him to know that strong head winds meant that their flight would be delayed by fifteen minutes or so.
An icy cold revulsion every bit as all-consuming as his desire had been earlier gripped him. How could he have behaved as he had?
‘You’d better get dressed,’ he told Sophia without looking at her as he started to move away from her. They dressed in silence before moving out into the cabin.
What on earth had possessed her? Sophia felt sick with shock and disbelief, unable to say a word.
Eventually the captain announced that they were coming in to land. Ash hadn’t spoken to her once since they had left the bedroom, and Sophia hadn’t wanted him to. She was still in shock and bitterly angry with herself for her own behaviour.
His curt warning, ‘Seat belt,’ broke the silence between them, and had her fumbling with the straps, the colour crawling up under her skin as she caught the look that the hovering steward was giving her. He might not have seen her naked body thanks to Ash’s prompt action but he knew exactly what had been happening; his look told her that.
In the past when men had given her that lustful knowing look she had been protected from it by the truth that only she knew—namely that no man had ever touched her intimately or shared her bed—but now thanks to her own betrayal of herself she had no defence against it. And there was no one to protect her from the pride-savaging pain of that. No one. For the rest of her life now she would know and remember how she had let herself down by succumbing to a … a need she had believed she had conquered years ago, Sophia acknowledged as the plane came in to land.
It would be a long flight to London, and she hoped that she wouldn’t have to wait too long at the airport before beginning it.
She looked at her watch. At home people would be waking up, and her maid would be discovering that her room was empty and that her bed hadn’t been slept in. Her stomach churned, but now more than ever she knew that she could not marry the Spanish prince her father had chosen for her.
Ash was unfastening his seat belt and standing. Automatically Sophia did the same.
‘My case …’ she began when Ash headed towards the door that the steward was just beginning to open for them.
‘Leave it,’ Ash told her curtly as he indicated that she was to precede him to the now-open door. ‘The steward will attend to it.’
‘But I want to get on the first flight I can …’ Sophia began, only to come to an abrupt halt, her face paling as she looked out of the door of the plane and saw the camera crews and photographers jostling for position at the bottom of the steps. Paparazzi.
Obviously irritated by the fact that she wasn’t moving Ash came up behind her and then stopped himself, cursing under his breath as he saw the press waiting for them below.
‘I suppose this was your idea. Run away in secret and then let the world know what you’ve done,’ he told her angrily.
‘No. It’s got nothing to do with me,’ Sophia defended herself, but she could see from the look Ash was giving her that he didn’t believe her.
There no escape for them, Ash recognised. To retreat back into the plane now would only increase the gathered press’s hunger for their photographs. They had no option other than to try to outface them.
‘Come on.’ He took a firm hold of her arm.
No matter how much she might long to persuade herself that Ash’s hold on her arm was protective it just wasn’t possible, Sophia acknowledged miserably. Not after she had seen the anger in his eyes.
As they neared the bottom of the steps the waiting reporters started firing a barrage of far-too-intimate questions at them, demanding, ‘Is it true that the two of you are an item and that you’ve left a fiancé behind on Santina?’
‘Have you any comment to make on the fact that you’ve spent the night together?’
‘Does King Eduardo know that the two of you are together?’
‘Are you together, or is the princess going to go back to her fiancé?’
‘Did you enjoy your in-flight entertainment, Your Highness?’
The last comment given with a knowing leer as a camera was lifted to catch her expression was too much for Sophia’s control. She turned towards Ash, instinctively seeking his protection as she clung to his arm and turned her face into his chest.
‘Thanks, darling,’ the photographer called out. ‘Great shot.’
‘So I was right. You did engineer this,’ Ash accused Sophia in a savage undertone. ‘Have you no sense of dignity or shame? What do you think it’s going to do to your own reputation, never mind your father’s and your fiancé’s, when this … this circus of predators splash their photographs all over the world? Or don’t you care?’
‘I didn’t do anything.’ Sophia tried to defend herself, her voice catching on a small hiccup of misery. She was trembling as much with the hurt of Ash not believing her as with the anxiety caused by the unexpected and unwanted presence of the press. She was, of course, used to being besieged by the press; she was even used to them asking her very intimate questions about her personal life and the men she dated, but then she had had the protection of knowing that no matter what they chose to believe and publish none of it was true. Now, though, things were different. Now she had been seen with Ash in a very intimate situation, indeed. ‘Why would I? I don’t want my father to know that I’m here. I don’t want him to know anything until I’m safely in London.’
‘Well, no one else could have organised it.’ Ash only began to frown as out of the corner of his eye he saw the steward sidling up to one of the reporters who handed him a fat envelope, whilst the steward glanced furtively over his shoulder.
It looked very much as though Sophia was telling the truth, Ash had to admit, but there was no time to question the steward now or, in fact, to do anything that would draw further press attention to them, he decided.
‘This way,’ he instructed Sophia, still holding her arm as he pushed his way through the crowd, almost dragging her with him as he headed for the waiting limousine.
‘What’s this for?’ Sophia demanded when she saw it. ‘I need to be in the airport sorting out my flight to London.’
‘And I need to be in my office for a very important meeting,’ Ash countered, ‘which is where we’re going right now, unless of course you want me to leave you to be eaten alive by the press. We can sort out your onward flight later.’
The thought of being abandoned by Ash to deal with the ever-hungry-for-gossip paparazzi had Sophia getting into the waiting limousine without another word of protest.
The car was soon speeding through the city streets. Sophia had never visited Mumbai or India before, although she’d always wanted to—and not just because the subcontinent was Ash’s home. She was genuinely interested in what she could see beyond the car windows and couldn’t help turning to Ash and murmuring, ‘Everything’s so colourful and vibrant. It makes everywhere else I’ve been seem pale and uninteresting.’
They’d come to a halt in the traffic and out of nowhere a boy appeared with a bucket of water and proceeded to clean the car’s front windows, despite the driver’s dismissive wave for him to stop.
A tender smile softened Sophia’s face. Thin and wiry, the boy gave her a wide smile, his brown eyes sparkling when he realised that Sophia was watching him, and quickly came round to her side of the car.
Watching her as she dug into her handbag, Ash felt something he didn’t want to acknowledge catching on his emotions.
Nasreen had thoroughly disliked the poor of India, and had made no attempt to conceal her contempt for them.
‘Here you are.’ He dug into his own pocket for some change, knowing that she would not have any Indian currency.
The car