a grim expression of accusation which Tamsyn recognised all too well.
‘Would you like to tell me what’s going on?’ she demanded.
‘I could ask the same thing of you!’ retorted Tamsyn, reframing the accusation and turning it on its head since attack was always the best form of defence. ‘It’s the first day of your honeymoon—so what are you doing barging into my bedroom at this time in the morning? Won’t your new husband be wondering where you are?’
Hannah bit her lip and Tamsyn was shocked to see the despair which briefly darkened her sister’s eyes because she was usually cheerful, no matter what life threw at her. And despite her own predicament, Tamsyn felt her heart plummet as her worst fears began to materialise. Was Hannah’s marriage already starting to go off the rails, even though she had only been crowned Queen the previous day? She had warned her sister that it was a mistake to marry such a man as arrogant as Kulal. She’d begged her not to go through with the marriage just because she was pregnant, but Hannah hadn’t listened. What if the powerful Sheikh was being cruel to his pregnant wife—what then?
‘So where’s Kulal, Hannah?’ Tamsyn probed, as suspicion continued to stab at her heart like a dagger. ‘Doesn’t he mind you being here, quizzing me, on the first morning of his honeymoon?’
‘I’m not here to talk about my relationship!’ declared Hannah, but Tamsyn could hear the sorrow in her voice. ‘I’m here to ask whether you spent the night with Xan Constantinides.’
And despite all her bravado, Tamsyn felt a shiver whisper over her skin. Was it hearing someone else say the words out loud which drove home the true nature of what she had done? After years of fiercely guarding her innocence she had let the Greek tycoon lead her back to his suite and take her virginity with barely an arrogant snap of his fingers. A man she barely knew. A man she would probably never see again.
And it had been the most amazing thing which had ever happened to her.
They had spent the night having passionate sex—over and over again. He’d said things to her in Greek she hadn’t understood and things to her in English which she had, and which made her blush just remembering them.
‘You drive me crazy. Your breasts are small but the most perfect I have ever seen,’ he had growled at one point, lifting his head from her nipple, where the lick of his tongue and the graze of his teeth had been enough to have her writhing on the bed in ecstasy. ‘And do you want to know what else about you is perfect?’
She remembered thinking how delectable he looked with his cheekbones all flushed and his black hair wild as a lion’s mane from where she’d been running her fingers through it. She remembered an instinctive feeling of sexual power flooding through her as she met his hectic cobalt gaze. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes, I do.’
But he had answered with the urgent thrust of his seemingly ever-present erection, and Tamsyn had almost passed with pleasure as he brought her hurtling over the edge of fulfilment, again and again and again.
She must have fallen asleep eventually, because when she opened her eyes it had been to discover herself alone in the rumpled bed with bright sunlight on her face and only a scrawled note occupying the space where Xan had lain. She had picked it up with trembling fingers and read it.
Gone riding in the desert. That was the most perfect night.
Thank you.
Xan.
Tamsyn’s heart had sunk for it had read like the farewell it was obviously intended to be. There had been no line of kisses. No phone number or email address, or invitation to have dinner with him back in London.
Well, what had she been expecting—everlasting love?
Of course she hadn’t, but even facing up to the folly of her actions didn’t make it any easier. She’d done some pretty stupid things in her time, but sleeping with Xan Constantinides must rank right up there with some of the worst decisions she’d ever made. Easy come, easy go—that was probably how he saw it. If you slept with a man without even going out on a formal date, then why would he treat you with respect? Tamsyn swallowed. Was she doomed to follow the path laid down by her own mother, despite her determination to live her life in a very different way?
Now she stared into Hannah’s aquamarine eyes which were so unlike her own. She guessed they each carried a legacy from their different fathers—both useless in their different ways—and fleetingly she wondered whether that was why they’d both made such bad choices when choosing men. Except that she hadn’t chosen Xan—he had chosen her.
And he had done a runner as soon as possible.
She shrugged her shoulders with a familiar gesture of defiance. ‘Yes, I spent the night with Xan Constantinides.’
‘But Tamsyn, why?’
For the first time Tamsyn felt like smiling as she looked at her sister. Her pale-faced sister with dark shadows under her eyes. ‘You’re honestly asking me that? You might be a married woman now—but surely you’re not completely immune to the charms of a man like Xan Constantinides.’
At the mention of marriage, Hannah flinched. ‘No, of course I’m not,’ she said quietly. ‘And that’s precisely why he’s the wrong kind of man for you, Tamsyn. He might be obscenely good-looking and have the kind of sex appeal which should carry a public health warning, but he’s known for his...his...’
‘His what?’ prompted Tamsyn, though her heart was smashing against her rib cage because she guessed what was coming.
‘Let’s just say he enjoys women! He enjoys them very much.’
‘I wasn’t expecting him to be celibate!’
Hannah sucked in a long breath, her face growing serious. ‘It’s more than that. He usually dates actresses. Or models. Or heiresses.’
‘Not waitresses on short-term contracts who are always getting fired for insubordination, you mean?’ offered Tamsyn drily.
‘And you...’
Tamsyn watched as Hannah unconsciously rubbed her enormous gold and ruby wedding band, as if reaffirming to herself that she really was married. And once again she wondered why her sister was standing here on the first morning of her honeymoon, looking like the very opposite of what a glowing newlywed should be. Why wasn’t she romping in bed with her husband? ‘I what, Hannah?’
The new Queen chewed on her lip. ‘I know you were inexperienced with men, Tamsyn,’ she breathed. ‘And by associating with someone like Xan, you’re operating right out of your league.
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Tamsyn assured her airily. ‘I’m not anticipating any kind of future with him. I’m not that stupid.’
‘But what...’ Hannah sucked in a deep breath. ‘What if you’re pregnant?’
Tamsyn knew she didn’t have to have this conversation, no matter how close the two sisters had been when they were growing up. But in a way she did need to have it, because wouldn’t voicing her inner fears help put them into perspective? Like when you had a terrible nightmare and the shadows in the room seemed to symbolise all kinds of terrible things—yet when you put a lamp on
