A Whisper of Disgrace. Sharon Kendrick
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Even so, as he watched her lift a glass of jus de pamplemousse to her lips, he couldn’t ignore the undeniable regret that he hadn’t made love to her. Because she would be an amazing lover. The sexual connoisseur in him told him that—even if he hadn’t witnessed the sensational way she’d been moving on the podium last night. As he’d put her to bed, her beauty had been revealed to him in all its shockingly sensual glory. He had felt deliciously firm skin as he’d peeled the little dress from her body. And it had taken more strength than he’d ever needed to walk away and spend a restless night in the bed next door.
He waited until she’d finished eating, until she had dabbed those delectable lips with a napkin, before putting down his own coffee cup and subjecting her to a steady stare. ‘I’m assuming that by now you’ve remembered where you’re staying?’
Rosa winced. What would he say if she told him that she’d never been drunk like that before? That she’d just discovered that her mother had cheated with her husband’s own brother—and her whole world had been smashed apart?
How would he react? Well, he might believe her or he might not, but that would make no difference to the fact that he couldn’t wait to get rid of her.
‘I’m staying at the Hotel Jasmin,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘So if you wouldn’t mind calling me a cab, I’ll get out of your way.’
Kulal rose from the wicker chair, knowing that he could easily send her home in his own car, but it was a pretty distinctive car and it would inevitably connect them. This part of the Riviera was always crawling with paparazzi, eager to capture the indiscretions of celebrities. They’d been lucky enough not to have been seen last night when he’d had to carry her inside—so maybe he should count his blessings and get rid of her as anonymously as possible.
‘I’ll get reception to organise it for you,’ he said. ‘And arrange for someone to show you through to the main part of the hotel.’
Rosa felt like a piece of garbage which was headed for the recycling bin and wondered if it was possible to feel any worse than she did right then. She was never going to touch another drop of alcohol in her life! And she was never going to dance with dark and dangerous-looking strangers in nightclubs. She nodded as she looked up into his black eyes, unprepared for his sudden movement as he touched her hair before running his fingertips lightly down the side of her face in a gesture which felt almost gentle.
‘Just do yourself a favour, will you?’ he said roughly. ‘And stay off the booze in future.’
His words affected her far more than they should have done and Rosa recognised how lucky she’d been in her choice of rescuer. He had plucked her from the sweaty scrum in the nightclub and danced with her, and then she had blown it. She had got drunk and passed out but he hadn’t taken advantage of her sorry state, even though it would have been easy for him to do so. And if he was clearly appalled by her behaviour—well, who could blame him? She was pretty appalled by it herself and she’d never get another chance to show him that deep down she wasn’t really like that. Worst of all was that she would never know what it was like to kiss him....
The old Rosa might have slunk off—but of course the old Rosa would never have found herself in such a compromising position. And the new Rosa wanted to have a taste of pleasure—just one—before she walked out of his life for good.
She stood up on tiptoe and framed her hands around his hard jaw before leaning forward to brush her lips over the sensual curve of his mouth. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘For your hospitality and your chivalry.’
For a moment he didn’t move and it was as if her soft words had turned him to stone. Rosa could see a little muscle working overtime at his temple before he drawled out a sardonic reply. ‘I’d like to say that the pleasure was all mine, but that wouldn’t be true.’
She looked at him uncertainly. ‘No?’
‘In fact, it was an evening which fell pretty short on the pleasure quota for both of us, and I’m wondering whether it might not be too late to remedy that....’
Rosa was unprepared for the decisive way that he pulled her against him and the equally decisive way that he drove his mouth down onto hers. His hands were cupping her head and her hair was spilling through his fingers and suddenly he was kissing her like she’d never been kissed before. She could feel the instant flowering of her breasts and a delicious warmth between her legs. Did he know that? Was that why he thrust one hard thigh between hers, as if sensing that might help alleviate the sudden aching she could feel at the most intimate part of her body?
‘Oh,’ she said against his lips, swallowing down her sense of wonder. ‘Oh.’
With an effort, he tore his lips away and looked down into her upturned face. ‘How commendably circumspect I have been with you, my beauty,’ he said shakily. ‘But that all ends as of now. You are no longer drunk and I am no longer angry. This may be one of the most ill-judged decisions of my life, but I want you—and, sweet heaven, I am going to have you. Right now.’
His emphatic statement should have daunted her, but it didn’t. She suspected that he didn’t particularly like or respect her, but suddenly Rosa didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything other than the way he was making her feel. Why shouldn’t she taste the pleasures which seemed to drive everyone else in the human race, except for her—poor, protected Rosa, who had been shielded from the world for so long? Her lips were dry but somehow she managed to echo his words as she felt his thumb tease its way over one painfully erect nipple.
‘I want you, too,’ she whispered. ‘And right now is fine with me.’
With a hard smile of satisfaction, he bent his head to kiss her again and Rosa never knew what would have happened next had she not heard the sound of an embarrassed cough behind them. With a start, they sprang apart—as if they’d been caught red-handed at the scene of a crime.
And maybe they had, she thought. Because there, standing at the edge of the private garden watching them, was a man as dark-skinned as Kulal himself, though his head was dipped with the faintest degree of subservience.
She watched as a look of anger darkened Kulal’s face. ‘What the hell is going on?’ he demanded. ‘Why the hell are you disturbing me, Mutasim—creeping up on me like a spy?’
Rosa thought she’d never seen a man look more embarrassed than Mutasim did as Kulal’s words fired into him, and she noticed that the stranger hadn’t met her eyes. Not once.
‘I beg your indulgence at this untimely intrusion, Your Highness,’ said Mutasim softly. ‘But your brother, the king, craves your company at the earliest opportunity.’
Rosa’s lips parted in shock as the words registered in her befuddled brain. She looked up at Kulal, her bewildered eyes asking him a silent question.
Highness? King?
Were they playing some sort of joke on her? Talking in some kind of code? But her confusion was quickly superseded by shame as Kulal took no notice of her silent plea. Completely ignoring her, he walked over to the dark-skinned man and began to speak in a low voice, in a language she couldn’t begin to understand.
And Rosa felt completely invisible.
‘SO WHAT DID you think you were playing at, Kulal?’ The king was shaking his head in disbelief. ‘When you decided to take some drunken pole dancer back to your hotel?’
For a moment Kulal didn’t answer. Instead he sat back in one of the ornate chairs in the throne room and stared up at the old-fashioned fan which was whirring in the vaulted, golden ceiling. He was back in the ancient palace in which he’d been raised, having flown to Zahrastan as soon as he had received word that the king wished to speak with him. He’d never received a summons quite like this and it occurred to him that he’d never seen his brother look quite