A Whisper of Disgrace

He took her for coffee afterwards and told her that he’d been entirely correct and she did have that certain je ne sais quoi which made the camera love her. That it was a rare commodity but television gold. They couldn’t offer her much at the moment, but they thought she’d be perfect for a daily ‘novelty slot,’ just after the lunchtime news.

She received the news with the enthusiasm she knew was expected of her, but when she left the café to slide into the back of the waiting limousine, all she could think of was how she was going to break it to Kulal. And wasn’t that crazy? Because this was the chance of a lifetime—and wasn’t this marriage supposed to be about freedom?

She had to start taking control. She was legally contracted to be Kulal’s wife for another ten months and she certainly couldn’t spend it moping around the place, wishing he felt stuff for her which he clearly didn’t. If she didn’t like something, then she needed to change it. And if she couldn’t change him, then she needed to change herself. Couldn’t she show her sheikh husband that it was possible to live in harmony, if they both made the effort? That they could compromise if they wanted to, just like any other modern couple.

She felt filled with a new sense of purpose as she took the elevator up to the apartment, and when Kulal arrived home she was waiting for him out on the terrace. She had mixed a drink of his favourite rosewater and pomegranate juice and his eyebrows rose speculatively as she held up the frosted pink jug. ‘Drink?’

‘A drink would be perfect,’ he said, pulling off his jacket as he went out onto the terrace and joined her. He had thought that he would arrive home to an atmosphere, that she might be sulking in response to his obvious disapproval of her intention to ring Bertrand. But it seemed he had been wrong, for he’d never seen her looking quite so relaxed.

Sinking into one of the chairs, he watched as she bent to drop ice into the glass, his gaze resting on the curve of her bottom, and his heart began to accelerate as she handed him the drink. She was wearing her hair loose, just the way he liked it, and her flame-coloured dress accentuated her exotic colouring. Not only did she look good, but she was behaving in a way which pleased him since her attitude towards him was undeniably accommodating. Did this mean that she had reconsidered her rash statements of this morning? His gaze was approving as he took a sip of his drink and let out a rare sigh of contentment. ‘I must applaud you, Rosa,’ he said. ‘For this is exactly how a man likes to be greeted after a hard day at the office.’

She waited until he’d put his drink down before she walked over and sat on his lap, looping her arms around his neck. ‘And have you had a good day?’

‘When you wriggle on my lap like that, it makes me forget—other than to say that it’s getting better by the minute.’

She dipped her head forward and brushed her mouth over his. ‘Is it?’ she whispered.

He didn’t answer, just put his hand up to anchor her head so that he could kiss her, and Rosa felt the shimmering of desire as if whispered over her skin. Her hands reached out to frame his face, her fingertips tracing the hard outline of his jaw and feeling the faint rasp of new growth there. Her fingers crept upwards, so that they could feel the hard slant of his cheekbones beneath the silken skin. And all during her tactile survey of his face, he continued to subject her to that sweetly drugging kiss so she was startled when, abruptly, he terminated it, pushing her away by a fraction so that he could look directly into her eyes.

‘What’s the matter?’ she managed through dry lips. ‘D-don’t you want to make love?’

‘You mean here?’

She wondered how best to respond. Up until now, Kulal had been the dominant one—not surprising given his vast experience and her complete lack of it. But she’d had a pretty intensive introduction to sex, hadn’t she? Surely she’d had enough tuition for her to take the lead for once. Maybe that was what he wanted her to do.

‘Of course here,’ she whispered as she drifted her hand down to his groin, where he felt as hard as steel, and began to stroke him through the straining material of his trousers. ‘I want you now. I can lift up my skirt and you can just slip inside me. No one need know a thing.’

The explicitness of her words excited yet shocked him and Kulal recognised a subtle shift in power between them as his body responded instantly to her touch. For a moment he allowed himself the fantasy of following through. Of allowing her floaty dress to conceal what was going on underneath. Of unzipping himself and pushing deep inside her honeyed heat. Gripping her wrist to arrest the movement of her captivating fingers, he put his face very close to hers. ‘You don’t think we can be seen?’