‘Even though it could have been anyone? Tell me, Caitlin, do you often arrange to meet up with strangers in hotel rooms?’ His eyes narrowed with a sudden dark flare of contempt. ‘Although I suppose you do have some kind of track record for that, don’t you?’
Her pale cheeks flushed. ‘I could say the same of you,’ she returned. ‘But this was no romantic rendezvous. This was supposed to be a business meeting and perfectly legitimate. It was arranged for me by an employment agency and I take every opportunity I can to find work because I happen to need the money.’ She glared. ‘Now that might be something which is so far off your own radar that you can’t understand what it feels like, but I can assure you—it certainly isn’t a crime.’
‘No,’ he gritted out, his voice growing harsh, and suddenly Kadir knew he couldn’t play this game any longer—no matter how tempted he was to see how far she would go to conceal the truth from him. To count how many lies she told him before he wheedled it out of her at last. ‘The crime is that you became pregnant with my child and didn’t bother to tell me. That you bore my son four years ago without my knowledge—and I have missed out on every precious moment of his life ever since. That is quite some crime, Caitlin.’
Caitlin’s heart was crashing so hard that it felt as if it might burst from her chest, but she forced herself to focus on the facts rather than the pain which was coursing through her. He did know! Of course he knew. Why else would he be here? He certainly hadn’t thought twice about her since the night he’d seduced her with all that abundant charm, and crept out some time during the night while she’d been sleeping, without even bothering to say goodbye. She remembered waking up feeling dreamy
and half in love until it had dawned on her that there was no sign of the man to whom she had given herself so wholeheartedly, other than the traces of his seed which had already dried on the bedsheets. It hadn’t been until later, when she’d discovered she was carrying his baby, that she’d realised just why he’d been so eager to leave so surreptitiously.
Anger coursed through her in a bitter wave.
And that was what she needed to hang on to. The memory of his betrayal—and her own stupidity. The realisation that she had allowed history to repeat itself—and had allowed herself to be treated like a fool. But she also knew the bitter consequences which could befall women who buckled under the strain of a situation like this and she wasn’t going to let that happen. Not to her and not to her son. She couldn’t allow this powerful sheikh to just swan in and take control of her life, with that arrogant look of condemnation hardening his sculpted features every time he looked at her. She didn’t need his approval. She needed to be strong. For Cameron’s sake as much as her own.
Because hot on her anger came an even more debilitating wave of fear. A dark flicker of dread as she started worrying about what he was going to do about his discovery. And, more importantly, what he was capable of doing. About the worrying consequences of having kept this secret for so long. Because nobody else knew that the Sheikh of Xulhabi was the father of her son.
‘I did try to contact you, Kadir. As soon as I knew I was carrying your baby, I attempted to track you down. At first I couldn’t quite believe it when I discovered your true identity, but once I had got my head around it—I still continued with my search.’ She shook her head and could feel the heavy sway of hair as it brushed against her neck. ‘And believe me, it isn’t easy for an unknown commoner to try to make contact with a powerful ruler of a foreign country. There are mechanisms in place to thwart you every step of the way.’
‘But you didn’t make contact with me, did you, Caitlin?’ he accused. ‘There were aides and ambassadors with whom you could have left a message, but no such message was received.’
‘No. Because during my search I discovered what you had failed to tell me.’ Briefly, Caitlin closed her eyes and when she opened them again she prayed that her face showed no traces of the terrible despair she had felt at the time. ‘You had no r-right to sleep with me that night,’ she continued, in a voice which wouldn’t seem to stop trembling. ‘Oh, I’m not just talking about the fact you didn’t mention you were a royal sheikh and made out you were a commoner, because maybe that was some game you liked to play and you used to get off on it. Maybe it turned you on to deceive women in such a way.’
‘You talk to me of deception?’ he demanded witheringly.
‘No. I’m talking about something else. Something much worse.’ She sucked in a breath and it scorched at her throat like a blowtorch, her words taking her back to a place she rarely allowed herself to visit because it was still painful. Too painful to bear. The discovery of his deception had carried an even greater significance for Caitlin, for it had been like a dark echo from her own past. A reminder of just how easily men could cheat on women. She remembered the sense of foolishness and regret which had washed through her veins in a putrid flow—along with the realisation that, for all the blame she used to fling at her own mother, maybe she really wasn’t that different after all. She had certainly been hoodwinked in exactly the same way.
‘Because you were a married man, weren’t you?’ she accused, and now her voice was shaking with shame and anger and guilt. ‘You had a wife back home at your palace in Xulhabi, but you didn’t bother mentioning that on the night you spent with me, did you, Kadir Al Marara? Tell me, how many times did you break your marriage vows by having sex with other women?’
CHAPTER TWO
KADIR STARED AT the woman whose bitter words had just come hurtling through the air towards him like a swarm of bees, but they did not sting his flesh or cause him to flinch. Because any remorse he might have felt was diluted by the nature of her accusation and his mouth tightened with anger. She might have fared better if she had stuck to the facts. Why hadn’t she just taken her share of the blame? Admitted that they had both been carried along on a wave of passion—their bodies taken over by a chemistry so powerful that it had been irresistible, even though he had done his damnedest and tried.
But instead she had played the guilt card and turned him into a stereotype of a man. The dark and brooding sheikh, like a character from one of those flickering black-and-white films he had once seen. And being categorised in such a way had happened much too often in the past for it not to have touched a raw nerve. How many times? she had asked him—and the answer to that question was just once, with her. But he would not give her the pleasure of knowing that—because might that not lead her to believe she meant something special to him?
‘You begged me to have sex with you. Begged me,’ he reiterated cruelly, and so great was his fury that he actually found himself enjoying her embarrassed flush of recognition. ‘You know you did. Would you like me to remind you of the words you used, Caitlin?’
‘No! I don’t... I don’t want to talk about that night.’
He stared her down. ‘Well, maybe I do. Maybe I want to relive it minute by minute.’
Her face had drained of colour and quickly she stared down at her freckled fingers, which were knotted together as if she were praying for divine intervention, before slowly lifting her gaze to his. And for a second, Kadir found himself lost in the sky-washed hue of those pale, Scottish eyes. How had he forgotten their quiet blue beauty? The way they seemed able to look deep inside you, as if they could see into your troubled soul and offer it some kind of temporary solace. He had forgotten because he’d had no choice—because the possibility of how good she had made him feel had been incompatible with his life and his world. And he needed to forget it now.
Which was why he continued to stare at her, without saying a word. Silence was a tactic which had always worked well for him in the past. If you allowed it to grow for long enough, the other person would always break it first. Because people didn’t like silence. They were frightened of it. They didn’t like listening to the noisy clatter of their own thoughts.
‘Just tell me,’ she burst out at last. ‘Tell me why you’re here.’
Now it was Kadir’s turn to pause. What did he want? To rewind the clock, perhaps? To have carried on walking around the sweeping Scottish estate he’d been considering buying and not been distracted by her bright hair or the curve of her hips, or the darkening of her extraordinary eyes when she had turned around to look at him? Would he prefer not to have participated in the passionate night which had followed, even though his actions had afterwards appalled him? No. He did not want that, even if such a thing were possible—for how could he wish his son never to have been born?
‘Why do you think I’m here?’ he demanded. ‘Because I want to see him. I want to see my son.’
She flinched, as if he had asked her for something impossible. He could see the moment of indecision which froze her slender frame, like a deer in the forest which had just discovered itself in the presence of the hunter. And then gradually, life seemed to flow back into her body and she shook her head a little, like somebody who had just awoken from a bad nightmare.
‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘I suppose you do.’ She reached down towards a green leather satchel the colour of a wine bottle, which she lifted with trembling fingers from the chair on which she must have placed it. Silently, Kadir watched as she withdrew a rather battered wallet and flicked behind a bank card, before drawing out a photo, which she handed to him. ‘Here. Take this.’
He didn’t look at it immediately. Just continued to fix his gaze on her. ‘You think I will be satisfied with a picture?’ he demanded witheringly.
‘Won’t it do for the time being, at least?’
Unable to hold back for a second longer, he swiped it from her fingers, taking great care not to make contact with her skin—as if he could not trust himself to touch her. And then he willed himself to stay strong and not give in to the sudden sense of despair which washed over him as he steeled himself to examine the first picture of his son. The aide who had discovered his existence had offered to get photographic evidence, but Kadir had stopped him because he had a deep loathing of the paparazzi and was loath to replicate their predatory behaviour. Information about the child’s age and appearance had indicated that he was indeed the father, but it was instinct which made him certain and these days he trusted his instincts far more than he would looking at some snatched photo, taken from behind a tree.