If she hadn’t been so engrossed by her research, or so desperate to make a success of it, she’d have bridled at the surveillance. It made her smile grimly that, after the dangers of her old job, now she was relegated to pure desk work Sultan Asim felt he had to take precautions against her.
‘My grandmother has spoken of little but this gathering.’ He paused. ‘Whatever comes of this project, I must thank you for bringing pleasure to her at a very difficult time.’
Jacqui’s pace faltered. It was the last thing she’d expected to hear.
‘I’m pleased you think so. But it’s she who’s helping me. Without her involvement this project wouldn’t be possible. When Imran...’ She cleared her throat. ‘When your cousin mentioned the possibility of interviewing her I hardly dared hope she’d agree.’
‘It’s that important to you?’
She nodded. More than he could know. What had begun as an interesting idea for the future had become her lifeline, her only option. And one final homage to her friend.
‘Please.’ He gestured and Jacqui stared, discovering they’d reached the spacious courtyard outside her suite. ‘Take a seat.’ He led the way to a pair of comfortable looking chairs in the garden.
Jacqui hesitated. ‘I really should—’
‘I’d like to talk to you.’ He stood, a commanding figure bathed in moonlight. It gleamed on the fine fabric of his clothes and turned his eyes to a dark glitter.
Instinct warned against a tête à tête in the darkness. But he was her host. She was indebted to him. She couldn’t walk away.
Reluctantly she stepped from the lit passageway and took a seat, struggling to sit upright when the cushions invited her to lounge. He sat turned half towards her, half towards the long pool that shimmered invitingly.
Silence surrounded them.
‘I’m curious,’ he said at last. ‘Why would a woman like you embark on this particular project?’
‘A woman like me?’ She strove to keep the indignation from her voice. What was he accusing her of now?
His reluctance to have her here, his hawk-like scrutiny of her research and her daily guard proved he didn’t trust the press. But she’d hoped she’d allayed his concerns and he’d begun to trust her a little.
‘I’ve read your profile, Ms Fletcher. You’re one of Australia’s youngest foreign news reporters and well regarded. You received an award for media excellence, though you were in hospital and missed the ceremony.’ Jacqui tried and failed not to stiffen at the casual mention of the time when shock and guilt, as much as her injuries, had incapacitated her. ‘You rarely take leave and when you do it’s to follow another story. You have a reputation for doggedness and for grasping the bigger picture.’
‘You’ve checked me out.’ It shouldn’t surprise her yet Jacqui sat straighter, nerves jangling.
‘Of course. Don’t pretend you haven’t done the same.’ Jacqui felt the challenge in his stare though his eyes were shadowed.
Finally she nodded. ‘You inherited the crown at twenty-five. You were educated in France and England, including at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst. You’ve got a Master’s degree in business administration.’ She paused, reflecting on those old reports of extreme sports and hard partying.
‘Despite your early reputation for...adventure, since taking the throne you’ve gained a name as a broker in diplomatic and trade negotiations and as a leader of vision. You’ve built on your nation’s loyalty to your family and are well respected.’
‘Touché, Ms Fletcher.’ Laughter threaded his voice, making it far too appealing.
Her fingers tightened on the arms of her chair. Sitting in the darkness with this man whose presence sent her senses into hyper-awareness was a supremely bad idea. Her nostrils twitched. She wished he’d doused himself in some expensive aftershave any man might buy. Instead, she guessed that far too appealing spice and man mix was innate to him.
‘And so?’
‘And so, after checking your credentials, I’m intrigued. Why step away from your career to write about a lifestyle that no longer exists?’
‘I hope plenty of people will be interested in reading about life in a harem.’
‘Because sex sells?’
He leaned towards her and she shifted back. ‘The book won’t be about sex.’ She waved a hand. ‘Or only in part.’
‘But that’s what readers will expect.’
Jacqui shrugged. ‘I want to paint a portrait of a vanished way of life.’