by Annie West
‘You’re gifted in a way that brings beauty into the world. Much of my job dealt with an uglier reality. It was necessary, because people have to know the truth about the world around them, but they need beauty too.’
Perhaps that was why her book was giving her a new sense of optimism. Despite the negatives to harem life, there was great beauty and grace too, personified by the remarkable old women she’d been privileged to meet.
‘You should be proud of your talent, Samira. These are amazing. But you’ve only designed for friends? Why aren’t you doing this professionally?’
‘A good question, but not one for today.’ Asim’s deep voice came from behind her and instantly her flesh prickled in awareness. She drew in a breath, willing her pulse not to racket so fast, afraid her response to him would be too obvious. Since they’d become lovers it grew harder to pretend in public.
‘Asim!’ Samira smiled. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again today. I thought you were working.’
Jacqui turned. Asim filled the doorway, resplendent in a turban and embroidered tunic of dark blue. His stern features gave nothing away but suddenly she recalled his furious accusation when she’d first arrived, that she’d come to ferret out a story about his sister.
Is that what he thought? His hooded eyes were impenetrable but the line of his shoulders was stiff.
‘I was stood up for my meeting.’
‘Stood up?’ Samira frowned. ‘Someone cancelled a meeting with you?’
His gaze switched to Jacqui. Her blood sizzled and the breath stuck in her throat.
Suddenly Samira laughed. It sounded breathless, as if she was out of practice. ‘Your meeting was with Jacqui?’
Jacqui blinked and looked at her watch. Samira was right. Jacqui should have been in Asim’s office ten minutes ago. She’d lost track of time.
‘Who else would dare be late for an appointment with you?’ Despite the teasing lilt in Samira’s voice, Jacqui couldn’t find an answering smile. Not when Asim’s scrutiny skewered her where she sat.
An apology rose to her lips but she knew it wasn’t her tardiness he took issue with. It was that she was with his sister after he’d forbidden such contact. She stared back. ‘I’m sorry, Asim.’ To her chagrin she stumbled over his name. ‘I’ll come now.’
Still he said nothing and Jacqui was appalled at how that wounded her. Did he trust her so little after what they’d shared?
‘Or you could stay too,’ Samira offered.
Asim prowled across and put a hand on his sister’s shoulder. His expression softened. ‘I’d like that. But Jacqueline and I need to discuss a few things. I’ll return later.’
I, not we.
‘Thank you for your hospitality, Samira.’ Jacqui got up and pasted on what she hoped was a convincing smile. ‘I enjoyed our time together.’ Far from being a pampered princess with no thoughts outside her social calendar, Samira was someone Jacqui wanted to know better.
‘I’ll look forward to your next visit.’
Jacqui smiled but said nothing, guessing Asim would ban any such visit, if he didn’t simply banish Jacqui from the palace. Her stomach dived. He wouldn’t keep her here if he thought it compromised his sister’s well-being.
Lovers they might be, but theirs was a physical relationship, despite the late-night chats they shared about everything under the sun. An hour ago she’d have said they’d begun to know each other, sharing their tastes in books and politics and their mutual love of chess. But, looking into his dark eyes, Jacqui saw no warmth. She felt hollow.
Repressing a shudder, she followed him.
Asim remained silent as they traversed the palace. Instead of going to his office, they went to his suite.
So he could oversee her packing? Jacqui’s stomach twisted in mixed fury and hurt as she bit down instinctive protests. She would wait till they had privacy.
As soon as they entered his private wing she spun to face him. ‘I suppose you’re going to accuse me of engineering a meeting with Samira so I could sell a story to the gutter press.’
‘Are you?’ He leaned against the door jamb, crossing his arms. He looked smugly superior, and devastatingly sexy despite that harsh expression.
Pain smacked her in the chest as she realised how much his trust had meant. For he had trusted her these last weeks. The guard shadowing her as she roved the palace had disappeared the night of the banquet and lately Asim had even discussed some of his work, describing at least in broad terms various projects and negotiations. She’d loved the sense that they shared more than sex, stupendous as that was.
‘Of course I’m not. You know why I’m here.’ When he didn’t respond she stepped into his personal space, so close her breasts almost brushed his crossed arms.
‘Except you don’t believe me, do you? One of your palace spies came tattling that I was with Samira and you raced to save her from my evil clutches.’
Pain scored deep. She’d thought he believed in her.
‘Palace spies?’ His brows lifted, accelerating the fire in her blood.
‘You know. The guards who used to watch me.’
Slowly he shook his head and for a moment she’d have sworn amusement flickered in his eyes. ‘Actually, it was my grandmother who told me.’
‘She did?’ Jacqui took a step backwards, only to find she wasn’t going anywhere. Asim’s hands were firm on her elbows.
‘Not so fast, my little firebrand.’
‘Hardly little!’ She didn’t need his condescension.
His mouth curled at one corner in an almost-smile that did ridiculous things to her insides and made her despair of her own good sense. How could she be attracted to a man who patently didn’t trust her?
‘Compared with me, you are. Deliciously so.’ He pulled her in, his arms wrapping round her. ‘Tall enough to fit me but slender and fine-boned and, oh, so sexy.’
She shoved his chest but made no headway. He held her and her insides melted like chocolate in the Jazeeri sun. Her weakness appalled her.
‘What a shame then that you don’t believe a word I say.’
‘Who said I don’t, habibti?’
‘But you...’ Her words petered out as she watched that smile take hold and turn into a grin. ‘You let me believe...’
‘I merely preferred to have our discussion in private rather than where we might be overheard. I never said I didn’t believe you.’
‘Then why didn’t you say something?’ She shook her head, the wind taken out of her sails.
One large hand tugged her hair loose of its ponytail.
‘Far better,’ he murmured. ‘I like your hair loose. You look like one of our Jazeeri lionesses with that spark in your amber eyes and your tawny hair rippling around your shoulders.’ His voice dropped to a seductive caress. ‘I love it when you argue, Jaqueline. You have such fire. Such passion. And I want it all.’
He pulled her closer and she was stunned to feel his arousal against her belly. Instantly the fierce roil of emotions within transformed to familiar hunger as instinctively she moulded herself to him. Asim threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling her face to his.
‘Yes,’ he murmured against her ear, ‘Like that.’
‘No!’ She tried to insert space between them, levering herself back from his chest, even though the movement pushed her lower body against his and the friction there felt so good she almost groaned.
‘Wait,’ she gasped. ‘You mean you deliberately picked a fight to watch me lose my temper?’ Disbelief warred with something unbelievably close to delight.
‘I did nothing, habibti, but say I wished to speak with you. You did the rest and I’m man enough to enjoy the fireworks.’ His hand slipped down to her breast and she saw stars as he gently kneaded the sensitive mound.
‘You, you ar
rogant, conniving—’ Her head lolled as he nipped her earlobe and insinuated his hand beneath her shirt, tweaking her nipple. Fire arced, drawing her tight against his body.
‘And you don’t mind at all, do you, my sweet?’ he murmured as he kissed his way down her throat and delight rippled through her. ‘Because you’re not intimidated and making up is so very, very satisfying.’
Jacqui opened her mouth but all that emerged was a feathery sigh as she succumbed to his expert touch.
With a tight smile Asim swung her round so her back was to the wall. Then he proceeded to show her exactly how satisfying making up could be.
CHAPTER TEN
ASIM LEANED INTO HER, chest heaving, trembling in the aftermath of a climax that had blown him apart. Stars faded behind his closed lids.
He nuzzled the tender skin at the base of her neck, inhaling the scent of summer-ripened apricots. She shuddered and clenched around him one last time and impossibly he felt a flicker of renewed response.
Virile he might be but Jacqueline Fletcher pushed him to limits he’d never thought possible.
Was that why he’d sought her out in Samira’s rooms rather than whittle down the list of bridal candidates? He’d returned from his ride determined to give that task his full attention and instead he’d given in to temptation again. He hadn’t been able to settle as the clock had passed the hour for their usual appointment.
It disturbed him, how his usual control deserted him around her.
‘Asim?’ He loved hearing her voice like this, low and breathy. ‘You should put me down.’
For answer he widened his stance, wedging her tighter against the wall, her legs still around his waist. He didn’t want to let her go. He wanted her right where she was.
How long would it take to convince her she wasn’t too tall or her perfect breasts too small? That she was beautiful? It didn’t matter. He enjoyed demonstrating how wrong she was.
Except one day he’d have to put her aside when he took a wife. The realisation exploded his sense of well-being.
Some internal organ he couldn’t identify clenched hard in denial.
He distracted himself by kissing her bare shoulder. ‘You have the most perfect skin,’ he murmured. ‘Like cream. How did you grow up in Australia and not get covered in freckles?’
‘I have freckles!’
‘A smattering on your nose and a couple on your hands, no more.’
‘My mother insisted I cover up in the sun and I kept the habit of wearing long sleeves. It wasn’t difficult. Summers in Tasmania are short.’
She wriggled and reluctantly Asim decided it was time to move. The condom needed disposal, then they should talk.
Minutes later, after a slow kiss that left Jacqueline satisfyingly silent and starry-eyed, Asim headed for the bathroom.
His jaw set as he saw his reflection in the mirror. The dishevelled clothes didn’t bother him, but the unfamiliar expression in his eyes did. It was more than sexual satisfaction. More than smugness at having silenced the most argumentative, feisty woman he knew.
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 Sam
ira 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.’
‘Possibly it runs in the family.’ His head swung around, eyebrows lifting, and Jacqui shrugged. ‘Both you and your grandmother have decided views, even if your grandmother isn’t quite so...’
‘Domineering?’
She saw the gleam in Asim’s eyes and smiled. ‘There are times when that can be quite invigorating.’ Jacqui’s gaze slid towards the entry foyer where he’d just taken her so thoroughly.
He laughed and the sound shivered through her, a rare treat.
‘But not all the time?’ His expression sobered. ‘Suffice to say she fancied herself in love with the louse.’
There it was again, that condemnation on the word ‘love’.
‘When he betrayed her it came out of the blue and her world crumbled.’ Asim scowled, his expression rough hewn. His fingers tightened on hers, almost to the point of pain, and she sensed suppressed violence.
Samira’s ex-lover was incredibly lucky Asim hadn’t exacted revenge. It would be in character, unless Samira had pleaded with him for mercy. Even the few minutes she’d seen brother and sister together had revealed Asim’s strong feelings for Samira. If she’d begged him to stay his hand he would have done it.
‘What you don’t know is that there’s more to the story than a love affair gone wrong.’
Late sunlight sneaked through the branches and gilded Asim’s jaw. It might have been cast in bronze for all the softness she could see. A pulse beat rapidly at his temple. Once more she was reminded of an ancient warrior, eager for combat.
He drew a slow breath and eased his grip. When he turned she saw heat in his eyes, but regret too.
‘Samira is recuperating from more than the shock of his betrayal.’ He paused and for the first time ever Jacqui sensed him hesitate. ‘I can’t betray her confidence by saying more, but I want you to know and be prepared. Samira isn’t strong, either physically or emotionally. More perhaps than is obvious.’
