past years. When I saw you at Alessandro’s engagement party I thought you were a mirage. I didn’t trust myself. I had seen you too many times before, only to get close and discover it wasn’t really you. You are my most hated delusion and my deepest desire.” The words sounded pulled from him, as though each one carried a heavy weight. A high price. “Does that answer your question?”

      She felt a tear slide down her cheek and she brushed it away. “I…I imagined you never thought about me again after I left.”

      He laughed, a short, bitter sound. “There was a time when I thought of little else.”

      “That surprises me.”

      “Why? Did you forget?”

      She didn’t want to give him honesty, but there was no way around it. Not when his words were so naked and raw, so obviously true. “Of course I didn’t forget. I uprooted my whole life. I left my country. The money, the lifestyle I was used to having, to try to escape the situation I found