The Sultan's Harem Bride (10 page)

‘What a shame then that you don’t believe a word I say.’

‘Who said I don’t,
habibti
?’

‘But you...’ Her words petered out as she watched that smile take hold and turn into a grin. ‘You let me believe...’

‘I merely preferred to have our discussion in private rather than where we might be overheard. I never said I didn’t believe you.’

‘Then why didn’t you
say
something?’ She shook her head, the wind taken out of her sails.

One large hand tugged her hair loose of its ponytail.

‘Far better,’ he murmured. ‘I like your hair loose. You look like one of our Jazeeri lionesses with that spark in your amber eyes and your tawny hair rippling around your shoulders.’ His voice dropped to a seductive caress. ‘I love it when you argue, Jaqueline. You have such fire. Such passion. And I want it all.’

He pulled her closer and she was stunned to feel his arousal against her belly. Instantly the fierce roil of emotions within transformed to familiar hunger as instinctively she moulded herself to him. Asim threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling her face to his.

‘Yes,’ he murmured against her ear, ‘Like that.’

‘No!’ She tried to insert space between them, levering herself back from his chest, even though the movement pushed her lower body against his and the friction there felt so good she almost groaned.

‘Wait,’ she gasped. ‘You mean you deliberately picked a fight to watch me lose my temper?’ Disbelief warred with something unbelievably close to delight.

‘I did nothing,
habibti
, but say I wished to speak with you. You did the rest and I’m man enough to enjoy the fireworks.’ His hand slipped down to her breast and she saw stars as he gently kneaded the sensitive mound.

‘You, you arrogant, conniving—’ Her head lolled as he nipped her earlobe and insinuated his hand beneath her shirt, tweaking her nipple. Fire arced, drawing her tight against his body.

‘And you don’t mind at all, do you, my sweet?’ he murmured as he kissed his way down her throat and delight rippled through her. ‘Because you’re not intimidated and making up is so very, very satisfying.’

Jacqui opened her mouth but all that emerged was a feathery sigh as she succumbed to his expert touch.

With a tight smile Asim swung her round so her back was to the wall. Then he proceeded to show her exactly how satisfying making up could be.

CHAPTER TEN

A
SIM
LEANED
INTO
HER
, chest heaving, trembling in the aftermath of a climax that had blown him apart. Stars faded behind his closed lids.

He nuzzled the tender skin at the base of her neck, inhaling the scent of summer-ripened apricots. She shuddered and clenched around him one last time and impossibly he felt a flicker of renewed response.

Virile he might be but Jacqueline Fletcher pushed him to limits he’d never thought possible.

Was that why he’d sought her out in Samira’s rooms rather than whittle down the list of bridal candidates? He’d returned from his ride determined to give that task his full attention and instead he’d given in to temptation again. He hadn’t been able to settle as the clock had passed the hour for their usual appointment.

It disturbed him, how his usual control deserted him around her.

‘Asim?’ He loved hearing her voice like this, low and breathy. ‘You should put me down.’

For answer he widened his stance, wedging her tighter against the wall, her legs still around his waist. He didn’t want to let her go. He wanted her right where she was.

How long would it take to convince her she wasn’t too tall or her perfect breasts too small? That she was beautiful? It didn’t matter. He enjoyed demonstrating how wrong she was.

Except one day he’d have to put her aside when he took a wife. The realisation exploded his sense of well-being.

Some internal organ he couldn’t identify clenched hard in denial.

He distracted himself by kissing her bare shoulder. ‘You have the most perfect skin,’ he murmured. ‘Like cream. How did you grow up in Australia and not get covered in freckles?’

‘I have freckles!’

‘A smattering on your nose and a couple on your hands, no more.’

‘My mother insisted I cover up in the sun and I kept the habit of wearing long sleeves. It wasn’t difficult. Summers in Tasmania are short.’

She wriggled and reluctantly Asim decided it was time to move. The condom needed disposal, then they should talk.

Minutes later, after a slow kiss that left Jacqueline satisfyingly silent and starry-eyed, Asim headed for the bathroom.

His jaw set as he saw his reflection in the mirror. The dishevelled clothes didn’t bother him, but the unfamiliar expression in his eyes did. It was more than sexual satisfaction. More than smugness at having silenced the most argumentative, feisty woman he knew.

There was something disturbing about that look. He wished he knew what it was. Just as he wished he understood his feelings for Jacqueline.

They were lovers—simple.

Yet he’d never let any woman so close. Physical intimacy was one thing, but she’d inveigled her way into other parts of his life, his work, his thoughts, even his decision making.

He’d come after her to warn her about Samira. Not to warn her off—and that was another disturbing factor. With Jacqueline he’d slid too easily past distrust into acceptance that she was a woman of honour who wouldn’t harm his sister.

Asim breathed sharply, bewildered by his faith in her. Such trust went against every instinct. Asim had spent a lifetime standing alone, forced to rely on no one but himself.

His little sister had needed protecting as a child in the hothouse atmosphere of his parents’ unstable passion. They’d been so caught up in their roller-coaster relationship they’d used her as a pawn in their battles one day and neglected her the next. Samira still needed protection.

His grandmother... He trusted her and cared for her, but she hadn’t been there when he was young and now it was his role to look after her.

Yet with Jacqueline, who wasn’t even family, he found himself wanting to share parts of himself he never had before.

Asim shook his head. He was not becoming fixated on her. He was
not
repeating the mistakes of his father. He was in control.

* * *

Jacqui sat back in a chair beneath a courtyard tree and closed her eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. As if that could calm her racing pulse.

She and Asim had just had frantic, raunchy, scream-out-loud sex against a wall and all she could think of was doing it again.

This was getting out of hand. She’d never thought of herself as highly sexed. If anything she’d wondered at her lack of libido. Was she becoming a sex addict?

Or, worse, addicted to Asim?

He’d tricked her into anger just to watch her temper catch fire! He’d been unrepentant and smug and she hadn’t been able to resist him. She hadn’t much put up even token resistance when he’d stripped her clothes away and taken her hard and fast and, oh, so satisfyingly. If anything, the remnants of her fury had added extra sizzle to the scorching experience.

The warm breeze stirred her clothes, reminding her of his breath on her skin. She sighed.

‘Pleasant thoughts?’ A finger trailed down her cheek, her throat, to swirl around her peaked nipple and she sat up with a jerk, eyes snapping open. Eyes as dark as midnight met hers and longing throbbed through her. To touch him, but more, so much more.

Shock hit her. She told herself it was the aftermath of the best sex of her life.

Pity she didn’t believe it.

Asim sank into a chair turned towards hers. He looked cool and collected, as if she’d imagined the last half hour. Jacqui felt again as if she played catch-up.

‘I want to talk to you about Samira.’

Jacqui blinked. ‘I’m not going to do a media piece about her.’ Surely he knew that?

Asim raised his hand. ‘I know you didn’t come here to investigate her. I know it was my grandmother’s idea to bring the two of you together.’

‘But?’

‘You need to know my sister is fragile at the moment.’

Slowly Jacqui nodded. ‘I’d picked that up.’ It wasn’t just the rings under Samira’s eyes but her mention of having been unwell and her patent lack of strength. ‘Being hounded by the paparazzi on top of that very public break-up must have been incredibly stressful.’

Since Samira and her boyfriend had once been dubbed the world’s most beautiful couple, the media had gone into frenzy at their spectacular bust-up. Lurid details of his affair and the disruption to the blockbuster film he’d been shooting only added fuel to the flames.

‘The press won’t leave her alone. They want the inside story on her heartbreak.’ Asim spoke through gritted teeth and Jacqui reached to cover his hand. Instantly he turned his, meshing their fingers and holding tight.

Funny how that small gesture stopped Jacqui’s breath.

He was a remarkable man, the Sultan of Jazeer. His modern country still adhered to many ancient traditions. She imagined a lot of men in his situation washing their hands of an unmarried sister whose love life was so public, or who even
had
a love life.

As if reading her mind, he spoke. ‘She’s an adult and she makes her own choices. Living overseas seemed to suit her. She was so excited about her textile and design course. She excelled at it too.’

He paused, watching a pair of tiny birds flutter in the trees.

‘Then she fell in love.’ His voice rang hollow on the word. Clearly he despised the man Samira had fallen for. How could he not? ‘To say it wasn’t a good match is an understatement, but despite her gentleness my sister is stubborn.’

‘Possibly it runs in the family.’ His head swung around, eyebrows lifting, and Jacqui shrugged. ‘Both you and your grandmother have decided views, even if your grandmother isn’t quite so...’

‘Domineering?’

She saw the gleam in Asim’s eyes and smiled. ‘There are times when that can be quite invigorating.’ Jacqui’s gaze slid towards the entry foyer where he’d just taken her so thoroughly.

He laughed and the sound shivered through her, a rare treat.

‘But not all the time?’ His expression sobered. ‘Suffice to say she fancied herself in
love
with the louse.’

There it was again, that condemnation on the word ‘love’.

‘When he betrayed her it came out of the blue and her world crumbled.’ Asim scowled, his expression rough hewn. His fingers tightened on hers, almost to the point of pain, and she sensed suppressed violence.

Samira’s ex-lover was incredibly lucky Asim hadn’t exacted revenge. It would be in character, unless Samira had pleaded with him for mercy. Even the few minutes she’d seen brother and sister together had revealed Asim’s strong feelings for Samira. If she’d begged him to stay his hand he would have done it.

‘What you don’t know is that there’s more to the story than a love affair gone wrong.’

Late sunlight sneaked through the branches and gilded Asim’s jaw. It might have been cast in bronze for all the softness she could see. A pulse beat rapidly at his temple. Once more she was reminded of an ancient warrior, eager for combat.

He drew a slow breath and eased his grip. When he turned she saw heat in his eyes, but regret too.

‘Samira is recuperating from more than the shock of his betrayal.’ He paused and for the first time ever Jacqui sensed him hesitate. ‘I can’t betray her confidence by saying more, but I want you to know and be prepared. Samira isn’t strong, either physically or emotionally. More perhaps than is obvious.’

Concern etched Asim’s features. She respected him all the more for not sharing his sister’s private affairs without permission.

Her mind whirled. What could have made such an appalling situation worse? But it was none of her business.

‘You need to know, to take that into consideration as you get to know her.’

Startled, Jacqui stared up at him. ‘You seem very sure that’s going to happen.’

Amusement lightened his stern features. ‘I know you, my little firebrand, and I know my sister. Now you’ve met, there’s no chance of keeping you apart.’ He pulled her hand onto his thigh and clamped his palm over it so she felt the flex and bunch of hot muscle through his trousers. ‘It would be counterproductive trying to keep you apart.’

Jacqui tilted her head. ‘Because it’s not worth the argument?’

He shook his head. ‘Because you’re good for her. She’s been in hiding too long. I heard you telling her she was talented and should pursue her work. You talked about her gift of creating beauty and she
listened
. I saw it in her face.’ His voice roughened.

‘You have no idea how hard it’s been to break through to her. Or perhaps it’s that you’re an unbiased outsider, so your words count more. Whatever the reason, I want to thank you for what you did today.’

Warmth filled Jacqui. When he looked at her that way the world brightened.

‘You brought a breath of fresh air with you. I saw it as soon as I walked in on you two. It’s the first time in ages I’ve seen roses in her cheeks.’

‘When she smiles your sister is breathtakingly lovely.’

Asim didn’t smile in agreement. To Jacqui’s surprise, his mouth tightened. ‘It’s a burden she’s carried all her life. Just like our mother.’

‘A burden?’ To Jacqui it seemed a benefit.

‘Beauty like that doesn’t guarantee happiness. It attracts trouble. Stunning women become invested in their looks and how people view them. As they age it undermines their sense of themselves. They panic and become demanding, needing more attention, more proof of their beauty.’ He shook his head. ‘It would need to be a very secure and confident man to marry a gorgeous woman. Otherwise he’d spend his life fretting over whether she’s unfaithful.’

Jacqui opened her mouth to ask how he knew so much about it. But of course he did. His mother had been one of the beauties of her age. Jacqui had seen the press photos. Plus she’d skimmed reports linking his mother to one eligible bachelor after another, stories hinting all wasn’t well in the Jazeeri royal marriage.

‘Hopefully one day your sister will fall in love with a man who values her for herself, not just the way she looks.’

Asim snorted. ‘
Love
?’

‘You disagree?’

‘I don’t believe in it.’ Jacqui felt him tense beneath her touch. ‘At best it’s a fool’s dream, something the weak hang onto.’

Jacqui frowned, disturbed more than she could say by his dismissive attitude. ‘Your grandmother doesn’t strike me as weak or foolish yet she believes in love.’

‘My grandparents lived in a different time.’ He lifted his shoulders. ‘Maybe love was possible then.’ He shot her a dark stare. ‘Why? Do you believe romantic love can solve all your woes?’ His look was sharp, almost accusing. She felt it cut, despite the comfort of his hand on hers.

‘I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.’ She’d never dreamed of Mr Right sweeping her off her feet. She’d never allowed herself to dream, except about achieving her next professional goal.

Suddenly it struck Jacqui how wonderful it would be to have more than her career to look back on when she was old. How wonderful to share your life with one special person.

‘What is it?’ He leaned close, as if he could read the lightning-bolt flash that momentarily blinded her.

What would it be like to share her life with Asim? The trembling shock of the idea couldn’t douse effervescent delight. A lifetime spent getting to know Asim, discovering his secrets as he uncovered hers. A lifetime feeling more special, more alive, than she’d ever been before. The idea was so heady she felt dizzy.

‘Jacqueline?’

She met his probing gaze and found herself wondering if his children would have the same dark eyes, like black velvet.

She tried to tug her hand free. Asim simply tightened his grip, leaning towards her. Panic filled her and she went on the attack.

‘Just because your parents weren’t in love doesn’t mean it’s not possible.’

‘Oh, but they were. In love.’ His lips twisted in a parody of a smile. ‘At least that’s what they called it. I thought it was a battle for supremacy, one playing off the other. They covered it all—sickly sweet romantic gestures and times when no one existed but the pair of them, not even their children. But more often it was jealousy, sulks, rages and ultimatums, then break-ups and reconciliations. They tried to use Samira and me in their one-upmanship but they lost interest in us as soon as they reconciled.’