The Sultan's Harem Bride

‘It’s kind of you but unnecessary. I’ll wear my skirt and jacket to the dinner.’ Seeing the other woman’s raised brows, she hurried on. ‘I’m here for business, not pleasure.’

Lady Rania shook her head. ‘You have a lot to learn, Ms Fletcher. There is no reason why business cannot be spiced with pleasure, or why a lovely young woman cannot make the most of herself. After all,’ she continued with a glance at Jacqui’s long-sleeved top, ‘The dress is modest.’

Jacqui didn’t know how to respond. She couldn’t admit she’d never worn a formal evening gown and had no wish to start. This slinky dress would highlight the deficiencies of her lanky frame. There’d be nowhere to hide in it.

Yet the slide of silk through her hand was seductive.

Jacqui wondered how it would feel, wearing this designer original against bare skin, and shivered. Maybe because her riotous imagination pictured strong, bronzed hands stripping it off her—Asim’s hands.

Carefully she laid the dress over the exquisitely upholstered sofa. Everything in the dowager’s apartments was delicate and feminine, everything Jacqui wasn’t.

‘It’s just...’ She wiped her palms down her trousers.

‘Yes?’ The old lady gestured for her to sit. ‘You know it would give me immense pleasure to do this for you, Ms Fletcher. I don’t think you realise how much your project has meant to me.’ She smiled wistfully, a small hand gesture conveying a hint of frailness Jacqui had never noticed before. ‘Everyone these days is interested in moving forward but never in looking back. It does an old woman good to be useful again. My friends and I have been useful, haven’t we?’

‘Absolutely.’ Jacqui leaned forward. ‘You’ve been a mine of information. My research would never have got off the ground without you.’ She paused, wondering if the dress was meant as a farewell gift. Was this a signal her stay was about to end? ‘I had hoped to continue working with you a little longer...’

Lady Rania smiled gently. ‘I look forward to that. In the meantime, allow me to do this. Tonight will be a formal dinner and it would please me if you wore my gift.’

Put like that, Jacqui had no choice. ‘Thank you.’ She eyed the spectacular fabric and gulped. She could do this. She couldn’t offend or disappoint the woman who’d been so good to her. ‘I’m honoured by your gift.’

‘Excellent.’ Lady Rania sat straighter, that hint of frailty abruptly extinguished by her radiant smile.

* * *

Three hours later Jacqui took a deep breath and looked in the mirror.

She blinked and looked again.

That was her?

The woman in the mirror looked subtly elegant. Not ungainly or scrawny. A few weeks of eating the delicious palace food must have helped her put back on the weight she’d lost. She wasn’t much of a cook at the best of times and in the months following Imran’s death preparing meals had been too much bother.

Jacqui stroked her palms down the fragile silk covering her hips and thighs and felt a ripple of excitement glissade across her skin. She knew nothing about couture but even she recognised this had been styled by an expert. From the delicate drape of the cowl neck that made the most of her less than impressive bust, to the belt of silver metal links that cinched her waist and the full-length sweep of skirt, the dress was fabulous.

She twisted, frowning as she surveyed the narrow slit at the back of the bodice. It was just wide enough to prevent her wearing a bra. But what was the point of it when she was covered from neck to toe?

Swivelling back, she stared again. With her shoulder-length hair up in a deceptively casual knot that had required the expertise of Madame’s personal attendant, and subtle make-up that enhanced her eyes and glossed her lips, she didn’t look like boring old Jacqui Fletcher.

She recalled the way Asim called her Jacqueline in that slow, lilting way, as if he rolled the sound around his mouth. Did she look like a Jacqueline now?

She’d always thought it ironic her parents had chosen such a feminine name for a tomboy like her. Jack suited her better. But tonight... She cocked her head and a slow smile spread across her face. Trepidation gave way to excitement.

Tonight perhaps she had it in her to be Jacqueline for a few hours.

* * *

Asim dragged his attention back to the pretty brunette beside him. Her hands fluttered like tiny birds as she talked. Delicate colour flushed her cheeks and her eyes sparkled. The acid green of her halter-neck dress showed off her smooth olive skin to perfection and her glossy curls danced.

She laughed and without pause launched into another line of conversation. Asim’s smile grew fixed.