A Whisper of Disgrace

CHAPTER TWO

WARM SUNLIGHT FLOODED over Rosa’s face and for a moment she wriggled, reluctant to leave the hypnotic dream which felt curiously realistic.

‘I know you’re awake.’

The hard, accented voice crashed into her dream and shattered it—even though it was the voice of the man who was responsible for the erotic images which had punctured her restless night.

Her throat feeling as dry as a summer beach, Rosa opened her eyes to find a pair of black eyes trained on her, but there was no lazy speculation or flirtation in them this morning. All she could read was anger and... She cringed. Yes, that was definitely contempt she could see flickering in their ebony depths.

Woozily, she looked around her in an attempt to get her bearings as she tried to piece together the jigsaw memories of last night. Her head was pounding and her mouth felt dry and claggy and she had the feeling that something was very wrong.

Something was. She stared down at herself in horror as she realised that she was in a very large bed—and she was completely naked!

Clutching the fine linen sheet to conceal the jiggle of her breasts, she sat up and stared at the man she knew only as Kulal, who was standing glaring at her from the end of the bed, looking like some kind of dark and avenging angel.

‘What happened?’ she demanded.

‘You don’t remember?’

‘If I remembered, I wouldn’t be asking—would I?’

The disdainful twist of his mouth deepened. ‘You want to know if we had sex?’

Rosa felt her cheeks grow hot as she stared at him, appalled by his crude question. But beneath her horror beat the memory of how good it had been to have been held by him on the dance floor and she could feel an unwanted tingling in her breasts. She felt as if she’d left one nightmare and woken up in a different one—and she was going to have to be strong if she wanted to get out of this with any degree of dignity. And she could be strong. She’d proved that, hadn’t she? She had survived her mother screaming vitriol at her as she’d made her vile confession. And she’d faced the unbelievable and heartbreaking truth, that her beloved father—the single rock in her life—was not her father at all.

She prayed for the right amount of bravado as she stared into Kulal’s furious face. ‘And did we?’

At this, he smiled, and it was the coldest smile that Rosa had ever seen.

‘Believe me, garbuua—if you’d had sex with me, you’d remember it, no matter how drunk you were.’

Rosa met the mocking expression in his eyes, telling herself that she wasn’t going to be intimidated. She just needed to extricate herself from this regrettable situation—but first of all she must face facts.

‘So we didn’t?’ she questioned flatly.

‘No.’

She held the sheet a little tighter. ‘Then how come I’m not wearing any clothes?’

‘Because I undressed you.’

‘You...undressed me? Why?’

‘Why do you think?’ he snapped. ‘Because I wanted to feast my eyes on your delectable body?’ And yet Kulal felt the sudden fierce beat of his heart as he tried to subdue the memory of her firm flesh as he had stripped her bare. He’d taken her clothes off on autopilot, averting his eyes when he had slithered that wispy little pair of lace panties down over her knees. In her uninhibited state she had grabbed him and pulled him down towards her—and he’d had the tantalising experience of having his head buried in her magnificent breasts before he had forced himself to move his aching body away. ‘If you must know, I removed your clothes because I didn’t think you’d want to leave here this morning wearing last night’s crumpled dress, or underwear.’

The gap in her memory was making Rosa feel frightened but she wasn’t going to let him know that. ‘Is that so?’ she said.

Kulal heard the disbelief in her voice and felt a slow anger begin to simmer inside him. Didn’t she realise how lucky she’d been that someone like him had been the man she’d targeted last night? That somebody completely lacking in moral scruples could have taken her home and... His mouth hardened. ‘I’ll tell you exactly what happened,’ he bit out. ‘You couldn’t remember where you were staying, and just before you passed out on the back seat of my limousine, you announced that you wanted to stay with me.’

Rosa could do absolutely nothing about the blush which stained her cheeks. ‘I said that?’

‘You did,’ he agreed grimly. ‘Leaving me with little choice other than to bring you back here to my hotel. My plan was to get you inside as quietly and as unobtrusively as possible—but unfortunately, that was not on your agenda.’

She saw the furious accusation which had darkened his face. ‘It wasn’t?’ she questioned as a trace of nerves began to creep into her voice.

‘Indeed it wasn’t. You decided that as many of the people in the immediate vicinity and beyond should know exactly what you wanted—and what you wanted was to go down to the beach and look at the sky....’

Oh, God. It was all coming back to her now. He’d promised to take her somewhere to look at the stars. He’d said that to her in the nightclub as he’d held her in his arms. And in that moment, she felt as if he’d been offering her a slice of paradise. ‘What...what happened?’ she whispered.

‘I decided that an excess of alcohol, a senseless female and close proximity to the Mediterranean were a potentially lethal combination and so I carried you in here, undressed you—and put you to bed.’

‘And that’s it?’

‘That’s it.’

‘So where did you sleep?’ she questioned pointedly.

He gave a short laugh. ‘When you rent a hotel villa overlooking the Mediterranean, there tends to be more than one bedroom. In fact, there are three—so I slept in the one next door.’

Rosa’s mind was spinning as she listened to his explanation, but the one thought which was uppermost was that her virtue was still intact—and that surprised her. Because she did remember the heady rush of abandonment she’d felt as he’d held her on the dance floor. She wasn’t experienced, but she didn’t need to be to realise that she’d been putty in his hands last night. That if he hadn’t been so moral, then he would have been lying beside her now. Because she had wanted him. Come to think of it, she still wanted him.

He had moved away from the bed and now that he was at a distance it gave her a better opportunity to study him. She wondered where he was from—his rich accent certainly didn’t sound Mediterranean and his skin was much too dark.

‘Who are you?’ she questioned suddenly.

Kulal tensed, realising that he had been expecting this question a whole lot sooner and knowing that his answer would bring with it a whole new set of baggage. Should he lie? Adopt some fictitious identity, knowing that their paths would never cross again? But that might add fuel to a possibly combustive situation. She had already humiliated herself through her drunken behaviour—if she then discovered that he was lying to her, then mightn’t she take out her shame on him? He knew women well enough to know that they were impossible when you rejected them. So why not keep her sweet? Why not make her appreciate just how much he had done for her?

‘My name is Kulal,’ he said.

‘I already know that bit. Where are you from—you’re not Mediterranean, are you?’

‘No, I am not. I come from a country called Zahrastan.’ He searched her face for signs of recognition. ‘Any idea where that is?’

She shrugged. ‘I’m afraid I’ve never heard of it. Should I have done?’

Kulal told himself that he shouldn’t have been surprised. He wouldn’t really expect a pole-dancing socialite to know much about the Arabian principality which produced a vast tranche of the world’s oil supply, would he? She probably thought of little else other than which colour she was going to paint her pretty little toenails each day. ‘I suggest you try acquainting yourself with a map of the world if you want to find out its exact position.’ His voice was dismissive as he slanted her a cool look. ‘Now, have I answered all your questions to your satisfaction?’

She wanted to say that no, he hadn’t. She wanted to ask him if they couldn’t just forget about the disastrous way the evening had ended. If only it was possible to rewind life and stop at the bit you liked best. When she’d been dancing with him it had all felt so...promising. But the repressive note in his voice and the unwelcoming look on his face made her realise that this was not a conversation he was keen on extending. She lifted her fingertips to her temples as if that might help reduce the pounding inside her skull, but it didn’t.

‘My head hurts,’ she said, painfully aware that the first and last hangover of her life should have been conducted in front of such a critical audience.

Kulal nodded as he saw an acceptable exit sign looming ahead. ‘So why don’t you get showered and dressed?’ he suggested smoothly. ‘Your things are hanging up in the bathroom and I can order you something to eat. You’ll feel much better once you’ve had some breakfast—’

‘I don’t want any breakfast,’ she snapped, realising that he couldn’t wait to get rid of her.

‘You ought to. When did you last eat?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t remember.’

Reluctantly, he found his gaze drawn to her eyes which had been illuminated by the bright sunshine, and for the first time he noticed that their darkness was broken by flecks of green and gold which made him think of the filtered sunlight you sometimes found in a quiet forest glade. But despite their natural beauty, there was no disguising the shadows which lay beneath them—shadows which were not caused simply by her smudged mascara. Her eyes looked empty, he realised—as if she had seen something which had haunted her. And she was pale. Very pale. Beneath that smooth olive skin of hers, she had the pinched look of a woman who had stopped caring—not about her appearance, but about life itself.

And that was not his business.

He was a royal prince and he was about to announce his engagement to a royal princess. The last thing he needed was to start worrying about the welfare of some spoiled little rich girl who had got herself plastered. Thank God he’d been strong enough to walk away from the promise of her amazing body—he should start being grateful for the lucky escape he’d had.

But something was nagging at his conscience and he found himself unable to ignore it.

‘You’re not leaving here until you’ve eaten something,’ he said forcefully.

‘And you’d be prepared to stop me, would you?’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t intend to pick you up for a second time if you pass out and I don’t want the drama of a French ambulance screaming to a halt outside. So why don’t you do something sensible for the first time in your life and eat something?’ he said, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

Rosa stood watching as the door banged shut behind him and she could have burst into howls of frustration. How dare he judge her and find her wanting—when last night he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her?

He could do anything he liked, she realised, because she had put herself in a position to be judged. Angrily, she pushed aside the sheet and headed for the bathroom, recoiling as she caught sight of her reflection in the huge mirror. It was a shock on so many levels, because walking around naked wasn’t something she ever did. In Sicily, she always wore a silk nightgown to preserve her modesty because that was how she’d been brought up.

‘Imagine if there was a fire in the middle of the night,’ her mother had once said, in that tart way she had of speaking to her only daughter. ‘And the fireman found you naked and indecent. That is not the way a lady behaves, Rosa.’

As she stood beneath the torrential jets of the shower, Rosa’s lips curved with derision. She had just accepted her mother’s opinion, hadn’t she? The way she always did. Never realising that the woman who had brought her up so strictly was nothing but a cheating hypocrite.

Quickly, she turned on the cold tap—hoping that the shock of the icy water might wash away the memories of the past few days, but it wasn’t easy to forget her mother’s dramatic confession. She stayed in the shower until she had scrubbed herself clean, and afterwards she found an unused toothbrush and paste and located her clothes and hairbrush. By the time she heard a knock on the bedroom door, she felt a million times better and she psyched herself up to face the judgemental face of Kulal.

‘Come in,’ she said crisply, her heart beginning to race as he walked in. ‘I’m ready.’

‘So I see,’ Kulal said, reluctantly letting his gaze drift over her. Her feet were bare and the crimson minidress brushed the smooth skin of her thighs. For a moment he felt a powerful wave of temptation as he imagined taking her back to bed, before he swatted it away. She was trouble, he told himself. Last night, he might have been swayed by her beauty and her dancing, but in the cold light of day he knew she was best avoided.

‘I’ve ordered breakfast to be served on the terrace,’ he said. ‘So why don’t we go downstairs?’

Hunger made Rosa nod her head in grudging agreement and she followed him down a wide marble staircase and out onto a terrace, where a table had been laid with croissants, juices and jams, and what looked like a dish of iced mango. The terrace overlooked landscaped gardens and, in the distance, she caught a glimpse of the sapphire sea. It felt as if they were in a self-contained world of their own—a private little bubble which was miles away from the hustle and bustle of the French Riviera. ‘Did you say this was a hotel?’ she asked curiously.

‘It is, but I always rent one of the two villas which are attached to it. They come with their own gardens and that affords me more privacy.’

Rosa sank into one of the wicker chairs and looked up into the flatness of his eyes. ‘Which makes it easier to get rid of unwanted overnight guests in the morning, I suppose?’

He sat down opposite her—a movement which immediately heralded the appearance of a butler bearing a large silver pot of coffee. Let her know exactly where she stands, Kulal told himself. Tell her the truth, even if the truth hurts. ‘That is always a consideration to take into account,’ he agreed.

Rosa stared at the inky coffee which was being poured for her before Kulal waved the butler away. She wasn’t going to cause a scene about what he’d just said, when all he’d done was be honest. It would have been much worse if he’d pretended otherwise—if he made out that he’d never taken a strange woman back to his hotel before. And wasn’t she all done with lies and subterfuge? ‘Wise man,’ she said lightly.

Her casual tone made Kulal relax and he sat back in his chair. So she was going to behave herself, was she? He guessed she must have done this kind of thing plenty of times herself. The slightly stilted morning breakfast after a night of red-hot sex.

His mouth hardened as he forced himself to face the frustrating and rather laughable truth. Because you haven’t actually had sex with her, have you?

He watched as she pulled a croissant from the bread basket and began to cover it in strawberry jam. With her dark hair drying in the sunshine and her body smelling of soap rather than perfume, he thought how different she looked this morning. Her face was completely bare of make-up so that she looked very young and almost innocent. Her pink lips were so delicious that it seemed a crime not to lean across the table and kiss them, and for a split second he imagined his tongue licking its way inside her mouth. Until he remembered the way she’d been writhing her hips around the pole last night and forced himself to dampen down his ardour. What chameleons women were, he thought. How they changed faster than the seasons! She was about as innocent as one of the houris who charged men by the hour for their services.

Even so, as he watched her lift a glass of jus de pamplemousse to her lips, he couldn’t ignore the undeniable regret that he hadn’t made love to her. Because she would be an amazing lover. The sexual connoisseur in him told him that—even if he hadn’t witnessed the sensational way she’d been moving on the podium last night. As he’d put her to bed, her beauty had been revealed to him in all its shockingly sensual glory. He had felt deliciously firm skin as he’d peeled the little dress from her body. And it had taken more strength than he’d ever needed to walk away and spend a restless night in the bed next door.

He waited until she’d finished eating, until she had dabbed those delectable lips with a napkin, before putting down his own coffee cup and subjecting her to a steady stare. ‘I’m assuming that by now you’ve remembered where you’re staying?’

Rosa winced. What would he say if she told him that she’d never been drunk like that before? That she’d just discovered that her mother had cheated with her husband’s own brother—and her whole world had been smashed apart?

How would he react? Well, he might believe her or he might not, but that would make no difference to the fact that he couldn’t wait to get rid of her.

‘I’m staying at the Hotel Jasmin,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘So if you wouldn’t mind calling me a cab, I’ll get out of your way.’

Kulal rose from the wicker chair, knowing that he could easily send her home in his own car, but it was a pretty distinctive car and it would inevitably connect them. This part of the Riviera was always crawling with paparazzi, eager to capture the indiscretions of celebrities. They’d been lucky enough not to have been seen last night when he’d had to carry her inside—so maybe he should count his blessings and get rid of her as anonymously as possible.

‘I’ll get reception to organise it for you,’ he said. ‘And arrange for someone to show you through to the main part of the hotel.’

Rosa felt like a piece of garbage which was headed for the recycling bin and wondered if it was possible to feel any worse than she did right then. She was never going to touch another drop of alcohol in her life! And she was never going to dance with dark and dangerous-looking strangers in nightclubs. She nodded as she looked up into his black eyes, unprepared for his sudden movement as he touched her hair before running his fingertips lightly down the side of her face in a gesture which felt almost gentle.