He stalked through the bedroom, ignoring the stunning view, and emerged into a bathroom he hadn’t yet seen. He wondered that she hadn’t heard him, but realised that the sound of the shower had masked his footfalls. He was greeted by a sight that took his angry breath away.
Eloise stood beneath the cascading water, her pale skin almost merging with the white marble behind it, bearing only the faintest flush of heat to bring her to life. How could he ever have imagined her to be of the same cold, stone material lining the shower walls? How could he ever have imagined her as anything other than flesh and blood?
He watched as the water flowed over the smooth skin of her lithe body, covering it in the way his hands and tongue had done only half an hour earlier. Need stormed through him, sending the shivers of desire that he had wanted only to inflict on her across his body.
He had to stop this. He couldn’t allow his hunger for her to take root or he would be driven to madness.
‘If you don’t tell me what is going on with my brother I will call him myself and bring him here.’
She let out a cry, turning so quickly she almost slipped on the wet tiles.
Cursing, he grabbed a towel, leaned in through the water and turned it off, paying no heed to the way his shirt sucked in the warm droplets as she jerked away from the proximity of his touch, which angered him more than he could say.
‘Cover yourself. I mean it. If you don’t tell me what is going on I’ll get Jarhan in this apartment in less than two minutes—even if Malik has to drag him here—whether you are dressed or not,’ he warned, flinging the towel at her. ‘Two minutes, Eloise. You have two minutes.’
And with that he stalked from the bathroom.
* * *
Eloise looked at the pool of black silk on the floor and although she didn’t want to put it back on she knew that it would be better than the thick white cotton towel that barely managed to cover her thighs.
From the moment Odir had issued his command it had taken only a second for her skin to turn from delightfully warm to ice-cool. But she wouldn’t allow herself to be cowed. She would meet him as his equal.
Her regained composure threatened to dissolve when she realised that she couldn’t find her thong, and she cursed the flush of desire that sprang up and painted her cheeks at the memory of how Odir had used it so effectively to bind her in a position to his liking, from where he could gain the deepest access with his tongue.
The throb at her core burst to life once more, and only now could she know that the only thing that would assuage that need was him. Her husband. Buried deeply within her until she felt nothing else—nothing but him all around her and inside her.
‘I’m waiting.’
His voice cut through the room and through her desire.
She dropped the towel and stepped into the dress, pulling it over her chest and sensitised nipples, the silk fabric unusually warm from the steam of the shower.
Eloise knew that Odir wouldn’t stop until he had the truth of that night. But how could she tell him? How could she trust him not to go through with what was Jarhan’s greatest fear? Had Odir not already proved just how far he would go for the security of his country? Would he choose that over his brother?
She stepped into the living room, gazing around her at the sight of it, finally lit up for the first time that night. ‘Luxury’ was not enough to describe the surroundings she found herself in.
She cast a glance at the mountains of food that had been delivered in her absence and laughed. She couldn’t help herself.
‘What is so funny?’ Odir asked, looking up from the stack of papers he held in one hand, the pen that was poised to strike against some unsuspecting words in the other.
‘It’s lobster,’ she replied.
‘And?’
‘And I’m allergic to seafood. You would kill me before I’ve even had a chance to conceive those heirs you so desperately want.’
‘If I’d wanted you dead, Eloise, it could have been arranged,’ he said under his breath, sounding rather like a stroppy child instead of a soon-to-be king.
‘I’m sure of it,’ she replied in an equally droll tone. ‘You used to threaten anyone in the palace with such a fate were they even to look as if they would refuse your command.’
‘I didn’t ask for the lobster. I just told them to bring up some food. It’s not as if I don’t have a million other things to be worrying about.’
‘Other than me?’
‘Yes, Eloise. I have a funeral to plan, a country to save, and a press briefing that is written so badly it makes my teeth hurt. I’m afraid your dietary requirements are a little low down on my list of priorities.’
‘Makes your teeth hurt?’
‘You were the first person I told about my father’s death. In a little under six hours I am supposed to address the world’s press. And this,’ he said, waving the papers in the air, ‘could have been written better by my five-year-old cousin.’
Rather than the anger that had dominated his tone in the last few hours, Eloise was surprised to find a note of confused helplessness in his voice.
‘Where is Anders? Doesn’t he usually handle this kind of thing for you?’
‘Anders’s wife rather inconveniently decided that today, of all days, would be the perfect time to give birth to their child. And whilst I may be many things, I could not in all conscience demand that he give up his station in the maternity wing.’
‘Well, I doubt she did that on purpose.’
‘You’d be surprised.... She doesn’t like me much.’
‘I can’t imagine why,’
