MELANIE MILBURNE - Crowned For The Sheikh's Baby - Crowned for the Sheikh's Baby

She’s going to drop those if she isn’t careful, thought Hannah anxiously, just as the loud crash of crystal hitting marble tiles shattered the buzz of the party.

It was almost comic, the way everyone stared at the waitress scrabbling around amid the debris, as if she were an alien who’d just fallen from space. Quickly, Hannah put her glass down and went to help, crouching down and stilling the woman’s shaking fingers, terrified she was going to slice her hand open. The chatter resumed as Hannah took over the clear-up operation, becoming so engrossed in her task that it wasn’t until she’d dropped the final piece of crystal onto the tray that she suddenly became aware of someone standing over her.

Looking up, she met Kulal’s bemused expression and was still so caught up in what she was doing that she spoke to him almost absently. ‘Do you think you could get me a dustpan and brush from somewhere?’

‘A dustpan and what?’ he echoed incredulously.

She realised he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about and was wondering how to explain what it was—perhaps by some elaborate form of charade—when a waiter came over and started berating the waitress in a torrent of furious French.

‘Come,’ said Kulal firmly, pulling her to her feet. ‘I think you’ve done quite enough. Let them sort it out among themselves. Unless you’re planning to put on an apron and take over her job for the rest of the evening? Do you ever stop working, Hannah?’

In the darkness, Hannah blushed as she registered his sardonic tone. ‘I couldn’t just leave the poor girl to struggle by herself—and nobody else was bothering to help, were they?’

‘Not everybody here has your skill-set,’ he said drily.

She realised that his hand was at her elbow and he was leading her away from the curious eyes of the onlookers, towards the shadowed lawns which stretched out behind the swimming pool. It was peaceful here. And deserted, too. She could still hear the music, but it was just her and Kulal—who had a look on his face which was mid-way between irritation and amusement.

‘Are you enjoying the party?’ he questioned.

‘It was very kind of you to bring me.’

‘That wasn’t what I asked, Hannah.’

Awkwardly, she shrugged. ‘I’m glad I came.’

‘Oh?’

She hesitated, but something in the piercing gleam of his black eyes made her answer his question truthfully. ‘It made me realise that high-society parties aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.’

‘And why might that be?’

She hesitated only for a second. ‘Well, nobody really talks about anything very much, do they? All the men seemed so competitive and most of the women were all over you like a rash, which made me think that bringing me here wasn’t as effective as you’d hoped. Or maybe I’m cramping your style.’ She looked at him questioningly. ‘In which case, I could easily make myself scarce until you’re ready to go, if that’s what you want.’

Kulal felt a tug of admiration. He’d heard people around him exclaiming in horror when the little chambermaid had been crouching down, careless of the way her costly dress had been rucked up around her bare thighs, yet he had admired the way she had leapt to the defence of the hapless waitress. And now, instead of plying him with saccharine words of gratitude, she was echoing his very own sentiments about these kinds of occasions.

His eyes narrowed. People rarely told him what he needed to hear—only what they thought he wanted to hear, and the two were rarely the same. And suddenly the desire to feel her in his arms was overwhelming. Too overwhelming to resist—and why should he? What harm would it do? ‘Dance with me instead,’ he said.

Hannah blinked at him. ‘What, here?’

‘Right here.’

Perhaps if he’d insisted on taking her to the small dance floor in front of the band, where they would have been visible to the other partygoers, Hannah might have refused. But he didn’t. He just pulled her into his arms as if he danced on moonlit lawns every night of the week and every bit of apprehension drained from her body. Because what woman would have objected to being held by the Sheikh like this? Hadn’t this been one of the forbidden fantasies she’d tried not to have while she’d been working for him? Only she was discovering that sometimes reality exceeded the fantasy—exceeded it in a way which was outside her understanding.

Suddenly, the dance seemed irrelevant to what was happening inside her body. Her nipples had become rock-hard and she wondered if he could feel them pushing insistently against his dress shirt. And now there was a distracting ache, low in her belly, and she knew she needed to stop this before she did something she regretted—like whispering her lips along the darkened edge of his jaw and begging him to kiss her. Her cheeks were burning as she pulled away from him and she met the hectic glitter of his dark gaze.

‘I think I’d better go back now,’ she said huskily. ‘To the hotel, I mean.’

‘Oh?’ On the shadowed lawn, he raised a laconic eyebrow. ‘Why?’

You know why. Because you’re making me want things I have no right to want. Because I’m a virgin and you’re a man of the world and I’ve spent my whole life being cautious.

‘I’m tired,’ she said.

He must have known it was an excuse, but he didn’t query it. Maybe he realised that it was the right thing to do. Or the only thing to do. There was a brief silence before he nodded. ‘Okay. I could use an early night myself. Let’s go.’

And wasn’t human nature unpredictable? Because as soon as Kulal agreed to her request, Hannah began to regret her decision. Couldn’t she have danced with him a bit longer? Enjoyed what was happening without making such a big deal of it and bringing the evening to such an abrupt end?

The waiting helicopter whisked them back through the starry skies and her heart was racing as they crept through the hotel corridors. But they managed to slip into Kulal’s private elevator and make it back to the penthouse suite without being seen. The usual inscrutable bodyguards lined the corridor but Hannah had become so used to seeing them that she barely gave them a second glance. She came to a halt outside the door to her room and stared up into Kulal’s carved features, wondering if she ought to offer to turn down his bed for him before she retired for the night. Until she drew herself up short. Was she crazy ? Was she planning to tiptoe into his vast bedroom and leave a chocolate on the pillowcase?

‘Thank you very much for the evening, Your Royal Highness,’ she said formally as she pushed the door open. ‘I’ll put the dress, shoes and necklace into a bag and drop it off first thing and now I’ll say goodnight.’

The Sheikh didn’t appear to be listening; he was too busy looking over her shoulder into her room, his black eyes thoughtful. ‘It’s very small,’ he observed, his gaze skating over the narrow bed and functional furniture.

‘Of course it’s small,’ she said defensively. ‘I’m staff, remember?’

But Kulal wasn’t really thinking about her status right then. He wasn’t really thinking about anything other than the frustration which was heating his blood and refusing to be cooled by reason. He had been very turned on during that tantalisingly brief dance and, despite all his best intentions, had been contemplating brushing his fingertips over her luscious breasts when she’d pulled away and told him she wanted to go home. He remembered feeling startled because that had never happened before—not unless it was with the expectation that they would quickly adjourn to the nearest bedroom. But not with this little chambermaid. She was primly saying goodnight to him as though that was exactly what she wanted, even though the darkening of her aquamarine eyes left him in no doubt that their desire was mutual.