CHAPTER EIGHT

      ‘KID, THAT’S SOME pitching arm you’ve got on you.’ Nadir leant down and picked up the ball Nadeena had lobbed from her high chair for the millionth time. It was a game she never seemed to tire of. ‘I can see you being a softball star when you’re older.’

      She babbled gleefully when he placed the soft fabric ball back in front of her but, instead of throwing it straight away, she reached towards him with a big grin and tried to grab his keffiyeh. ‘Not that.’ He grinned down at her and pushed his headdress back over his shoulder. ‘I’ve explained that it doesn’t look so good scrunched up by grubby baby hands.’ Redirecting her attention to the ball, he checked his Rolex again and spied the empty doorway.

      If Imogen didn’t show up soon they wouldn’t have time to stop for him to give her the ring that was burning a hole in his pocket and he didn’t want her facing a room full of dignitaries and gossips without it. And somehow it seemed important to solidify things between them. Important to remind her that she was with him now and always would be.

      Their earlier conversation and her look of surprise when she’d asked him if he wanted more—and he’d said no—replayed in his head. For a moment she’d looked so vulnerable that he’d wanted to snatch the words back but there had been enough misunderstanding between them and he didn’t want there to be any more. But he supposed he should have realised that she was a romantic. That she would want love. It still irked him that she had said she didn’t want to marry without it because clearly she didn’t love him and he didn’t love her.

      Which did not mean that their marriage was doomed. He had feelings for her and she might not think great sex was any reason to get married but it was a start and he knew she wasn’t as immune to him as she tried to pretend to be. Hell, that kiss had been proof enough of that, as was the way she held herself so carefully whenever he got close to her.

      Nadeena clapped her chubby hands together with delight when he returned the ball to her yet again. ‘If only your mother was so easily pleased,’ he said softly.

      She blew him a raspberry and he stroked his hand over her silky head. His daughter was a revelation to him—as was the depth of his feelings for her. Which only made him more determined to forge ahead with this marriage. Nadeena would not suffer the division of two parents’ expectations for her the way he and his sister had.

      As she babbled at the ball again as if she might direct it from sheer will alone, Nadir grinned and felt his heart clench at her trusting gaze. He dropped a kiss on top of her head, turning when he heard the swish of fabric behind him.

      Only to have his heart clench all over again.

      Imogen stood framed in the doorway wearing a blue silk floor-length gown that on the hanger had looked beautiful. On her it looked extraordinary. Her slender dancer’s arms and the graceful line of her neck was exposed to his gaze, her hair a soft fall of golden waves around her shoulders. She looked every bit a royal princess. Every bit a woman any man would want on his arm. In his bed.

      ‘I think this is going to be too much for Nadeena. She didn’t sleep well last night.’

      Nadir couldn’t take his eyes off her. ‘Do you mean you didn’t?’

      Imogen’s mouth tightened. Her face looked pale and he could see the pulse in her throat going crazy. It bobbed as she swallowed and he couldn’t control the wave of tenderness that overcame him in that moment. Imogen—fearless Imogen who took him on at every turn—seemed truly daunted by the prospect of the evening ahead. Or was it something else? Him, perhaps?

      It annoyed him that she was so set on ignoring the chemistry between them that pulled tight every time they were together. As far as he was concerned, that was the only thing really working for them right now and he’d happily embrace it if she would.

      ‘I’ve never left Nadeena with a stranger before.’ She gripped her hands together tightly. ‘She’s always had the neighbour across the street or Minh.’

      The mention of her ex-lover seemed to wipe any rational thought from his brain. In fact imagining her with any other man did that... ‘She will be fine.’

      ‘My daughter needs me.’

      ‘Our daughter,’ he said impatiently. ‘And she’s just had two hours to get used to Maab and she seems genuinely happy with her.’

      ‘Two hours! It takes more than that to feel comfortable with someone.’

      It hadn’t taken him five minutes to feel comfortable with her. ‘The grand ballroom is in the west wing, only a few minutes from here.’

      ‘I think I feel sick.’

      Sympathy replaced irritation. This was all new for her; he had to remember that. ‘I will be by your side, habibi.’

      She threw him a pithy glance. ‘Is that supposed to be of comfort?’

      Yes, it had been. ‘Should I have told you that you will be on your own and if you make a mistake you’ll receive a thousand lashes?’

      ‘I might have believed that.’

      Her dry sense of humour had drawn him from the start and right now he wanted to laugh, shake her and kiss her all at the same time. ‘Come.’

      She stood stock-still. ‘I am not a dog, Nadir.’

      ‘No, you are a stunning woman who is trying her best to rile me,’ he said softly. ‘Fortunately for you, I have infinite control.’ Usually, he amended. Usually, when she wasn’t in the room, shredding it. He watched her wide, kohl-lined green eyes sparkle and then drop behind a veil of ebony lashes. Did she have any idea how incredibly beautiful she was to him? How much he wanted to possess her? How much he wanted to haul her into his arms and eat that pink gloss right off her lips? Having his old nanny and his daughter in the same room helped prevent it. But only just. ‘We need to go.’

      If possible, she angled her chin higher. ‘To London?’

      ‘Not quite. But I admire your humour.’ He opened the door and beckoned for her to precede him.

      She walked over to kiss their daughter before speaking to Maab. ‘If she cries at all then you’ll come and get me?’

      ‘Na’am, My Lady.’

      ‘Immediately?’

      ‘Na’am, My Lady.’

      Her gaze looked troubled when she neared him. ‘I notice they say that a lot,’ she whispered. ‘Can I trust her?’

      God, she was breathtaking. ‘Nothing will happen to Nadeena. Relax.’

      * * *

      Relax? Impossible. She was too acutely aware of the way Nadir’s regal robes brushed against the skirt of the amazing dress he had provided for her and the sense of power he effortlessly exuded. Walking beside him, it was hard to