The Sultan's Harem Bride

There was something disturbing about that look. He wished he knew what it was. Just as he wished he understood his feelings for Jacqueline.

They were lovers—simple.

Yet he’d never let any woman so close. Physical intimacy was one thing, but she’d inveigled her way into other parts of his life, his work, his thoughts, even his decision making.

He’d come after her to warn her about Samira. Not to warn her off—and that was another disturbing factor. With Jacqueline he’d slid too easily past distrust into acceptance that she was a woman of honour who wouldn’t harm his sister.

Asim breathed sharply, bewildered by his faith in her. Such trust went against every instinct. Asim had spent a lifetime standing alone, forced to rely on no one but himself.

His little sister had needed protecting as a child in the hothouse atmosphere of his parents’ unstable passion. They’d been so caught up in their roller-coaster relationship they’d used her as a pawn in their battles one day and neglected her the next. Samira still needed protection.

His grandmother... He trusted her and cared for her, but she hadn’t been there when he was young and now it was his role to look after her.

Yet with Jacqueline, who wasn’t even family, he found himself wanting to share parts of himself he never had before.

Asim shook his head. He was not becoming fixated on her. He was not repeating the mistakes of his father. He was in control.

* * *

Jacqui sat back in a chair beneath a courtyard tree and closed her eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. As if that could calm her racing pulse.

She and Asim had just had frantic, raunchy, scream-out-loud sex against a wall and all she could think of was doing it again.

This was getting out of hand. She’d never thought of herself as highly sexed. If anything she’d wondered at her lack of libido. Was she becoming a sex addict?

Or, worse, addicted to Asim?

He’d tricked her into anger just to watch her temper catch fire! He’d been unrepentant and smug and she hadn’t been able to resist him. She hadn’t much put up even token resistance when he’d stripped her clothes away and taken her hard and fast and, oh, so satisfyingly. If anything, the remnants of her fury had added extra sizzle to the scorching experience.

The warm breeze stirred her clothes, reminding her of his breath on her skin. She sighed.

‘Pleasant thoughts?’ A finger trailed down her cheek, her throat, to swirl around her peaked nipple and she sat up with a jerk, eyes snapping open. Eyes as dark as midnight met hers and longing throbbed through her. To touch him, but more, so much more.

Shock hit her. She told herself it was the aftermath of the best sex of her life.

Pity she didn’t believe it.

Asim sank into a chair turned towards hers. He looked cool and collected, as if she’d imagined the last half hour. Jacqui felt again as if she played catch-up.

‘I want to talk to you about Samira.’

Jacqui blinked. ‘I’m not going to do a media piece about her.’ Surely he knew that?

Asim raised his hand. ‘I know you didn’t come here to investigate her. I know it was my grandmother’s idea to bring the two of you together.’

‘But?’

‘You need to know my sister is fragile at the moment.’

Slowly Jacqui nodded. ‘I’d picked that up.’ It wasn’t just the rings under Samira’s eyes but her mention of having been unwell and her patent lack of strength. ‘Being hounded by the paparazzi on top of that very public break-up must have been incredibly stressful.’

Since Samira and her boyfriend had once been dubbed the world’s most beautiful couple, the media had gone into frenzy at their spectacular bust-up. Lurid details of his affair and the disruption to the blockbuster film he’d been shooting only added fuel to the flames.

‘The press won’t leave her alone. They want the inside story on her heartbreak.’ Asim spoke through gritted teeth and Jacqui reached to cover his hand. Instantly he turned his, meshing their fingers and holding tight.

Funny how that small gesture stopped Jacqui’s breath.

He was a remarkable man, the Sultan of Jazeer. His modern country still adhered to many ancient traditions. She imagined a lot of men in his situation washing their hands of an unmarried sister whose love life was so public, or who even had a love life.

As if reading her mind, he spoke. ‘She’s an adult and she makes her own choices. Living overseas seemed to suit her. She was so excited about her textile and design course. She excelled at it too.’

He paused, watching a pair of tiny birds flutter in the trees.

‘Then she fell in love.’ His voice rang hollow on the word. Clearly he despised the man Samira had fallen for. How could he not? ‘To say it wasn’t a good match is an understatement, but despite her gentleness my sister is stubborn.’