Читать книгу Crowned For The Sheikh's Baby: Crowned for the Sheikh's Baby - Melanie Milburne, Melanie Milburne - Страница 15

CHAPTER THREE

AT A RARE loss for words, Kulal stared at the woman who stood before him.

The little chambermaid...transformed!

He studied her for a long moment and felt a flicker of apprehension whisper over his skin. Would he so willingly have offered to have a stylist dress her if he’d realised that the end result was going to be quite so...tantalising? That the bodice of her silk dress would cling so entrancingly to her breasts—emphasising their lush weight in a way which the lemon uniform had only hinted at?

He swallowed. The long, floaty dress outlined her shapely legs and gave a glimpse of the bare toes which peeped from glittering sandals as she walked towards him. The functional ponytail was now a distant memory, and her hair tumbled in a dark and silky profusion around her shoulders and, dazedly, Kulal shook his head. Had he been completely naïve? he wondered impatiently. Had he played Pygmalion by bringing the curvy little statue to life, without even stopping to consider that her resulting sensuality was something he would now have to spend the rest of the evening resisting? Had he really thought he would be nothing but a cool onlooker, curiously observing the results of her expensive makeover? Yes, he had. He said something low and fervent in his native tongue and immediately she fixed him with a look of uncertainty.

‘You don’t like it?’ she said tentatively.

He didn’t quite trust himself to reply immediately. Instead, he turned the question round. ‘Do you?’

She shrugged and the movement drew his attention to the creamy swell of her breasts—as if any extra encouragement were needed!

‘I’m not sure,’ she said, her hands skating over the wide beam of her hips against which floated layers of ice-blue silk. ‘You don’t think it’s too much?’

‘Too much for what?’ he questioned roughly. ‘You certainly won’t be overdressed, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

It wasn’t. Hannah swayed a little on her skyscraper sandals. Her main worry was that she wouldn’t be able to live up to the image of what these clothes represented. Because she’d stared into the mirror and seen someone she didn’t recognise staring back. A polished woman exuding a sophistication which was fake. She felt like a fraud—which was exactly what she was. A hotel employee dressed up to look like one of the guests. What if someone started talking to her and realised that she hadn’t got much to say for herself—and that all the glossy potential of her appearance was false? What if someone sussed her out and reported her?

‘I’m worried how we’re going to get out of the hotel without me being noticed.’

He smiled suddenly as if he had decided to enjoy the subterfuge. ‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ he said airily. ‘It’s all taken care of.’

Hannah soon realised that Kulal wasn’t exaggerating—and that pretty much anything was possible when you were a king. He might not have a full entourage of staff in tow, but there were enough bodyguards and heavies who seemed to appear from out of nowhere to swarm around them in a protective coterie as they were taken through the maze of back corridors to the helipad outside where a helicopter was waiting. And even if anyone had bothered to spare Hannah a second glance—most eyes were on the imperious strut of the Sheikh, because he was the one who commanded everyone’s attention. Nobody would have guessed that the woman in the expensive dress and glittering jewels was really a humble chambermaid they’d barely noticed earlier.

She felt a little queasy as the helicopter made its swaying ascent into the sky but soon they were up amid the stars, looking down onto the twinkling lights of L’Idylle, and Hannah looked around her, breathless with wonder.

‘Ever been in one of these before?’ questioned Kulal above the sound of the clattering blades.

Hannah was so engrossed in the view that she spoke without thinking. ‘What do you think?’

Despite her undeniable lack of protocol, Kulal smiled. How refreshing it was to be out with someone so deliciously unsophisticated! Instead of hanging onto his every word, she was sitting exclaiming about the beauty of the stars. Unless that was an attempt to convince him that she had depth. He felt a slight whisper of self-admonishment as he acknowledged his own cynicism, wondering when such a jaded attitude had fixed itself firmly in his heart and taken root there.

You know when, he thought, unable to prevent the rush of memory which still had the power to make his heart clench with pain. When your mother took the ultimate revenge on your father and destroyed your faith in women for ever.

Did she feel his eyes on her? Was that why she turned, a look of uncertainty crossing over her face, as if she’d just remembered where she was—and who she was with. ‘You haven’t told me anything about this party,’ she said.

‘Like what?’

‘Well, like who’s throwing it, for a start.’

He leaned forward to alleviate the need to shout above the clatter of the blades. ‘An Italian property tycoon called Salvatore di Luca, who happens to be one of my oldest friends,’ he said huskily, his throat growing dry as the subtle fragrance of her perfume had a predictable if unwanted effect on his senses. ‘I first met him when I was studying in Norway.’

‘What were you studying?’

It was a long time since anyone had asked him that, but the interest in her eyes looked genuine. ‘A Master’s degree in energy and natural resources.’

‘Gosh. That sounds very high-powered. Did you like it?’

Kulal tensed. As much as it would have been possible to have liked anything at that time. He had used the course as an escape from the unbearable events at home, but he wouldn’t tell her that. He never talked about that. Not even with his twin brother, who had found her. Who had...

He cleared his throat, but it didn’t quite remove the bitter taste in his mouth. ‘I liked it well enough and it has been very useful to me in my role as Sheikh. Salvatore and I were on the same course and we’ve stayed in touch, although our lives are very different. He lives in Rome but has a holiday place here in Sardinia.’

‘So what’s the party in aid of?’

‘Why, me, of course,’ he said softly. ‘Once my old friend discovered I was working on the island, he wanted to show me some of the hospitality for which he is renowned.’

‘You don’t sound overjoyed about the prospect.’

He shrugged, as he spoke in a rare moment of candour. ‘Sometimes it becomes rather tedious always to be the focal point of people’s attention at these events.’

She chewed her lip. ‘So how are you planning to explain me?’

A slow smile curved his lips. ‘Oh, don’t you worry about that. I never have to explain anything,’ he said arrogantly. ‘Nobody need know your true identity. Tonight you can be whoever you want to be, Hannah.’

Hannah’s heart pounded. It felt as if he were waving another magic wand—a continuation of the spell which had made her into this glossy woman travelling by helicopter to a party. It was exciting but it was scary, too. She stole a glimpse at his hawk-like profile, knowing that she mustn’t make the mistake of believing this was real. Or that the desert King in the dark dress suit really was her date for the night.

The helicopter dipped downwards towards a pad fringed with burning torches where an imposing man was waiting to greet them—the flames painting his face with bronze and gold. The wind plastered Hannah’s dress against her legs as they emerged from the helicopter and her carefully dried hair blew wildly around her shoulders. Salvatore di Luca greeted Kulal with affection but his words to her were cursory—as if it was a waste of his time getting to know her. As if she was just one in a long line of women Kulal had brought to parties over the years.

Well, of course she was!

Taking care not to trip in her spindly sandals, Hannah followed the two men onto a terrace where the milling guests were assembled near the swimming pool. Tall trees were lit with fairy lights and flower-strewn tables were decked with candles whose flames barely flickered in the stillness of the evening air. The momentary silence which greeted their appearance was followed by a burst of excited chatter and Hannah could feel countless eyes boring into her. And suddenly she understood exactly what Kulal had meant. It was disconcerting to be the focus of everyone’s attention and she wondered if people could tell she was wearing a borrowed dress and jewels.

The sultry sound of jazz began to drift through the air and a voluptuous singer in a silver dress began warming up. Over by the gin bar Hannah could see a Hollywood A-lister who’d recently been dating a woman half his age—and surely that was a famously tearaway European princess doing an impressive yoga pose by the side of the swimming pool?

And that was when the fun really began. Well, for everyone except her. She seemed to be the only person who didn’t know anybody else and it was all too easy for Hannah to become tongue-tied. Her nerves weren’t helped by the fact that she happened to be with the most important person at the party and he was the only person they wanted to talk to. Even when Kulal introduced her to people, their interest was polite rather than genuine. A couple of times, she got shoved aside as if she was an impediment to the main attraction, but she acted as if it hadn’t happened, her smile as determinedly bright as the one she used at work if she happened to walk in on a couple having sex, who hadn’t bothered to put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door.

But when a sparky blonde came up and started chattering to Kulal in what was obviously his native tongue, Hannah gave up. Why fight it? Why bother reaching for something which could never be hers? Didn’t matter how well she scrubbed up in the borrowed finery—it was all superficial. She was still the chambermaid. Still the outsider. Always had been and probably always would be.

Unnoticed, she walked across the crowded terrace and perched on the edge of a fountain so that she could people-watch and listen to the band. She saw people hovering around Kulal and couldn’t deny the sudden wistful punch to her heart as she surveyed his powerful physique and jet-dark hair. But the music and the scent of jasmine were pleasures in themselves and Hannah sat sipping at her cocktail, in which floated tiny violet flowers. She watched a waitress tottering along the edge of the swimming pool carrying a tray of drinks, a deliberate sway of her curvy bottom as she passed the Sheikh only adding to her precarious posture.

She’s going to drop those if she isn’t careful, thought Hannah anxiously, just as the loud crash of crystal hitting marble tiles shattered the buzz of the party.

It was almost comic, the way everyone stared at the waitress scrabbling around amid the debris, as if she were an alien who’d just fallen from space. Quickly, Hannah put her glass down and went to help, crouching down and stilling the woman’s shaking fingers, terrified she was going to slice her hand open. The chatter resumed as Hannah took over the clear-up operation, becoming so engrossed in her task that it wasn’t until she’d dropped the final piece of crystal onto the tray that she suddenly became aware of someone standing over her.

Looking up, she met Kulal’s bemused expression and was still so caught up in what she was doing that she spoke to him almost absently. ‘Do you think you could get me a dustpan and brush from somewhere?’

‘A dustpan and what?’ he echoed incredulously.

She realised he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about and was wondering how to explain what it was—perhaps by some elaborate form of charade—when a waiter came over and started berating the waitress in a torrent of furious French.

‘Come,’ said Kulal firmly, pulling her to her feet. ‘I think you’ve done quite enough. Let them sort it out among themselves. Unless you’re planning to put on an apron and take over her job for the rest of the evening? Do you ever stop working, Hannah?’

In the darkness, Hannah blushed as she registered his sardonic tone. ‘I couldn’t just leave the poor girl to struggle by herself—and nobody else was bothering to help, were they?’

‘Not everybody here has your skill-set,’ he said drily.

She realised that his hand was at her elbow and he was leading her away from the curious eyes of the onlookers, towards the shadowed lawns which stretched out behind the swimming pool. It was peaceful here. And deserted, too. She could still hear the music, but it was just her and Kulal—who had a look on his face which was mid-way between irritation and amusement.

‘Are you enjoying the party?’ he questioned.

‘It was very kind of you to bring me.’

‘That wasn’t what I asked, Hannah.’

Awkwardly, she shrugged. ‘I’m glad I came.’

‘Oh?’

She hesitated, but something in the piercing gleam of his black eyes made her answer his question truthfully. ‘It made me realise that high-society parties aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.’

‘And why might that be?’

She hesitated only for a second. ‘Well, nobody really talks about anything very much, do they? All the men seemed so competitive and most of the women were all over you like a rash, which made me think that bringing me here wasn’t as effective as you’d hoped. Or maybe I’m cramping your style.’ She looked at him questioningly. ‘In which case, I could easily make myself scarce until you’re ready to go, if that’s what you want.’

Kulal felt a tug of admiration. He’d heard people around him exclaiming in horror when the little chambermaid had been crouching down, careless of the way her costly dress had been rucked up around her bare thighs, yet he had admired the way she had leapt to the defence of the hapless waitress. And now, instead of plying him with saccharine words of gratitude, she was echoing his very own sentiments about these kinds of occasions.

His eyes narrowed. People rarely told him what he needed to hear—only what they thought he wanted to hear, and the two were rarely the same. And suddenly the desire to feel her in his arms was overwhelming. Too overwhelming to resist—and why should he? What harm would it do? ‘Dance with me instead,’ he said.

Hannah blinked at him. ‘What, here?’

‘Right here.’

Perhaps if he’d insisted on taking her to the small dance floor in front of the band, where they would have been visible to the other partygoers, Hannah might have refused. But he didn’t. He just pulled her into his arms as if he danced on moonlit lawns every night of the week and every bit of apprehension drained from her body. Because what woman would have objected to being held by the Sheikh like this? Hadn’t this been one of the forbidden fantasies she’d tried not to have while she’d been working for him? Only she was discovering that sometimes reality exceeded the fantasy—exceeded it in a way which was outside her understanding.

Suddenly, the dance seemed irrelevant to what was happening inside her body. Her nipples had become rock-hard and she wondered if he could feel them pushing insistently against his dress shirt. And now there was a distracting ache, low in her belly, and she knew she needed to stop this before she did something she regretted—like whispering her lips along the darkened edge of his jaw and begging him to kiss her. Her cheeks were burning as she pulled away from him and she met the hectic glitter of his dark gaze.

‘I think I’d better go back now,’ she said huskily. ‘To the hotel, I mean.’

‘Oh?’ On the shadowed lawn, he raised a laconic eyebrow. ‘Why?’

You know why. Because you’re making me want things I have no right to want. Because I’m a virgin and you’re a man of the world and I’ve spent my whole life being cautious.

‘I’m tired,’ she said.

He must have known it was an excuse, but he didn’t query it. Maybe he realised that it was the right thing to do. Or the only thing to do. There was a brief silence before he nodded. ‘Okay. I could use an early night myself. Let’s go.’

And wasn’t human nature unpredictable? Because as soon as Kulal agreed to her request, Hannah began to regret her decision. Couldn’t she have danced with him a bit longer? Enjoyed what was happening without making such a big deal of it and bringing the evening to such an abrupt end?

The waiting helicopter whisked them back through the starry skies and her heart was racing as they crept through the hotel corridors. But they managed to slip into Kulal’s private elevator and make it back to the penthouse suite without being seen. The usual inscrutable bodyguards lined the corridor but Hannah had become so used to seeing them that she barely gave them a second glance. She came to a halt outside the door to her room and stared up into Kulal’s carved features, wondering if she ought to offer to turn down his bed for him before she retired for the night. Until she drew herself up short. Was she crazy? Was she planning to tiptoe into his vast bedroom and leave a chocolate on the pillowcase?

‘Thank you very much for the evening, Your Royal Highness,’ she said formally as she pushed the door open. ‘I’ll put the dress, shoes and necklace into a bag and drop it off first thing and now I’ll say goodnight.’

The Sheikh didn’t appear to be listening; he was too busy looking over her shoulder into her room, his black eyes thoughtful. ‘It’s very small,’ he observed, his gaze skating over the narrow bed and functional furniture.

‘Of course it’s small,’ she said defensively. ‘I’m staff, remember?’

But Kulal wasn’t really thinking about her status right then. He wasn’t really thinking about anything other than the frustration which was heating his blood and refusing to be cooled by reason. He had been very turned on during that tantalisingly brief dance and, despite all his best intentions, had been contemplating brushing his fingertips over her luscious breasts when she’d pulled away and told him she wanted to go home. He remembered feeling startled because that had never happened before—not unless it was with the expectation that they would quickly adjourn to the nearest bedroom. But not with this little chambermaid. She was primly saying goodnight to him as though that was exactly what she wanted, even though the darkening of her aquamarine eyes left him in no doubt that their desire was mutual.

If he was being sensible, he would turn away. Go to his room and kill off his ardour with an icy shower. And maybe, instead of flying straight to Zahristan tomorrow, he could take a detour via Sweden—call in on that delicious blonde actress he’d never got around to bedding a few years back. Hadn’t she sent him a text the other day, disingenuously saying she was sorry to hear about his recent relationship break-up? He thought what else she had written as a postscript, making it graphically clear she wanted him as her lover.

But he didn’t want that woman with her bony hips which would grind into a man’s flesh like weapons. He wanted softness and voluptuousness. Lush breasts he could bury his head in and a trembling mouth he could plunder to his heart’s content. For the first time in his life, he wanted someone who was outside his realm of experience—was it novelty value which made him hunger for the little chambermaid so much?

He pulled Hannah into his arms and saw her eyes widen as he began to run his fingertip down her spine.

‘Kulal?’ she whispered.

‘Yes?’ he whispered back, lowering his head so that their mouths were centimetres apart. He was close enough to kiss her, but he paused long enough to allow her to shake her head. To give her a second opportunity to pull away from him. Because that was the right thing to do, even if every atom in his hungry body rebelled against such an idea.

But she didn’t pull away. Her lips parted and as lust fired in his belly, he knew he wasn’t going to take her back to his own bedroom. That he had no desire to walk past the line of bodyguards stationed there, even though they had witnessed countless transgressions such as this in the past. And maybe it was better this way. Less intimidating for her—and certainly more novel for him. He pulled her a little closer and felt his erection grow even harder.

‘Wh-what are you doing, Kulal?’ she questioned breathlessly.

It occurred to him that women were rarely original at moments like this. What did she think he was doing—writing a research paper on solar energy? He allowed his lips to drift over the silky texture of her neck, his words muffled by the lazy indulgence of that first, slow kiss. ‘I think we both know the answer to that question. I’m going to make love to you, that’s if you want me to—which I think you do.’

Hannah swallowed, trying to fight the feelings which were fluttering inside her. She should tell him to stop before this went any further. Before he started to touch her trembling breasts, which were aching to be touched. But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. How could she turn her back on something which felt so wonderful? The most wonderful thing she’d ever experienced. She hadn’t realised that being in a man’s arms could make you feel like this—as if you could leap up into the air and just fly. She made a helpless little sound as his mouth brushed along her jaw and her eyelids flickered to a close. Was that his tongue she could feel, trailing an erotic and moist little path over her skin? She shivered as he did it again. Yes, it was.

She wasn’t sure if he was waiting for some kind of response, but she guessed she gave one when she suddenly folded her arms tightly around his shoulders.

‘I’m taking it that’s a yes?’ he said on a low growl.

‘It’s certainly not a no,’ she said, with a boldness she hadn’t known she possessed.

He laughed as he stepped inside and kicked the door shut behind them and then he was kissing her properly. Or maybe that should have been improperly. His hands were sliding over her silky dress as he murmured something in a language she didn’t understand. But maybe she didn’t need to. Maybe this was something which was meant to be enjoyed without commitment or expectation. And didn’t they say that the language of love was universal?

She should have felt shy as he slid her zip down and peeled the delicate dress from her body, but she didn’t. Not when it seemed that her voluptuous curves pleased him. The stylist who had transformed her had insisted on matching underwear and Hannah was glad now that she had agreed. Glad she was wearing a deceptively delicate bra which disguised the fact that it had needed to do a lot of elemental support work. Deftly, he unclipped it and as her breasts came spilling out, he gave another appreciative murmur before locking his hot lips around one thrusting nipple. Hannah gasped—she couldn’t help it. She felt as if she’d taken a one-way trip to heaven. As if she’d found something she hadn’t believed existed. And suddenly she wanted to touch him. To feel the Sheikh’s skin beneath her fingers.

With the nimbleness which had made her the finest chambermaid in the Granchester group, she slid free the mother-of-pearl buttons to liberate his powerful chest, her hands running greedily over the hard muscle which sheathed the silken skin. Was that what made him groan like that? What made him pick her up as if she were composed of nothing heavier than feathers, before carrying her towards the tiny single bed and depositing her on the mattress?

And still she didn’t feel shy—not even as he removed the clothes from his body, his eyes not leaving her face. Nor when he was completely naked and leaning over to slither her panties all the way down her thighs and she felt cool air wash over her naked skin. There was no time to feel anything—other than a joyful recognition of the greedy hunger which was spiralling up inside her, so that when Kulal lay down on top of her—because the bed wasn’t really big enough for any other kind of combination—all Hannah could do was to give a shuddering little moan of relief.

‘You like that?’ he said, a smile playing around the edges of his lips as he gazed down at her, his hand between her thighs.

Was he referring to the fact that she could feel his blunt hardness pushing unashamedly against her belly? Or was it one of those questions which didn’t really require an answer—not when he was now discovering the molten heat between her legs with a finger which was making her writhe with pleasure?

‘This is crazy!’ Hannah gasped. ‘I can’t—’

‘Oh, yes, you can,’ he said, his tongue snaking over her breasts until her nipples felt as if they were going to explode.

And who was she to contradict him, when their bodies seemed to fit together as if they had been made for each other? When she was so hungry for him that she even managed to giggle as he clumsily tore open what was obviously protection and heard him give a muffled curse. She didn’t stop to think, or to question why he just happened to be carrying a condom around with him because for the first time in her life, Hannah hadn’t just stepped outside her comfort zone—she’d taken a great flying leap into unknown territory.

And she loved it.

She loved everything about it. Kissing him and touching him. Running her fingers through the tousled splendour of his thick black hair. Skating her palms over the honed planes of his spectacular body until he bit out that he couldn’t take much more. Suddenly, she wasn’t humble Hannah Wilson any more—but a woman who seemed to be able to drive this hawk-faced man wild with desire. Her initial shyness had been melted away by their rapidly growing intimacy, and suddenly Hannah realised he was pushing her thighs open to enter her.

The next few seconds were a bit of a blur. There was a little bit of pain—though not very much. And there was undeniable surprise on the face of the Sheikh as he stilled, mid-thrust. But then their bodies seemed to take over and everything else got forgotten when he started moving again until she was gasping out words she hadn’t realised she knew. She heard herself making broken little pleas as she hovered on the edge of something which seemed tantalisingly out of reach.

But at last she found it. And it wasn’t just what she had thought it might be—it was more. So much more. She gave a disbelieving cry, and as she began to convulse around the Sheikh’s thrusting hardness, he gave a low and exultant shout of his own. And as Hannah felt his big body quivering with pleasure, she found herself thinking that she never wanted this night to end.