Momentarily wrong-footed by such a mercurial switch of mood, Kulal narrowed his eyes. ‘I make no such judgment of your character.’
‘Are you sure? Did your advisors tell you to marry me after your initial aversion to the idea? Did they suggest that if I wasn’t prepared to sell you my baby, then a king’s ring on my finger would mean you could get hold of your child by legal means instead?’
‘You think that I would take such advice from my advisors?’ he thundered. ‘They would not dare presume to tell me how to live my life!’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘The decision is mine and mine alone—and besides, marriage to me would protect you, not weaken you.’
She shook her head. ‘No, it wouldn’t. It would simply make me your possession. We both know that.’
Frustratedly, Kulal turned away from her, staring out of the tiny window which overlooked a courtyard, in which plastic bins were lined up like sentries. Rain had begun to slant down in a thin grey curtain. Everything looked so grey, he thought, and as he tried to imagine his child growing up in such an environment, a feeling of powerlessness washed over him. Once, he had vowed never to allow himself to feel that way again, but suddenly he recognised that you couldn’t always dictate events. That sometimes life took you along a path you hadn’t intended, and having a royal status made no difference to that journey. He had grown up with all the riches in the world, but that hadn’t made a bit of difference to the fact that he and his brother had been at the mercy of a manipulative mother who had wanted only one thing. And it hadn’t been them.
His mouth hardened. His mistrust of the opposite sex was rooted deep in his psyche and Hannah Wilson was reinforcing all his worst prejudices. He knew only too well how unpredictable women could be and here was a prime example of someone who manifested that dangerous, innate quality. It hadn’t taken long for the humble chambermaid to morph into a self-possessed creature who was airily rejecting a king’s marriage proposal, had it? She was far less of a pushover than she should have been, given her status. Did the knowledge that his flesh grew inside her give her the confidence to address him as if he were any other man?
He was tempted to tell her that she would obey him because his wishes were always acceded to. Yet he recognised it wasn’t that simple. He couldn’t force this Englishwoman to marry him, but maybe he could persuade her.
Once again, he allowed his gaze to linger on the cramped dimensions of the tiny staff room. ‘So where are you planning to live, once you leave your job?’
Hannah had thought about this. A lot. She hated the fact that economically, she and Kulal were poles apart, but there wasn’t a lot she could do about it. She thought longingly about money she’d saved. Money which had taken so long to accumulate and which was nearly enough for the deposit on a tiny apartment. It didn’t look as if that little dream of independence was going to happen now, but sometimes you had to let your dreams go. ‘I have savings I can live on.’
‘How long do you think they’re going to last?’
She shrugged. ‘Long enough. And when they run out, I can find myself a job as a housekeeper—somewhere which will provide a roof over my head for me and my baby.’
‘A housekeeper?’ he exclaimed in horror. ‘You think I would ever allow you to bring up the future prince or princess of Zahristan as the child of a housekeeper?’
‘But you can’t...’ Her fingers moved to her neck, spreading wide as if to disguise the flickering pulse there. ‘You can’t stop me.’
‘You don’t think so?’ He gave a cynical laugh. ‘I can certainly try. I can assign bodyguards and have you watched twenty-four-seven. Every move you make will be reported back to me and analysed.’ His eyes were dark. Dark as the coal at the bottom of a bunker which had never seen daylight. ‘And before you protest that such a move would be invasive—let’s just say I am protecting what is mine.’
‘The courts will ask you to pay maintenance.’ There was raw appeal in her voice now. ‘And I’m not too stupid or too proud to turn it down. Surely that’s enough to reassure you that the baby and I won’t be living in poverty.’
‘Yes, I will pay maintenance,’ he affirmed coldly. ‘I don’t need a court of law to make me honour my obligations. But my child will not have the life it is owed by royal blood. By turning down my offer of marriage, you are condemning he or she to a life of illegitimacy. Is that really what you want, Hannah?’
Hannah flinched as Kulal’s words pierced through her armour at last. Having worked his way through all other arguments, had he saved the most powerful for last? Oh, why had she told him about her sordid past? Had she really been naïve enough to think he wouldn’t store up that information and use it against her if needed? Because her illegitimacy—and Tamsyn’s—had always been the dull pain which had eaten away inside her. The shame which had provided the backdrop to their young lives. It had emphasised Hannah’s feelings of insecurity and although she’d pretended not to care about being born out of wedlock, she had cared. Things were different these days and nobody seemed to care very much whether a man and a woman went through a marriage ceremony before having a child, but it hadn’t always been that way.
And she was not carrying any child.
This was a royal child.
The flat of her hand drifted down to touch her belly, like someone touching wood for luck—but somehow Hannah sensed that there was no luck to be found. ‘I could run away and you could never find me,’ she breathed.
‘I would find you,’ he said.
He was beating down her arguments, one by one, and Hannah’s head was spinning as she tried to imagine what marriage to such a man would mean. A few minutes ago, he had taken her in his arms and kissed her and she had let him. She had done much more than let him—and he was experienced enough to realise how much she wanted him. She might have had the presence of mind to pull away, but what if he approached her during one of those vulnerable moments which seemed to be on the increase? What then?
Did she really imagine that a man like Kulal would be content to live a celibate life with his new bride?
Lifting her gaze to his, she tried to keep her voice matter-of-fact, but she could feel colour creeping into her cheeks as she asked the all-important question. ‘If I were to agree to this...marriage.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘Do you mean a marriage in...in every sense of the word?’
He seemed to find her discomfiture amusing. ‘There’s no need to look so terrified, Hannah—I won’t be chaining you to the bed and demanding my conjugal rights. Unless that’s your secret fantasy, of course.’ He gave the ghost of a smile. ‘The purpose of marriage is procreation and since we’ve achieved that without really trying, that just leaves sex. And we’re both adults. We both need that release. In fact, I think the sex could work very well between us, since neither of us are blinded by emotion.’
‘I can’t...’ She shook her head, shocked by the matter-of-fact way he had just come out and spoken about release. As if they were nothing but a pair of rutting animals. ‘I can’t think about that right now. It’s all such a lot to take in.’
‘Indeed it is. For both of us.’ His gaze grew thoughtful. ‘And you still haven’t given me your answer.’
Hannah stared at him, knowing there was only one answer she could give him. Because she didn’t have the energy or the inclination to spend her life fighting all that royal power and might, not when she suspected that, ultimately, Kulal would win. ‘I will marry you, yes—to make our baby legitimate.’
‘Good.’
‘And if we find living together intolerable—what then?’
‘If we agree from the outset not to make unrealistic demands on