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His customary cool composure momentarily deserting him, he leaned across the table towards her. ‘Do you really think your brother will be amenable to you taking funds out of the country to support an illegitimate baby?’
Her face seemed to crumple at the word, and Gabe felt a brief twist of regret that he had spoken to her so harshly. But she needed to confront the truth—no matter how unpalatable she found it.
‘You have to face facts, Leila,’ he said. ‘And you’re not going to find this easy. At some point you’re going to have to tell your brother what’s happened.’ He saw the way her eyelids slid down to conceal the sudden brightness of her eyes, the thick lashes forming two ebony arcs which feathered against her skin. ‘Have you thought about what his reaction might be?’
‘I have thought of little else!’
‘So what are you planning to tell him?’
The lashes fluttered open and the look in her eyes was defiant, though the faint tremble of her lips less so. ‘Oh, I won’t mention your name, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
‘I am not frightened of your brother, Leila. And neither am I denying what happened—no matter how much I might now regret it.’ His mouth hardened. ‘I’m asking what you are intending to tell Murat.’
She didn’t answer for a moment and when she did, her voice was heavy. ‘I guess I’m going to have to tell him the truth.’
‘Or your unique version of the truth?’ he questioned wryly. ‘Won’t the Sultan think that his sister’s innocence has been compromised by a man with enough experience to have known better? It might suit your purpose—and his—to convince him that you were taken advantage of by an Englishman with something of a reputation where the opposite sex is concerned. Mightn’t it be more acceptable for him to think of you as a victim rather than a predator?’
‘I’m no victim, Gabe!’ she flared back. ‘And I’m no predator either, no matter how much it suits you to think that. I certainly didn’t plan to seduce you—I was a virgin, for heaven’s sake! I just...just gave into the “chemistry” you were talking about. And you certainly didn’t seem to be objecting at the time.’
‘No, you’re right. I didn’t put up much in the way of a fight.’ His face tightened—as if her words were taking him some place he didn’t want to go. ‘But your brother is going to wonder when and where this great love affair of ours took place.’
She flushed. ‘Obviously, he doesn’t know that I came to your hotel room.’
‘Actually, you came in my hotel room,’ he reminded her sardonically. ‘Don’t forget that part of the story, Leila—because it’s probably the best part of all.’
Her flush deepened as his words brought back memories of the way it had been that day. The way he had kissed her and told her she was beautiful. In those few brief and glorious moments, she’d thought she’d found her heart’s desire. For a short while she had felt as perfect as it was possible to feel.
But those feelings were in the past and they had been nothing but fantasy. All that was left was the brittle reality of the present—so why torture herself by remembering something which had been so fleeting?
‘That’s irrelevant,’ she said. ‘And I’m not scared of my brother.’ But then some of her bravado left her. Tiredly, she lifted up her hands and buried her face in them as the warm darkness enveloped her like a welcoming cloak.
‘Leila?’ His voice was suddenly soft. ‘Are you crying?’
‘No, I am not!’ she said fiercely, but she kept her face hidden all the same.
‘Then look at me,’ he commanded.
Rebellion flared inside her. She didn’t want to look at him because, although there were no tears, she was afraid of what he might be able to read in her eyes. She didn’t want to expose her sense of deflation and defeat. The liberated woman she’d yearned to be seemed to have slipped away into the shadows and was nowhere to be seen. And she had no one to blame but herself. She had gone to a known playboy’s bedroom and let him kiss her. Why had she thought that having sex with a total stranger was somehow empowering?
‘I have a solution,’ he said.
His words broke into her thoughts. She lowered her hands but her head remained bent—as if she had found something uniquely fascinating to look at on the dark denim of her jeans. ‘You have a magic wand with the power to turn back time, do you?’
