The Sultan's Harem Bride

‘I’ll give you the children you want and you’ll always know I’ll have your best interests at heart. None of those other women care for you like I do. That must count for something.’

He shook his head, for the first time in his life words failing him.

‘Asim—’

‘Don’t, Jacqueline. Please just...don’t.’

Spots of colour appeared on her cheekbones. She stood stock-still, watching him.

‘You don’t think I’m good enough?’ Her voice was ragged and something within Asim nosedived at the pain he heard there.

‘It’s not that. Never that. How could you think it?’ But he remembered her self-doubts and the way trauma had dented her confidence.

He wanted to lie and say it would be okay, that they could marry and she’d be happy. But he respected her too much.

‘This isn’t about you.’ He paced so close he read the tension in her lips and the pain in those over-bright amber eyes. What he saw there almost undid him. He wanted to protect her from hurt. He, who hadn’t been able to protect his sister!

‘Any man would be proud to have you as his wife.’

‘But not you.’ Her voice was hollow.

Asim shook his head. ‘I’d be proud but I couldn’t do it to you. What sort of marriage would it be where you loved and I didn’t?’ He reached for her then caught himself and pulled his arm back.

‘You believe in love, Jacqueline. You can love. You deserve the same from the man you marry. You deserve a man who can love you too.’ The notion of her with some other man tore a hole through Asim’s belly and he almost staggered.

‘If we married...’ he paused and swallowed, moistening his arid mouth ‘...it would be unfair and unequal. I’d feel guilty for not giving you what you wanted, not living up to your dreams, and you’d grow out of love eventually. You’d resent me and wish you’d never taken me on.’

‘Is that what happened with your parents, Asim?’

‘This isn’t about them!’

Couldn’t she see? Didn’t she know she was offering herself as a sacrifice to a marriage that would destroy her? He couldn’t do that to her, despite the selfish part of him that wanted to grab her before she changed her mind.

He breathed deep then regretted it as he caught the scent of apricots. Would that always remind him of her?

‘I’m honoured by your offer, Jacqueline. But I can’t take advantage of you like that.’

She stepped forward, crowding him. ‘I want you to.’

Asim stared into her face, taut with fear and hope, and felt panic that he might weaken. He might not be in love, but he cared for Jacqueline, and he didn’t want to leave her.

But he knew his duty to her even if she didn’t.

‘The woman I marry will not love me, nor I her. It’s better that way. Anything else would be unfair on her.’ He paused. ‘I care for you too much to do that.’

Silence hung between them. Asim couldn’t tear his gaze from hers. He wanted to find words to cushion the blow he’d dealt but there were none. He could only protect her by telling her the truth.

Finally she moved, turning her head from side to side like a boxer who’d taken one too many punches.

‘In that case, Asim, I’d be grateful if you’d arrange a vehicle.’ She looked him in the eye and he felt hurt slam through his chest. ‘It’s time I left.’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THE SUN SHONE BRIGHTLY, turning the park’s avenue of old trees into a bower of dappled green light, a welcome respite from Melbourne’s summer heat.

But, instead of the neat path and regimented trees, Jacqui pictured the Asada oasis, its crystalline pools and delicious havens of green. When she inhaled she almost smelled the desert sand and spices.

A shout of laughter jerked her head up and she watched a family cross the grass, like so many others heading for the Grand Slam tennis tournament along the Yarra River.

Her eyes lingered on the tall, dark-haired man in the group as he swung a tot onto his shoulders, the other children clamouring for a ride. Then she ripped her gaze away, ignoring the way her chest clamped.

Swerving to avoid them, she set off for the edge of the park. Her hotel was there, across the road, and her hour was up. Each day she forced herself out of the hotel for a walk, to exercise and try to lose herself in the crowds.

Not that it was possible to lose herself. Nothing, not work or the familiarity of her own country, had managed to make her forget, or offer respite from pain. She’d even opted for an anonymous hotel rather than her tiny flat while she finished her book, hoping the novelty might take her mind off the cold weight in her chest.