Читать книгу The Royals Collection - Ким Лоренс, Rebecca Winters - Страница 19

CHAPTER EIGHT

HANNAH ACTUALLY PERSUADED Rafiq to leave her in the hallway and made her way upstairs alone. It was an area of the house that no guests had entered and it was very quiet. She found herself walking past the door to the guest suite, drawn by a need to experience the comfort of familiar things. She took the extra flight of narrow winding oak stairs hidden behind a door that led up to the next floor.

The attic rooms had been the servants’ quarters years before. Later on they became the nursery and more recently a semi self-contained unit, complete with mini kitchen. She opened the door of her old bedroom and stepped inside. The paintwork was bright and fresh but it was the same colour scheme she had chosen when she was twelve. The bed was piled high with stuffed toys, and the doll’s house she had had for her tenth birthday stood on the table by the window. It was like being caught in a time warp.

She picked up a stuffed toy from the pile on the bed and flicked the latch on the doll’s house. The door swung open, automatically illuminating the neat rooms inside.

She stood there, a frown pleating her brow, and waited. She didn’t even recognise she was waiting until nothing happened. There was no warm glow, no lessening of tension. She didn’t feel safe or secure.

In the past, she realised, this room had represented a sanctuary. She had closed the door and shut out the world. But even though the familiar things that had given her a sense of security were still the same—she had changed.

She closed the door of the doll’s house with a decisive click. It was time to look forward, not back.

* * *

In the guest suite she showered and pulled a matching robe on over her silk pyjamas. Her hair hung loose and damp down her back. Leaving the steamy bathroom, she walked across to the interconnecting door and, after a pause, turned the key. Locked doors were no solution. Hugging a teddy bear had not helped, and hiding from the situation was not going to make it go away. Would talking help? Hannah didn’t know, but she was willing to give it a try.

So long as he didn’t construe the open door as an invitation to do more than talk.

She cinched the belt of her robe tight and walked across to the bed, trying not to think about the flare of sexual heat in her stomach as she heard his voice in her mind—You don’t have to respect or like someone to want to rip off their clothes.

‘Oh, God!’

She didn’t know if the dismayed moan was in her head or she’d actually cried out, but when she opened her eyes there was no room for debate—he was no creation of her subconscious. A very real Kamel stood framed in the doorway, one shoulder wedged against the jamb, as he pulled his tie free from his neck.

‘I’m glad that’s over.’

He sounded almost human. He was human, she realised, noticing the lines of fatigue etched into his face—a fatigue that was emphasised by the shadow of dark stubble across his jaw. So he could get tired. It was a tiny chink in his armour, but she still struggled to see him suffering the same doubts and fears as the rest of the human race, and it went without saying that fatigue didn’t stop him looking stupendously attractive. No, beautiful, she corrected, her eyes running over the angles and planes of his darkly lean face, a face that she found endlessly fascinating. She compressed her lips and closed a door on the thought. She knew it would be foolish to lower her defences around him.

He pulled the tie through his long fingers and let it dangle there, arching a sardonic brow as his dark eyes swept her face. ‘So, no locked doors?’

‘That was childish.’

The admission surprised him but he hid it. It was harder to hide his reaction to the way she looked. The only trace of make-up was the pink varnish on her toenails. With her hair hanging damply down her back and her face bare she looked incredibly young, incredibly vulnerable and incredibly beautiful.

There was a wary caution in the blue eyes that met his, but not the hostility that he had come to expect.

‘I thought you’d be asleep by now.’ The purple smudges under her eyes no longer smoothed away by a skilful application of make-up made it clear she still desperately needed sleep. Kamel reminded himself that her nightmare had been going on forty-eight hours longer than his. He felt a flash of grudging admiration for her—whatever else the woman he had married was, she was not weak.

Hannah absently rubbed the toes of one foot against the arch of the other until she saw him staring and she tucked them under her. She pushed her hair behind her ears as she admitted, ‘I felt bad letting you make excuses for me. Was it awkward?’ She had probably broken about a hundred unwritten rules of protocol.

‘Awkward?’ He arched a brow. ‘You mean did anyone see you leave with—?’

‘I didn’t leave with him. He f—’

He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘I know.’

‘Me not being there. What did you say?’

‘I did not go into detail. I simply told my uncle that you had retired early.’ He had actually told Charles Latimer a little more. He had made it clear to his father-in-law that if he wanted his daughter to spend any time under his roof he would guarantee that Rob Preston would not be there.

‘Did they believe you?’

He took a step into the room and dropped his tie onto a chair. ‘Why should we care?’

The we was not symbolic of some new togetherness so the small glow of pleasure it gave her was totally out of proportion.

* * *

‘So how long were you standing there watching?’ She had gone through the scene enough times to realise that Kamel could have heard some, if not all, of the exchange with Rob.

Grave-eyed, she looked up from her contemplation of her hands and heard him say, ‘Long enough.’

She ground her teeth in exasperation at this deliberately cryptic response.

‘So he cheated on you?’

Oh, yes, he would have heard that bit.

‘It happens.’

There was no pity in his voice; Hannah let out a tiny sigh of relief.

‘Dumping him on the actual wedding day was a pretty good revenge.’ Kamel understood the attraction of retribution, though, being a man to whom patience did not come easily, he struggled with the concept of a dish served cold.

‘I didn’t plan it.’ She looked startled by the idea. ‘That’s when I found out.’

He looked at her incredulously. ‘On the actual day?’

She nodded, experiencing the familiar sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as the memory surfaced. It had been an hour before the photographers, hairdressers and make-up artists were due to arrive. She had knocked on Sal’s door under the pretext of collecting the something blue her best friend had promised her, though what she had actually wanted was reassurance—someone to tell her she was suffering from last-minute nerves and it was all normal.

‘I walked in on him with Sal, my chief bridesmaid. They were... It wasn’t until later that I discovered he’d worked his way through most of my circle.’

She didn’t look at him to see his reaction. She told herself she was past caring whether she came across as self-pitying and pathetic, but it wasn’t true. She simply didn’t have the strength left to maintain the illusion. The last few days one hit after another combined with exhaustion had destroyed her normal coping mechanisms... What pride she had left had been used up in her encounter with Rob.

‘So he slept with everyone but you.’

Her eyes flew to his face. ‘So you heard that too.’

He nodded. He had heard, but not quite understood. It was not a new strategy, and she was the sort of woman who was capable of inspiring obsession in susceptible men, though why a man who was willing to marry to get a woman in his bed would then choose to sleep around was more difficult to understand. Especially when the woman in question would make all others look like pale imitations.

‘So the only way he could have you was marriage.’ Twenty-four hours ago the discovery would not have left him with a sense of disappointment. Twenty-four hours ago he’d had no expectations that could be disappointed—he had only expected the worst of her.

His cynical interpretation caused her cobalt-blue eyes to fly wide open in shocked horror. ‘No, I wanted to.’ She gave a tiny grimace and added more honestly, ‘I would have.’ The fact was she simply wasn’t a very sexual creature, which did beg the question as to why she couldn’t look at Kamel or even hear his voice without feeling her insides melt. ‘But he...’

Kamel watched her fumble for words, looking a million miles from the controlled woman reputed to have a block of ice for a heart, and felt something tighten in his chest.

‘Apparently he wanted to worship me, not—’

‘Take you to bed,’ Kamel supplied, thinking the man was even more of a loser than he’d thought.

‘I don’t actually think he thought of me as a woman. More an addition to his art collection. He likes beautiful things...not that I’m saying I’m—’

‘Don’t spoil all this honesty by going coy. We both know you’re beautiful. So why is it everyone thinks he’s the injured party?’

‘I’d prefer to be thought a bitch than an idiot.’ The explanation was not one she had previously articulated. She was startled to hear the words. It was something she had not admitted to anyone before.

‘And your father still invited the man here?’ If a man had treated his daughter that way he would have— Kamel dragged a chair out from the dressing table, swung it around and straddled it.

‘Oh, it was easier to let him think I’d had second thoughts. They’ve been friends for a long time and Dad had already had an awful time telling everyone the wedding was cancelled. A lot of people turned up and it was terrible for him—’

‘And you were having such a great day...’

Hannah’s protective instincts surfaced at the implied criticism of her father.

‘You were right. It was my fault. This is my fault, totally my fault.’

He shook his head, bemused by her vehemence, and protested, ‘You didn’t ask the guy to jump you!’

‘No, not Rob. Getting arrested, getting you mixed up in it, terrifying Dad half to death. If he has another heart attack, it would be down to me.’

It was news to Kamel that he had had one. The man certainly hadn’t been scared enough to change his lifestyle. ‘I think a doctor might disagree. Your father does not hold back when it comes to saturated fat.’

‘You’re trying to make me feel better.’

He studied her face. ‘It’s clearly not working.’

‘Why are you being nice? It’s my fault we had to get married. I should have waited for help. I shouldn’t have left the Land Rover. I shouldn’t have been there at all.’ She shook her head, her face settling into a mask of bitter self-recrimination as she loosed a fractured sob. ‘All the things you said.’

‘The village did get the vaccines, and the help they needed.’

Lost in a morass of self-loathing, she didn’t seem to hear him. ‘I couldn’t even help myself, let alone anyone else. I was only there to prove a point. I’ve spent my life playing it safe.’ She planted her hand flat on her heaving chest and lifted her tear-filled eyes to his.

‘I always played by the rules. I even wanted a safe man... I didn’t even have the guts to do what I really wanted.’ She shook her head slowly from side to side and sniffed. ‘I went to university and did a course I had absolutely no interest in rather than stand up to my dad. I got engaged to a man who seemed safe and solid, and when he turned out to be a total bastard did I learn? No, I got engaged to a man I knew would never hurt me because...I always go for the safe option.’

He let out a long, low whistle. ‘Dieu, I wanted you to take responsibility for your own actions—not the financial crisis, world hunger and bad days in the week that have a Y in them.’

Startled, Hannah lifted her head. Her eyes connected with his and a small laugh was shaken from her chest. ‘I just want...’ She stopped, her husky voice suspended by tears, her control still unravelling so fast she could not keep pace.

With a muttered imprecation he dropped down to his knees beside the bed and pushed the hair back from her damp face.

‘What do you want?’

Her wide brimming blue eyes lifted. ‘I just want to be...to feel...not like this.’ She gnawed at her lower lip and brought her lashes down in a protective veil. ‘Sorry, I don’t know why I’m saying this stuff to you.’

Responding to the painful tug in his chest, Kamel stood up and gently pushed her down. Sliding his hand behind her knees, he swung her legs onto the bed, pulling a pillow under her head before joining her.

‘Go to sleep,’ he said, lowering his long length onto the bed beside her.

‘I can’t sleep. I have dreams that I’m back in that cell and he is...’ She struggled to sit up. A light touch on her breastbone stopped her rising and after a moment she stopped fighting. ‘I can’t sleep.’

He touched a finger to her lips. ‘Move over.’ Pausing to slide an arm under her shoulders, he pulled her head back onto his shoulder.

‘Why are you being nice to me?’ she whispered into his neck—and then a moment later she was asleep.

Kamel, who preferred his own bed, realised this was the first time in his life that he had slept with a woman, in the literal sense. Only he wasn’t sleeping and he seriously doubted he would. A state of semi-arousal combined with seething frustration was not in his experience conducive to sleep, especially when there was zero chance of doing anything to relieve that frustration.

On the plus side at least the scenery was rather special. Asleep she looked like a wanton angel. There were probably a lot of men out there who would be willing to give up a night’s sleep to look at that face. He was aware of an ache of desire somewhere deep inside him so strong it hurt. Ignoring it didn’t make it go away, and not looking at her was not an option because his eyes, like the north arrow on a compass, kept going back to the same place.

So in the end he didn’t question it; he just accepted it.

* * *

Hannah fought her way out of a dream, struggling to shake off the lingering sense of dread.

‘Wake up. You’re safe.’

Still half asleep, she opened her eyes, saw his face and sighed. ‘I love your mouth,’ she said before pressing her own lips to the sensual curve.

‘Hannah.’ He pulled away.

She blinked, the confusion slowly filtering from her.

‘Sorry, I thought you were a dream.’ She had kissed him and he hadn’t kissed her back. He hadn’t done anything. Once was bad, but twice was humiliating.

‘I thought you were a bitch.’ And that had made the politically expedient marriage not right, but not this wrong. ‘I was wrong.’

‘Not a bitch.’ Great, I feel so much better.

Suddenly she felt very angry. She struggled to sit up. ‘So what is wrong with me?’ she asked, looking down at him for once. ‘I mean, there has to be, doesn’t there? I’ve been engaged twice, and no sex.’ Hannah could hear the words coming out of her mouth. She knew she shouldn’t be saying them but she couldn’t stop. ‘Now I’m married, and you don’t even want to kiss me!’

With a dry sob she flung herself down and rolled over, her back to him.

It was the sight of her heaving shoulders that snapped the last threads of Kamel’s self-imposed restraint. ‘Don’t cry,’ he begged.

‘I’m not crying,’ she retorted, sniffing. ‘I’ve just realised something. I don’t know why I was so bothered about marrying you.’

‘I’m flattered.’

Hannah rolled over until she was able to stare straight at him. She had barely registered his dry comment, as her thoughts—dark ones—were turned inward.

‘I can’t even do sex so what would the point have been of waiting for someone who can give me...more?’

Kamel had never felt any driving desire to be a with a woman who considered him her soul mate. On the other hand, being basically told that you were an all right consolation prize for someone with low expectations was a bit below the belt even for someone with his ego.

Well at least the pressure is off, he thought. She’s not expecting much of you!

His sudden laugh made her look up.

‘So you are willing to settle for me?’

A small puzzled indent appeared between her feathery brows as she struggled to read his expression. ‘Doesn’t seem like I have a lot of choice in the matter, does it?’ She glanced at the ring on her finger.

‘So you are willing to...how did you put it—take one for the team?’

‘I thought you’d have been glad to know that you don’t have to pretend, that I don’t expect—’

‘Much?’

This drew an exasperated hiss from Hannah.

‘Well, the mystery of why you’re a virgin is solved,’ he drawled. ‘You talked them to sleep.’

With an angry snort Hannah reached behind her for one of the pillows that had been spread across the bed while she slept.

‘I don’t think so, angel.’

Somewhere between picking it up and lobbing it at him she found the pillow was removed from her fingers and a moment later she was lying with her wrists held either side of her head, with his body suspended above her.

She could hear a sound above the thunderous clamour of her frantic heartbeat—it was her panting. She couldn’t draw enough air into her lungs to stop her head spinning. His mouth was a whisper away from hers; she could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips.

The dark intent shining in his heavy-lidded eyes made the heat prickle under her skin.

‘Just—’ he ran his tongue lightly across the surface of her lips ‘—how—’ he kissed one corner of her mouth ‘—much—’ he kissed the other corner, smiling as she gave a deep languid sigh and lifted her head towards him ‘—are you willing—’ he kissed her full on her trembling lips before trailing a series of burning kisses down the smooth column of her neck ‘—to take for the team?’

‘I...don’t...God...stop...please don’t stop!’ she moaned, terrified at the thought he might.

Her beating heart stumbled as his beautiful mouth came crashing down to claim her lips. The relief she felt as she opened her mouth to him in silent invitation was quickly consumed by the response of her body to the thrust of his tongue: low in her belly each carnal incursion caused a tight clenching; between her legs the dampness ran hot.

While he kissed her with something approaching desperation his hands were busy in her hair, on her face, sliding under her nightdress to caress the warm skin of her smooth thighs then reaching to curve over one taut, tingling breast. As he found the loop of the top button and slipped it off his patience snapped and he tugged hard, causing the remainder to tear from the fabric as he pushed the two sides apart to reveal her breasts to his hungry stare.

She arched up into him as he took first one turgid rosy peak and then the other into his mouth, leaving her gasping and moaning; her entire body reached fever pitch in seconds. He pressed a kiss to her belly and the frustration building inside got higher and higher as his finger slid lower and lower, inscribing a tingling line between her aching breasts and then down her quivering belly.

Nakedness turned out not to be inhibiting—it was liberating. She lifted her arms and tugged him down to her. The slow, drugging kisses continued as she arched, pushing her breasts up against his hard chest, frantic for skin-to-skin contact. Her hands ran down the strong, smooth lines of his back, revealing his strength, his sleek hardness.

The liquid heat in her belly had a new urgency as he began to fumble with the buckle on his belt. A moment later she heard the sound of his zipper.

Afflicted by a belated bout of virginal modesty, she closed her eyes, opening them only when he took her hands in his and curled them around the hot, silky, rock-hard erection.

She couldn’t prevent the little gasp that was wrenched from somewhere in her chest.

At least make an effort to look like you know what you’re doing, Hannah.

The voice in her head was critical but he was not.

A deep feral moan was wrenched from his throat as her fingers began to experimentally tighten then release the pressure around the throbbing column. His eyes drifted shut and he began to breathe hard. Then without warning he took her hand and tipped her back onto the pillows.

She let out a series of fractured gasps that terminated in a higher-pitched wailing moan as he touched the dampness between her thighs.

‘This is good?’ he slurred thickly as he continued to stroke and torment, making her ache everywhere.

She nodded vigorously and pushed against the heel of his hand. ‘Oh, yes...very good.’

He raised himself up, took her hand and, holding her gaze, laid it against his chest. Not looking away from her eyes for an instant, he fought his way out of his shirt and flung it away.

‘You’re beautiful,’ she breathed, unable to take her greedy stare off his tautly muscled, gleaming torso.

Kamel swallowed. He wanted her badly. At that moment he could not think of anything he had wanted more.

‘I’ve wanted to be inside you since the moment I saw you.’ He pushed against her, letting her share the relentless ache in his groin.

‘I want that too.’ Delighting in the discovery of an inherent sensuality, she parted her thighs.

Responding to the silent invitation with a fierce groan, he came over her and settled between her legs. She had expected to tense at that final point of no return, but she relaxed. It was easy, not so painful as she’d imagined—and then as her body tightened around him she felt her blood tingle and squeezed her eyelids tight, just focusing on all the things that were happening inside and Kamel filling her so wonderfully, Kamel moving, pushing her somewhere...

Then just as the itch got too intense to bear, she found out where she was going and let go. She heard Kamel cry out, felt the flood of his release and wrapped her legs around him, afraid that she’d be washed away, lost.

She wasn’t. She finished up where she’d started, under Kamel.

* * *

Some time later she did recover the power of speech but she couldn’t do full sentences.

‘Wow!’ she said, staring at the ceiling. Beside her, his chest heaving, Kamel was doing the same.

He turned his head. ‘For a first effort, I have to say you show promise.’

This time he did not prevent her lobbing the pillow at his head, but in the subsequent tussle it ended on the floor and they ended up in a tangle of limbs.