Prince Nadir's Secret Heir(71)

                ‘Afterwards my father refused to give either one of them an honourable funeral.’

                Imogen’s brow scrunched as she absorbed that piece of information. She shook her head. ‘Why not?’

                Nadir sucked in a deep breath and she knew he was containing his emotions and locking them down tight. ‘He said that they had dishonoured and disrespected him and so to this day they don’t have headstones on their graves.’

                Without thinking, she reached out and covered the hand he rested on the windowsill with her own. His was much larger than hers and sprinkled with dark hair that stroked across her senses. It also felt cold. ‘Was that why you left Bakaan when you were fifteen?’

                ‘Yes.’ He watched her fingers lightly stroke over the back of his knuckles. ‘We argued about it and because I had challenged him once too often he disowned me so I left.’

                And closed himself off from everyone ever since. ‘Nadir, you know you can’t blame yourself for what happened. You were only a child.’

                He carefully shifted his hand out from underneath hers. ‘I was fifteen. Old enough to know better,’ he said bitterly.

                ‘No, not old enough to know better,’ she denied hotly and she knew that first-hand because at fifteen she had witnessed her father’s affair with another woman and she’d had no idea what to do about it. In the end she hadn’t told her mother because she’d known it would break her heart but her father assumed that she had and it had led to him leaving anyway.

                He moved away from her and she heard the give of the cushions as he dropped back onto the sofa.

                ‘I don’t even know why I told you any of that so please if you’re going to patronise me by trying to make me feel better then don’t. Nothing will ever do that.’

                Imogen crossed to stand behind the opposite sofa and gripped the backrest. ‘I’m not being patronising, Nadir, but it’s not rational to think that you caused their deaths.’

                ‘I was a selfish idiot.’

                ‘You were a normal teenager who was trying to keep his world intact.’

                ‘Imogen—’

                ‘No, I’m serious. I know you’re hurting over this but how long are you going to punish yourself for the actions of a man who was an adult and should have behaved better?’

                ‘You don’t understand—I knew he would go after them.’ His voice sounded as if it was wrenched from a place that was deep and dark.

                Rounding the sofa, Imogen stopped directly in front of him. ‘Nadir, you loved them and it sounds like your loyalty was completely divided. That’s not a nice thing for parents to do to kids of any age.’

                ‘There’s no excuse for selfishness.’

                ‘Maybe it wasn’t you who was the selfish one. Maybe it was your parents.’

                He looked at her as if he’d never contemplated that before and she knew that was probably because instead of processing what had happened he’d just tried to completely forget about it. ‘Did you happen to get counselling at all?’

                Her question brought a surprised bark of laughter. ‘Sure I did. The place was called The Painted Pony.’

                Imogen put her hands on her hips and felt the air between them become charged as his gaze drifted over her. ‘I’m not talking about the strip place you worked at, although I’m sure there were many ladies ready to offer you a shoulder to cry on.’