About inflicting pain. Fear balled in her stomach and she realized yet again how dangerous this was for Ben.

The appetizer arrived, a savory baked crab dish with buttery crumbs and cheese. Bryn normally loved crab but at the moment her stomach was so queasy she could barely tolerate the smell, much less eat. Kahlil, she noticed, took none, either. “I thought you were famished.”

“I am. I’m waiting for you to serve me.”

As if she was one of the women from his harem! Incredible. “You are not helpless, Sheikh al-Assad!”

“But why should I serve myself when you are here to serve me?”

She glared at Kahlil, resenting his beauty, the black hair, the strong brow, the elegant sweep of cheekbone. She’d fought so hard to free herself, ripped her heart in two to escape him. It had taken her years to move forward and now that she finally was ready to marry again, he’d returned.

Treacherous man. Man that could disarm her with just a glance from his beautiful eyes. She’d loved him too much, needed more from him than he could give.

Blindly she stumbled to her feet, her long black dress tangling between her legs. His hand snaked around her wrist and drew her roughly down again. “You are not excused.” His dark eyes flashed at her, deep grooves etched on either side of his imperious mouth. “You did not ask my permission to leave the table.”

“I’ve never asked your permission for anything and I’m not about to start now!” Good God, who did he think he was? Bryn threw her head back, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I can’t believe I once imagined myself in love with you. What a fool I was!”

“You didn’t imagine it. You did love me.”

“Did,” she repeated bitterly, “as in past tense. I only feel hatred for you now.”

“Love, hate, who cares? I’m more interested in ensuring you honor your vows.” His anger emanated from him in great silent waves. “I realize you were very young when we married but I’ve given you time to grow up. Three and a half years. Now I’ve come to bring you home.”

“Zwar is not my home!”

He snapped his fingers. “Semantics,” he said brusquely. “I’m tired of debating. The fact is your place is in Tiva, at the palace, bearing my children.”

“That is one scenario which will never happen.”

“You think you’d be happier married to your pathetic little insurance agent? I’ve had my intelligence look into him and he’s a man without fire, a man without drive—”

“And I love him.”

“I don’t care. You can’t have him.”

Anger swept through her, anger so strong that she lifted her hand and took a swing at his face. He caught her by the wrist just before she struck his cheek. “Have you lost your mind?”

Her wrist tingled from the tightness of his grip, his fingers wrapped viselike around her fragile bones. “Leave Stan alone. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“But you do. You’ve insulted me, and my family.