She still suffered from the trauma of that explosion. Hadn’t he soothed her more than once when she’d cried out in her sleep, her skin hazed with heat and her limbs twitching in terror?
Would she have submitted herself to the trial of a fireworks display for a cash payoff from some magazine?
His ingrained distrust told him, yes, people did remarkable things for money.
Instinct told him the scenario was wrong. Jacqueline wouldn’t corrupt herself like that. She appreciated beautiful things, but her idea of beauty was more likely to be a faded, romantic mural than riches. The usher who’d shown her the crown jewels had reported she’d been as fascinated by the intricately embroidered silks worked by the harem women as by the fortune in gems they’d worn.
Asim frowned. If she’d wanted to sell her story, why do it here?
His gaze moved to where his sister sat with her friends and grandmother. To a casual eye Samira looked bright and cheerful. But Asim had known her all her life. He’d seen her pull on that smiling mask too often. This evening taxed her to the limit.
Doubt shivered through him.
No. Not doubt. Certainty.
He recalled the times he’d seen Jacqueline and Samira, heads together, chattering like long-lost friends. The way Samira, with her usual impulsiveness, had opened her arms to this stranger. And Jacqueline’s rare, glowing smile when the pair were together.
She’d done this for Samira.
She’d braved the crowd and the barrage for her new friend.
How often had she said Samira needed to stop running and face the world? And he, so used to protecting his kid sister, had known it was too soon.
Whatever the rights of the matter, he had his answer. Loyalty, not personal gain, had motivated her.
What else would have got Jacqueline up on the dais in front of cameramen, dressed in one of Samira’s sexy creations? This was the woman who still couldn’t quite believe in her own physical allure.
Asim scrubbed a hand over his face as the enormity of what he’d said to her sank in. Her glassy stare and the stark whiteness of her features in the moonlight as she’d refused to explain told their own story.
‘Asim?’ He turned.
A lifetime’s practice at hiding emotion came to the rescue. ‘Had enough, Samira? It’s been a big night.’
‘It has. But a success, don’t you think?’
‘A huge success. And it was an unexpected pleasure having you present. Thank you, little one. I’m proud of you. It took a lot to face everyone and you did it in style.’
If only he’d thought sooner about what the effort had cost Jacqueline.
Samira shrugged. ‘It was time I stopped hiding. After all, I haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘On the contrary!’ His sister had been a victim, first of her scumbag of a boyfriend and then of the paparazzi.
‘That’s what Jacqui said. She said I should hold my head up and look the world in the eye.’
‘Did she?’
Samira nodded. ‘That’s what she does when things don’t work out. She said sometimes pretending to be confident, even when you felt horrible inside, is enough to get you through the tough times.’
Asim’s chest squeezed.
That was what Jacqueline had been doing, parading herself in that slithery silk dress in front of the media, surely her worst nightmare come to life. And then to do it under a cannonade of fireworks! What guts that had taken.
Had her proud defiance as she faced his blistering accusations been her pretending to be confident when she felt horrible inside?
‘Asim? Are you all right?’ Samira clutched his arm, her expression concerned.
‘Of course.’
He almost laughed aloud that he could lie so smoothly. Far from being all right, he was ashamed of himself. How could he have got it so wrong?
JACQUI WAS SITTING by the campfire when she heard the four-wheel drive.
She hadn’t tried sleeping. How could she when her mind churned over Asim’s accusations? Instead she huddled into her jacket as if that could counteract the chill that spread from her bones rather than from the pre-dawn desert air.
She’d thought to get away somewhere isolated and quiet. Solitude had always helped when things were tough. But now all she felt was alone.
Had Asim taken that from her? The last of her resilience?
The idea scared her almost as much as the slashing pain that tore through her when he’d looked at her with distaste and accused her of treachery.
The hum of sound became a roar as a vehicle crested the dune, headlights flooding her campsite. She clambered to her feet, one hand up to protect her eyes, her movements as slow and stiff as an old woman’s.
The headlights dipped as the vehicle rolled towards her and for the first time Jacqui felt a sliver of doubt about coming here alone. Isolation didn’t guarantee safety. If Imran had been alive he’d have scolded her for taking such a chance, haring off in the middle of the night into one of Jazeer’s national parks. What if she bogged the vehicle in sand or got lost? What if she found herself at the mercy of men who had no respect for a lone woman?
Jazeer was generally a safe country but there were always exceptions.
Jacqui spun around towards her four-wheel drive as the other vehicle pulled to a halt. The door opened and the hairs at her nape rose. She sprinted for her vehicle and had her door open, ready to leap into the driver’s seat, when a voice stopped her.
‘Jacqueline!’ Not just any voice. His voice.
How could that be?
Why wasn’t Asim partying? It was his night. Her too-vivid imagination had conjured images of him celebrating with one of the sophisticated beauties who’d hung on his every word.
Their liaison was over. There was nothing to stop him taking a new lover. An unseen blade sank between her ribs at the thought of Asim with another woman.
She’d give anything not to face him now.
Slowly she turned. He stood silhouetted by the lights. Broad-shouldered and bare-headed, legs planted wide and hands on hips. In what looked like jeans and a shirt, he was rangy and hard as a cowboy.
But he wasn’t anything so simple. He was the hereditary Sultan of Jazeer. His word was law. People raced to anticipate his wishes. He was feted and revered. And what he wanted he always got.
Jacqui peered into the darkness but saw no other vehicles.
‘Where are your henchmen, Asim?’ Her voice was harsh. ‘No security staff to take me into custody? No officials to deport me as an undesirable alien?’
He paced forward, his tall frame looming larger than ever. ‘Are you all right?’
The question threw her off balance.
‘Jacqueline?’ A sharp undercurrent bit through his words.
‘Oh, I’m just dandy,’ she jeered, planting her hands on her hips. How dared he ask if she was all right? ‘How kind of you to enquire.’ She breathed deep, shocked at how the sight of him affected her. She was torn between wanting to escape into the desert and the desire to fling herself into his arms. ‘Or did you come to accuse me of stealing a vehicle? Is there a manhunt for me?’ After tonight nothing would surprise