Crowned for the Sheikh's Baby Read online

  ‘Very well, I’ll do it,’ she said, and, because he seemed to be waiting for something else, she stumbled out her thanks. ‘Th-thank you very much indeed, Your Royal Highness.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he drawled, eyes gleaming. ‘But if you’re going to do a convincing impression of being my date, you’re going to have to stop using my title—especially in that deferential way. Call me Kulal. Try to talk to me as if I was a normal date.’

  As colour flooded into her cheeks Hannah wondered what he’d say if he knew she wasn’t really the kind of person who had normal dates. Nor any kind of date, really. ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Go on, then. Say my name.’

  He was gazing at her expectantly and Hannah found herself complying. ‘Kulal...’ she whispered, thinking how strange it felt to use his first name. More than strange. Just the sound of it coming from her lips felt...sexy.

  ‘Very good,’ he said, and smiled. ‘That wasn’t too difficult, was it?’

  A look of complicity flowed from his black eyes and Hannah was aware that, with that simple exchange, something had been forged between them. A secret which separated them from the rest of the world. Wasn’t that called collusion?

  The enormity of what she was about to do washed over her. ‘Nobody must...’ She looked at him and swallowed.

  He raised his dark brows. ‘Nobody must what, Hannah?’ he prompted silkily.

  ‘Nobody must find out,’ she finished quickly. ‘Or I’ll lose my job.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  AT A RARE loss for words, Kulal stared at the woman who stood before him.

  The little chambermaid...transformed!

  He studied her for a long moment and felt a flicker of apprehension whisper over his skin. Would he so willingly have offered to have a stylist dress her if he’d realised that the end result was going to be quite so...tantalising? That the bodice of her silk dress would cling so entrancingly to her breasts—emphasising their lush weight in a way which the lemon uniform had only hinted at?

  He swallowed. The long, floaty dress outlined her shapely legs and gave a glimpse of the bare toes which peeped from glittering sandals as she walked towards him. The functional ponytail was now a distant memory, and her hair tumbled in a dark and silky profusion around her shoulders and, dazedly, Kulal shook his head. Had he been completely naïve? he wondered impatiently. Had he played Pygmalion by bringing the curvy little statue to life, without even stopping to consider that her resulting sensuality was something he would now have to spend the rest of the evening resisting? Had he really thought he would be nothing but a cool onlooker, curiously observing the results of her expensive makeover? Yes, he had. He said something low and fervent in his native tongue and immediately she fixed him with a look of uncertainty.

  ‘You don’t like it?’ she said tentatively.

  He didn’t quite trust himself to reply immediately. Instead, he turned the question round. ‘Do you?’

  She shrugged and the movement drew his attention to the creamy swell of her breasts—as if any extra encouragement were needed!

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she said, her hands skating over the wide beam of her hips against which floated layers of ice-blue silk. ‘You don’t think it’s too much?’

  ‘Too much for what?’ he questioned roughly. ‘You certainly won’t be overdressed, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  It wasn’t. Hannah swayed a little on her skyscraper sandals. Her main worry was that she wouldn’t be able to live up to the image of what these clothes represented. Because she’d stared into the mirror and seen someone she didn’t recognise staring back. A polished woman exuding a sophistication which was fake. She felt like a fraud—which was exactly what she was. A hotel employee dressed up to look like one of the guests. What if someone started talking to her and realised that she hadn’t got much to say for herself—and that all the glossy potential of her appearance was false? What if someone sussed her out and reported her?

  ‘I’m worried how we’re going to get out of the hotel without me being noticed.’

  He smiled suddenly as if he had decided to enjoy the subterfuge. ‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ he said airily. ‘It’s all taken care of.’

  Hannah soon realised that Kulal wasn’t exaggerating—and that pretty much anything was possible when you were a king. He might not have a full entourage of staff in tow, but there were enough bodyguards and heavies who seemed to appear from out of nowhere to swarm around them in a protective coterie as they were taken through the maze of back corridors to the helipad outside where a helicopter was waiting. And even if anyone had bothered to spare Hannah a second glance—most eyes were on the imperious strut of the Sheikh, because he was the one who commanded everyone’s attention. Nobody would have guessed that the woman in the expensive dress and glittering jewels was really a humble chambermaid they’d barely noticed earlier.

  She felt a little queasy as the helicopter made its swaying ascent into the sky but soon they were up amid the stars, looking down onto the twinkling lights of L’Idylle, and Hannah looked around her, breathless with wonder.

  ‘Ever been in one of these before?’ questioned Kulal above the sound of the clattering blades.

  Hannah was so engrossed in the view that she spoke without thinking. ‘What do you think?’

  Despite her undeniable lack of protocol, Kulal smiled. How refreshing it was to be out with someone so deliciously unsophisticated! Instead of hanging onto his every word, she was sitting exclaiming about the beauty of the stars. Unless that was an attempt to convince him that she had depth. He felt a slight whisper of self-admonishment as he acknowledged his own cynicism, wondering when such a jaded attitude had fixed itself firmly in his heart and taken root there.

  You know when, he thought, unable to prevent the rush of memory which still had the power to make his heart clench with pain. When your mother took the ultimate revenge on your father and destroyed your faith in women for ever.

  Did she feel his eyes on her? Was that why she turned, a look of uncertainty crossing over her face, as if she’d just remembered where she was—and who she was with. ‘You haven’t told me anything about this party,’ she said.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Well, like who’s throwing it, for a start.’

  He leaned forward to alleviate the need to shout above the clatter of the blades. ‘An Italian property tycoon called Salvatore di Luca, who happens to be one of my oldest friends,’ he said huskily, his throat growing dry as the subtle fragrance of her perfume had a predictable if unwanted effect on his senses. ‘I first met him when I was studying in Norway.’

  ‘What were you studying?’

  It was a long time since anyone had asked him that, but the interest in her eyes looked genuine. ‘A Master’s degree in energy and natural resources.’

  ‘Gosh. That sounds very high-powered. Did you like it?’

  Kulal tensed. As much as it would have been possible to have liked anything at that time. He had used the course as an escape from the unbearable events at home, but he wouldn’t tell her that. He never talked about that. Not even with his twin brother, who had found her. Who had...

  He cleared his throat, but it didn’t quite remove the bitter taste in his mouth. ‘I liked it well enough and it has been very useful to me in my role as Sheikh. Salvatore and I were on the same course and we’ve stayed in touch, although our lives are very different. He lives in Rome but has a holiday place here in Sardinia.’

  ‘So what’s the party in aid of?’

  ‘Why, me, of course,’ he said softly. ‘Once my old friend discovered I was working on the island, he wanted to show me some of the hospitality for which he is renowned.’

  ‘You don’t sound overjoyed about the prospect.’

  He shrugged, as he spoke in a rare moment of candour. ‘Sometimes it becomes rather tedious
always to be the focal point of people’s attention at these events.’

  She chewed her lip. ‘So how are you planning to explain me?’

  A slow smile curved his lips. ‘Oh, don’t you worry about that. I never have to explain anything,’ he said arrogantly. ‘Nobody need know your true identity. Tonight you can be whoever you want to be, Hannah.’

  Hannah’s heart pounded. It felt as if he were waving another magic wand—a continuation of the spell which had made her into this glossy woman travelling by helicopter to a party. It was exciting but it was scary, too. She stole a glimpse at his hawk-like profile, knowing that she mustn’t make the mistake of believing this was real. Or that the desert King in the dark dress suit really was her date for the night.

  The helicopter dipped downwards towards a pad fringed with burning torches where an imposing man was waiting to greet them—the flames painting his face with bronze and gold. The wind plastered Hannah’s dress against her legs as they emerged from the helicopter and her carefully dried hair blew wildly around her shoulders. Salvatore di Luca greeted Kulal with affection but his words to her were cursory—as if it was a waste of his time getting to know her. As if she was just one in a long line of women Kulal had brought to parties over the years.

  Well, of course she was!

  Taking care not to trip in her spindly sandals, Hannah followed the two men onto a terrace where the milling guests were assembled near the swimming pool. Tall trees were lit with fairy lights and flower-strewn tables were decked with candles whose flames barely flickered in the stillness of the evening air. The momentary silence which greeted their appearance was followed by a burst of excited chatter and Hannah could feel countless eyes boring into her. And suddenly she understood exactly what Kulal had meant. It was disconcerting to be the focus of everyone’s attention and she wondered if people could tell she was wearing a borrowed dress and jewels.

  The sultry sound of jazz began to drift through the air and a voluptuous singer in a silver dress began warming up. Over by the gin bar Hannah could see a Hollywood A-lister who’d recently been dating a woman half his age—and surely that was a famously tearaway European princess doing an impressive yoga pose by the side of the swimming pool?

  And that was when the fun really began. Well, for everyone except her. She seemed to be the only person who didn’t know anybody else and it was all too easy for Hannah to become tongue-tied. Her nerves weren’t helped by the fact that she happened to be with the most important person at the party and he was the only person they wanted to talk to. Even when Kulal introduced her to people, their interest was polite rather than genuine. A couple of times, she got shoved aside as if she was an impediment to the main attraction, but she acted as if it hadn’t happened, her smile as determinedly bright as the one she used at work if she happened to walk in on a couple having sex, who hadn’t bothered to put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door.

  But when a sparky blonde came up and started chattering to Kulal in what was obviously his native tongue, Hannah gave up. Why fight it? Why bother reaching for something which could never be hers? Didn’t matter how well she scrubbed up in the borrowed finery—it was all superficial. She was still the chambermaid. Still the outsider. Always had been and probably always would be.

  Unnoticed, she walked across the crowded terrace and perched on the edge of a fountain so that she could people-watch and listen to the band. She saw people hovering around Kulal and couldn’t deny the sudden wistful punch to her heart as she surveyed his powerful physique and jet-dark hair. But the music and the scent of jasmine were pleasures in themselves and Hannah sat sipping at her cocktail, in which floated tiny violet flowers. She watched a waitress tottering along the edge of the swimming pool carrying a tray of drinks, a deliberate sway of her curvy bottom as she passed the Sheikh only adding to her precarious posture.

  She’s going to drop those if she isn’t careful, thought Hannah anxiously, just as the loud crash of crystal hitting marble tiles shattered the buzz of the party.

  It was almost comic, the way everyone stared at the waitress scrabbling around amid the debris, as if she were an alien who’d just fallen from space. Quickly, Hannah put her glass down and went to help, crouching down and stilling the woman’s shaking fingers, terrified she was going to slice her hand open. The chatter resumed as Hannah took over the clear-up operation, becoming so engrossed in her task that it wasn’t until she’d dropped the final piece of crystal onto the tray that she suddenly became aware of someone standing over her.

  Looking up, she met Kulal’s bemused expression and was still so caught up in what she was doing that she spoke to him almost absently. ‘Do you think you could get me a dustpan and brush from somewhere?’

  ‘A dustpan and what?’ he echoed incredulously.

  She realised he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about and was wondering how to explain what it was—perhaps by some elaborate form of charade—when a waiter came over and started berating the waitress in a torrent of furious French.

  ‘Come,’ said Kulal firmly, pulling her to her feet. ‘I think you’ve done quite enough. Let them sort it out among themselves. Unless you’re planning to put on an apron and take over her job for the rest of the evening? Do you ever stop working, Hannah?’

  In the darkness, Hannah blushed as she registered his sardonic tone. ‘I couldn’t just leave the poor girl to struggle by herself—and nobody else was bothering to help, were they?’

  ‘Not everybody here has your skill-set,’ he said drily.

  She realised that his hand was at her elbow and he was leading her away from the curious eyes of the onlookers, towards the shadowed lawns which stretched out behind the swimming pool. It was peaceful here. And deserted, too. She could still hear the music, but it was just her and Kulal—who had a look on his face which was mid-way between irritation and amusement.

  ‘Are you enjoying the party?’ he questioned.

  ‘It was very kind of you to bring me.’

  ‘That wasn’t what I asked, Hannah.’

  Awkwardly, she shrugged. ‘I’m glad I came.’

  ‘Oh?’

  She hesitated, but something in the piercing gleam of his black eyes made her answer his question truthfully. ‘It made me realise that high-society parties aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.’

  ‘And why might that be?’

  She hesitated only for a second. ‘Well, nobody really talks about anything very much, do they? All the men seemed so competitive and most of the women were all over you like a rash, which made me think that bringing me here wasn’t as effective as you’d hoped. Or maybe I’m cramping your style.’ She looked at him questioningly. ‘In which case, I could easily make myself scarce until you’re ready to go, if that’s what you want.’

  Kulal felt a tug of admiration. He’d heard people around him exclaiming in horror when the little chambermaid had been crouching down, careless of the way her costly dress had been rucked up around her bare thighs, yet he had admired the way she had leapt to the defence of the hapless waitress. And now, instead of plying him with saccharine words of gratitude, she was echoing his very own sentiments about these kinds of occasions.

  His eyes narrowed. People rarely told him what he needed to hear—only what they thought he wanted to hear, and the two were rarely the same. And suddenly the desire to feel her in his arms was overwhelming. Too overwhelming to resist—and why should he? What harm would it do? ‘Dance with me instead,’ he said.

  Hannah blinked at him. ‘What, here?’

  ‘Right here.’

  Perhaps if he’d insisted on taking her to the small dance floor in front of the band, where they would have been visible to the other partygoers, Hannah might have refused. But he didn’t. He just pulled her into his arms as if he danced on moonlit lawns every night of the week and every bit of apprehension drained from her body. Because what wo
man would have objected to being held by the Sheikh like this? Hadn’t this been one of the forbidden fantasies she’d tried not to have while she’d been working for him? Only she was discovering that sometimes reality exceeded the fantasy—exceeded it in a way which was outside her understanding.

  Suddenly, the dance seemed irrelevant to what was happening inside her body. Her nipples had become rock-hard and she wondered if he could feel them pushing insistently against his dress shirt. And now there was a distracting ache, low in her belly, and she knew she needed to stop this before she did something she regretted—like whispering her lips along the darkened edge of his jaw and begging him to kiss her. Her cheeks were burning as she pulled away from him and she met the hectic glitter of his dark gaze.

  ‘I think I’d better go back now,’ she said huskily. ‘To the hotel, I mean.’

  ‘Oh?’ On the shadowed lawn, he raised a laconic eyebrow. ‘Why?’

  You know why. Because you’re making me want things I have no right to want. Because I’m a virgin and you’re a man of the world and I’ve spent my whole life being cautious.

  ‘I’m tired,’ she said.

  He must have known it was an excuse, but he didn’t query it. Maybe he realised that it was the right thing to do. Or the only thing to do. There was a brief silence before he nodded. ‘Okay. I could use an early night myself. Let’s go.’

  And wasn’t human nature unpredictable? Because as soon as Kulal agreed to her request, Hannah began to regret her decision. Couldn’t she have danced with him a bit longer? Enjoyed what was happening without making such a big deal of it and bringing the evening to such an abrupt end?

  The waiting helicopter whisked them back through the starry skies and her heart was racing as they crept through the hotel corridors. But they managed to slip into Kulal’s private elevator and make it back to the penthouse suite without being seen. The usual inscrutable bodyguards lined the corridor but Hannah had become so used to seeing them that she barely gave them a second glance. She came to a halt outside the door to her room and stared up into Kulal’s carved features, wondering if she ought to offer to turn down his bed for him before she retired for the night. Until she drew herself up short. Was she crazy? Was she planning to tiptoe into his vast bedroom and leave a chocolate on the pillowcase?