was so very, very angry with her. What she had done was surely a violation of something precious and a privacy that should never have been breached by anyone.
She wanted to apologise to Ash. She wanted to tell him that she had only realised too late what an unforgivable thing she was doing in letting her curiosity and envy of Nasreen get the better of her, but Ash was so angry he wouldn’t even let her speak.
The sight of Sophia in Nasreen’s clothes made Ash feel as though raw flesh had been ripped from his body, the anger, the shame, the bitterness he felt infusing that guilt with true darkness. He had no right to blame Nasreen and the memory of their marriage for making him feel like this. And no right to feel that he was being cheated of something that deep down inside he ached for, though he knew he had no right to ache for it. Someone or something? He had come here tonight to be with Sophia after far too many long days—and even longer nights—of battling his own inner demons as he fought to allow himself a logical reason for appeasing the need he knew she aroused in him. That might be a need he had no right to allow himself, but tonight, with the future of his name to the forefront of his mind, he had assured himself that being with Sophia, having sex with her, was permissible under the rules he had laid down for himself after Nasreen’s death.
Now with the anger boiling inside him, at what unforgivably his senses were now seeing as an unwanted intrusion of Nasreen, and the past into the intimacy he ached to share with Sophia, his guilt could only increase. He had no right even to have such feelings, never mind seek to satisfy them. He had no right to want Sophia. He had no right to anything other than the burden of the guilt he must never, ever forget. And by rights now he should turn round and walk away as a punishment to himself, not returning to Sophia until he had stripped from himself every vestige of personal desire and need for her.
The movement of Sophia’s body as she tried to pull away from his hold on her wrist disturbed the air around her, releasing into it the sickeningly familiar odour of Nasreen’s scent. He could still remember how it had hung between them on their wedding night after he had realised that he could never love her. Heavy and oversweet, it clung now to the air, draining it of oxygen, cloying and all-pervading, filling him with revulsion.
‘Take it off. All of it,’ he demanded again, his voice harsh with the emotional weight of years of guilt, anger and despair added to the even more burdensome weight of his desire for Sophia herself.
Ash released her abruptly, the revulsion he felt for her behaviour written plainly on his face. He couldn’t bear to touch her and he couldn’t even bear to be in the same room with her. She couldn’t blame him for that. What she had done had been unforgivable, but it was too late now to wish that she had been stronger and that she had resisted temptation. If she had. Ash had plainly come to her intending to take her to bed. Against all logic her body reacted to that knowledge with a surge of fierce longing. Longing for a man who’d had sex with her once and then hadn’t come near her for three weeks? Sex with a man who had shown her body what sensual pleasure could be, the only man—thanks to the vows she had made—who would ever have sex with her. She was a normal, modern healthily functioning woman, so wasn’t it only natural that her body should want to know again that sensual pleasure? Without love? Without respect? Without Ash wanting anything from her other than an heir?
Where was her pride? This was not the right time for them to come together as prospective parents-to-be. She must remember that she was a Santina. She must remember the role to which she was now committed. She wanted Ash to leave so that she could rid herself of Nasreen’s clothes and her shame in private. She made to walk past him. She was trembling from head to foot, desperate now to remove the silk garments.
Thinking that Sophia was ignoring him, half maddened by his own unbearable feelings, Ash reached for Sophia again, dragging her towards him as though the very sight of her in Nasreen’s clothes maddened him beyond all sanity, tearing the scarf from her, and then, to Sophia’s shock, reaching for the neck of the tunic and starting to rip it apart.
‘No, Ash,’ Sophia pleaded with him. He would hate himself later for the destruction of Nasreen’s beautiful outfit, she knew, and he would hate her even more for being the cause of that destruction. He wasn’t listening to her, though, wasn’t paying her any attention at all, as she struggled in his hold. He refused to let her go, his knuckles pale against his skin with the pressure of his grip as he wrenched the delicate silk apart. The awful tearing sound of the fabric made Sophia cry out in protest, and as though that one small sound somehow penetrated the red mist of his fury Ash turned his back to her and ordered her, again, ‘Take it off. Now. All of it.’
From out of nowhere Sophia felt a surge of white-hot anger of her own rise up inside her to meet Ash’s fury. It burned along her veins swiftly, reaching the unstable powder keg of her jangling emotions.
‘You want me to take it off. Fine, then I will!’ she yelled furiously at Ash as she pulled and tugged at the clothes that she now loathed so much because of all they represented, as though they were shackles that bound and imprisoned her, flinging the garments down on the floor as she removed them. Her face was flushed, her temper was up and her dark brown eyes burned with her emotions. Within seconds the floor around her was strewn with discarded garments as she hurled them away from her, and Sophia herself was left standing virtually naked in nothing but her own tiny briefs, out of breath, her chest heaving, the full force of her fury leaving Ash momentarily lost for words. She was. She was … She was magnificent, he found himself admitting, magnificent. Her anger had somehow cleansed her completely of the taint of Nasreen which had so appalled him, just as her feisty removal of her own clothes had left her revealed to him as exactly what and who she was. Herself. Magnificent. And right now he wanted her so badly that the force of that wanting was ripping him apart inside.
‘Satisfied now, are you?’ Sophia challenged into the silence that had fallen between them, but Ash’s unmoving silence had definitely brought its heat down a few degrees.
‘Satisfied?’ Why was he having difficulty framing the word? Why was his body giving him a thousand messages about just what would bring him satisfaction right now, when it and he knew that he couldn’t give in to those illogical needs? And yet … His desire still roiled and thundered inside him, refusing to be subdued.
He took a step towards Sophia and then another, his actions shocking her because she had expected him to leave.
‘No, I am not satisfied,’ she heard him telling her. ‘And I shall not be satisfied until you have conceived our child.’
Then she was in his arms, and he was kissing her, angrily, savagely, humiliatingly, and yet she couldn’t find the willpower to resist him. Something within her own anger had ignited a force inside her that was overwhelming all her deep-rooted senses of self-preservation. There was a wildness in the air and in her body, a deep hot fiercely female urgent need that refused to listen to reason and insisted instead that it must and would be appeased. That need was carrying her with it, taking her as passionately as it was telling her that she wanted Ash to take her, as herself, as a woman whose desire was so powerful that it was impossible for him to resist or deny his need to match it. With such thoughts, such hungers, swirling around inside her it was impossible for Sophia to hold on to reality or sanity, especially not when Ash was kissing her with such scorching intensity. Or rather, he was kissing the woman he really wished were here with such scorching intensity, Sophia warned herself.
Under his dark mastery of her senses, and the spell it cast on them, she still couldn’t stop herself from responding to him, even though she knew that inside Ash’s head the woman on whom he was pouring out his passionate need was cast in Nasreen’s image and not her own. All that mattered was the white-hot heat his kiss and his touch were creating inside her. Her body knew him now and knew the power and delight of the pleasure he could give it. Her body had no conscience and no pride, all it knew was that the touch on it was a touch that sent coded messages of
