Kitabı oku: «The Scandalous Collection», sayfa 22
Hidden from view?
What the hell did that mean?
His words sent feelings of alarm skittering over her skin but there wasn’t time to demand further explanation because the door to the car was being opened and a warm blast of fragrant air hit her. Ella exited the car as gracefully as she could—not an easy move, given that her beautiful gown was so jewel-encrusted that it weighed a ton.
Slowly, she walked along two lines of assembled people, where the advisers were exclusively male and wore subdued versions of Hassan’s robes. The only women present were servants and they lowered their eyes deferentially as she walked along the line, shyly uttering the Kashamak greeting she’d been practising for days.
There was so much to take in. High ceilings and marble floors, the glimmer of gold and the glitter of crystal. Was this how her sister Allegra had felt when she’d first arrived in Alex’s royal palace? Blown away by the sense of history and tradition? And the wealth, of course. Only this was the real thing. Not the kind she’d known when she was growing up, when one minute they’d all be driving around in a gold limousine and the next hiding from the bailiffs.
This was rock-solid wealth. Enduring and sustaining. Money like this could totally influence your thinking and behaviour. And yet, this was their child’s heritage, she realised. All this splendour and beauty was his or hers by birth—and she did not have the right to deny their baby that.
‘Clearly you approve?’ Hassan had watched with interest the movement of her ice-blue eyes as they quickly assessed her surroundings. Was she silently adding up his worth and realising that never again would she want for money?
‘It’s beautiful,’ she breathed. ‘Absolutely beautiful.’
Briefly, he found himself wondering whether he should have taken his lawyer’s advice and made her sign a prenuptial agreement. But something about that action had made him baulk. It had seemed inherently wrong to ask that of the mother of his child. No matter how outrageous her demands for any divorce settlement, he could easily afford it. And a woman who was satisfied with her pay-out would be less likely to cause trouble in the future….
‘So … you must be tired after the long journey,’ he said. ‘Would you like to see your quarters?’
‘My … quarters?’ Ella’s smile was uncertain. ‘Um, you’ve left the army now, Hassan.’
‘Forgive me.’ His answering smile concealed a faint confusion, an unknown feeling of being out of his depth. Who cared what he called it, the detail was surely insignificant? Usually, he would have gone straight off to long meetings with aides and ministers, followed by a hard ride on one of his horses. But now the comforting familiarity of his routine had been broken by a woman with rose-pink lips and ice-blue eyes.
His wife.
If it was anyone else, he would have assigned a servant to show her around. But because it was Ella and she was pregnant and therefore vulnerable, he found himself in the unheard-of position of being her guide. And for the first time in his life, he felt out of his depth. ‘I will show you to your suite of rooms. Does that sound better?’
‘My suite?’ She looked at him in surprise. For weeks, she’d been psyching herself up for married life. She’d vacillated between wondering if she was crazy to go through with it, or whether it was the only sane choice. But once she’d decided to marry Hassan, one comforting thought had remained to sustain her. At least sex with her new husband was guaranteed to be amazing. He’d shown her that she could experience pleasure in his arms, and the truth was that she couldn’t wait to sample it again. She edged him a tentative smile. ‘But surely we’ll be sharing a suite, as a married couple?’
Hassan shook his head, wiping out the tempting thoughts provoked by the soft curve of her lips. ‘It is not the tradition, no, not here. It dates back from the days when a monarch always had to be ready to go to war and did not want to disturb his wife if he left for battle in the middle of the night. So his isolation was a necessity, rather than a luxury.’
Ella’s heart missed a beat. ‘You’re joking?’
‘No, I am not. I am simply abiding by tradition, as well as giving you the opportunity to have some private space of your own.’ He saw the way her blue eyes had clouded, but for the hundredth time, he told himself it was better this way. Better for both of them. For a divorce would be far simpler if there had been no intimacy. His voice gentled by a fraction. ‘My culture is very different from the one you’ve grown up in, Ella, and you’ll need to accept that if you want to find any kind of contentment here.’
Contentment? Did he think she was going to be content if she was going to be locked away like a nun without even the warm comfort of her new husband by her side? She stared at him, daring herself to voice the truth. ‘So we aren’t going to be a proper married couple?’
Almost reluctantly, Hassan let his eyes drift over her. With the golden veil framing her pale face he thought how lovely she looked, like some fragile, shimmering statue. In that moment, he could have pulled her close to him and drunk in her exquisite beauty with a passionate kiss. But something stopped him and that something was logic. This was nothing but a marriage of convenience, made with the sole purpose of legitimising their baby. Much better by far to keep their relationship on a formal footing.
‘But we aren’t a proper married couple, are we, Ella?’ he questioned, his harsh tone subduing the sexual hunger which had flared inside him. ‘We were never intended to be. And I think it best if we don’t complicate this already difficult situation by pretending to be something we’re not.’
Ella felt his words rip through her like a chill wind and she stared at him in dismay, realising how isolated her life was going to be if Hassan was planning on distancing himself from her.
Well, she certainly wasn’t going to beg him to sleep with her! Biting back her hurt, she accompanied him along the wide expanse of marble corridor, wanting to ask him why the hell he hadn’t told her all this before he’d made her his bride.
Because he couldn’t have told her, that was why. If he’d given her any intimation of how constricted her life would be in his country then she would have refused to come. No amount of money or the promise of a quick divorce would have tempted her to a life of virtual imprisonment. She would have found some other way to support herself because she would have had to.
To all intents and purposes, Hassan had deceived her. But that was now irrelevant. She couldn’t change what had happened. All she could do was react to it. And she would do what she had done all her life, no matter what fate had thrown at her. She would adapt to circumstances and she would make the best of them.
But her determination wavered as Hassan informed her that dinner would be at eight and that a servant would come to collect her.
The door closed behind him and she was left alone in the gilded suite. She looked up at the glitter of the crystal chandelier and breathed in the deep scent of the roses which had been crammed into beautiful golden vases. It all looked so perfect, but so unreal. And it felt unreal too. As if someone had put her down in the middle of a film set and if she pushed too hard she might discover that the walls were made of cardboard.
Another wave of sickness washed over her and quickly she lay down on the bed, clutching one of the brocade cushions to her stomach as she tried to fight against a tide of tears.
CHAPTER TEN
ANOTHER day in paradise.
Ella stared out of the window which had just been unshuttered by one of the sweet maids whose job it was to attend her. The early-morning scent of flowers wafted fragrance into the room and vied with the perfume of the jasmine tea which stood on the filigree cabinet beside her large bed.
Leaning back against the feathery plumpness of the pillows, she contemplated what the new day might bring. Outside, there was a vast swimming pool which she could use any time she wanted. The beautiful gardens were enormous and varied, with plenty of shaded paths for her to walk along. Benches were positioned at eye-catching vantage points where she could stop to read a book from the palace’s vast and comprehensive library. Anything Ella wanted, she could have.
Except it wasn’t quite like that.
The one thing she really wanted constantly eluded her.
She wanted her husband.
She wanted to relive the passion they’d shared that night back in Santina, when she’d tasted pleasure for the first time in her life. And surely as his wife she was entitled to that?
The sickness she’d experienced had now passed and she realised that she hadn’t been herself when she’d agreed to this marriage. He had asked her—or rather, told her—that she would be his wife when she had been at her most vulnerable. Still reeling from the discovery of the baby and weakened by nausea, she had allowed Hassan to take command.
But something had changed. Now that she felt better, it seemed as if she had got some of the old Ella back, and then some. She was filled with a new vigour, buzzing with energy and life. And not only was she growing increasingly frustrated at the celibate state of her marriage, she was determined to do something about it. So what if she was only destined to be here for months. Couldn’t they at least be pleasurable months?
Had the desire Hassan felt for her disappeared? Ella didn’t think so. She may not have been the most experienced woman in the world, but she had definitely seen the hard gleam of his eyes sometimes when they were alone at dinner. Hadn’t she once noticed his big body tense when she reached forward to pluck a ripe damson from the heap of fruit piled in a shallow dish? And sit there perfectly still for a moment or two afterwards, as if he was composing himself? No, Hassan certainly wasn’t immune to her, no matter how much he’d like to be.
The strangest thing was that once she had allowed herself to acknowledge that what she was feeling was sexual frustration, the feeling just grew and grew. It became so that it dominated her thoughts. So that every time she looked into Hassan’s hawk-like features, all she could remember was his helpless look of abandon as he plunged deep inside her body.
She wanted him.
She wanted him badly.
And she realised that nobody was going to make it happen except her.
Quietening the voice in her head which asked if she wasn’t crazy to consider seducing such a proud and worldly man as Hassan, she set about her plan.
Piecing together fragments of things she’d read in magazines and books back home in England, she waited until Saturday evening, because she’d learnt that Saturday was one of her husband’s lightest days, in terms of royal duties. And that he often lay in bed late on a Sunday …
Dressing carefully in a filmy azure gown which made her eyes look intensely blue, she spent ages on her hair and her makeup. Not too much makeup, because she’d also learnt that where Hassan was concerned, less was more. The ebony sweep of her lashes and rose-pink glimmer of her mouth was flattering but very natural, so that she might almost have been born that way.
As she joined him in the dining room, she was filled with a nervous kind of excitement, and a sudden realisation of what she was about to do made her momentarily reconsider whether she was being sensible. What if he rejected her?
As he rose to greet her, she heard the soft swish of his silken robes and once again she remembered the magnificent body which lay beneath. Swallowing down her fears, she quickly replaced them with determination. She would not let him reject her!
A servant poured iced water into her goblet and began to serve the meal, but Ella barely paid it any attention. She pushed various delicious slithers of neglected food around her golden plate and tried not to stare at her husband’s dark and thoughtful face.
‘You’re not eating much,’ Hassan observed suddenly.
‘Aren’t I?’ she questioned innocently.
‘No.’ He studied her through the flickering light of the countless candles which illuminated the gilded room and thought how much she bloomed as every day passed. And what hell it was to resist the temptation of taking her to his bed …
With an effort, he forced his attention back to her lacklustre appetite. ‘Are you displeased with the fare which my chefs have slaved over all day in order to impress the sheikh’s new bride?’
‘The food is delicious. As always.’
‘So why haven’t you touched it?’
‘Because I’m not …’ Her words tailed off as nerves began to get the better of her. How could she possibly seduce a man who showed no sign of wanting to be seduced, despite the fact that they were newlyweds?
She wondered what had happened to the hungry hunter who had dragged her to bed on the night of the engagement party. Maybe he was one of those men who only enjoyed sex with a woman he didn’t know. Maybe he shied away from that whole intimacy thing. Or was turned off by the fact she was pregnant.
Or maybe he just didn’t fancy her any more.
Her pulse rocketed at the thought of tackling such a daunting mission. That she, who had never seduced anyone, should be taking on one of the world’s great lovers. Yet Ella wasn’t easily defeated. There were many disadvantages to being a Jackson, but one thing it gave you was determination—and grit.
‘Not what?’ he prompted.
She pushed away her dish more heavily than she’d intended and leaned back against the brocade cushions. ‘I’m not very hungry,’ she said.
Hassan felt a pulse began to flicker at his temple. ‘You need to … eat,’ he said unsteadily, trying to ignore the fact that the position she’d now adopted meant that her breasts were looking especially lush and inviting. And hadn’t he been resolutely trying to avoid thinking about her breasts, or her lips, or indeed any part of her which reminded him of thrusting deep into her body?
Ella shifted her position a little, pleased to see that the blue silk of her robe was now clinging to her thighs like melted butter. And that Hassan seemed transfixed by the movement. She slanted him a smile, telling herself there was nothing to be gained from a lack of courage. ‘I keep thinking of you, asleep nearby.’
‘Do you?’ He wondered what she’d say if he told her that he had been getting precious little sleep of late. That oblivion stayed tantalisingly out of reach as he lay there imagining the silken touch of her skin and the enticing curves of her body.
‘Mmm. And sometimes it gets so hot.’
Did that mean she slept naked? An unstoppable image of her milky thighs and rose-tipped breasts crystallised in his mind and Hassan almost sliced the top of his thumb with the knife he had been using to peel a peach. With trembling fingers, he put both down. ‘The palace is air-conditioned,’ he growled.
‘I know it is, but sometimes I turn it off because it’s noisy. And …’ Oh, for heaven’s sake! Ella winced. What kind of a seduction was this if all they were doing was talking about the wretched air conditioning? ‘And I wish you were there with me. I’d like that.’ She hesitated as she looked straight into his eyes and drew a deep breath. ‘In fact, I’d like that very much.’
Hassan tensed as the innocent longing of her words cut through him in a way that the most seasoned seduction could never have done. He felt the tight, hard spring of an erection and silently cursed her. ‘That isn’t a good idea,’ he said thickly.
‘Why not? What’s stopping us?’
He shook his head. A fear of intimacy, that was what was stopping them. Or rather, stopping him. And a very real fear of how such intimacy could complicate this strange marriage of theirs. Should he tell her that he saw nothing but danger if they succumbed, that sex could sometimes cast a dark and distorting spell? But how could he tell her anything when she was pushing back her dark, glossy hair and he was imagining it tumbling down over her naked breasts?
‘Ella,’ he ground out.
‘What?’ she whispered, thrilled to see his formidable mask drop for once, to reveal the man beneath. To suddenly see the hard-faced desert sheikh with all the vulnerabilities and doubts of any other person.
With an effort of will which seemed only a little easier than the time he’d had to endure a full day’s ride without fresh water to sustain him, Hassan stood.
‘It has been a long day for both of us,’ he bit out. ‘Come, I will escort you to your room.’
Ella could have wept with disappointment as she realised that the formidable mask was back in place. It hadn’t worked and she had no one to blame but herself. All she’d done was to stumble out her pathetic little desire to have him sleep with her. Shouldn’t she have been a bit bolder than that? Reached out and touched him maybe? Wasn’t that what women usually did when they were trying to seduce a man?
What had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time now seemed like complete madness. Once again, she had simply reinforced all his awful prejudices about her and her family with her attempt at seduction, only she couldn’t even do that properly.
‘Very well,’ she said stiffly, rising to her feet and waving away the hand he extended to assist her. Did he think she was some kind of invalid?
In smouldering silence she walked alongside him through marbled corridors which were open on one side to the scented courtyard gardens. She heard the soft movement of their flowing robes and the sweet, high trill of a bird she thought might be a nightingale. It seemed almost painfully beautiful and yet she could take no pleasure in it. All she could feel was a terrible emptiness inside, and an underlying ache that he no longer seemed to find her attractive as a woman.
The journey to her room seemed to take forever and she found herself wondering how she was going to be able to endure such an empty and lonely existence, knowing that there was no hope it would ever change.
‘Here we are,’ he said abruptly as he stopped outside the door to her suite. ‘I’ll leave you here.’
‘Yes.’ She looked up at him, surprised by the ravaged look on his face. What had put that terrible bleakness in those eyes of his? she wondered. Had she? Had her failed attempt to seduce him reminded him that she shouldn’t even be here? That she wouldn’t be here were it not for the baby? ‘Hassan, those things I said at dinner … I, well, I shouldn’t have said them. I shouldn’t have come on to you like that.’
There was silence for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice sounded as if it was being half strangled out of him.
‘I don’t want to hurt you, Ella,’ he ground out.
She looked at him in confusion. How could he hurt her any more than she was already hurting from him pushing her away? ‘I don’t understand,’ she whispered.
At that moment she looked so damned soft that Hassan felt the unfamiliar prickle of guilt. Usually he used women before they could use him and he had no compunction about doing so. But Ella was different. Even putting her fragility aside, what if deep down she had expectations of him which he could never honour? What if she expected him to be like other men, to feel the things which women wanted men to feel? Could he really bear to crush her hopes and her dreams when she realised that his words had been true. That his heart was cold. That it would be easier to facilitate an end to this marriage if they had not grown close through sex.
He made one last appeal as he looked down into the rose-pink gleam of her lips. ‘Don’t you realise that this is going to complicate everything?’
‘What is?’
‘This is,’ he ground out. ‘This!’
She honestly didn’t realise it was coming until he pulled her into his arms and started kissing her with a fierce urgency which instantly set her on fire. Her arms snaked up round his neck and she clung to him, almost wanting to sob aloud with joy. So he did want her—and judging by the tension in his powerful body, he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.
She wondered whether this wasn’t a bit public, standing, making out in the corridor of the darkened palace, until she remembered that they were newlyweds. This is exactly what they were supposed to be doing, she thought exultantly as he pushed open the door to her suite and pulled her inside.
His hands were shaking and so was his voice as he pulled his mouth away from hers and cradled her face in his palms. ‘I don’t know how gentle I can be.’
‘You don’t have to be gentle.’
‘You’re carrying my baby, Ella.’
She turned her head so that her lips brushed against his fingers. ‘Well, unless you were planning to tie me up and suspend me from the ceiling …’
‘Stop it.’ For a moment he bit back unexpected laughter as he ran his fingers through her hair so that the glorious waves of her red-brown hair tumbled free. ‘How about if we take it very slowly this time?’
‘I’m not sure that I can,’ she whispered.
He wasn’t sure that he could either, but he would make sure that he was careful. He led her over to the bed and slowly peeled the silken robe from her body. And this was a first too. He’d never undressed a woman who was wearing his own traditional robes and it seemed to add another dimension to the surreal aspect of what was taking place. It was as if all his certainties had been shaken up and scattered haphazardly, like a handful of dice thrown onto a gaming table. And everything was up for grabs. Including his blushing wife.
Clad in exquisite lingerie, her lashes half shaded her blue eyes as she watched his reaction. The cami-knickers clung to her slender hips and the silk bra caressed the curve of her breasts. Eyes narrowing, he studied the pale, creamy colour of the garments which looked distinctly bridal.
‘Did you choose this especially for me?’ he questioned unevenly, curving his finger around the lace edge of her bra.
‘Of course I did. I went out shopping especially.’ Hadn’t she slunk out almost shamefacedly to buy it in the few hours available before their rushed wedding? Wondering if she was being a hypocrite by purchasing brand-new underwear for a wedding which felt distinctly empty. Yet now Ella was pleased she’d done it. It had been worth all those doubts just to see the dark fire which had shifted the emptiness from his eyes. ‘It’s called a trousseau. It’s what every bride should wear on her honeymoon. I know that, traditionally, it’s supposed to be white, but I don’t really qualify for white, do I?’
‘Who cares about that?’ he questioned roughly.
‘You mean you don’t?’
He shook his head. He hadn’t seen her body since the night of the party and it had changed. Of course it had. The breasts were fuller and her belly curved over the edge of her lace panties. He gave a groan which was part lust and part admiration as he let his fingers curl over the gentle swell, because beneath her silken robes, he hadn’t realised how big she was getting. Did all men experience a rush of possessive pride when they witnessed their child growing in a woman’s belly? he wondered.
‘You look beautiful,’ he husked as he pushed her down onto the bed, quickly removing his own robes before joining her and pulling a throw over them both.
‘I’m not cold,’ she murmured as they were cocooned in the light concealment of silk.
‘No?’ He kissed the soft flesh of her shoulder. ‘Then why are you shivering?’
‘You know very well why,’ she whispered as she curled her hand around his neck and brought his head down to kiss her. It was the second assertive thing she’d done that evening and it seemed to liberate Hassan from his porcelain-like treatment of her as he opened her lips with the thrust of his tongue.
Ella could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with hers. His kiss was like a drug—one taste and she was hooked. Deeply and passionately she kissed him back, her fingers kneading at the silken skin which played over the muscles of his back. And then he began to touch her.
Everywhere.
She closed her eyes. This was unbelievable. Even better than last time. She could feel the relentless heat building inside her as he unclipped her bra to free her aching breasts, capturing first one and then the other in the hot, moist cavern of his mouth. She was restless and gasping by the time he slid her panties off. She knew he’d said he was going to take it slowly, but really …
‘Keep still,’ he urged her mockingly.
‘I can’t!’
Concerned that his weight might press on the baby, he brought her instead to sit on top of him, positioning the tip of his erection against her slick, moist folds. But even as he gripped her hips to slowly guide himself inside her, he was aware of a sudden sense of discovery. Of something unfamiliar happening to him. He felt the warmth of her thighs as they pressed into his sides and he shuddered as she pushed her hips forward to make him go even deeper. And then he realised what it was. That this was the first time he’d ever had sex with a pregnant woman, and the first time he’d never worn protection.
And it felt …
He closed his eyes. It felt unbelievable. He’d overheard men talking about the joys of ‘riding bareback’ while knowing that, for him, it would never be an option. Because royal seed was too precious to squander by careless lust or an inability to wait. But now he was experiencing it for the first time in his life, and it felt almost unbearably intimate as he thrust deep inside her. Skin on skin. Her slick heat against his hard heat.
‘I’m not hurting you?’ he managed.
Ella shook her head, barely able to speak, realising that she had wanted this so much. To feel this close to him again. To experience the pleasure which only he had ever given her. ‘I’m going to … going to …’
‘I can see that for myself,’ he murmured, watching as her head tipped back with helpless joy. She made a moaning sound as she came, a low note of uninhibited pleasure which initiated the beginning of his own orgasm. Holding tightly onto her hips, he felt the powerful spasms which swept him up in a mindless spill he never wanted to end.
Afterwards, his head fell back against the pillow and he felt as drained and as elated as a battle-weary soldier. Yet even as his hand encircled her waist to draw her closer and he found himself breathing in the raw scent of sex, he found himself thinking that this could get addictive. Dangerously addictive. The combined warmth of their damp skin made their bodies seemed glued together and he found himself absently kissing the tangle of her hair as long, silent minutes ticked by.
He must have slept more deeply than usual because when he opened his eyes, sunlight was filtering through the open shutters and the early-morning scent of roses was powerfully intoxicating. For a moment he didn’t remember where he was, but as he turned to see the sleeping form of Ella beside him, it all came back. Her shy and stumbled entreaty at dinner. A hesitant seduction which had proved inordinately irresistible.
Yawning, he thought that his senses had never felt so finely tuned, nor so richly satiated. Last night had been, he realised, the most erotic experience of his life.
More than that, he felt a rare moment of contentment which allowed him to push away the nagging questions which were hovering at the back of his mind. He knew that there were a million things he should be doing. He should rouse himself and move away from the warm comfort of this bed….
But instead, he picked up a handful of Ella’s hair, watching as it fell in satin tendrils across his chest before bending his lips to her ear. ‘Awake?’ he questioned lazily.
She wriggled and smiled against the pillow. ‘I am now.’
He guided her hand towards his aching groin. ‘You are the most amazing lover, do you know that?’
Ella froze as her fingers encountered the steely shaft of his erection, and in the cold light of day, fear began to run through her veins. What if he now expected her to run through a repertoire of sexual skills—skills she didn’t have, and which would leave him sorely disappointed?
Before, she had not cared about his good opinion of her but suddenly it became vital that he should know the truth. ‘I’m not the person you think I am,’ she said, pulling her hand away from him. Even though she saw his eyes narrow with disappointment, he needed to realise that she wasn’t the sexual expert he imagined her to be. Not some uber-experienced party girl with dozens of men in her past and a long list of lovers she could barely remember.
Hassan winced, wondering why women always chose precisely the wrong moment to pour out their feelings. But he was in no position to move. He registered the heavy aching at his groin and realised he was in no position to do anything except … ‘And what kind of person is that?’ he questioned unsteadily.
She drew in a deep breath. ‘I don’t make a habit of seducing men.’
‘I’d kind of worked that out for myself, Ella.’
‘You had?’
‘Mmm.’ He moved his hand between her legs. ‘Last night you came over as sweet, rather than seasoned.’
She wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. In fact, it was difficult to wonder anything when he was stroking her like that. ‘Up … up until that night of the party, I’d … well, I’d never behaved like that before.’
‘I’m very pleased to hear it,’ he replied gravely.
‘I’d only ever had a relationship with one other person. And I went out with him for ages before we had sex.’ Through her growing waves of pleasure, she met the question in his eyes, admitting to herself for the first time that she’d been scared of sex. She’d seen from the example set by her own parents what fools men and women could make of themselves in its pursuit. ‘When eventually we did it, I … well, I tried my best. But I never … never …’ She shook her head, the words sticking in her throat.
