On another occasion she might have admired the tasteful decor, the watered silk wall coverings, the richly hued rugs underfoot, but right now all she could digest was the shocking heat of that touch and the debilitating effect it was having on her ability to walk.
‘Sit,’ he said, pushing her onto a sofa.
Hardly necessary. Her knees buckled of their own accord.
Khaled snatched up the remote control for a TV standing in the corner of the room. He scrolled through channels until images from a security camera appeared on the screen. The footage showed the exterior of the house, the balcony outside this bedroom, the ivy-clad wall below.
He perched on the desk. Lily tried not to stare at the extra inches of muscular thigh revealed as the towel rode higher.
‘So, let’s clarify. You claim you are here as a long-time supporter of a charity which was only launched this evening. I find you lurking in my private rooms—which, you maintain, you entered by accident.’
Above the fireplace hung an eighteenth-century hunting canvas. Riders, horses, and a pack of baying hounds streamed across the foreground, whilst in the distance a fox ran for its life.
Empathising with that harried speck of orange, Lily said, ‘Yes, of course. I’ve already explained. I was lost.’
His mouth tightened at her response.
‘Then kindly explain this.’ He punched a button on the remote.
On screen, the figure of a woman appeared, creeping along the base of the wall. She peered up at the balcony whilst she slipped off her sandals and snagged their straps between her teeth. A clutch bag was tucked down the front of her dress and then—Lily squirmed at this—she hitched up her hem and tucked it up into the legs of her knickers. The woman grasped the ivy and began to climb.
Khaled snorted in disapproval and Lily looked away. She knew what came next.
Halfway up, the climber lost her footing, and as she swung about, fighting to regain her grip, the shoes slipped from her teeth to fall into the rose bed below.
Lily curled her bare toes out of view.
Eventually the woman reached the balcony, heaving herself over, only to scrabble for the bag as it tumbled from her cleavage, joining the missing shoes. Worst of all, the hem of the dress had worked loose, got caught on the railing and hitched higher, revealing, in mortifying detail, an expanse of lace-clad bottom.
Lily slid her fingers across the tell-tale tear in the hem of her dress. She could do nothing about the burning heat of her face.
‘She’s very enterprising,’ she said. ‘Is she a groupie or something?’
Khaled stared at her. ‘You’re actually going to pretend that isn’t you?’
She doubted crying or throwing herself on this man’s mercy would help. All she had left was bluff.
‘You think I could make a climb like—?’
‘Enough!’
She jumped as the remote clattered onto the desk. ‘I’ve given you the chance to be honest with me, but it seems you’re determined to continue with this nonsense. I don’t have time for it. So here are your options. One, we call the police and allow them to get the bottom of this.’
Lily swallowed. ‘And option two?’
‘We take the more civilised route. I have business in the capital. You agree to come with me. Take some time to consider your position. Then, if you’re wise, you’ll answer my questions about your stepbrother.’
Right now, anything was better than being arrested.
‘I’ve missed the last train back, so a lift home would be good,’ she said. ‘I’ll go for the second option—though what more we have to discuss I can’t imagine.’
An odd, almost triumphant expression crossed his face. ‘Finally you show some sense.’
He called out to whoever was waiting on the landing beyond his suite.
A man entered. His black suit was finely tailored, but his solid frame and watchful eyes belonged to a much tougher existence. He was reassuring, or formidable, depending on how you looked at it—and a familiar face Lily realised.
‘Hello, Rais,’ she said to Khaled’s personal bodyguard. The same man who had protected the teenage Prince all those years ago.