Instead of breaking the door open, Angus walked off to a guest suite, pausing briefly to pick up clean clothes.

Perhaps it would be best if he left her alone as she asked, at least for the moment. Their tempers were too hot, and they’d be best to let them cool before attempting, yet again, to figure out how to communicate.

He needed to think. He needed to take control of this situation once more.

He shed his wet clothes and threw them in the hamper of the guest bathroom, disgusted by the turn of events.

She should be grateful that he had brought her here, willing to protect her and his heir, yet she was still wishing to argue the fact. He had thought she would be pleased—not at first, obviously, but he hadn’t expected that fit of temper—that maybe there was something between them that could be stoked higher, until there was a blazing inferno between them.

Yet she was acting like a spoiled child. Well, not exactly as a spoiled child but I can’t understand her.

No one had ever dared to stand up to him like she had. She aggravated him, made him mad with lust, and taunted him to the point of explosion. She was bold, cunning, smart, and strong.

Guilt jabbed him in the ribs. He had to ignore it. Life had taught him two things. First, it was fleeting. Second, duty wasn’t.

If he died without an heir, his far-removed toad of a cousin would take the throne and muck up everything he had done so far—especially the peace with the Romani’s, a subject that was so dear to him—making every decision for his own expedience and enrichment.

Angus would have failed the populace that depended on him. And if he failed them, he would not be the man his father meant for him to be. No prospect could be more gutting.

The irony of it hit him as he dried himself and got dressed.

He was the one marrying for love. Just not hers.

* * *

For a long moment, Siobhan watched Angus pacing up and down, non-stop, in the family room like a caged animal.

It didn’t matter that the room was the size of a small country, or that the Renaissance tapestries gracing the walls were the perfect background for contemporary sculptures, the velvet sofa where she sat was a swallowing maw of goose feathers, making it much more pleasant than any enclosure she’d ever seen. She was not a guest here, but a prisoner in a cage, albeit a very gilded one.

“What is going on with you?”

He pivoted on his heels, surprised he hadn’t heard her entering. “I wish you would quit attempting to confuse me.”

Siobhan looked up at Angus, seeing a change in his expression. “What?”

“This,” he said flatly. “The only rational decision is for you to be here so I can keep an eye on you.”

“I’m confusing you?” Siobhan was floored. “I’m not being rational?”

The fire roaring in the fireplace was the only sound in the room.

He turned toward her. “Perhaps we have been thinking this all wrong. This marriage will be what our child needs for stability, nothing more.”

Her mouth fell into a rounded ‘o’, some of the anger dissolving from her expression and being replaced by confusion. “What are you saying?”

He dragged a hand through his hair several more times as he seemed to be trying to figure out what to say next. Possibly I should be thinking about what such a marriage would do for our child, rather than what it would do for me on a more personal basis.

“I’m saying this marriage will be nothing more than an agreement between us for the sake of our child,” he forced out. Perhaps he was allowing her to get too close to him, rattling his thoughts and his feelings without truly thinking this through.

She had caused him to become soft in an instant, which was deadly in his position.

“What?” She blinked. “I thought—”

His brows drew together until his face resembled a thundercloud. “You thought wrong.”

“Angus, look. I’m not too sure what I’m doing here. You kidnapped me…I’m trying to be civilized and cooperative, but you’ve got to help me.” The words rushed out in shaky succession and her hands trembled as she clasped them in front of her. “You’re standing there glaring at me and I have to tell you I’m this close to completely losing my mind.”

“Sit down. Please.”

She looked so pale in the firelight he was scared she would pass out on him. It was yet another soft spot she had caused in him, one he could ill afford.

“I don’t want to sit,” she replied, her hands on her slim hips. “I want to know what’s going on with you.”

“I am king,” he fired back, seeing her eyes widen. “And the father of your child. You will learn that well enough.”

He thought she was going to hit him, the fire in her eyes reminding him of their time, tangled together in bed. That was one thing he enjoyed about Siobhan, her fire.

She was going to hit him. Siobhan watched the internal struggle on Angus’s face, wishing she could figure out what had caused the sudden change in his demeanor. Now he was acting like the pompous ass she imagined him to be. “I am not your servant,” her voice shook as she said it.

“No,” he said softly. “You are not, but you are carrying my heir and I will not allow anything to happen to it.”

She laughed harshly. What is happening to him? “I don’t need your protection, Angus. I can take care of myself—I have always taken care of myself—and I can take care of our baby.” This was no fairy tale and he was far from her Prince Charming. “Perhaps it was a mistake after all.”

He could see the devastation in her eyes and he wanted nothing more than to gather her in his arms, give her the comfort she was seeking.

But that was weakness and he had experienced far too much with her lately. She made him soft, made him think he could have more than just a sexual infatuation with her.

Angus cursed softly and strode to her.

“You do you want the child, right?” He hated the distance in his voice even as he embraced it, wanted it.

“Does it matter?” she asked softly.

“Does it matter to you?” he countered, watching her closely.

“Yes!” she said fiercely, as an uneasy flutter settled into her chest and she rubbed absently at the discomfort.

“That’s good.”

Is it relief that flashed in his eyes? It was hard to tell because the rest of him was so intense.

“Yes,” she said again, calmer this time. “I’ve battled that question constantly over the past few days, and no matter how stressed, worried, panicky, or dismayed I may currently be, I do want this baby.”

Angus cleared his throat, relief flooding his veins. He needed to hear it from her own mouth that she was willing to have his child, his heir. She had no idea what kind of miracle was growing in her belly.

“It’s settled then,” he finally said. “We will wed at once.”

Her eyes narrowed. “God! I didn’t say I was marrying you. I only said I would have this child. Marriage is still up for debate. A very big and long debate.”

Angus growled, his frustration at her nearly reaching a boiling point. Why couldn’t she just accept the fact she was to be his wife, take his name, and have the luxuries that came with her position? Any other woman would jump at the opportunity.

But not Siobhan. Never Siobhan.

She watched as Angus’s face turned a dark shade of red, knowing she was pressing his buttons. She didn’t want to marry him for his reasons, solid and practical as they might be. She wanted love, she wanted romance. She wanted, well, what every other woman wanted, and she didn’t have it with Angus.

Yet.

Could he ever love her? She wasn’t so sure. Right now, he was nothing like the man who had loved her body endlessly and taken her to unknown heights. Presently, he was cold and unfeeling. “Can we not just share in this pregnancy without making any firm decisions?” she tried again.

“You realize I am a king, not just a bloke off the street, Siobhan. There are required obligations to ensure this child is my heir and that my bloodline is carried on for the next generation.”

Not once did he mention her. It was clear to her she was just a vessel for this child, her future still uncertain. “And what of future children?”

The magnitude of the present circumstances were such he had never thought beyond them to the future, at least not as far as children were concerned, or any other aspects of a traditional marriage.

He was silent a long moment and to her surprise, for the first time since she met him, he seemed unsure of himself. A muscle in his jaw ticked. “We’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

“Why don’t I just go back home? I can send you reports of how my, I mean, our child is growing and send you the doctor’s appointments if you would like to attend.” She wanted to be surrounded by the creature comforts of home, by people that genuinely cared for her and this child. She wanted the pregnancy to be filled with love, not this cold, unfeeling man and this drafty house that had no emotion within it.

They were having a child, not raising a horse or picking out new furniture. Didn’t he understand the impact this was having on her own life? Didn’t he know how much she had to change? How much he had to change as well?

“Are we back to this again?” His eyes, once filled with passion and longing and desire for her, were now harsh and flat and so cold that she shivered. “You’re not going anywhere.”

The words were a whisper but deadly sure in their intent. She looked down at the hand burning a brand into her flesh, then up to his face, and almost wished she hadn’t.

“And if I don’t want to stay?”

“You’ll stay.”

“Why should I?”

“Because we have a child to think of and you have nothing to go back for at the moment.” He turned his back to her and strode to his desk and reached into a glass jar of peppermint candies. The jar, replenished once a week, occupied a permanent corner of his desk, as did others in every room of his homes. Popping a soft white wafer into his mouth, he went to glare out the window before adding, “And because I want you to.”

The unexpected words sounded like they’d been ground through his teeth, their intensity rocking her to the soles of her feet so that she felt herself sway towards him, as if drawn by some invisible thread. Drawing her so close that his masculine scent wrapped around her and drew her even closer.

On countless sleep-elusive nights, and in pointless daydream wishes, she’d dreamt of such a moment when a man would ask her to stay. But it wasn’t in that tone, or in that way. “So…I am a… prisoner?”

“You are a guest.” Keeping his back to her for a long second before finally turning to face her once more. “And I hope you enjoy all the luxuries here at your disposal.”

Luxuries. She didn’t want luxuries! She wanted love, laughter, caring. She wanted so much more than he could offer her at the moment and no amount of money was ever going to make her feel more than just a prisoner. “What if it isn’t enough?” she whispered, not trusting her own voice.

Angus just stared at her. He was giving her the world; no price tag would have him batting an eye if it meant that Siobhan and his unborn child was happy. What did she want from him? He had offered her marriage and she had turned him down. There was nothing left.

No, he would not give her that. He had done that once before and it had nearly killed him. No, it was better to hold her at arm’s length, to not allow these raging emotions to come into play. “You will want for nothing, Siobhan.”

Her chin jutted out as she straightened her shoulders, the hurt unmistakable in her eyes. It hadn’t been what she was expecting him to say, but it was all he could offer.

She sighed, tired of that pointless discussion. “It seems I am staying, then.”

She looked up to find him staring at her.

She hesitated only a moment before allowing him to guide her back to the bedroom. He curled his hand around hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Everything will be fine. Just relax. I’ll take care of everything.”

She gave a jerky laugh, then closed her eyes because she was teetering on full-scale bitch mode again. “That’s what scares me. You’re planning my life and you don’t even know me.”

Angus measured the resolute angle of her pointed chin and the light of challenge in her clear gaze and vented a sardonic laugh of disagreement. He wondered how he had contrived to stumble on one of the very few young women in Europe who wouldn’t snatch at the opportunity to have a billionaire make all her material dreams come true.

“Now, here’s what I think we should do. First, we’ll get you to a doctor.”

She blew out a breath. “I have one.”

Angus shook his head. “You will see the royal doctor. He is the only one entrusted with our family’s health.” The royal doctor had undergone an extensive background check to ensure his personal and professional records were impeccable and Angus trusted in his judgment. Priorities had changed and there was nothing more important than ensuring the safety of this child and Siobhan. If something happened, he didn’t want to think about it.

“Fine,” she blew out a breath. “What else are you going to dictate, your majesty.”

The jab did not go unnoticed. “I’m trying to make you comfortable here, Siobhan.”

She gave an unfeeling laugh. “What you are trying to do is keep me in line, Angus. I am not one of your minions to do with as you wish. I am the mother of your child, for God’s sake!”

He stabbed his fingers through his thick hair again. “I wanted to—”

“Please just stop,” she begged. “We’re getting nowhere. I’m tired. I’m stressed. I honest to God want to go to bed and cry.”

Angus heard the anguish in her voice and a sliver of pain shot through him. He didn’t want her in pain, he didn’t want her unhappy. If nothing else, he wanted her laughing and smiling at him as she had before this mess had started. He wanted her happy she was going to give him such a precious gift in the child he thought he would never have. He wanted, hell, he wanted her to love him.

“Sit,” Angus said now. “And we will discuss the room situation.”

Ugh. She didn’t want to discuss the room situation. Because, even though she’d forgiven him, no good could come from semi–moving in with him. The more she allowed him into her life, the harder it would be to leave him.

“I’m only going to be here for a few weeks, right?”

His eyes narrowed.

“Right,” she sighed, and eased onto the couch. “There’s no reason to go to so much trouble for me.”

He sat beside her and picked up her small hand in his larger one. “I’ll decide the amount of trouble you’re worth.”

Okay, that’s kind of sweet. “Of course. Just as you’ve been deciding everything else.”

He sighed again and explained his rooms connected with hers, which had Siobhan raising her eyebrows at separate rooms—he didn’t mention that Innes liked to sleep in separate rooms—and she could have her privacy until she decided what she wanted to do.

He would be patient.

This marriage was supposed to be forever—it followed that their courtship would be extended.

He wasn’t a patient man, but he could do whatever it took to get what he wanted.