A Whisper of Disgrace

She felt like someone who’d never skated before being put on an ice rink and told to dance. The other night when she’d been drinking, she’d been filled with an unfamiliar bravado as she had flung herself at him. Even the next morning, she’d still been disorientated enough to make an uninhibited pass at him. But now that the moment of truth had arrived, she was scared.

So why not tell him? Why not be upfront with him? Surely even someone as hard-hearted as Kulal might be gentle if he realised the true depth of her inexperience.

She drew in a deep breath and let the words out slowly. ‘I’m a virgin.’

‘Sure. And I’m Peter Pan,’ he murmured, guiding her hand towards his groin.

‘No,’ she said weakly as she snatched her fingers away. ‘I’m serious.’

He drew back from her and she couldn’t quite make out the expression on his face. Surely that wasn’t boredom she could read there?

‘So am I, habeebi, so am I. So why don’t we leave the role play until our appetites have grown a little more jaded? I know the fantasies which turn women on and we can do the “innocent virgin being ravished by the big, bad sheikh” to your heart’s content, but for this first time, shall we just stick to what nature intended and adjourn to the bedroom?’

Rosa stared at him as his harsh words registered themselves in her befuddled brain. He didn’t believe her! He didn’t believe she’d never had sex with a man!

A wave of shame washed over her. Why should he believe her, after the way she’d behaved? He had signed up for a woman who shimmied around in a revealing dress, not an overprotected Sicilian girl who’d never felt the intimate caress of a man’s hands on her body until now. And mightn’t he be disappointed if he knew how naive she was?

Her mind began to race. This was supposed to be a marriage of convenience, for her convenience as much as his, but it wouldn’t be very convenient for him if his new wife was a hopeless novice, would it? Maybe it would be better if he discovered the truth on their wedding night—when it was too late to turn around and tell her he’d changed his mind about marriage?

She tugged her dress back down.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded.

She met his incredulous look, trying to imagine what a more experienced woman might say in such a situation. ‘You’re planning to have sex with me?’

‘What do you think—that I want to discuss the state of the world’s economy?’ He glared at her. ‘Of course I’m planning on having sex with you. Isn’t that what you’ve been practically begging me to do since we first met?’

Rosa pursed her lips together, although she conceded that he did have a point. ‘You want this to be our first time together?’ she questioned. ‘When any number of your crew could walk in and discover us?’

‘I don’t think so,’ he snapped. ‘My crew have strict instructions not to disturb me whenever I have a woman on board. No one will dare to come in.’

Rosa felt sick. Was he setting out to humiliate her, as she had seen men humiliate women so often before? ‘You make a habit of having sex on this plane, do you?’

‘No, Rosa, you’re the first,’ he drawled sarcastically. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think that as your fiancée, I should be shown a little respect.’

‘Having sex with you doesn’t show a lack of respect.’

She shook her head, because how could you shake off a lifetime’s indoctrination in a couple of minutes? ‘And what if I told you that it would make me feel cheap?’

He leaned back and surveyed her, one finger slowly tapping his lip. ‘But acting cheap didn’t particularly bother you when I made you come just a few minutes ago, did it?’ He saw her blush with what looked like intense embarrassment but he did not heed it, his own intense frustration making him want to drive his argument home. ‘Nor did you seem to feel cheap the other night, when you shamelessly flaunted your body at the club for all to see.’

She swallowed. ‘I was drunk.’

‘And do you make a habit of getting drunk? Is this something I should know?’

She met the accusation in his eyes and shook her head. ‘No, I don’t make a habit of it,’ she said quietly. ‘In fact, I’ve never been drunk before that night.’

His gaze grew thoughtful. ‘So something led you to drink from the champagne bottle, like a workman slaking his thirst in the heat of the midday sun? Something which disturbed you enough to behave in a way which you say was uncharacteristic?’

His perception was appealing and Rosa wondered how much to tell him. She’d never been close enough to a man to even think about admitting what was on her mind before, though come to think of it, she hadn’t known real intimacy with anyone. Her relationship with her mother had always been strained—and her two brothers would have run a mile if she’d started talking to them about feelings. They were Corretti men and they did that Corretti thing of buttoning up all their emotions—that was, if they even had any emotions.