A Whisper of Disgrace Read online

  Kulal’s mouth hardened because it had been the loud and drunken Rosa who had made it into such a spectacle. If she hadn’t been so damned predatory, this might never have happened. He glowered at his golden goblet and slammed it down on the table. ‘I will write to Ayesha, wishing her all the very best for her future happiness,’ he said. ‘And we will forget that this unfortunate incident ever happened.’

  But Hazail was shaking his head. ‘That’s the trouble—we can’t just forget it. If only it were that simple.’

  Kulal frowned. ‘You’re not making any sense.’

  The king leaned back in his chair. ‘You do realise the identity of the woman you spent the night with?’

  ‘Of course I do.’ Kulal felt a beat of frustration harden his groin, his erection conveniently concealed by the silk robes he always wore when in Zahrastan. And although it felt like an exquisite form of torture, he allowed a picture of her luscious curves and dark hair to form in his mind. ‘Her name is Rosa.’

  ‘Her name is Rosa Corretti!’

  Kulal’s expression remained unchanged, for he did not care to admit that the brunette’s surname was news to him. ‘Mmm. That’s right. Corretti. She’s Italian,’ he said, as if imparting some important nugget of information.

  ‘No, she is not Italian,’ said Hazail. ‘She’s Sicilian. And not only is she Sicilian, but she comes from one of the most powerful families on the island.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So her brothers are probably going to come after you. In fact, the whole damned family is probably going to come after you after you compromised her reputation by spending the night with her.’

  Kulal shrugged. ‘Then let them come,’ he said carelessly. ‘For I am afraid of no man!’

  ‘Your courage has never been in question, but you don’t seem to realise the gravity of the situation, Kulal.’ Hazail bit his lip with the closest thing to anxiety Kulal had ever seen. ‘The influence of the Corretti family extends all over the world and they do not take the virtue of their womenfolk lightly. I’m not joking—this could be political and economic dynamite for our country if it were to erupt into some kind of international scandal.’

  There was silence for a moment as Kulal mulled over his brother’s words. Were this Corretti family such a big deal, then? He remembered everything he had heard and read about the Sicilian culture. That the men were proud and the women were pure. His lips twisted scornfully. Except that Rosa Corretti was the least pure woman he’d met in a long time!

  ‘Do you think they might respond to bribery?’ he mused. ‘Shares in one of our oil refineries might buy their silence.’

  Hazail shook his head. ‘This is one situation where I suspect that bribery will not work—for there are very few ways to appease a Sicilian family when their honour is involved.’

  For a moment, Kulal was silent as he considered the options which lay open to him and forced himself to acknowledge that there were remarkably few. He thought about Rosa Corretti and her soft pink lips. He thought about her magnificent breasts and waterfall of dark hair and he felt a corresponding pang of pure and frustrated lust. Surely there was something he could do to remedy a potentially explosive situation?

  And then an idea began to form in his mind, an idea so simple that he was surprised it had taken him so long to come up with it.

  ‘I suppose I will have to marry her,’ he said.

  Hazail stared at him. ‘Marry her?’

  Kulal shrugged. ‘Why not? A short-term marriage would suit both parties very well. It would rescue her “honour,” silence any overprotective brothers and it might work in our favour. Think about it, Hazail. We sell the story as some kind of love match and Princess Ayesha will be seen as magnanimous for agreeing to cancel her wedding to me. And just think how the press will seize on it!’ He gave a mocking smile. ‘The Arabian version of Romeo and Juliet!’

  The king’s mouth fell open. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’

  ‘Entirely serious.’ Kulal smiled as he allowed his body to anticipate the pleasure of reuniting with his little Sicilian firecracker. ‘I shall go to Rosa Corretti and ask for her hand in marriage.’

  There was a pause as the king looked at him. ‘This is remarkably good of you, Kulal,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Ah, but I am not doing it to be “good,”‘ Kulal corrected silkily. ‘I am doing it because I can see no feasible alternative. Look on it as an act of supreme patriotism, if you will. Let’s just say I’m doing it for the sake of my country.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ROSA HAD BEEN crossing the room towards the bathroom when the sudden rap on the door halted her in her tracks. She could feel a sudden clamminess on her forehead and her heart began to pound with something which felt very much like fear. Who on earth was that knocking at this time of night? She wasn’t expecting any visitors and this wasn’t the kind of hotel which offered room service. More importantly, nobody knew she was here.

  Or at least, only one person did and she doubted she’d ever see him again.

  But her heart began to race as a series of ghastly possibilities began to crowd into her mind. What if Kulal wasn’t the only person who knew of her whereabouts? What if her brothers who she must now refer to as her half-brothers had discovered she was here? They might have been horrified to find out that she didn’t share their father—and that their mother had brought shame and disgrace to the family with her behaviour. Their eyes may have deadened with anger on discovering that she was not their true blood sister, but surely twenty-three years of guarding her as fiercely as a lion might guard its cubs could not be forgotten overnight?

  Mightn’t they have decided to bring her back to Sicily themselves? Wasn’t that the gist behind the text which she’d received? The one which had simply said, Come home, Rosa.

  She had ignored the text, just as she had ignored the one which had followed shortly after. In fact, she’d hurled the phone at the wall so that it had fallen in shattered and useless pieces on the carpet. But she planned to get herself a new, cheap one tomorrow morning and then none of the Correttis would have her new number. Which meant that none of them would be able to contact her.

  And in the meantime, why was someone still knocking on her door like that?

  She stayed rooted to the spot, praying that it was a case of mistaken identity. A drunken reveller, perhaps—for there were enough of them in this part of the South of France. She felt her skin redden. Because hadn’t she been one of those drunken revellers herself the other night, when she’d made such an awful fool of herself in front of that arrogant man, Kulal? It was ironic, really. She’d grown up surrounded by arrogant men and seen the heartbreak they could wreak on women, so why hadn’t she chosen someone softer and easier as the man she had decided she wanted to take her virginity?

  Briefly she shut her eyes because the most humiliating thing of all was that he hadn’t wanted her. He’d put her to bed after too much champagne and the disdain on his face the following morning had been clear. It was only when she’d practically thrown herself at him that he had deigned to kiss her. She wondered if they would have gone all the way had the kiss not been interrupted by that other man, the one who’d started talking about a king.

  She still couldn’t quite believe the words he’d uttered. Something about the king ‘craving his company.’ Did people really talk like that any more? Perhaps they were some kind of double act who trawled holiday areas pretending to be people they weren’t. Operating some kind of cheap scam.

  ‘I know you’re in there.’

  The terse words carried through the closed door and put a swift halt to Rosa’s swirling thoughts. Because that deep voice with the strange accent was horribly familiar and she was unprepared for the wave of desire which made her skin grow heated. A curling expectation began to unfold somewhere deep inside her and it wasn’t a feeling she particularly welcomed. She thought of his cruel face and hard body and her heart began to pound. What was the matter with her? He was probably no
thing but a weird imposter—some fake sheikh—and she didn’t have to answer the door to him.

  Oh, why hadn’t she turned the lights off?

  Because you weren’t expecting a late-night visitor, that’s why.

  ‘You can try ignoring me if you want, Rosa, but I’m not going anywhere,’ persisted the voice. ‘And if you stretch my patience too far, then I may be forced to break down this door.’

  What a caveman he was! Rosa racked her brain for some kind of response and decided to attempt an audacious piece of bravado. ‘And what if I’m not alone?’ she demanded. ‘Don’t you think you might be disturbing something—that I might want a little privacy?’

  From the other side of the door, Kulal gritted his teeth as a slow rage began to build inside him. Bad enough that he was being forced to enter a union with this tramp of a woman, but that she should dare to keep him waiting was intolerable!

  ‘Then I’d advise you to tell your paramour to get dressed and to get dressed quickly, since he might not enjoy facing me in my current mood.’

  Rosa shivered at the forceful intent behind his words. She should have been shocked by his arrogance, but she was Sicilian and therefore she wasn’t a bit shocked. She was used to outrageously chauvinist behaviour within the Corretti clan itself, but this man was making the male members of her own overbearing family seem like absolute pussycats.

  Reluctantly, she unlocked the key and opened the door, her senses assailed by the overpowering scent of jasmine from the darkened gardens as she stared at the man who was standing on her doorstep.

  He was exactly as she remembered him. No, that wasn’t quite true. She’d spent the past two days trying to play him down in her imagination, telling herself that it had been her highly emotional state which had made her react to him in such an uncharacteristic way. Telling herself that he was nothing special, that he was just a man who was aware of his appeal to women and who played on it.

  But she had been wrong. More than wrong. Because tonight, his undeniable sexiness was edged with something potent—something which suddenly made her feel innocent and fragile. He looked as if he meant business—and it wasn’t just the way he was dressed, in a dark and sombre suit, which emphasised his powerful physique. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved that day so that his dark jaw was faintly shadowed with stubble. It was a look which was essentially masculine and subtly modern, yet it didn’t match the expression in his black eyes. Because that was the antithesis of modern—it was darkly glittering and almost primitive.

  She swallowed. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘A little courtesy might be a good place to start. I’d like to come in.’

  To Rosa’s disbelief he didn’t bother waiting for her assent, just walked straight past her. ‘You can’t just barge in here like that!’ she protested.

  ‘Too late. I just did. So let’s not waste any more time with futile protestations. Shut the door like a good girl, will you? I want to talk to you.’

  Fury came in many forms and the form which was visiting Rosa right then was making her speechless with a growing anger. Like a good girl, he had said—and hadn’t she run away from Sicily to escape precisely that type of patronising attitude? It took a moment or two before she could compose herself enough to suck in a deep breath and manage to turn it into an outraged question.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded.

  ‘Are you going to shut the door, or am I?’

  She kicked it shut before she could ask herself why she wasn’t calling hotel security—if such a thing existed in this place—to have him ejected. Maybe because there seemed something distinctly unfinished between them—something which still needed to be said. But she wasn’t going to let him think that she was a pushover, even though her heart was now racing for a very different reason. She had behaved like a stupid fool the other night and she didn’t intend to do so again. ‘I didn’t think we had anything left to say to each other, after that man Mutasim bundled me into a taxi the other day.’

  He didn’t appear to be listening to her for his eyes were trained on the closed door in the far corner of the room. ‘So is there some thwarted lover in there?’ he questioned softly. ‘Cowering in fear as he puts his clothes back on?’

  For a moment Rosa was tempted to say yes, wondering if he would have the bravado to actually go in and confront some fictitious man. But deep down she knew the answer. Of course he would. She could tell from the tension in his powerful body that he was afraid of nothing. Or no one.

  But then, neither was she, she reminded herself. Not any more. She’d spent her whole life being bossed around by autocratic men and being reined in by old-fashioned rules, and the new Rosa Corretti had no intention of continuing with that repressive tradition. So this Kulal—whoever he was—had better understand that, before she kicked him out of here for good.

  ‘No, I haven’t got anyone cowering in the bedroom—not that it’s any of your business if I had,’ she snapped. ‘I was about to go to bed myself when I was rudely interrupted by your unwanted appearance.’

  Kulal felt his pulse quicken. So she was alone, was she? Alone and probably as hungry for him as she’d been the other night. And wouldn’t that be the easiest way to get her to agree to his proposition—by getting her horizontal? His lips curved with the hint of an expectant smile. Because a woman would agree to pretty much anything when a man was making love to her.

  Now that he was safely in her hotel room, he allowed himself to study her closely—thinking that she looked very different to the sexy strumpet who had writhed around the pole in her tiny crimson dress the other night. Her dark hair was tied over one shoulder in a single plait and she wore a heavy, silken robe, which shimmered to the ground as she moved. A classy kind of garment, he thought approvingly. And even though it covered every inch of her body, the delicate fabric still clung to every delicious curve, reminding him all too vividly of what lay beneath.

  ‘You are looking very beautiful tonight,’ he murmured.

  Rosa stiffened because the calculating look she’d seen hardening his eyes was completely at odds with the silken caress of his voice. And yet stupidly, her body couldn’t seem to stop reacting to him. She wanted him to pull her into his hard body and she wanted him to kiss her again. But he was trouble. She knew that. He might exude an undeniable appeal which was clawing away at something deep inside her, but she sensed an undeniable danger about him.

  ‘I asked what you were doing here,’ she said quietly. ‘And so far you haven’t come up with a satisfactory answer.’

  Kulal frowned. She was certainly behaving very differently this evening. She wasn’t coming on to him at all, or making any indication that she wanted to continue the delicious kiss which had been abruptly terminated by the appearance of his brother’s aide.

  ‘We need to have a conversation,’ he said.

  ‘At this time of night?’

  He nodded. The concealing cloak of nighttime was infinitely preferable to a meeting conducted in the harsh light of the Mediterranean sunshine. And even though this rather humble hotel was not the kind of place which usually attracted the paparazzi, his striking looks always made him the subject of prying eyes. ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘Then you’d better hurry up and get on with it, Mr …?’

  He met the challenge in her voice, thinking how spectacular her eyes were, as they looked at him with impertinent challenge. ‘I think you were made perfectly aware by the interruption which took place yesterday that I am not a “Mr,”’ he said shortly. ‘In fact, I am a prince.’

  ‘A prince?’ she echoed, like someone waiting for the punchline to a joke.

  He nodded. ‘Although I prefer to think of myself as a sheikh first and a prince second. I am Sheikh Kulal Al-Dimashqi, the second son of the royal house of Zahrastan.’ He elevated his dark brows in careless question. ‘But perhaps you have found out a little more about me since we were parted so abruptly. Was your interest not piqued by the stranger you almost had sex
with?’ He gave a mocking smile. ‘Especially when you discovered that his brother was a king.’

  Rosa glared at him, trying to ignore his crude taunt. ‘If you must know—I thought that you might be involved in some kind of scam.’

  ‘A scam?’ he echoed.

  ‘Yes. That man turning up and announcing that the “king” wanted to see you.’ She gave him a scornful look. ‘People pretend to be aristocrats all the time! It helps them get into expensive hotels without paying.’

  He gave the room a deprecating glance. ‘Then I don’t imagine they’d be targeting a place like this, do you?’

  Rosa didn’t rise to the taunt. Why should she, when it was true? She’d chosen the hotel precisely because it hadn’t been expensive. Because it was the last place on earth that you would ever expect to find a Corretti staying and therefore it was unlikely that any of her family would come looking for her here. But the Hotel Jasmin was exactly what she needed in her troubled state. She liked the peace of the place. The laid-back attitude and the old-fashioned gardens. There were mostly French people staying here and the service was simple and unobtrusive. There were no tourists, no dull international menu or any Wi-Fi connection which might have encouraged people to sit around, tapping away on their computers so that you felt as if you’d walked into a giant office.

  ‘If you don’t like it, then leave,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m not stopping you.’

  Kulal hesitated—and for him, such hesitation was rare. But this conversation was not going according to plan. For a start, she had not fallen on him with lust in her eyes and a body impatient for the pleasure he could give her. He had thought that he would be in her bed by now and yet he was nowhere near it. She seemed completely different to the woman who had begged him to kiss her and he began to wonder why.