The Sultan's Harem Bride (12 page)

She firmed her lips. What was the point, explaining herself when he’d already judged her?

With anyone else she would have tried, but with Asim... He of all people should know her well enough to give her the benefit of the doubt. She’d
trusted
him, reached out to him as she never had to anyone.

Piercing regret filled her and she knew that soon it would be replaced by anguish. Oh, she could give him the explanation he said he wanted, but should she have to? What was the point? She felt battered in places she couldn’t even name. Places deep within.

Finally she shook her head.

‘Nothing to say? You surprise me.’

Yet still he lingered, hovering like some great, dark cloud about to swoop down and engulf her. As if he actually
wanted
her to persuade him.

When she remained silent, her gaze fixed on a point over his shoulder, he finally moved.

‘Later,’ he warned in a low growl. Then he marched away into the night.

* * *

Asim returned to the celebrations, accepting compliments and congratulations. Yet he acted on autopilot, his mind on the woman he’d left in the harem.

He’d waited for her to convince him there was some error, that her blatant betrayal of trust was a mistake. He’d
wanted
her to persuade him.

Even with the evidence of his eyes and the reports of his staff he hadn’t wanted to believe she’d betrayed them.

He’d wanted to believe in her.

A flash of light filled the air, a thunderous explosion that turned heads and made bystanders jump. Asim whipped his head around, relaxing when he realised it was one final sally from the pyrotechnics.

But with the realisation came something else. Something disquieting.

Only now with a cooler head did he recall a detail he hadn’t registered before. When he’d approached Jacqueline and the reporter, he’d been intent on their words, on what secrets she might give away. Now memory conjured up her tight, defensive stance, the way she’d flinched at the fireworks.

She had a fear of sudden loud noises. She’d admitted it herself, and he’d seen it the day they’d turned a corner in one of the palace gardens and frightened some birds that had shot up into the air with a loud clap of wings. The sound had been like a muffled gunshot and Jacqueline had dived for cover, only his grip on her arm stopping her.

She still suffered from the trauma of that explosion. Hadn’t he soothed her more than once when she’d cried out in her sleep, her skin hazed with heat and her limbs twitching in terror?

Would she have submitted herself to the trial of a fireworks display for a cash payoff from some magazine?

His ingrained distrust told him, yes, people did remarkable things for money.

Instinct told him the scenario was wrong. Jacqueline wouldn’t corrupt herself like that. She appreciated beautiful things, but her idea of beauty was more likely to be a faded, romantic mural than riches. The usher who’d shown her the crown jewels had reported she’d been as fascinated by the intricately embroidered silks worked by the harem women as by the fortune in gems they’d worn.

Asim frowned. If she’d wanted to sell her story, why do it here?

His gaze moved to where his sister sat with her friends and grandmother. To a casual eye Samira looked bright and cheerful. But Asim had known her all her life. He’d seen her pull on that smiling mask too often. This evening taxed her to the limit.

Doubt shivered through him.

No. Not doubt.
Certainty
.

He recalled the times he’d seen Jacqueline and Samira, heads together, chattering like long-lost friends. The way Samira, with her usual impulsiveness, had opened her arms to this stranger. And Jacqueline’s rare, glowing smile when the pair were together.

She’d done this for Samira.

She’d braved the crowd and the barrage for her new friend.

How often had she said Samira needed to stop running and face the world? And he, so used to protecting his kid sister, had known it was too soon.

Whatever the rights of the matter, he had his answer. Loyalty, not personal gain, had motivated her.

What else would have got Jacqueline up on the dais in front of cameramen, dressed in one of Samira’s sexy creations? This was the woman who still couldn’t quite believe in her own physical allure.

Asim scrubbed a hand over his face as the enormity of what he’d said to her sank in. Her glassy stare and the stark whiteness of her features in the moonlight as she’d refused to explain told their own story.

‘Asim?’ He turned.

A lifetime’s practice at hiding emotion came to the rescue. ‘Had enough, Samira? It’s been a big night.’

‘It has. But a success, don’t you think?’

‘A huge success. And it was an unexpected pleasure having you present. Thank you, little one. I’m proud of you. It took a lot to face everyone and you did it in style.’

If only he’d thought sooner about what the effort had cost Jacqueline.

Samira shrugged. ‘It was time I stopped hiding. After all, I haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘On the contrary!’ His sister had been a victim, first of her scumbag of a boyfriend and then of the paparazzi.

‘That’s what Jacqui said. She said I should hold my head up and look the world in the eye.’

‘Did she?’

Samira nodded. ‘That’s what she does when things don’t work out. She said sometimes pretending to be confident, even when you felt horrible inside, is enough to get you through the tough times.’

Asim’s chest squeezed.

That was what Jacqueline had been doing, parading herself in that slithery silk dress in front of the media, surely her worst nightmare come to life. And then to do it under a cannonade of fireworks! What guts that had taken.

Had her proud defiance as she faced his blistering accusations been her pretending to be confident when she felt
horrible inside
?

‘Asim? Are you all right?’ Samira clutched his arm, her expression concerned.

‘Of course.’

He almost laughed aloud that he could lie so smoothly. Far from being all right, he was ashamed of himself. How could he have got it so wrong?

CHAPTER TWELVE

J
ACQUI
WAS
SITTING
by the campfire when she heard the four-wheel drive.

She hadn’t tried sleeping. How could she when her mind churned over Asim’s accusations? Instead she huddled into her jacket as if that could counteract the chill that spread from her bones rather than from the pre-dawn desert air.

She’d thought to get away somewhere isolated and quiet. Solitude had always helped when things were tough. But now all she felt was alone.

Had Asim taken that from her? The last of her resilience?

The idea scared her almost as much as the slashing pain that tore through her when he’d looked at her with distaste and accused her of treachery.

The hum of sound became a roar as a vehicle crested the dune, headlights flooding her campsite. She clambered to her feet, one hand up to protect her eyes, her movements as slow and stiff as an old woman’s.

The headlights dipped as the vehicle rolled towards her and for the first time Jacqui felt a sliver of doubt about coming here alone. Isolation didn’t guarantee safety. If Imran had been alive he’d have scolded her for taking such a chance, haring off in the middle of the night into one of Jazeer’s national parks. What if she bogged the vehicle in sand or got lost? What if she found herself at the mercy of men who had no respect for a lone woman?

Jazeer was generally a safe country but there were always exceptions.

Jacqui spun around towards her four-wheel drive as the other vehicle pulled to a halt. The door opened and the hairs at her nape rose. She sprinted for her vehicle and had her door open, ready to leap into the driver’s seat, when a voice stopped her.

‘Jacqueline!’ Not just any voice.
His
voice.

How could that be?

Why wasn’t Asim partying? It was his night. Her too-vivid imagination had conjured images of him celebrating with one of the sophisticated beauties who’d hung on his every word.

Their liaison was over. There was nothing to stop him taking a new lover. An unseen blade sank between her ribs at the thought of Asim with another woman.

She’d give anything not to face him now.

Slowly she turned. He stood silhouetted by the lights. Broad-shouldered and bare-headed, legs planted wide and hands on hips. In what looked like jeans and a shirt, he was rangy and hard as a cowboy.

But he wasn’t anything so simple. He was the hereditary Sultan of Jazeer. His word was law. People raced to anticipate his wishes. He was feted and revered. And what he wanted he always got.

Jacqui peered into the darkness but saw no other vehicles.

‘Where are your henchmen, Asim?’ Her voice was harsh. ‘No security staff to take me into custody? No officials to deport me as an undesirable alien?’

He paced forward, his tall frame looming larger than ever. ‘Are you all right?’

The question threw her off balance.

‘Jacqueline?’ A sharp undercurrent bit through his words.

‘Oh, I’m just dandy,’ she jeered, planting her hands on her hips. How dared he ask if she was all right? ‘How kind of you to enquire.’ She breathed deep, shocked at how the sight of him affected her. She was torn between wanting to escape into the desert and the desire to fling herself into his arms. ‘Or did you come to accuse me of stealing a vehicle? Is there a manhunt for me?’ After tonight nothing would surprise her.

‘I came alone.’

The timbre of his voice made her shiver.

‘How did you find me?’ She’d got permission days ago to borrow a vehicle for a research trip to the Asada oasis, but when she’d arrived at the garage after midnight it was deserted. She’d simply flung her bag in, grabbed the keys and scrawled her name on the register.

‘Satellite tracking on the four-wheel drive. Desert conditions make it a necessary safety precaution.’

‘I see.’ But she didn’t. Why follow her into the wilderness?

Jacqui sagged against the vehicle, exhaustion stealing over her. She didn’t want to face Asim. Not until she’d shored up her defences.

‘Why don’t you come back here?’ He gestured to the place by the fire where she’d huddled.

Jacqui stiffened. ‘For a cosy fireside chat?’ She shook her head, hair flicking around her face, reminding her that the evening’s sophisticated hairstyle had disintegrated into a haphazard mess. She hadn’t taken time to tie her hair back, or even remove the make-up Samira had painted on her. ‘You’ve already said everything.’

‘Not everything, Jacqueline.’ She wished she could see his expression rather than just his silhouette against the headlights.

She stood mute. Instinct told her to run, get as far from Asim as she could. She couldn’t take more of this slashing pain. Logic told her he’d simply follow. He knew the desert and she had no hope of escaping.

Pride locked her knees. She refused to retreat again.

‘Please?’ He sounded as uncomfortable as she felt.

Finally, with a ragged shrug, she stepped forward. What choice did she have?

Stiffly she took her seat by the fire, aware of Asim standing to one side. She’d been right. Worn denim clung to his muscled thighs and he wore a black sweater and serviceable boots. She almost wished he wore his regal finery. He looked too potently masculine, too approachable and real in casual clothes.

Real enough to rip shreds off her, she reminded herself, wrapping her arms tight around herself.

Finally he sank cross-legged to the ground on the other side of the fire. The easy movement reminded her of the fluid strength in his hard-packed body. A strength that had always attracted, even awed, her.

Jacqui hunched her shoulders, dragging her gaze away.

‘If you’re not here to arrest or deport me, why
are
you here?’

‘To apologise.’

The prompt response stunned her and she found herself staring across the embers into a face of forged bronze and shadows. Something quick and hungry sparked between them as Jacqui met Asim’s eyes. She blinked, telling herself it was a trick of the light or her own stupid, yearning heart.

That same heart catalogued his taut features and she could almost pretend to find regret and shame there. Shame? Not likely. Not from a man like Asim.

‘You don’t say anything.’

Jacqui shook her head, not trusting her voice. Asim apologising? Was anything so unlikely? Even if he’d learned the truth, since when did an absolute monarch feel the need to apologise?

‘You don’t believe me?’

She swallowed, her throat arid as the desert around them. ‘I don’t pretend to understand you, Asim.’ She’d thought she knew him, that he knew her too, but she’d deluded herself. Tonight’s outburst confirmed that.

Slowly he nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘It’s not easy, what’s between us.’

‘There’s nothing between us!’ Not after what he’d said. He’d lacerated that fragile, delicate thing between them.

‘If that were true I’d be in the palace, sleeping the sleep of the just.’ His lips twisted. ‘Or entertaining a new lover in my bed.’

Jacqui couldn’t prevent her gasp as ice pierced her breast and ripped through her insides.

‘Exactly.’ His eyes bored into hers as if he delved deep into her secrets, to the woman she’d never shared with anyone. ‘There’s still this connection and even my suspicions and disappointment couldn’t sever it.’

‘You’re wrong, Asim. You
have
severed it. I feel nothing for you. I don’t even know why you’re here.’

His stare unnerved her. It took all her willpower not to fidget, to pretend she felt whole instead of raw and bleeding.

‘Do you have any idea how I felt when I went to your room and couldn’t find you?’

‘Relieved? Triumphant?’

Slowly he turned his head from side to side. ‘Gutted. As if someone had taken a dagger to my belly.’

Jacqui stared, her mouth gaping. Had he really felt it too? That slash of pain? Asim was many things: autocratic, suspicious, tender, thoughtful, assertive and generous, but never vulnerable.

‘You’re lying,’ she croaked. But as she said it she knew that was one thing she’d never accuse him of—dishonesty.

Yet to believe him meant he cared about her, which he’d already proved impossible. Jacqui frowned, her thoughts tumbling over themselves.

‘Why would I lie?’ He leaned closer. ‘You think I
enjoy
admitting this?’ He paused and Jacqui felt his hesitation like a weight.

‘I couldn’t find you in my suite, or yours. I couldn’t find your clothes, except those two evening dresses, and I felt...’ He shook his head, his mouth a grim, flat line.

‘Do you understand the dangers you face out here?’

The abrupt change of subject disorientated Jacqui and she shook her head.

‘The dunes are treacherous. What if you’d rolled the vehicle?’ His eyes flashed. ‘What if you’d hurt yourself with no one knowing where you are?’

‘But I didn’t.’ Her brow puckered. He hadn’t chased after her in case she ran into car trouble.

‘And you’re alone.’

‘I’m an adult. I’m used to being alone.’ Independence had been bred into her early. Conveniently she ignored the fact that usually when she’d travelled in risky locations she’d been with Imran or another colleague.

‘A woman alone can be vulnerable to unscrupulous men.’ He paused, letting that sink in. ‘And you know about our lions?’

Jacqui stiffened, her eyes frantically scanning the darkness beyond the firelight. ‘No one mentioned lions.’

‘Jazeer was famous for them and there’s a tradition that, while lions live in the Jazeeri wilderness, our people will remain safe from external threat. Over the years their numbers dwindled to near extinction but in the last decade there’s been a programme to re-establish them in this national park.’

‘Not here?’ She shivered, remembering a pride of lions she’d seen in Africa devouring some poor antelope.

‘In an enclosure not too far away. Rangers have stopped poachers trying to kill them for so-called sport.’ He paused, his expression grim. ‘It’s dangerous for you here alone. Such men flout the law. I doubt they’d respect an unprotected woman.’

‘You came here to make sure I was safe?’ Jacqui’s jaw tilted. She wasn’t some chattel to be protected.

‘Partly that.’ He lifted one hand and raked it through his dark hair, leaving it rumpled. Jacqui remembered the feel of it through her fingers, like a soft, thick pelt inviting her touch. A twinge of heat flickered.

‘I had to know you were safe. And we have to talk.’

‘You’ve already said more than enough.’ She didn’t have the stomach for more. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stop her hurt showing. Pride only stretched so far. ‘It’s late, Asim. I’m tired and fed up. You’ve seen for yourself that I’m fine. Why don’t you go back to your palace and leave me be?’

His arm dropped. ‘Because I was wrong.’

‘Pardon?’ Jacqui felt her eyes bulge.

‘I made a mistake.’ His eyes locked on hers, sending a sizzle through her blood. ‘I jumped to conclusions when I should have known better. I accused you of dishonesty, of manipulating my sister for your own ends, and I was wrong. Totally wrong.’

Silence engulfed them, but for the soft crackle of the low fire and a faint whisper across the sand. Jacqui held herself taut, disorientated and almost scared of what he might say next.

‘I behaved badly, Jacqueline, and I ask your forgiveness. I realise you were doing what you thought best for Samira.’

Jacqui leaned back, as if to sever the force field that drew her towards him. It was harder than it should have been, resisting the temptation to believe him.

‘How do you know? What did Samira tell you?’ Sourness filled her mouth. How easy for him to believe her now his sister had revealed the truth. Yet when Jacqui had needed his trust it hadn’t been forthcoming.

Asim shook his head. ‘It wasn’t Samira. I knew as soon as I returned to the celebrations and more fireworks exploded. Finally my brain kicked into gear. If you’d wanted to sell a scoop, you wouldn’t have picked anywhere so public. If you’d betrayed us you’d have done it quietly, not surrounded by my people and loud detonations. The whole scenario was wrong.’

He leaned forward and Jacqui thought she saw tenderness in his eyes. ‘I realised too late how strong you’d been, supporting Samira when she most needed it. How much you gave of yourself to help her. I should have been thanking you, not attacking you. An apology isn’t sufficient but, believe me, I’m sorry for what I said, what I believed.’

Jacqui read sincerity in his expression and heard the warmth in his voice, yet something held her back. He’d destroyed something inside her with his mistrust. She wasn’t ready to let him close again.

She’d never let anyone as close as Asim, not even Imran, and tonight’s devastating events proved how dangerous that was. She’d opened herself to a world of hurt. She should have known better. Her family had taught her she didn’t have what it took to inspire love but she’d thought at least Asim respected her. His rejection after slowly winning her trust and her regard had shattered her.

But, oh, it was tempting to accept his change of heart. Her weaker side wanted to forget his earlier contempt and pretend tonight hadn’t happened.

‘If only Samira had confided in me this wouldn’t have happened.’

But it had, Jacqui thought miserably. Nothing could erase it.

Was she being precious, too wary to accept his apology? But nothing had prepared her for the devastation his distrust had wrought.

‘Samira thought you wouldn’t agree if you heard our plans. Your press office has been adamant she remain out of the public eye. She was sure you’d take their advice again.’

Asim frowned. ‘That’s only ever been for her protection. When she first came back she was in no state to face anyone.’

‘But she’s better now. She’s stronger than you think.’

‘You believe I’m over-protective?’

Jacqui shrugged, surprised at how easy it was to talk about Samira instead of what lay between them. ‘Isn’t that what older brothers do?’ She’d been almost wistful, hearing Samira talk about how Asim tried to shelter her.

Jacqui had never known that sort of protectiveness. You learned resilience early when you were unwanted. ‘And your media advisor was all for keeping Samira isolated.’