The King's Bride By Arrangement - Annie West Page 0,17

was she?

Her nostrils flared and she gathered herself up to her full height. ‘If it’s not about permission then what?’

‘You’re my fiancée, Eva. Don’t you think I care for your well being?’

She blinked, stunned by his blind disregard for the truth.

Heat thrummed through her, indignation rising at his selective memory. For seconds she grappled with the dictates that had become second nature after a lifetime of royal obedience. To behave graciously. To smooth over ruffled feelings and restore harmony.

But she couldn’t do it. Not tonight. Not after what had happened. She couldn’t obediently agree and pretend she’d done something wrong. She’d spent four years holding back, pretending and hiding her feelings. That stopped now.

Eva took a step towards him, hands fisted at her sides, her shoulders back and her spine straight. Coolly, with all the hauteur seven centuries of royal breeding could conjure, she lifted her chin.

‘First, I’m not your fiancée, Paul. You’re dumping me, remember?’

Scowling, he opened his mouth to reply, but she was too quick, speaking as she closed the distance between them. ‘Second, even if I were your fiancée, I have a right to go out to a public venue if I want.’

‘I’m not disputing that, Eva—’

‘In fact, if I’d chosen to visit every night club and bar in the city, that would still have been my choice, not yours.’

She swallowed, her throat scratchy. ‘I admit I made a mistake. Following Fabrice outside wasn’t a wise decision, though I thought, given the fact there were others around, it would be safe.’

‘That’s just where—’

‘But,’ she forged on, unwilling to allow argument, ‘what I really can’t stand is the fact that you blame me for being attacked. As if I should have known what he intended. As if I didn’t have a right to feel safe in your capital. As if...’ she paused and dragged air into lungs that had stopped working ‘...finding fault with the victim is easier than blaming a man who thinks he has a right to assault a woman just because he fancies her.’

Paul’s scowl had vanished and his piercing blue eyes were wide with what looked like shock.

‘I’ve got news for you, Paul.’ Her finger jabbed his sternum, his chest just as immoveable as it looked. ‘It’s attitudes like yours that make this world unsafe for innocent women and girls. As if men can’t be responsible for their actions around them. I’d thought better of you. I never thought you’d resort to victim-shaming.’

Her vocal cords closed around her last words but Eva stood firm, her eyes locked on his.

Hell and damnation!

Paul raked his hand back through his hair as he met Eva’s fierce stare. Her eyes blazed with seething, silvery fire that made her look like a disdainful goddess.

He went to speak then shook his head. She was right. Her scorn burned him all over.

His mouth dried as he went back through their conversations. No wonder she’d thought he was blaming her, when all the time the real target of his ferocity was the man in the alley. And himself.

Paul should have done a better job of protecting her. He knew their earlier, abortive conversation had some part to play in her decision to go off alone tonight. But he’d taken his anger and frustration out on her.

Dragging his hands from his pockets, he spread them wide. ‘I’m sorry, Eva. You’re right. I made it sound like this is all your fault. I apologise.

That militant sparkle still flashed in her gaze but she drew a deep breath, as if relaxing a little.

A tiny part of him wondered what had happened to the woman whose thoughts and emotions he couldn’t read. That Eva had disappeared completely.

But mainly he was consumed with shame. The last thing she needed was someone berating her after what had happened.

‘I got a fright and lashed out. It’s no excuse, I know.’

‘You got a fright?’ She sounded disbelieving.

Her jabbing finger dropped from his chest and, weirdly, he missed the connection. The feel of her touching him. Because the contact had been reassuring. He still couldn’t banish the thought of what might have happened to her if he hadn’t arrived when he had.

Nausea twisted his gut and the skin across his neck and shoulders prickled as it drew tight. He’d heard what her attacker had promised in retribution for her defensive knee to the groin. He only hoped that, since he’d spoken Ancillan, and coarse slang at that, Eva hadn’t understood.

Paul’s blood had run cold at the threat to her.

He couldn’t recall