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She found herself trained in the spotlight of his dark eyes as he watched her, like a hunter silently following the progress of its quarry.
‘Drink?’ he questioned.
‘Just … some water would be fine.’
He led her into an incongruously modern kitchen of steel and granite and poured her a glass of ice water which she drank standing up, still in her wedding dress. She noticed that he didn’t drink anything himself, and when she’d put her empty glass down, it was to find him still watching her.
‘I want you in my bed,’ he said simply.
She held her breath for a long moment before she expelled it. ‘Then take me there.’
She could sense the growing tension in his body as he led her through a maze of corridors straight into the biggest bedroom she had ever seen, where vases of crimson roses stood on every available surface, their powerful perfume scenting the air. Tall windows overlooked a perfect vista of Paris, where the Seine was glittering in the afternoon sunlight, and beyond that she could see the arching fretwork of the Eiffel Tower.
‘As you see,’ he said. ‘I have made every preparation for our honeymoon. I have even arranged for the sun to shine.’
Rosa glanced around the room, thinking that it looked gorgeous, but slightly unreal—as if a magazine shoot was about to take place. A vast four-poster bed played host to banks of pillows and shiny cushions and a bottle of champagne stood in an ice bucket on a small table nearby. And now there was nothing to stop them. No curious air crew or officials or intrusive cameras hovering nearby. Now she could give herself up to what she had been aching to experience for so long. She was going to start living the way other people lived, and for the first time in her life she was going to have sex.
She saw that he was staring at her and the pounding in her heart increased.
‘Do you know, I have never seen a woman look more beautiful,’ he said, swallowing down an inexplicable lump in his throat and finding himself surprised by his reaction. Was that because she had resisted him? Because she had not let him have her on the plane? He had never waited so long to have sex with a woman and the postponement of pleasure was making him ache. With a commanding finger, he beckoned to her. ‘Come here.’
The look in his eyes was so irresistible and the yearning inside her so strong that Rosa went straight into his arms.
‘I think it’s time that I undressed you,’ he said unsteadily. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she answered, with shy assent.
First he removed the ruby-and-diamond tiara and put it down on a nearby table and then he unclipped her veil with dextrous fingers and let it slither to the ground.
She closed her eyes as he lowered his head to kiss her and she honestly thought she might pass out with the sheer pleasure of that kiss. She was aware of the powerful scent of the roses and the way his hands were moving over her body, caressing her curves as if he was determined to explore every inch of her. She scarcely noticed him sliding down the long zip of her dress until it had pooled in a circle of lace around her ankles and she was left standing in nothing but her underwear. The cool air rushed onto her skin as he dragged his mouth away to study her and she should have felt nervous, but the expression in his gaze was making her feel anything but nervous. This felt right, she thought exultantly. Like what she had been created for.
‘You look …’ But Kulal’s voice trailed off because, once again, the sight of her had taken his breath away. Her breasts were spilling out of a low-cut white bra and the matching high-cut panties were digging slightly into the soft curve of her hips. He’d never seen a woman who looked so fleshy before and it took a moment before he could compose himself enough to speak again. ‘Exquisite,’ he finished raggedly. ‘The most beautiful thing I have ever seen.’
Rosa reached her hand up to touch his face, his words filling her with confidence as she reminded herself of the woman he had been attracted to—the one who had danced so provocatively on that podium. She had not been shy. So she began to tug at the white silken headdress as if undressing a man was something she did every day of the week. ‘Why are you wearing this?’ she asked as she removed the whole contraption, including the woven golden headband. ‘I’ve only ever seen you in a suit before.’
He took the headdress from her and threw it on top of the tiara. ‘Because usually I prefer to blend in. I find that people are much more accommodating when they think you’re just like them.’
‘But you’re not?’
He laughed. ‘Of course I’m not. I am like few other men—for how can I be? I was born in a palace and reared as a son of the desert. People always see me as a playboy and I can act that role to perfection. But in my heart I am a sheikh.’ There was a pause as he looked at her. ‘And for once I wanted to look like one.’
