The Scandalous Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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