me.’
He had indulged her hero-worship of him. Taken her with him when he went falconing. And from the age of fourteen she had thought she would almost die with pleasure to see that formidable presence astride his night-dark stallion, subduingthe bird of prey as if he could communicate with it by instinct alone. And maybe he could, she thought bitterly. For wasn’t he a creature of prey himself?
Somewhere along the way she had acquired the rare ability to make him laugh, to gently tease him, and she had been the only person allowed to get away with what he would have regarded as insurrection in others. She had thought that the world began and ended with Rashid, and had grown to long for the wedding she knew must one day come.
‘So what happened to make you hate him?’ asked Brad.
Jenna lifted her head, surprised. ‘Hate him? I’m not sure that I hate him.’
‘You sound like you do—the way you talk about him.’
Did she? Wasn’t hate too powerful an emotion to describe her feelings for Rashid? Too closely and dangerously linked to the flipside of such an emotion—love itself? A love which would never be anything more than one-sided and, consequently, never enough for the woman she had become.
Because when she had turned eighteen their relationship had changed fundamentally. Had it been the onset of womanhood which had made the magnificent sheikh grow so wary and distant in her company? she wondered. The atmosphere between them had been brittle with some kind of unnamed tension. Their earlier ease in each other’s company had evaporated like the rare desert rains which sizzled beneath the intensity of the fierce Quador sun.
And she had missed that ease. Desperately. Without Rashid as her confidant she had felt as though she was in limbo—existing and not really living at all.
‘Rashid made no move to marry me when I came of age,’ she said slowly. ‘And my pride wouldn’t let me show my disappointment. I had no wish to stay in Quador, just waiting and waiting for some distant wedding, and so I told him that I wished to learn something of my late mother’s country, that I wanted to study in America. It had always been her dearest wish that I should know something of her homeland.’
Rashid had had a great deal to cope with as well. His own parents had been killed in a plane crash, and his rightful inheritance had come much sooner than anyone had anticipated. As well as coping with his grief he had had to come to terms with governing a vast country. It had not been an easy transition as power was transferred to the handsome young Sheikh. Many had doubted he would be able to stamp his dominance onto the demanding land and Rashid had been determined to prove them wrong.
She remembered the thoughtful way he had considered her request to study law in America, consulting long and hard with her father before they had both given her their consent.
‘I admit that I found his blessing to leave both upsetting and confusing, but the reason for this soon became crystal-clear.’ She let out a painful, shuddering breath as she remembered the newspaper clippings. ‘The truth hurt,’ she told him quietly.
‘What truth?’ Brad questioned.
‘The truth about his lifestyle. How very foolish I was,’ she said with a bitter laugh. ‘I thought that as I was promised to him he would forsake all others. How naive could you get? I soon discovered that Rashid had been involved with super-models and actresses since he was a teenager. The news had been kept from me while I lived in Quador, but I found out soon enough once I moved away. Why, he even has a mistress at the moment—it is well documented enough. He shares another woman’s bed in Paris even while he summons me back for our wedding!’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Brad, in a horrified voice.
‘Perfectly sure. Her name is Chantal and she is his favourite. No doubt she will occupy a nearby hotel even during our honeymoon—such are the customs in