may.’ There was no lightening in his expression. If anything, it sharpened. He leaned closer, looming so her pulse jumped. ‘But I have conditions.’
Jacqui nodded, feeling the force of his disapproval. ‘Yes?’ Her voice was a scratch of sound.
‘One, absolutely no photos without permission.’
‘Of course. I—’
‘Two, no attempt to report on my family’s personal lives. A social history is one thing, digging for gossip is another. I won’t hesitate to sue if necessary.’
Outrage stirred. ‘That’s not what I’m here for!’
Astonishingly his hand reached out to cup her chin, tilting it up till his face filled her vision. Tension snapped between them and an unfamiliar sensation shot through her as his fingers splayed over her throat, reinforcing her vulnerability to his superior strength.
No man had ever held her like that. Jacqui was torn between wide-eyed anxiety and a sudden, startling jab of excitement. She hated men who threw their weight around, who encroached on women. But as she arched back in his hold part of her thrilled at his masculine power.
She blinked. She must be going mad.
‘My family is precious to me and I won’t have them harmed.’ He paused, his jaw tight. ‘I’ve seen what damage the press can do.’
Slowly she nodded, surprised and a little daunted by this glimpse of the man behind the royal title. The man she was sure would bring retribution on anyone who hurt those for whom he cared. Curiosity stirred.
‘Three.’ He paused, his gaze flicking to her parted lips then to her eyes. To her dismay her mouth tingled from that look. ‘You will sign a contract agreeing to these terms and I will meet with you regularly for updates on your progress. I intend to take a very personal interest in this book of yours.’
Jacqui swallowed. ‘Of course.’ She made to jerk her head away but his grip firmed. He didn’t hurt her but the sensation of being at his mercy sent anxiety scudding through her, as it was meant to. Her jaw clenched. ‘There’s no need to assault me to make your point.’
‘Assault?’ His brows rose. ‘I’m simply reminding you that while you’re in my home, and in my country, my will is law. If you attempt to take advantage of my family you’ll pay dearly. Understood?’
‘I understand.’ For a moment longer Jacqui stood unmoving. Then abruptly she slumped from the knees, her body weight dragging his arm down, pulling him off-balance. A twist, a jerk and she was free; another quick movement as he reached to support what he presumably thought was her fainting body and now it was she who gripped him, her thumb hard on the pressure point in his hand. His skin was firm and warm under hers.
Her chest pounded as adrenalin shot through her blood. She stifled a grin at the surprise in his coal-dark eyes. Suddenly, for the first time in months, she felt strong and confident. It was a heady relief after so long doubting herself.
‘And I hope you understand, Your Highness, that I won’t be intimidated.’ Beneath her touch his pulse throbbed an infuriatingly even rhythm. ‘If ever I want a man to touch me, I’ll invite him.’
Slowly his mouth curved in a smile as lethal as a scimitar. ‘I’ll be sure to remember that, Ms Fletcher.’
Strangely, his words didn’t reassure.
‘IS SHE ON your list of potential brides?’ Asim’s grandmother whispered as they stood side by side, farewelling guests from the formal reception.
He stiffened. He hadn’t sought the old lady’s help to find a wife but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to sway him.
‘I’m keeping my options open,’ he said as he watched the young woman in question leave with her parents. They’d loitered till the very end of the evening and he wondered if they’d hoped for some signal of preferment. If so they’d waited in vain. The girl was nice enough, but...
‘She’s very pretty,’ his grandmother murmured. ‘Very well brought-up.’
So well brought-up she’d barely spoken till Asim had asked her questions she had to give more than a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer to. Even then she’d kept her eyes downcast.
His gaze shifted to a knot of people so engrossed in conversation they hadn’t realised the reception was breaking up. At its centre was a familiar tawny chestnut head. Jacqueline Fletcher, nodding at something one of the country’s most renowned lawyers said. Even from here he saw the flash of her bright eyes. Asim couldn’t imagine her standing meek and silent before a man her parents wanted her to marry.
His lips twisted in a grim smile as he remembered how she’d been anything but meek. She was too opinionated, too outspoken for comfort.
‘And she’s obviously eager to start a family.’
Startled, Asim turned to stare at his grandmother, only then realising she referred to the woman who’d just left.
‘That’s a definite plus,’ the old lady murmured, ‘Since you want heirs. Did you know she volunteers at the children’s hospital? She adores children.’
‘I’d noticed.’ She’d only become animated when talking about children at the hospital and, blushing, about her hopes for a large family.
Asim liked children. He wanted his own. But he’d felt uncomfortable with a woman who seemed to have no interests beyond that.
‘Her mother tells me she’s an excellent cook. I suspect she’ll be a wonderful home-maker.’
Asim arched an eyebrow and stared down at his grandmother. ‘Why the hard sell? It’s not as if I’m likely to starve for want of a good cook.’ A wide gesture took in the remnants of the superb buffet supper prepared by the royal chefs.
‘I’m just pointing out her good qualities. Why are you so touchy?’
He shrugged, frowning. Why did he feel dissatisfied? Tonight had been arranged so he could vet a potential bride in a setting which wouldn’t make his interest obvious. Yet the result was strangely disappointing. ‘I’m sorry. I thought I knew what I wanted and now I’m having second thoughts.’
She nodded. ‘A man like you needs more than a sweet mouse, Asim, even if she is a domestic goddess. You need a real woman.’
He discovered his eyes were fixed again on Jacqueline Fletcher. He blinked as his grandmother’s words sank in. A real woman.
But not one like his unwanted guest. So she could hold her own in conversation and had an enquiring mind. That was all. She didn’t even dress to make the most of her assets. That dark suit would have been acceptable at a business meeting, but not tonight, where the women wore full-length gowns of impeccable quality.
Did she aim to draw attention to herself in some perverse way? Or did she think to hide herself behind the boxy cut of that jacket? Perhaps she’d worn it because of him. Did she really
