Again that tilt of her head. ‘Yet the women of the palace weren’t likely to navigate alone across the dunes.’
Asim shrugged. ‘You think one should learn only the immediately practical? What about broadening the mind?’
‘I agree.’ Her gaze dipped. ‘It just surprised me that your ancestors felt the same way, especially when it came to educating women.’
He repressed anger. Wasn’t this the sort of too easy assumption many outsiders made? ‘Despite the stories you’ve heard, many of my predecessors were enlightened. They sought beautiful, clever women as their consorts, women whose company they could enjoy. Educated women who could share their lives as well as their beds.’
‘Which is why I’d like to access Zeinab’s diaries. They will be invaluable—’
‘No.’ A journalist prying into intimate family details? Even after generations the diaries could reveal material better kept private.
‘But if I could—’
‘It seems to me you have plenty of sources already.’
He supressed a smile as her eyes flashed. No longer drab despite her dowdy clothes, Jacqueline Fletcher looked vibrantly alive with her flushed cheeks and pouting lips.
‘The diaries will give a new perspective to the project, adding depth and texture.’
‘I take your point, Ms Fletcher, but I prefer to keep such private material private.’
She met his gaze, her brow pleated.
Enough. Asim glanced at his watch. It was time for his next meeting. He pushed back his chair.
She stood, planting her palm on the desk and leaning forward. As if he were an equal, not an absolute ruler who’d already granted her great favour.
‘Your Highness.’ The way she said his title was anything but obsequious. ‘Don’t you see? This could be a chance to provide an insight into a woman who was both educated and well regarded. The diaries could provide material to refute the sort of assumption I just made.’
Asim paused. She had a point, damn it. If this book was to be written, better it be done properly.
‘I’ll consider the matter and discuss it with the head archivist.’
She shook her head, leaning in till the faint sweetness of her skin reached his nostrils. ‘I talked to him and he...’ she paused ‘...didn’t see it as a priority.’
‘Didn’t he?’ Asim could imagine it. The head of that department was a dry old stick who wouldn’t have taken kindly to Jacqueline Fletcher’s enthusiasm.
‘No. But if you were to take a personal interest...’
Asim huffed out a laugh at her persistence, her sheer front. She didn’t take no for an answer, no matter how demure she pretended to be. Sooner or later something would catch her interest and she’d light up in enthusiasm or outrage.
She was never dull.
‘Very well.’ He made a quick decision. ‘I’ll look at these diaries and, if appropriate, you will be allowed access under supervision.’ His raised hand silenced her thanks. ‘I understand that while you speak our language you can’t read it fluently, so a staff member will translate any relevant sections.’ A carefully picked curator who would protect the royal interests.
The radiance of her smile sent a trickle of heat through him and his mouth firmed.
Jacqueline Fletcher was convincing as an honest, dedicated writer rather than a conniving, duplicitous opportunist. But Asim wasn’t completely sure yet.
The only thing he could be sure of was that his attraction to her was a complication he could do without.
* * *
If you need me in the night I’m not far away.
It had been days since the Sultan had said that but the words taunted Jacqui as she slid through the water.
Surely he hadn’t intended it to sound so...intimate. As if he expected her to invite him into her bed. Yet the sizzle of electricity between them was real. Even she could recognise desire.
Unless the sizzle was only her body’s response to a potently masculine and charismatic man, not his response to her. Her mind and her body had let her down these past months. Had she imagined the sultry interest in his hooded eyes, projecting her own breathless awareness onto him?
Had he really brought her to his apartments in case she suffered night terrors? She spluttered, swallowing water.
She’d been so busy branding Sultan Asim high-handed, she’d disregarded the soft spot he’d shown for his grandmother and his protectiveness to his sister. He wasn’t just an arrogant potentate. He knew how to care.
Could that caring extend to her? It seemed unlikely. Yet the alternative, that he desired her, was impossible.
Jacqui had no illusions about her sex appeal. She’d been a gawky tomboy, always playing sport with the boys. Puberty came late and no one noticed since her body had steadfastly refused to grow curves like other girls’. She’d simply stayed one of the boys. Not the sort of woman to attract a man like Sultan Asim with his renowned eye for beauty.