Page 18 of The Innocent Carrying His Legacy

Then he’d said she had to marry him, which couldn’t be true. She didn’t know him. He was a stranger and no one married strangers, unless you were on some crazy reality TV show, right?

The definitively masculine lines of his face were hard and set and as expressionless as they had been before, the colour of his eyes startling against his bronze skin and thick, black lashes.

She couldn’t stop staring. It really was the most extraordinary shade, with a crystalline quality that hinted at frosts and snows and glaciers. Such cold in the middle of the desert heat. And he was hot; she could feel it radiating from him. It was a warmth that made her want to put her hands out to it like a comforting fire.

Except this fire wasn’t comforting and a part of her could sense that. This fire had the potential to blaze and set her alight too if she wasn’t careful.

With an effort, Ivy tried to bring her shocked mind back to what was happening. Him. Marriage...

‘No,’ she forced out. ‘That’s insane. I can’t... I can’t marry you. What are you talking about?’

He didn’t move. He seemed immovable as a mountain, obdurate as granite, and she had the sense that she could push and push and push at him, but he wouldn’t budge. There was no give in him at all.

‘You may not refuse.’ She felt that harsh voice in her bones, the rumble deep as the shifting of tectonic plates. ‘As I said, I insist.’

A burst of shock went through her and she had to struggle hard to mask it. ‘But what if I’m married already? What if I have a partner?’

‘Are you married? Do you have a partner?’

‘No, but—’

‘Then that isn’t relevant.’

‘Why?’ she demanded, exhaustion and shock making panic collect in her throat. ‘Why do I have to marry you?’

‘It will give you some legal protection, especially here, where my name is known.’ Something sharp glittered in his eyes. ‘Also, the mother of my child should be my wife.’

‘But that’s...medieval. People don’t have to be married these days.’

‘I don’t care what people do these days,’ he said dismissively. ‘My child shall have both parents and those parents should be married to each other.’

‘We don’t love each other. You’re a stranger.’

He frowned. ‘What has love got to do with it?’

‘Only people who love each other get married.’ She knew she sounded ridiculous yet was unable to stop. The panic was spreading out inside her and she couldn’t seem to force it down and contain it, which wasn’t like her at all.

She was normally good in a crisis, she always knew what to do. She was calm and matter-of-fact, and never let her emotions get the better of her. So why she felt as if she were going to pieces now, she had no idea.

Pregnancy hormones, no doubt. Pregnancy hormones and this arrogant bastard of a sheikh.

‘I don’t know what fairy-tale world you’ve been living in, Miss Dean, but it isn’t this one.’ His frown deepened, as if he’d seen something he didn’t much like in her expression. ‘It isn’t a proper marriage I’m insisting on, you do understand that, don’t you? Publicly it might look like it, but privately it will only be a legal formality.’

A tension that she hadn’t been conscious of released, though she wasn’t sure if that left her feeling better or worse.

Better, definitely better. Because why on earth would she beunhappythat it wouldn’t be a real marriage? It wasn’t as if she wanted to sleep with him or anything.

Ignoring the odd flutter that particular thought set off, Ivy said, ‘I’m sorry, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. Especially considering you’re telling me I’m in danger and I now have to stay here until the baby is born.’

‘Your feelings on the matter are not important.’ He let go of the arms of the chair and straightened, towering over her like the fortress itself. ‘The safety and well-being of my child is the only thing of any relevance.’

‘He’s my child too,’ Ivy said without thinking.

One of the Sheikh’s black brows shot up. ‘I thoughthewas your friend’s baby?’

An uprush of sudden heat swamped her, followed by a surge of anger at this man who’d somehow taken control of the situation, making her feel helpless, powerless. As she had all those years ago, the poor little orphan that nobody had wanted to adopt, no matter how good she was. No matter how hard she smiled. So many interviews with lovely potential parents and yet not one of them had ever chosen her. Not one of them had wanted her. And there’d been nothing she could do about it. Absolutely nothing.

Ivy pushed herself to her feet, not realising until far too late that she was standing very close to him, only inches away. And that he was so very tall and so very broad. He dwarfed her. He smelled like the desert, hot and dry, with a tantalising spice that made her heartbeat accelerate and her breath catch.

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