‘I thought I saw fire in her eyes, sire.’
Kulal’s lips hardened. ‘The fire will soon be doused, Najib. Make no mistake about that.’
He pushed open the door and saw Hannah. She was standing by the window, as if she had been staring out onto the magnificent mixture of ancient and new to be found in the city streets outside. At the sound of the door closing, she whirled round and his first thought was that Najib had been right. That was definitely fire he could see in her eyes—something he had not witnessed in all the time she had serviced his penthouse suite. The blaze of aquamarine as she glared at him almost dazzled him and she must have been shaking her head because gleaming strands of mahogany hair had broken free from the confinement of their elastic band and were tumbling in glorious disarray around her shoulders. For a few distracting seconds, he felt the instant flare of lust before instinctively subduing it. Because wasn’t it lust which had got him into this predicament?
‘Would you mind telling me what is going on?’ she demanded, her voice rising. ‘Why I was bundled off the plane and into a waiting car as if I was some sort of criminal? And why I’ve been brought here—to this fancy hotel—when I have a room reservation at the Souk Vista Hostel?’
Kulal had been anticipating many reactions, but such a feisty question from a woman of her stature only confirmed his suspicions about the reason for her journey. His eyes narrowed, for although he had encountered determination from ex-lovers many times in the past—nobody had ever been quite as audacious as Hannah Wilson. Well, she would soon discover that coming here had been a big mistake. A very big mistake.
‘I assume you wanted to see me,’ he said coolly. ‘So I thought I would curtail any unnecessary time-wasting by bringing you straight here.’
‘When your aide said...’ For a moment her confidence appeared to waver. ‘When he said he was taking me to the palace...’
Kulal’s lips curved into a smile he fully intended to be cruel because now he was dealing with something he’d encountered ever since he first became aware that his blood was blue, and he was in possession of connections most people could only dream of. Was that what Hannah ultimately wanted? he wondered cynically. A share of his unimaginable riches and access to his privileged life? In which case, perhaps it was necessary to teach her a small lesson—just to set the matter straight before she let her imagination run away with itself. ‘And you thought they meant they were bringing you to my palace?’ he queried, his gaze deliberately lingering on the golden logo of a crown which was embroidered onto one of the napkins which adorned a gleaming table. ‘Rather than the Royal Palace Hotel?’
The dull flush of her cheeks told Kulal his guess had been accurate and, mockingly, he raised his eyebrows. ‘I hope you aren’t too disappointed, Hannah. Did you think our one night together would entitle you to enjoy some of the perks of having a royal lover? And that I would be taking you on a sightseeing tour of the fabled gardens of my palace, or dipping into the Al Diya jewellery collection to present you with a precious bauble?’
‘Of course not,’ she said stiffly.
‘I thought you would feel more at home in a hotel,’ he added carelessly. ‘And of course, it carries the extra benefit of not compromising me in any way.’
It was the most patronising thing she’d ever heard and Hannah had to suck in a deep breath to stop herself from shaking, telling herself that nothing would be achieved by giving into the rage which was smouldering inside her, like a fire which refused to die. Because showing your feelings made you vulnerable—and she had the scars to prove it. Letting emotion get the better of you was a bad idea. Remaining cool and calm was the first law of survival—she knew that. But although she’d spent most of her life following that creed, she wasn’t finding it so easy right now. Were her fluctuating hormones once again to blame—making her react in a way which was alien to her? Or did none of the usual rules apply now that she had an unborn child to protect?
Because things were different now and she needed to recognise that. When she’d been looking after Tamsyn, she’d been nothing but a child herself and her options had been limited. But she was an adult now. She might not have Kulal’s material wealth or power, but she was resourceful as only someone in a dilemma could be and would not be treated like some docile little prisoner.
So stick to the facts.
‘You don’t even know why I’m here,’ she said.
‘Of course I do.’
She blinked at him and gulped. ‘You do?’
‘Oh, Hannah.’ He gave a short laugh before his hawk-like features hardened into a cynical expression. ‘You wouldn’t need to be a genius to work it out. You’ve decided that you’re in love with me, haven’t you?’
For one stomach-churning second, Hannah actually thought she might be sick. But it wasn’t just the Sheikh’s swaggering arrogance which she found so nauseating—it was the way he had said the word love. As if it were some unspeakable type of illness. As if it were something beneath his contempt... Clenching and unclenching her fingers, she looked up at him, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘You have been pining for me, I guess,’ he said softly, before shrugging his broad shoulders. ‘That in itself is not unusual—but the fact that I took your virginity has probably given our night together more significance than it warrants. Am I right, Hannah?’
Hannah flinched, wondering how she could ever have fallen into the arms of someone so unspeakably arrogant.
You know how, whispered the voice of her conscience. Because he’s so irresistible—even now, when he’s looking down his haughty nose at you.
Because despite the insulting reception he’d given her, she was far from immune to the attraction which had got her into all this trouble in the first place.
In Sardinia, she had only ever seen Kulal dressed in western clothes. Faded jeans and T-shirts, impeccably cut business suits or, on that fateful night, a dark dinner suit, just like those worn by all the other men at the party. But today, he was looking emphatically sheikh-like in a robe of white silk which flowed down over his muscular body. A matching headdress, held in place by a circlet of knotted gold, emphasised the stark outlines of his hawk-like features. He looked exotic and powerful. He looked like a stranger. He was a stranger, she reminded herself bitterly. A stranger whose child was now living beneath her breast.
‘I hate to disillusion you,’ she said, concentrating on trying to match his own emotionless tone. ‘But I am definitely not pining for you.’
‘No? So why come here?’ he drawled. ‘Why bother flying out here in secret?’
But it hadn’t been a secret, had it? His words reminded Hannah that this whole set-up seemed premeditated and that a car had been waiting for her when the plane had touched down. She lifted her chin, the pulsing of a nerve above her jaw the only outward sign of her growing anxiety—because if Kulal knew she was here, then who else did? How would such an action appear to the outside world—and, more importantly, to her employers? A lowly chambermaid flying out to confront a desert king! She reflected on her many years of service at the Granchester and a ripple of fear whispered down her spine at the thought of being sacked for such unprofessional behaviour. ‘How...how did you know I’d be on that flight?’ she questioned croakily.
‘Are you really that naïve?’ He spat out the question impatiently. ‘My security people run automatic checks over all the flight lists and flag up anyone of particular interest and naturally you fell into that category. A woman who needs an urgent visa to visit my country—didn’t you consider that might have alerted the suspicions of the authorities?’ He gave an impatient sigh. ‘Especially since you were asking so many questions about access to the royal palace—and a further check threw up the fact that you work for the Granchester Group and I’d recently been staying in one of their hotels.’
Hannah