The Sultan's Harem Bride

‘It’s like an Arabian Sleeping Beauty’s palace. There are even roses climbing up the wall. You can smell them.’ She turned. ‘I wonder if they’re the ones the women used to make perfume? Did I tell you about that in Zeinab’s diaries?’

‘You told me. But I suspect they gathered petals from the palace gardens. There used to be acres set aside for roses.’

‘Were there?’ She frowned. ‘I didn’t know. There’s so much I haven’t had time to finish researching. But I’ll make do. If it’s okay, I’ll call your staff sometimes to check details.’

‘Why not check them yourself here?’

Her gaze caught his, a flare of amber that scorched before sliding away. ‘It’s best if I leave. After last night you don’t want...’

‘What don’t I want?’ He paced towards her, watching the tension creep up her shoulders and neck.

‘You made it clear we—’

‘I made it clear I’d been a fool and that I regret it.’ He stopped close enough to note the quick rise of her chest.

Her eyes darted to his, surprise clear in their depths. Asim’s mouth quirked mirthlessly. ‘Fool’ wasn’t a word he used of himself but last night it had been true.

And he’d be a fool to let her leave when there was still such pleasure to be gained from their affair. Asim was a man whose life was ruled by duty but he wasn’t into unnecessary self-denial. What they had was too good to throw away.

‘Stay in Jazeer and finish your work, Jacqueline. Write your book.’ He brushed the hair from her face, sliding his fingers over her satiny cheek to cup her face. He felt her tiny tremor and saw her eyelids flicker and knew she wanted this too. ‘Stay with me.’

Jacqui looked into that harsh, beloved face and felt torn in two. She wanted to snuggle close and agree to whatever Asim wanted. But last night had revealed with devastating clarity the dangers of their relationship. When he’d turned on her, it had cut her to the core.

She’d never had a lover before. Maybe that was why she felt so...connected? She’d never been so drawn to a man, never trusted one as she’d trusted him.

Surely it was dangerous to give so much? Life had taught her to expect rejection. That she wasn’t the sort to inspire love or long-term relationships.

‘You’re thinking too much.’ His fingers rubbed her brow. ‘Stop analysing, habibti. Can’t we agree to make the most of what we have?’ He leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth, teasing her with the promise of more. Inevitably, longing awoke.

Jacqui leaned back, bracing her hands on his upper arms, only to find that gave him access to her throat. Ruthless as he was, Asim didn’t hesitate to kiss her there, nuzzling each sensitive spot till her knees wobbled and her nipples peaked.

‘Don’t! I need to think.’

Dark eyes held her. ‘Then think about how good we are together. About the pleasure we give each other.’

His voice was mesmerising. She felt it reverberate deep in her belly, felt her caution splinter.

‘Do you want to give that up?’

She shook her head before realising. His smile, pure satisfaction, warned her she’d given away too much.

‘But I think some distance would be sensible.’

Asim scowled. He really was used to getting what he wanted.

‘What’s to be gained by separating? We’re good together.’

‘There are more important things in life than sex.’ Asim overwhelmed her; he had from the first, with his earthy sexuality and potent charm.

‘Don’t we share those too?’ His eyes narrowed to gleaming slits. ‘Don’t we swim together and play chess; debate politics, current affairs and literature?’ He paused. ‘I’ve never spent half the night just talking with a woman. I’ve never shared so much of my life.’

Asim’s face was grim and Jacqui knew he remembered those revelations about his family.

Suddenly it struck her how out of character that had been. He’d been brought up to be Sultan, raised for the solitary role of ruler, shouldering vast responsibilities and keeping his own counsel. Being dictatorial came naturally. Yet with her he’d stopped to listen, even changed his mind on some things, like giving her access to those diaries. He’d trusted her with information she guessed he’d shared with no one else, like those childhood memories and his fears for Samira.

How could she not be moved by that?

Maybe he cared more than she realised. Was that why he wanted her to stay?

Jacqui tried to squash an urgent buzz of excitement that maybe Asim felt as she did.