Mills & Boon Modern Romance Collection: February 2015. Кэрол Мортимер
her companion’s royal status, and that they’d just met. It felt as if they’d known each other for ages. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.’ Even now Samira didn’t smile and the shadows were back in her eyes. Jacqui wondered if it was just her break-up with her actor boyfriend that had wounded her, or something deeper.
‘What I meant was that we each have talents and should be grateful for them. I could never design anything as beautiful as this.’ She gestured to a photo of a blonde model whose evening gown of midnight blue swirled around her like a dream.
‘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.’