Siobhan awoke on a mission. If she were to be a prisoner here at Angus’s mansion, she would at least have her comforts from home. He could not deny her that—not if he wanted to keep her happy over the next few months.

After a warm shower, she dressed and walked down to the patio where she had been told Angus would be. She found him hunched over a paper, muttering to himself. Siobhan allowed herself to simply look at him, her heart hammered against her chest. If she could do it all over again, if she could go back to that night where she had first laid eyes on him.

She would not change a thing. No matter how angry he made her, no matter how much he was attempting to take over her life, she would gladly do it all over again.

She was sunk.

Drawing in a breath, Siobhan stepped outside, taking a seat next to him. “Good morning.”

He looked up. Memories of last night’s argument bubbled up, and his gut squeezed tight. “Good morning, Siobhan. How are you feeling?”

His tone was curt and barely warm as he gave her a once over that made her feel like a brood mare waiting to give birth.

“I’m fine, thanks. I slept well.” She hadn’t expected to sleep alone last night, but Angus had not come to her bed and with her emotions riding higher than ever, she had cried herself to sleep. “Do you usually have women in this house?”

“I told you already, I don’t have women.” He grunted and folded the paper in half, pushing it away from his plate. “Why do you insist on this point?”

“My—the walk-in closet is full of new clothes, including lacy underwear.” It was not really full, but the few pieces there were enough to annoy her—and make her jealous. “Plus, you had new clothes in London on our first morning.”

“I ordered them for you. When you were in my house in London, I only asked for a few pieces, and now…as I was not sure what you would like, I asked for more and different things,” he explained. “But if you don’t like them, we can buy others. Whatever you need. This house is at your disposal, including the servants. If you wish for something, anything at all, you only have to let someone know.”

Ah. That’s sweet. She swallowed hard, clasping her hands in her lap. “I wish for my things back in London. I would like to go get them.”

He speared a sausage on his plate as a servant came to the table, placing a platter of fruit before Siobhan. “I do not wish for you to leave the house right now.”

“I need my glasses. I need my clothes, my bag, my documents…cellphone!”

“Your bag, documents and cellphone are in my bedroom,” Angus grunted. “And we can order new and better glasses today.”

“I need Sunny,” Siobhan insisted, not believing how stubborn he was being about this.

He eyed her quizzically. “Who is Sunny?”

“My cat, you idiot,” she stated, pushing away the offending plate. “Are you going to deny me the chance to feed my own cat as well?”

He glanced over at her. “Jaxon will likely take care of your cat and your things.”

Siobhan slammed her hand down on the table, causing the dishes to rattle. “That is beside the point! I didn’t say I’m afraid Sunny won’t be fed. I said I need him. You said If I wish for anything at all, I only need to let someone know. I’m letting you know: I wish for my cat.”

Angus looked at Siobhan’s flushed face, knowing she was mad at him. It wasn’t about her things. He could understand the need to have her personal effects, but what he wouldn’t tell her is he was scared. Scared as soon as she touched her feet down in London, she would refuse to come back with him. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to having.

“I will have your things brought over.”

She pushed back the chair, standing and bracing her hands on the table. “I wish to box up my own things, thank you.”

He took her stare straight on, wishing he could be a bit lenient. If she left, he knew his child—their child—would be safe from any harm, but the harm she would bestow on him by leaving would be great indeed, no matter how much he tried to hide it. “I cannot allow it.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Get dressed. We’re going to get new glasses for you. And some clothes befitting my fiancée.”

She straightened and crossed her arms over chest. “No.”

His eyes searched her set expression for a long, silent moment, and at last he, breathed, “Stubborn.”

“I learned from a master,” she muttered, walking away from the table, and back inside the house.

Siobhan paced the length of her opulent room, holding her hot tea, staring out resentfully over the beauty of the surroundings.

Angus’s plans to seduce her into submission had put her into what felt like a permanently foul mood.

She was feeling like she was nine years old again—just having lost her mother and put up for adoption; it felt as if she was a leaf tossed by a storm, totally lost in a world she didn’t understand. She just wanted to curl into a little ball and cry. But she wasn’t a little girl anymore. Instead, she had a life growing inside her to think about.

She paced the room, wondering the best way to convince Angus to take her back to London, taking a sip of her tea.

She grimaced. God!

Even the tea tasted bitter when it should taste sweet.

Sweet. That’s it. She put down her mug with a clatter and walked to the window.

It was a perfect day, the rising sun already high in the sky, dazzling with the promise of a bit of spring heat arriving. The infinity pool set into the gardens below sparkled and merged with the sky beyond, the perfect diamante-set blue, which in turn merged into a perfect azure sky. And Angus sat alone in the midst of all that beauty. A perfect day. And the perfectly wrong day for a foul mood.

What you need is honey, not vinegar.

She went looking for Angus again.

* * *

He wanted to call her back, he wanted to go after her, to soothe her anger and get her to see reason.

Instead, Angus sat at the table, alone, as he had done before she had come into his life.

He was torn. He loved Siobhan’s fire, passion, and strength.

It was a good complement to his title as a king, as a leader. It would serve his honor well to have a fiery woman at his side. So long as I can tame her.

Surely, she had every reason to be angry with him, but once she cooled she would see he was right and all would be well.

Right?

His inner voice did not answer him.

Something made him turn, a noise, a movement, and he saw her, standing in the doorway of the living room, staring at him as if she had a mission, but lacked the strength to embark on it.

The only consolation—although it came heavy laden with guilt and worry—was that she looked as bad as he felt. Her skin was pale against the raven hair framing her face and her eyes were smudged with dark circles that spoke of a lack of sleep he could only hope matched his own.

What is she so scared of? He pushed his chair back and stood up. “Please, come and sit.”

“I’d like to talk. Civilized talk.”

He gave a brief nod. “Why don’t you sit here with me and eat something first?”

She shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together, her whole face looking pinched and drawn. As he edged nearer, he noticed for the first time that there was color in her face after all, a strange shade of grey. “Won’t you have breakfast? At least some tea?”

Her face seemed to lose even more color, if that were possible, and as he looked closer, he could see she was clutching at the door beside her for support, her grip so tight that her knuckles were white.

“I had tea.” She nodded and turned to go then, letting go of the side of the door to step onto the veranda, but something about the way she moved, a slight stagger, a waver in her step, had him at her side in a heartbeat.

He reached for her just as she sagged against him in a dead faint.

“Esmeralda,” he yelled, picking her up in his arms. “Call the doctor!”

* * *

The first part of her examination went fine. Siobhan was measured, blood was taken and vital signs were recorded by a silent but smiling nurse, who had left a few minutes ago but hadn’t returned yet.

She took the time to look around. She was in a room set up specifically for medical emergencies, which was a copy of a small clinic. Apparently, anything could be bought and Angus’s had everything—and only the best.

Then the doctor came into her room, followed by Angus.

“Good morning, Ms. Faulkner,” he said with a gentle smile.

“Good morning,” she grinned, instantly comfortable with him. “Call me Siobhan.”

Dr. Singh was barely five feet tall. His brown eyes twinkled softly behind his glasses—eyes that had seen humanity at its highest and lowest. His craggy face was routinely set in funny, smiling lines, but when he was with his patients, his features softened with a mix of grandfatherly kindness and a stern studious look that immediately earned their trust.

“Siobhan, I’ve looked over your vitals, and I am a bit concerned.”

Siobhan’s heart sank, and she put a protective hand over her belly. “Is the baby…?”

“The baby is fine,” he told her with a gentle smile. “Perfectly healthy. You, however, need to take some precautions. Your blood pressure is extremely low, which is what caused you to collapse. It’s manageable without medications, fortunately, since the medications could have an impact on the baby, but you will need to follow my directions to the letter.”

She swallowed against the lump of fear which had risen in her throat and nodded. “Of course.”

“First, you must get plenty of rest. Don’t be a hero trying to clean the house, or walk the ostrich, or whatever it is you normally do.”

This earned him a small, weak smile, but it did nothing to stop Siobhan’s stomach from flip-flopping.

“Daily walks will help to regulate your blood pressure and will protect your heart; however, you should never walk anywhere unaccompanied in case you collapse again.”

Siobhan nodded, taking a steadying breath.

“Your diet should be primarily fruits, vegetables, and grains, in that order. Animal proteins are okay, as long as they are low in fat. Avoid cheese and desserts as much as you can.”

Siobhan suppressed a pout. She had been aching to get her hands on a piece of chocolate cake for the last hour. The desire had hit the fever pitch of a full-blown pregnancy craving just as she heard she shouldn’t eat it. “One chocolate per day? Just one?”

“A bite or two won’t kill you,” he said in a conspiratorial undertone. “Most importantly, you must avoid stress. Getting upset, angry, struggling to meet a deadline, organizing a circus…all of these things will worsen your condition. You must remain calm. Take up knitting or meditation, anything to keep you calm.”

Siobhan’s laugh was high and thin with nerves. “Calm,” she repeated. “No stress. I’ll do my best.”

“The more support you have, the better,” he shot a pointed look at Angus.

Angus shifted uncomfortably and offered a tight smile, painfully aware he was responsible for all of Siobhan’s most recent stresses. In hindsight, kidnapping her seemed like a very bad idea.

The doctor finished up quickly and repeated his instructions that she should not be upset in any way, if at all possible.

Guilt struck Angus in the gut as they accompanied Dr. Singh to the doors.

“Are you tired?” he asked worriedly.

“Very,” Siobhan said through a yawn.

She leaned against his chest. For once, Angus didn’t mind her silence; after that scare, it was infinitely pleasurable to simply exist beside her.

He tucked her into bed like a child. She barely noticed, falling fast asleep the second her head hit the pillow. Unwilling to leave her and hesitant to sleep in her bed, Angus finally compromised by lying down on the couch which sat against the wall across from her bed. He watched her breathe until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

* * *

Siobhan woke to a groan. A male’s groan.

She cracked open her eyes and groggily reached over and turned on a nearby lamp, lighting the area enough for her to see Angus sleeping on the sofa.

She rose and crossed to him, exhaling in resignation.

How could he be so damaged mentally—and morally—and yet so stunning on the outside? Clad only in dark jeans that hung low on his hips, he reclined on his side, his head resting on his forearm.

His face was hauntingly flawless, with his proud, patrician nose and broad cheekbones. Even the tousled longish chestnut hair and the stubble covering his bold jawline were enticing to her.

It never failed to astonish her, how she—Siobhan Faulkner, a girl put up for adoption, a returned adopted child, a pauper—could entice such obsession and care from a man who could have any woman he wanted. He’s only interested in his heir.

But it was sweet and nice to have someone taking care of me in such a way.

All she’d ever asked of life was a home and a place to belong; someone to love who loved her; children someday—children she would never abandon to an orphanage. She’d always been an honest, law-abiding citizen.

Dare I let myself accept his proposal? Her heart was still bruised by the way he high-handed her. Dare I not?

* * *

Angus opened his eyes to Siobhan pacing the room slowly, twisting her fingers together.

“You should be resting,” he told her, rising from the couch to lead her back to bed.

She shook him off and turned away.

“I’ve been resting,” she said irritably. “I left a life behind, you know. Those responsibilities don’t just disappear. I need my phone.”

Mild chagrin formed a scowl on Angus’s face, but he showed her to the drawer where he had stashed her purse. She mumbled thanks and dialed quickly, not bothering to seek privacy before connecting on FaceTime call.

“Jaxon, hi!”

“Siobhan? Where the hell are you?” Jaxon’s voice floated faintly through the room.

“I’m, um…I’m with Angus. He wanted to show me his country.”

Angus could hear the hesitation in her voice, and wondered how much she would tell her possessive friend. Jaxon would not be too difficult to deal with if he decided to take revenge, but Angus would rather avoid that particular confrontation and started making plans to win the man over to his side. Keep the friends close and the foes closer. And I might just turn him into an ally.

“And you just went? You didn’t even tell me!”

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you,” Siobhan said, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. “But, um…I don’t know when I’ll be back. Would you take care of Sunny for me?”

Sunny? Oh, the cat. Angus absently rubbed his finger where the kitten had scratched him. A worthy adversary.

“Well, at least Sunny is still here,” Jaxon sounded irritable. “I assume that means you will be back at some point?”

Siobhan cast a dubious look in Angus’s direction, layered with questions and assumptions in equal measure.

Of course, you’ll be back. For a visit, as my wife. He smiled at her and nodded, plans already forming in his mind. Or maybe it will be very profitable to bring Jaxon here, after I convince him of the rightness my honorable intentions.

“Of course,” she told Jaxon. “I just don’t know when quite yet. Oh, could you water my plants too? Please.”

“I suppose,” Jaxon grumbled. “I wish you had told me.”

“I’m really sorry,” she said again, sounding sincere. “I would have called, I just…um…forgot.”

Angus winced at that. He regretted giving her the drug more every time he recognized another consequence. He had not given the kitten a second thought since leaving London; now he realized just how much the lonely Siobhan had relied on her animal friend and on her foster brother. I’ll have to bring him to my side quickly.

“Forgot,” Jaxon repeated flatly. “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun at least. I’ll take care of your stuff. You should know, though, Sunny’s been crying for you.”

Siobhan’s lip trembled and her eyes shone with unshed tears, compounding Angus’s guilt. She cleared her throat, regained her composure, and apologized once more. Angus began to feel as if she were apologizing on his behalf, which made him incredibly uncomfortable. He began to develop a plan to rectify the situation as much as possible as Siobhan wrapped up the call then sat miserably on the bed.

Angus crossed the room, sat beside her and asked, “Everything okay?”

With a forlorn sigh, she said, “He hates me.”

“If he hated you, he would not worry,” Angus pointed out.

Siobhan coughed a bitter little laugh. “I suppose not.”

“I have some business to attend to. Please stay here and rest, for your own health. If you need anything at all, just call Esmeralda through the intercom.” He ran a hand over her hair enjoying its silkiness. “I will ask lunch to be brought here for you, okay?”

She nodded and he could see the smile he gave her was forced.

He left the room, closing the door behind him and still standing shirtless in the corridor, Angus dialed his aide-de-camp.

“Ewan, I need you to tell MacMillian to take the jet to London at the earliest opportunity,” Angus commanded. “I have an errand for you.”

The door to Siobhan’s room opened and her face appeared in the gap.

“I’ll call you back in a sec,” he hung up. Turning to Siobhan, he looked expectantly, “Is there anything you need?”

She fidgeted on her feet, “Can I at least borrow a book? I’ll go crazy with nothing to do.”

Guilt immediately overcame him. “Of course, you can.”

Sliding his free hand into the pockets of his pants, Angus wandered to his bedroom, noticing Siobhan only followed him as far as the doorway, as if not entering his room would keep her from becoming more familiar and comfortable with being there, and thus allowed her to maintain emotional distance as well.

In his dressing room, away from her eyes, he texted his aide-de-camp and finished informing him what he needed done. Then taking a turtleneck sweater from a shelf, and putting it on, he walked back to his bedroom.

“Come on,” he motioned to Siobhan. “I’ll show you what I have for you to read and we can have lunch together.”

She followed him to double doors, which slid soundlessly with a single push of his fingers.

His office was a splendid exercise in enormousness.

The floor of wide wooden planks of straight lines was covered with yet another pristine white rug. A large desk, with a huge black leather upholstered chair—fit for a man of Angus’s size, or rather for a king—stood in the center of the room. To one side there was a set of two leather-covered lounging chairs and to the other, over a sea of white rug, a set of armchairs, sofa, and side tables.

On one wall there was a bookshelf, and on the other a big hearth over which hung a tapestry portraying a black dragon-head emblem on a field of the deepest, darkest blood red. The fierce creature stared back at her.

She shivered and turned to look at Angus. “Is this your emblem?”

“Lektenstaten’s. And you can say it’s also the House of Braxton-Lenox’s. We have reigned since the 800s,” he walked to his desk, where a mountain of papers clearly waited for him to tackle them.

“Scary.” She watched as he reached into a glass jar full of white wafers and popped one in his mouth. She had seen him doing this every now and then, and she had noticed there were many similar jars scattered throughout the house. “What is that?”

He looked at her sheepishly as if caught doing something wrong. “A secret vice of mine: peppermint candies.”

“A vice, huh?” She smiled at this small sweet secret.

“I’ve been fond of them ever since I was a boy,” Angus admitted. “When I accompanied my father on his visits, he always took me to the sweet shop on the Main Square. The confectioner, Mr. Gebber, used to give me a box of them. Here, have one.”

“You have a sweet tooth.” Her smile widened into a grin and she popped it in her mouth. She closed her eyes as the decadent flavor exploded in her mouth.

He hesitated when she didn’t say anything, before asking with a touch of uncertainty, “Do you like it?”

“I think you just got me addicted,” she breathed, licking her lips and extending her hand for more. “This is scrumptious.”

Now, I have just to get you addicted to me. He smiled and put a handful of candies in her hand. “You can grab as many as you wish.”

“I will,” she told him with a toss of her hair.

He smiled as she went to the bookshelf, perused the books and chose three, and then fidgeted as if unsure of what to do.

“You can stay here while I work,” he said, winning a smile from her.

He watched as she set herself comfortably in one of the reclining chairs and opened one of the books, leafed through it and then did the same to the other two, before deciding on the second one.

Licking the tip of her index finger, she turned to the first page.

Flummoxed, Angus sat there with his desk drowning in paperwork, riveted by that innocent and yet wholly seductive gesture. He had a sudden urge to draw that finger between his lips and suck.

He groaned.

Siobhan picked her head up. “Is everything…alright?”

As their gazes met, a becoming pink blush colored her cheeks.

So, she’s not wholly immune to me. He grinned at her, emboldened by the delicate coloring on her cheeks. “Yes, fine. I’m just…hungry.”

She didn’t miss the sexual innuendo and it made her nipples tingle at the thought of his mouth sucking on them. Her lips parted.

His smile grew and he asked her in a husky voice, “Aren’t you?”

Yes! “Not really,” she said dismissively, hoping he was fooled by her shrug, and looked down at the book again, not seeing a single line but remembering the taste of him in her mouth. She wanted him to come over and take her right then and there.

Oh, but she’s such a threat to my equilibrium. One minute he wanted to kiss her in rough mind-altering passion just for looking at him, the next he wanted to strangle every last breath from her beautifully formed body for not agreeing to marry him.

He wanted to tie her up and drown her in the lake.

Or rather, tie her to the posts on my bed and drown myself in her.

Shaking his head, he sat behind the desk and turned on his computer, shifting his focus from the stunning woman lounging nearby to the emails in his inbox.

He let out a small sigh when his eyes returned to her slender form, looking as if it belonged to his office, to him already.

It’s not going to be easy.