The Sultan's Harem Bride

‘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.’