Modern Romance July 2018 Books 1-4 Collection. Sharon Kendrick

      ‘Are you making the assumption that I would say yes to such a proposal?’ she questioned coolly.

      It gave her an inordinate amount of pleasure to see him looking momentarily wrong-footed. And confused.

      ‘You’re trying to tell me you would refuse such an offer?’ he demanded.

      And suddenly all Hannah’s determination to keep calm dissolved beneath his arrogant sense of certainty. ‘Too right I would,’ she said fervently. ‘I don’t really know you and at this moment, I’m not sure whether I even like you. We both probably want completely different things, so why would I marry you? I’ve had enough experience to realise that unless two people share a common goal, then marriage can be an out-and-out disaster.’

      Kulal grew very still because, uncannily, she was echoing his own thoughts on the subject. He stared across the table at her. Had she guessed about his childhood? Pieced together the deliberately vague facts which were the only ones on record and somehow made sense of them? Stored that knowledge away as a point-scoring weapon to use when the time was right?

      He sucked oxygen deep into his lungs. No. His parents’ marriage had been a secret to the rest of the world because in those days, the press had not been at liberty to report on rumours and hearsay. And although Kulal was regarded as a modern monarch, he was grateful for those historic restrictions. Even his mother’s death had been hushed up in the only way which had been acceptable at the time and if you buried something deep enough, you could guarantee it would never see the light of day. He swallowed, wanting something to distract him from the bitter memories which were darkening his mind, and so he did what for him was unthinkable. He asked Hannah about her past.

      ‘Your parents weren’t happy?’

      She shook her head. ‘No.’

      ‘And where are they now?’ he said. ‘Are they going to make a dramatic appearance, demanding I do the right thing by you?’

      Did she recognise that his questions were a tactical move to focus attention on her, not him? Was that why a shadow crossed her face and why her curvy little body suddenly tensed?

      ‘I didn’t have any parents.’

      ‘You must have—’

      ‘Oh, there were two people who conceived me,’ she said, not appearing to care that she’d interrupted him. ‘But I didn’t know them. Or rather, I can’t remember them.’

      This was the point at which Kulal would normally grow bored, and wary. He’d learnt to his cost that the more you allowed a woman to talk about herself, the more it gave a falsely inflated sense of her own importance. But he could see this was different. Hannah was not some lover who would soon be removed from his orbit as diplomatically as possible, once he had taken his fill of her. If he wanted any part of his child’s life, then she was going to be around for the long-haul.

      His mouth hardened. How ironic that his future was to be inextricably linked to a woman he’d spent a single night with. A woman who could not have been more unsuitable for the task of bearing his heir. Yet their child would carry the genes of both their forebears, he reminded himself—so wasn’t it his duty to gather as much information as possible? His mouth hardened with new resolve. Because you never knew when such information might become useful.

      He stared at her, aware that her defiant mask had slipped—showing a trace of vulnerability which had softened her face. And for some crazy reason, he was reminded of the night he’d spent with her, when her rosy lips had trembled whenever he had kissed her. When she’d shivered with ecstasy as he’d brought her to yet another breathtaking orgasm. When she’d curled up in his arms afterwards and clung to his neck like a little kitten. ‘So what happened with your parents?’ he questioned, aware that his voice had gentled. ‘Do you want to tell me?’

      Actually, no. Hannah didn’t want that. Not at all. But the only thing worse than telling him would be not telling him. He seemed to want to keep their liaison and everything else a secret, but she wasn’t naïve enough to think they could do that for ever. If word got out that she had been the Sheikh’s lover, then wouldn’t people start prying into her background and rooting up all kinds of horrible stuff? She would come over as the victim she had tried so very hard not to be.

      So take control of the facts and tell him yourself.

      ‘I was brought up in care,’ she said slowly. ‘With my sister.’

      ‘Care?’ he questioned blankly.

      ‘It’s when your parents can’t look after you—or if they don’t want to.’

      ‘And which category did yours fall into?’

      Hannah shrugged. ‘I don’t really know a lot about them. Only what I was told when I was old enough to understand. My mother was kicked out by her parents when she was seventeen.’ There was a pause before she said it, because she didn’t want to say it. If she told him, would he freak out? Worry that his baby was going to inherit some disturbing traits, like addiction? But if he freaked out, then so be it. She couldn’t change facts and she mustn’t start being afraid of how Kulal might choose to interpret them, just because he was in a position of power. ‘She developed a drug habit.’

      ‘Your mother was a junkie?’ he exclaimed in horror.

      Hannah’s lips tightened. It was funny how you could still be loyal to someone who hadn’t wanted you. Someone who had broken every rule in the parental handbook. ‘She didn’t inject,’ she said defensively, as if that made everything all right, and she found herself wondering if children were conditioned never to give up hope that one day their parents would love them and cherish them. Her hand moved instinctively to lie on her belly and she saw Kulal watching her closely. ‘But she took pretty much everything else which was on offer. My father was a rich student from New York, who enjoyed the same kind of...pastimes. The pregnancy wasn’t planned—obviously.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘Apparently, my mother wanted to get married. But then his parents arrived from America, scooped him up and put him into rehab and gave my mother a very large cheque, making it clear that, if she cashed it, they never wanted to see her again.’

      ‘And?’ he said, into the silence which followed.

      ‘That’s exactly what she did. She took the money and ran.’

      ‘So was that a satisfactory outcome?’ he questioned softly.

      Hannah shrugged. ‘Satisfactory for her, I guess—until she ran out of cash. She started renting an apartment which was way too expensive for someone with limited funds and no employment. But in the circles she mixed in, she was suddenly seen as something of a catch—for as long as the money lasted. And that’s when she got pregnant with my sister.’

      ‘You mean, your father came back from America?’

      ‘No, that’s not what I mean at all,’ she said, giving a hollow laugh. ‘My sister and I don’t share the same father.’

      Thoughtfully, he nodded. ‘I see. So you’re not full sisters, just half-sisters?’

      His words were like punches and Hannah recoiled from them. ‘Not just anything,’ she contradicted, her hand slapping against a heart which was racing like a train. ‘Tamsyn and I are as close as any two sisters could be and I would do anything for her, do you understand? Anything.’

      Again, he nodded. ‘Tell me what happened to you both.’

      Had he used the word both to mollify her—a silent admission that he had underestimated her loyalty to her sister? Hannah didn’t know, but she found herself wanting to continue with her story. Was that because she never talked about it? Why would she? Yet she was finding it cathartic to let it all out for once, to tell the father of her child all about her chequered background.

      ‘The local council stepped in and put us in a home and tried to get us fostered out as quickly as possible.’ She saw another look of non-comprehension cloud his ebony eyes and it occurred