A Whisper of Disgrace. Sharon Kendrick
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when she felt the whisper of fingertips on her arm and, straightening up, she found herself staring into the blackest pair of eyes she had ever seen.
It was the man from the opposite side of the club. The one who’d been staring at her. Who up until ten minutes ago had been the object of some beautiful woman’s attention. She tried to focus her gaze to look at him properly, and as his image blurred and then sharpened again, she thought that she’d never seen a man like this before. Standing up close to his hard body and staring up into his hawk-nosed face, Rosa could suddenly understand why that woman had been draping herself all over him. He seemed larger than life—as if he was composed of some dark, elemental force which dominated the entire room. His black eyes glittered—as if a fire was smouldering behind those long lashes—and his lips were full and sensual.
But he frowned as he glanced at the clamouring throng of men. ‘You look to me like someone in urgent need of rescuing,’ he said, in an exotic accent she didn’t recognise.
The old Rosa might have been intimidated by such a man—that’s if she had ever been allowed to get within six feet of him by her overprotective family. But this new and tipsy Rosa was feeling no such thing as intimidation. Instead she looked into his eyes and felt an undeniable excitement—as if she had just found something she hadn’t expected to find. Something she hadn’t even realised she’d been looking for. ‘And you’re just the one to do it, I suppose?’
‘I’m the perfect candidate for any kind of rescue mission, my beauty. Be assured of that.’
Trying to dampen down the excitement which was fizzing through her veins, she looked around her in mock surprise. ‘But I can’t see your white horse anywhere.’
‘That’s because I always ride a black stallion, although never in France. He’s big and he’s powerful and he’s not particularly partial to nightclubs.’ His eyes were gleaming as they gazed at her. ‘Unlike a woman who doesn’t seem to realise what havoc she was creating when she performed that incredibly sexy dance a few moments ago and nearly had the whole place in meltdown.’
Rosa’s smile became a little glassy, aware that the level of flirtation was escalating by the second. And she was feeling more than a little daunted by it because this kind of thing was way outside her experience. Even during her university days in Palermo, the men she’d fancied had steered clear of her when they’d discovered who she was. Because what man in their right mind would get involved with a Corretti woman, a woman they wouldn’t dare touch for fear that one of her brothers or cousins would come after them?
She’d never met anyone who hadn’t been intimidated by the reputation of her powerful family and she wouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near a man like this. A man who was sizzling out so much sex appeal that she wondered if her fingers might burn if she reached out and touched him.
She knew that the sensible thing to do would be to turn around and walk away. To go back to the hotel she’d booked into and sleep off the champagne. She would wake up in the morning—probably with a splitting headache—and decide what she was going to do with the rest of her life.
But Rosa wasn’t feeling sensible. She was feeling...defiant. Because defiance was easier to deal with than heartbreak and loneliness, wasn’t it? Defiance made you feel alive, instead of flat and empty and wondering just where your life was going. ‘I don’t want to be rescued,’ she said, a touch petulantly as she took another swig of champagne. ‘I want to dance.’
‘Now that,’ he said steadily as he removed the bottle from her hand and handed it to someone standing nearby, who accepted it without comment, ‘can also be arranged.’
He took her hand and led her towards the dance floor and Rosa was aware of a sudden and heady sense of danger as he took her into his arms and the music began to throb out a sultry beat. He was so tall, she thought—taller than any other man she’d ever seen. And his body felt so strong. She licked her dry lips. A woman wouldn’t stand a chance against a man like this. The thought thrilled her, rather than scared her as she knew it should have done. ‘I don’t even know your name,’ she shouted.
‘That’s because I haven’t told you.’
‘And are you going to tell me?’
‘I might—if you’re very good.’
Recklessly, she said, ‘And if I’m not?’
He didn’t miss a beat. ‘In that case, I will definitely tell you—because there is nothing I like better than a woman who isn’t good. My name is Kulal.’
She tried saying it. Rounding her lips she sounded out the first syllable and then, letting her tongue touch the upper palate, she murmured the second. ‘Ku-lal.’
‘Mmm. I like the way you say it. It sounds very sexy on your lips.’
Rosa giggled. ‘Stop it!’
With a sudden hard beat of lust, Kulal pulled her closer and felt her melt against him, as if she’d been waiting all night to have him do that. And wasn’t it like that for him? Hadn’t his senses been ignited from the moment he’d set eyes on her and seen those soft lips parting with a look of innocent wonder, which certainly didn’t match the sinful splendour of her voluptuous body? He could feel the way her breasts were pushing against his chest and he sucked in a breath of longing as he dipped his mouth to her ear. ‘Now let’s see if you can dance as well on the floor as you did on the podium, shall we, my beauty?’
The slick words which flowed from his lips were warning Rosa to be careful. Because there was a reason for the expression ‘paying’ someone a compliment—her ruthless family had taught her that. You told a woman she was pretty and she would put out for you—wasn’t that how it worked? Hadn’t she grown up watching the male members of her family as they’d put their own heartless seduction campaigns into action? Men like this wanted only one thing from a woman like her and she’d been brought up to guard her honour and integrity. But that was before the world had changed. Before the values she’d held so dear had been held up as shallow and worthless.
So she pushed away her doubts and instead glanced up at him, batting him a coquettish look she hadn’t even realised had been in her repertoire until now. ‘You’re going to mark me out of ten, are you?’
‘If you want.’ His hands tightened around her waist. ‘But I warn you in advance that I can be a very harsh judge.’
The words came out almost before she realised she’d said them. ‘I’ll take the risk,’ she said.
‘Good.’ His lips nuzzled against her neck. ‘I like a woman who takes risks.’
Rosa could feel the whisper of his mouth on her bare neck and she closed her eyes with pleasure. This was...bliss. His arms had tightened around her and she realised that dancing with him was different to dancing with anyone else. He seemed to be making up the rules as he went along, completely ignoring the rhythm of the music and moving them around as if this was a slow waltz instead of a vaguely jumpy beat. And she was letting him. Why wouldn’t she let him? Why, he could carry on doing that all night, he was so good at it.
‘Do you like that?’ he queried softly as the palms of his hands skated possessively over the curve of her bottom.
Her sudden, heady sense of freedom and the sensation of listening to her body’s desires made Rosa bold and she didn’t shrink away from the way he was pulling her even closer. ‘Yes.’
‘I thought so. I like it too. I like it very much.’
Kulal closed his eyes as he felt her fingertips move to his shoulders. He could feel the brush of her silken hair against his cheek and the wave of desire which swept over him was so strong that he was filled with an unbearable need to touch her more intimately.
But even though he’d always been known as a mould-breaking prince, Kulal respected his position enough not to throw his royal role into jeopardy. Dancing with a woman who was clearly an exhibitionist was one thing, but making love to her in a public place was quite another. So that even though