A Whisper of Disgrace

Rosa had never known what it was like to speak from the heart, and as she looked into Kulal’s cool black eyes she wondered if she could trust him enough to dare.

Yet what did she have to lose?

‘I had just discovered something about my family,’ she said.

Kulal forced himself to look interested in what she was about to say, even if the last thing he was interested in was talking about her family. But he had learnt much about women during an extensive career spent seducing them, and had discovered that a little patience shown at the beginning paid dividends in the long run. He injected just the right amount of curiosity into his voice. ‘And what might that have been?’

Rosa hesitated, knowing that she risked making her mother sound like some sort of slut if she told him the truth—and that women were inevitably compared to their mothers. But she had to remember that she wasn’t trying to impress him. It didn’t matter what he thought of her, not when her place in his life was so temporary.

Even so, she felt the painful twist of her heart as she said the words out loud and the bitter memories came flooding back. ‘I discovered that my father was not really my father.’

Kulal shrugged. ‘I imagine that must have been disturbing.’

‘Yes, Kulal, it was disturbing,’ she said drily.

‘But you must realise that such a situation as yours is not terribly unusual. Don’t they say that one in twenty-five children in the west are brought up by a man who is not their biological father?’

She blinked, because the last thing she had expected from him was a careless kind of acceptance. ‘How strange that you should know something like that.’

‘Not strange at all.’ He shrugged. ‘I happen to be something of an expert on these matters, since I’ve been the subject of several paternity claims.’

Her eyes opened wide and she felt the sudden anxious beat of her heart. ‘You mean, you’ve got … children?’

He gave a short laugh, because she might as well have asked him if he had ever taken a trip to the moon. ‘No, Rosa, I do not have any children—though one of the downsides to being a sheikh is that women have tried in the past to get themselves impregnated, in order to secure themselves a place in my life.’

Rosa stared at him in horrified fascination. He came out with the most outrageously chauvinistic statements—worse than her own brothers’ at times—and yet somehow he managed to get away with it. Was that because his sophisticated exterior didn’t necessarily reflect the true man underneath?

Because on the surface he might look like a modern playboy, with his sleek designer suit and his private jet, but beneath all the trappings he was nothing short of primitive. He was powerful and wealthy, yet he certainly wasn’t predictable. His matter-of-fact response to her admission about her paternity had surprised her, and had removed some of the emotional sting from its tail—something she hadn’t thought possible. And wasn’t part of her grateful to him for that? Just as she was grateful for the almost effortless way he had just given her an orgasm.

Her cheeks grew pink as she remembered the way she’d let him touch her and the way that had made her feel. She couldn’t carry on feeling daunted by his sexuality, could she? Despite what she suspected was a very selfish nature, he had just proved to be the most generous of lovers. And surely she should be generous back. How difficult could it be to give a man pleasure? Why not get it over with, so that it was out of the way and that she wouldn’t have to dread it any more?

She lifted her hand to his face, letting her fingers slide over his sensual mouth, and even that brief touch felt electric. As she let her hand drift to the unopened neck of his silk shirt, she could see the suspicion which narrowed his eyes and her words of explanation came out in a breathy rush. ‘Maybe I’ve changed my mind,’ she whispered. ‘Maybe we could make love after all—if you say that your staff would be sure to leave us alone.’

There was a split-second pause. A moment when she saw anger and frustration darken his face, before he swiftly removed her hand from his neck.

‘You think you can play with me, as a cat would a mouse?’ he demanded. ‘That I am a man who can be picked up and put down? Are you nothing more than a tease, Rosa?’

‘No!’ she protested. ‘I never meant to tease you. I was nervous, that’s all—but I think I’m over that now.’

‘Well, that’s too bad,’ he responded acidly, shifting his aching body away from her. Maybe it was time he showed her who she was dealing with—that he was not the kind of man to tolerate a spoiled little girl’s sexual games. His smile was cold. ‘It’s not going to happen. At least, not right now. The flight to Paris only takes fifty minutes and I’m afraid we’ve wasted most of them talking.’