His half smile told her he knew exactly why she was refusing to ask that question. ‘If you give my son this much trouble when he does something you do not like, then I pity him,’ he drawled. ‘Please…’ he then said suddenly. ‘Will you come and sit?’
Evie’s instinct was to refuse. She had no wish to move one inch away from this door behind which lay relative safety. But it suddenly struck her that he wasn’t standing so tall as he had been—as if the strength was slowly seeping out of him.
Like his son, she realised, good manners were bred into him. Love her or hate her, he could not bring himself to sit while a lady remained standing.
And, determined though she was not to soften her feelings towards him, neither could she keep a sick man standing when it wasn’t necessary. So she moved warily across the cluttered room to the other wing-backed chair set across the fireplace from the one the Prince had been sitting in when she arrived.
He waited until she sat down on the edge of it before he lowered himself carefully into the other one.
‘Thank you,’ he sighed, easing himself back into the chair then wearily closing his eyes.
An uncomfortable feeling of concern began to gnaw at her. ‘Are you all right?’ she felt constrained to ask. ‘Would you like me to get someone?’
‘No, no.’ He refused the offer. ‘I can sit, I can lie, but I must not stand for long periods,’ he explained. Then his eyes suddenly flicked open, homing in like two sharp golden lances on her face. ‘I offer you this information because I understand that you are loath to request it,’ he said with a small wry smile that made her rather disturbingly aware of just how easily he was seeing through her.
Just like his son.
Then his eyes were suddenly darkening into true gravity. ‘Despite your opinion of me, I am not a barbarian,’ he grimly announced. ‘I do not kill babies.’
Instantly Evie’s chin came up, her lavender-blue eyes filled with damning scepticism.
‘You may believe that or not.’ He coolly dismissed her expression. ‘For as it stands I am guilty as charged of attempting the subtle bribe to get you out of my son’s life,’ he admitted. ‘But the other suggestion presented to you was most definitely not sanctioned by me.’
‘Are you saying that the bed reserved in the private clinic was not your doing?’ Evie questioned.
The nod of his covered head confirmed the point. ‘Though I can accept,’ he added, ‘that I must have given the impression that it would have been better if the coming child had not been conceived or my ill-chosen messenger would not have taken the initiative upon himself to add such a grave suggestion in my name. Needless to say—’ he shrugged ‘—Jamal Al Kareem no longer holds such a trusted position in my employ—or any other position, come to that.’
‘If this is the truth, why hasn’t Raschid told me all of this?’ Evie was already questioning the truth in what he was saying here, for there was no doubt in her mind that Raschid would have rushed to tell her—if only to help clear his father’s name.
But the Crown Prince was shaking his head. ‘Raschid cannot tell you what he does not know,’ he said, then added with a shrug and a grim smile, ‘He would kill the man if he discovered this. Better I continue to shoulder the blame than have my son imprisoned for murder in one of our own jails. He will learn to forgive me in time, you see. Whereas you,’ he added shrewdly, ‘I suspect will never forgive—or even let me get close to my grandchild if you continue to believe me capable of such a dastardly crime.
Which is why, of course, I am making this confession to you.’
He was right, and Evie didn’t even bother to pretend otherwise. Now all she had to do was decide whether she could risk believing him or not.
Then she looked into that face that was so like Raschid’s face. Saw the pride there, saw what it was costing that pride for this man to make this confession to her, and at last felt the tension begin to ease out of her backbone.
‘Your people lined our route here,’ she remarked, quite out of context. ‘Raschid insists they were welcoming us. Were they?’
‘Yes,’ he confirmed.
‘And was that your doing?’
‘Ah,’ he said, and his smile was wry to say the least. ‘I understand what you are attempting to do here. You are attempting to bestow upon me qualities I do not possess,’ he perceived. ‘But—I will reluctantly decline the redeeming offer. So—no.’ He replied to the question. ‘I did not command my people to welcome you both here tonight. In fact, I confess that their response came as big a shock to me as it did to Raschid. You see…’ he added softly, ‘I saw my son’s marriage to you as a sign of weakness in him—whereas my people surprised me with their perception in seeing only strength in a man who stands by his principles, no matter what those principles are going to cost him.’