Oddly enough, that hurt—even though it infuriated Hannah that it should do. She told herself she shouldn’t allow herself to be hurt by a man who had never intended their liaison to be anything other than a one-night stand—and it was certainly not a good idea to start imagining the other women who had sighed with pleasure in his arms. ‘Anyway, that’s beside the point...’ she said, determined not to allow a dangerous wistfulness to creep into their negotiations.
His black gaze lasered into her as her words tailed off. ‘Which is?’
‘I need to know what kind of involvement you’d like in the baby’s life. If any,’ she added quickly, because she certainly wasn’t going to force him into something he didn’t want to do. And you can’t force him, she remembered. He’s a king. ‘To know how we’re going to deal with this situation.’
He drifted his fingertip around the rim of his crystal glass before lifting his gaze to hers and his face had assumed an almost cruel expression. ‘And what would you like to happen, Hannah?’ he questioned softly. ‘For me to marry you in a glittering ceremony and make you my Queen—is that your secret dream?’
Hannah didn’t react in the way she wanted to. In the way her seething hormones were urging her to. Years of keeping the peace were finally paying dividends so that she was able to produce a calm look in response to his arrogant statement.
‘Are you making the assumption that I would say yes to such a proposal?’ she questioned coolly.
It gave her an inordinate amount of pleasure to see him looking momentarily wrong-footed. And confused.
‘You’re trying to tell me you would refuse such an offer?’ he demanded.
And suddenly all Hannah’s determination to keep calm dissolved beneath his arrogant sense of certainty. ‘Too right I would,’ she said fervently. ‘I don’t really know you and at this moment, I’m not sure whether I even like you. We both probably want completely different things, so why would I marry you? I’ve had enough experience to realise that unless two people share a common goal, then marriage can be an out-and-out disaster.’
Kulal grew very still because, uncannily, she was echoing his own thoughts on the subject. He stared across the table at her. Had she guessed about his childhood? Pieced together the deliberately vague facts which were the only ones on record and somehow made sense of them? Stored that knowledge away as a point-scoring weapon to use when the time was right?
He sucked oxygen deep into his lungs. No. His parents’ marriage had been a secret to the rest of the world because in those days, the press had not been at liberty to report on rumours and hearsay. And although Kulal was regarded as a modern monarch, he was grateful for those historic restrictions. Even his mother’s death had been hushed up in the only way which had been acceptable at the time and if you buried something deep enough, you could guarantee it would never see the light of day. He swallowed, wanting something to distract him from the bitter memories which were darkening his mind, and so he did what for him was unthinkable. He asked Hannah about her past.
‘Your parents weren’t happy?’
She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘And where are they now?’ he said. ‘Are they going to make a dramatic appearance, demanding I do the right thing by you?’
Did she recognise that his questions were a tactical move to focus attention on her, not him? Was that why a shadow crossed her face and why her curvy little body suddenly tensed?
‘I didn’t have any parents.’
‘You must have—’
‘Oh, there were two people who conceived me,’ she said, not appearing to care that she’d interrupted him. ‘But I didn’t know them. Or rather, I can’t remember them.’
This was the point at which Kulal would normally grow bored, and wary. He’d learnt to his cost that the more you allowed a woman to talk about herself, the more it gave a falsely inflated sense of her own importance. But he could see this was different. Hannah was not some lover who would soon be removed from his orbit as diplomatically as possible, once he had taken his fill of her. If he wanted any part of his child’s life, then she was going to be around for the long-haul.
His mouth hardened. How ironic that his future was to be inextricably linked to a woman he’d spent a single night with. A woman who could not have been more unsuitable for the task of bearing his heir. Yet their child would carry the genes of both their forebears, he reminded himself—so wasn’t it his duty to gather as much information as possible? His mouth hardened with new resolve. Because you never knew when such information might become useful.
He stared at her, aware that her defiant mask had slipped—showing a trace of vulnerability which had softened her face. And for some crazy reason, he was reminded of the night he’d spent with her, when her rosy lips had trembled whenever he had kissed her. When she’d shivered with ecstasy as he’d brought her to yet another breathtaking orgasm. When she’d curled up in his arms afterwards and clung to his neck like a little kitten. ‘So what happened with your parents?’ he questioned, aware that his voice had gentled. ‘Do you want to tell me?’
Actually, no. Hannah didn’t want that. Not at all. But the only thing worse than telling him would be not telling him. He seemed to want to keep their liaison and everything else a secret, but she wasn’t naïve enough to think they could do that for ever. If word got out that she had been the Sheikh’s lover, then wouldn’t people start prying into her background and rooting up all kinds of horrible stuff? She would come over as the victim she had tried so very hard not to be.
So take control of the facts and tell him yourself.
‘I was brought up in care,’ she said slowly. ‘With my sister.’
‘Care?’ he questioned blankly.
‘It’s when your parents can’t look after you—or if they don’t want to.’
‘And which category did yours fall into?’
Hannah shrugged. ‘I don’t really know a lot about them. Only what I was told when I was old enough to understand. My mother was kicked out by her parents when she was seventeen.’ There was a pause before she said it, because she didn’t want to say it. If she told him, would he freak out? Worry that his baby was going to inherit some disturbing traits, like addiction? But if he freaked out, then so be it. She couldn’t change facts and she mustn’t start being afraid of how Kulal might choose to interpret them, just because he was in a position of power. ‘She developed a drug habit.’
‘Your mother was a junkie?’ he exclaimed in horror.
Hannah’s lips tightened. It was funny how you could still be loyal to someone who hadn’t wanted you. Someone who had broken every rule in the parental handbook. ‘She didn’t inject,’ she said defensively, as if that made everything all right, and she found herself wondering if children were conditioned never to give up hope that one day their parents would love them and cherish them. Her hand moved instinctively to lie on her belly and she saw Kulal watching her closely. ‘But she took pretty much everything else which was on offer. My father was a rich student from New York, who enjoyed the same kind of...pastimes. The pregnancy wasn’t planned—obviously.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘Apparently, my mother wanted to get married. But then his parents arrived from America, scooped him up and put him into rehab and gave my mother a very large cheque, making it clear that, if she cashed it, they never wanted to see her again.’
‘And?’ he said, into the silence which followed.
‘That’s exactly what she did. She took the money and ran.’
‘So was that a satisfactory outcome?’ he questioned softly.
Hannah shrugged. ‘Satisfactory for her, I guess—until she ran out of cash. She started renting an apartment which was way too expensive for someone with limited funds and no employment. But in the circles she mixed in, she was suddenly seen as something of a catch—for as long as the money lasted. And that’s when she got pregnant with my sister.’
‘No, that’s not what I mean at all,’ she said, giving a hollow laugh. ‘My sister and I don’t share the same father.’
Thoughtfully, he nodded. ‘I see. So you’re not full sisters, just half-sisters?’
His words were like punches and Hannah recoiled from them. ‘Not just anything,’ she contradicted, her hand slapping against a heart which was racing like a train. ‘Tamsyn and I are as close as any two sisters could be and I would do anything for her, do you understand? Anything.’
Again, he nodded. ‘Tell me what happened to you both.’
Had he used the word both to mollify her—a silent admission that he had underestimated her loyalty to her sister? Hannah didn’t know, but she found herself wanting to continue with her story. Was that because she never talked about it? Why would she? Yet she was finding it cathartic to let it all out for once, to tell the father of her child all about her chequered background.
‘The local council stepped in and put us in a home and tried to get us fostered out as quickly as possible.’ She saw another look of non-comprehension cloud his ebony eyes and it occurred to Hannah that, for all his power and position, Kulal was ignorant about some things. Well, of course he was, she thought. He’d been protected for all his privileged life, hadn’t he? He wasn’t like her. Thrown to the wolves and left to fend for herself... ‘They try to find you a family, who can then foster or adopt you,’ she explained.
‘Is that what happened to you?’
Hannah shrugged as she reached for her glass and took another sip of the sweet-sharp cordial. Yes, a foster home had been found for her and Tamsyn. All the boxes on the form had been ticked by the social worker in charge of the case and everyone had been satisfied that two neglected little girls had a stable home to go to at last. But it hadn’t felt like that. How could she explain to a man like Kulal that something which appeared normal on the outside could be anything but normal when you were inside, living it?
‘We had a roof over our heads and beds to sleep in,’ she said.
Kulal’s eyes narrowed. ‘You weren’t happy?’
She hesitated. ‘Happiness is overrated, don’t you think?’ she said brightly. ‘We waste so much time chasing it and, in my experience, it never lasts. My foster father spent most of his money gambling, or wining and dining whichever woman he happened to be seducing at the time.’
His big body suddenly grew tense and his eyes became so dark it was as if someone had suddenly snuffed out all the light which normally gleamed in their ebony depths. ‘I think many people have experience of fathers who like sexual variety,’ he ground out.
Hannah blinked. Was he saying something like that had happened to him? ‘You mean your—?’
‘This is your story,’ he said roughly. ‘Not mine.’
She nodded. ‘My foster mother was the kind of woman who just pretended nothing was wrong, even though there was barely enough money for food sometimes. She liked to put on a bit of a show in front of all the neighbours. I was forced to resort to unsavoury methods of making sure Tamsyn and I got fed. Skips containing food thrown out by the supermarkets was my favourite.’
He recoiled in horror. ‘So why didn’t you tell someone in authority? Ask to be sent to a different home?’
‘Because Tamsyn was mixed up and difficult!’ she burst out, as all the feelings she’d been bottling up for weeks could no longer be contained. ‘She’d had a terrible start in life—far worse than mine—and she acted out on it. Not many people could have coped with her and I knew that if I complained, we would be split up.’ She pushed back her chair so that it scraped against the marble floor and rose shakily to her feet. ‘And I couldn’t bear for us to be split up!’
He rose as soon as she did—moving towards her with his bronze robes shimmering as he gestured towards the chair she had just vacated. ‘Please sit down, Hannah. I didn’t mean to disturb you with my questions.’
‘I don’t want to sit down! I want...’ Her words faded away and suddenly it was all too much. She had told him far too much. Hannah walked over to the window, blinking back the unwanted tears which had sprung to her eyes as she looked out at the turreted skyline.
‘I think I know what you want, Hannah.’
She blinked away the blur of tears as his voice grew closer. She could hear the richly accented inflection which reminded her so vividly of the night she’d spent with him. That unforgettable night, when he’d whispered things in a language she hadn’t understood but that hadn’t seemed to matter at the time. Because Kulal had made her feel like a woman for the first time in her life. He had taken her in his arms and given her the gift of sexual pleasure. Was that why her skin was automatically reacting to the soft caress of his words, even now? Why the tips of her breasts were growing heavy and she found herself longing for him to cup them again, to circle his thumbs over their nail-hard tips and then to take them in his mouth?
With an effort, she reminded herself it was no good getting aroused at a time like this. Or sentimental. She needed to fight the sudden rush of longing which was welling up inside her. But deep down, she was praying he would pull her into his arms and comfort her. Smooth her head as you would a frightened child. Tell her that everything was going to be all right and he would do everything within his power to make that happen.
But he didn’t. He just continued speaking in that same measured tone and Hannah didn’t dare turn to face him because she didn’t trust her own reaction.
‘Do you?’ she said woodenly.
‘Indeed I do. A solution which could work well for everyone.’
‘A solution?’ she questioned doubtfully, but her question was definitely tinged with hope as she turned to face him.
‘Something which would minimise the damage of this unexpected event.’
Minimise the damage. Those were not the words of someone intent on soothing a troubled heart. Those were fighting words—Hannah instinctively recognised that. Ironing every trace of emotion from her voice, she stared into his ebony eyes. ‘What exactly did you have in mind, Kulal?’
Unusually, Kulal hesitated before saying his next words, aware of their impact and their power. But what other solution could they reach, in the circumstances? He hadn’t wanted to be a father but, since the decision had now been forced upon him, he needed to take control. To do the right thing—as he had spent his whole life doing. The only thing. He met the blinking scrutiny of her gaze with a renewed feeling of resolve. ‘You say that your own mother was given a cheque in order to make her life easier and that she squandered that sum by living beyond her means.’
‘That’s right,’ she agreed steadily. ‘I did.’
‘What if I were to go one step further?’ he mused. ‘What if I were to guarantee you the kind of sum which would mean you wouldn’t “run out” of cash ever again?’
‘You’re talking about a lot of money,’ she said carefully.
‘I am,’ he agreed, with equal care.
‘And what would I have to do in return for such a sum?’ she questioned, her voice trembling a little now.
‘I think we both know the answer to that, Hannah,’ he said, almost gently. ‘You do the only sensible thing. Give me the child to be brought up as my heir.’
‘G-give you the child?’ she echoed.
He nodded. ‘In the absence of any other heir, this child could inherit all that I own—my lands, my crown and my kingdom. Let your baby go and I promise to do everything in my power to provide everything he or she needs. They will grow up as a Zahristan royal with all the luxury that entails, not someone who is constantly being dragged between two cultures.’ He paused and suddenly his face changed, became a harsh, stark study in light and shade. ‘Between two people who are little more than strangers to one another.’
Hannah felt grateful for the anger which had started
to flood through her like a tidal wave, obliterating the trembling emotions which his callous words had provoked. Because anger made you strong. It didn’t weaken or debilitate you in the way that pain or fear or desire did. Perhaps if she had been bigger she might have flown at him and slapped her palm against his arrogant face and hit him over and over again. But her blows would be ineffectual, and to attack him physically would be to humiliate herself.
Instead, she drew on all her reserves of inner strength as her well-honed survival mode kicked in, just as it had done so many times before. And suddenly it was easy to look at those cruel lips without remembering what it was like to kiss them. And even easier to find the right note of contempt in her voice as she stared into the fathomless gleam of his black eyes.
‘I’m not going to dignify your insulting offer with an answer. I’m going back to England, where I will continue working and raising my child on my own as so many other women do. And you can go to hell, Kulal,’ she added bitterly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘HE DIDN’T SAY THAT? Come off it, Hannah—you’re exaggerating!’
Hannah shook her head as she stared into her sister’s emerald eyes. ‘I wish I was, but that’s the truth,’ she said tiredly.
‘He offered to buy your baby?’
‘He didn’t phrase it quite as brutally as that, but that’s what it came down to, yes.’ Hannah moved her shoulders restlessly. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you.’
‘Too right you should have told me,’ said Tamsyn fiercely. ‘I feel like going to the papers and exposing him for the man he really is. It’s outrageous. It’s barbaric! It’s—’
‘And if you ever do that,’ interrupted Hannah quietly, ‘in fact, if you ever discuss this with anyone without my permission—I will never speak to you again.’
Crowned for the Sheikh's Baby Page 8
