Carlotta has always been very sensible.’
Sophia gave him a wry look. ‘You call having a child out of wedlock by a man who she won’t name and, according to our father, bringing disgrace on the family sensible?’
A child—a son—only he knew how atavistically he longed for fatherhood, Ash acknowledged as he felt the familiar strike of sharply savage pain burning into him.
He had assumed when he and Nasreen had married that she would be as keen to start their family as he had been. Initially, when she had told him that she wanted to delay it because she wanted to have time alone with him he had been charmed and captivated. But then he had learned from Nasreen’s own lips the real reason why she did not want to have a child—ever—and that had led to the first of many rows between them.
To outsiders, his desire for children would be seen as the natural desire of a man in his situation to have an heir to follow him. There was an element of that there, of course—he had a duty to his inheritance, after all—but his need went deeper and was far more intensely personal than that. The loneliness he had felt as a child had made him long for a family of his own in a way that had nothing to do with being royal, and it was a need he could not turn away from or deny. One day he would marry again—it would be a marriage of practicality and not emotion, but the children that came from that marriage he would love, because that love would come naturally and not have to be forced, or pretended. As he had done with Nasreen. The bitterness of his failure to love Nasreen still brought him guilt.
‘It isn’t what one would have expected of Carlotta,’ he acknowledged.
‘No, Carlotta was always the good one. Not like me. I suppose if anyone outside the family had to choose one of us to do something disgraceful to our father they would choose me.’ Sophia pulled a face. ‘Oh, don’t bother denying it. We both know that it’s true. If it had happened to me I’d do exactly what Carlotta has done and insist on keeping my baby. No matter who tried to take it away from me.’ Her face softened as she added, ‘Little Luca is so gorgeous that sometimes I almost wish he was mine.’ There was genuine warmth and tenderness in her voice. ‘Not that my father would ever tolerate such a lapse from what’s expected from me. It would be the last straw, I expect, and he’d probably completely disown me.’
‘I doubt that your father would be trying to arrange a suitable marriage for you if he himself wasn’t convinced that you are his child, especially not to a fellow royal.’
His statement was intended to reassure her, as well as bring their conversation to a halt, but instead of doing that, it had Sophia firing up again and telling him fiercely, ‘If you think that then you don’t know my father at all. It isn’t for my benefit that he wants this marriage. It’s for his own. For the Santina name. That’s all that matters to him. Not us. Just the reputation of the Royal House of Santina. It’s always been the same, all the time we were growing up. All he ever said to us was that we must remember who and what we are. He rules us as he rules the kingdom, because he believes it is his right to do so. Our feelings, our needs, don’t matter. In fact, as far as he is concerned we ought not to have feelings at all, and that applies especially to me. He doesn’t understand me, he never has. You could help me, Ash. It wouldn’t take very much. As I’ve already told you my father would drop the Spanish prince like a hot potato if he thought he had any chance at all of marrying me off to you.’
‘I doubt very much that your father would switch his allegiance, son-in-law-wise, on the strength of seeing us together for a handful of hours at a party.’
‘Yes, he would,’ Sophia told him succinctly. ‘And I’ll prove it to you if you help me.’
Sophia’s problems were nothing to him, Ash reminded himself. He was simply here as a friend of her eldest brother. The fact that he had felt a certain amount of protective compassion for Sophia as a young girl didn’t mean anything now. After all, then he had been an idealistic young man looking forward to a future filled with love and happiness, or so he’d thought. Now he was a realist—an embittered hard-hearted realist, some might say—who knew that such dreams were exactly that. Wasn’t the truth that it was his view now that an arranged marriage worked better, lasted longer and fitted the purpose it was designed for—the production of an heir and the continuation of a family name—than so-called love? Wouldn’t his own second marriage be exactly that? After all, one only had to look at Sophia’s parents to see the strength of such a union. Whether or not the rumours about Queen Zoe and the young architect were true, their marriage remained solid, as did their shared dedication to preserving the Santina family name. If Sophia thought that her father would ever sacrifice that to allow her to make a marriage of her own choice then in his opinion she was wrong. Besides, she was grown-up now, and could take care of herself. And he didn’t want to muddy the waters of diplomatic relations with a poorly timed flirtation.
‘I don’t see the point in us discussing this any further, Sophia.’ He pushed back the sleeve of his dinner jacket to look at his watch.
He had extraordinarily sexy hands and wrists, Sophia acknowledged, and the warm tone of his skin only emphasised that. For months after he had rejected her she had soothed herself to sleep at night imagining those hands on her body in a caress that was warm and loving, as well as sensually erotic. The pain of the sudden sense of loss that swept her locked her breath in her throat.
‘I have to leave soon,’ Ash told her. ‘If you spoke to your father about your feelings I am sure that he will give you more time to get to know the man he has chosen for you.’
The fierce shrug of her slender, tanned shoulders in a gesture of denial and despair caused the strapless top of her dress to slip downwards, so that the shadow of the areole of her nipples was clearly visible to him. Desire hot and feral shot through him. What was the matter with him? It was as though his body was taking delight in deliberately disobeying the orders he had given it, as though his own flesh was actively delighting in punishing him by making him … want her?
Anger gushed through him. With a figure like hers she must surely have known the risks of wearing a dress like that.
‘If you don’t want everyone here to see what I can see right now I suggest you do something about your dress,’ he warned her curtly. ‘Unless, of course, you do want every man in the room to see what only a lover should be permitted to enjoy.’
Not understanding what Ash was saying, Sophia stared at him in confusion and then took a step towards him, gasping as she stepped on the hem of the front of her dress and felt it slide down her body.
Instantly Ash moved towards her, shielding her from everyone else’s sight, his hands on her upper arms so that no one could see what she now knew must be clearly visible.
She had sunbathed topless as and when appropriate in front of any number of people, so why right now did she feel so embarrassed and self-conscious, her hands trembling as she tried to tug up the front of her dress, succeeding only in dislodging it even more. She choked, ‘You’ll have to help me—I need you to reach round and unfasten the hook and eye at the back so that I can adjust the front.’
He wanted to refuse but how could he without letting her guess the effect she was having on him, as though he was a callow youth who had never seen a woman’s naked breasts before.
It was just as well the elegant ballroom was so busy, Ash acknowledged as he reached around behind Sophia almost as though he was about to take her into his arms, deftly unfastening the hook and eye and then lowering the zip.
‘That’s too much,’ Sophia protested, her face burning as she felt the top of her dress fall away. Not, thankfully, that anyone could
