For a moment Catrin didn’t reply, because she hadn’t got as far as working out what she was going to say to him. She thought of a million responses she could make to his cutting remark and—God help her—wasn’t there still a part of her which wanted to smooth it all over and make as if nothing had happened? To pretend that Lise had revealed nothing at all and therefore nothing had changed.
But it had changed. She knew that. The rot had set in and it had started before Lise had spilled the beans. It had started the moment she had acknowledged that she was in love with him, because love changed everything. It made your heart hurt. It made you long for more—for things you knew you could never have. She couldn’t put her arms around him and ignore the faceless princess who might soon become his bride. She had to face facts, just as she’d boasted to him about doing earlier that evening.
It occurred to her that she hadn’t even questioned the truth of Lise’s statement, because she knew it was true. It explained so much about Murat’s behaviour which she hadn’t dared examine before. The longer gaps between his visits. The way he often seemed preoccupied when he was with her.
She knew she should wait until they got back to the apartment to confront him. She knew it wasn’t appropriate to raise her voice in anger, when the Qurhahian driver might conceivably overhear. But Catrin couldn’t stop the feelings which were washing over her, no matter how much she tried to tell herself that she was being unreasonable. All her suppressed emotions came bubbling out and there didn’t seem a thing she could do to stop them.
‘What got into me?’ she questioned and her voice was shaking with rage. ‘I’ll tell you exactly! Lise says you’ve been actively seeking a bride. In fact, that you’ve been interviewing one over this past month. In Zaminzar. Meeting with some beautiful princess.’
‘Cat,’ he said warningly. ‘Not here.’
‘Yes! Right here. Right now. No wonder you got so defensive when I started talking about Zaminzar earlier.’ She could feel the bile rising in her throat and suddenly there was no holding it back. ‘I’m curious to know what form of interviewing technique you were using with this beautiful princess. Were you having sex with your bride-to-be, Murat, just before coming to London to have hot sex with me?’
CHAPTER FOUR
MURAT FELT HIS hackles rising as he stared into Cat’s angry face because he wasn’t used to being challenged—not by her. Not by anyone. And especially not in full earshot of his driver.
Yet he wondered realistically how much longer he could have kept this a secret. The entire desert community had been buzzing with the latest attempt to marry off one of its most eligible bachelors and there were plans for yet more meetings in the pipeline. It felt like a heavy burden of guilt he’d been carrying around for too long and, in some perverse way, didn’t he almost welcome its arrival?
‘Did you?’ she was saying, in a reckless tone he’d never heard her use before. ‘Have sex with her before you came to me?’
In the shadowed light of the car, he could see her lips trembling and he felt a brief, sharp pang of guilt. But behind the screen sat his driver and next to him a bodyguard and, although they’d all been trained to turn a blind eye to the Sultan’s private life, he had no intention of discussing his sex life in front of any of them.
‘Let’s talk about it when we get back.’
‘I want to talk about it now.’
‘I said, no, Cat,’ he snapped. ‘How dare you berate me with all the finesse of a common fishwife? I am not having this conversation with you in public and providing some kind of sideshow for the benefit of my staff. So you’d better hold back your questions until we get home—because I don’t intend to answer any of them.’