She’d been guilty of playing a part when she lived with him and if she wasn’t careful she was going to find herself doing the same thing again. Oh, it might be a different part, but it would still involve hiding the real Catrin.
Because how could she continue to have sex with him and yet behave as if nothing had changed? As if fleeting pleasure had the power to blot out the dark reality of losing him. Wasn’t it likely that the more she gave to him, the emptier it would leave her?
She stared at his hard, warrior’s face and his hard, warrior’s body. Murat was a hard man, through and through. He wouldn’t be weeping into his pillow when their affair ended. Oh, he might experience a brief pang of regret and maybe even a few moments of nostalgia, but then he would get on with his life. His powerful life as Sultan, in which there had never been room for a second-rate commoner like her.
‘I can’t do it, Murat,’ she said quietly. ‘Not any more.’
‘What are you talking about?’
She took a step back, terrified that she would be swayed by his proximity. Afraid that if he remained within touching distance then she might just ignore the voice of reason which was demanding to be heard, and instead crawl into his arms, like a small animal seeking sanctuary.
She met his eyes. ‘I can’t have sex with you any more. I thought I could just carry on the way we were, until it was time for me to leave, but I was wrong. I can’t.’
‘But what has happened to make you act this way?’ he demanded. ‘We made love in London just before we came here—so what the hell has changed during a two-hour flight?’
She licked her lips, knowing that she couldn’t keep hiding her emotions away. That if she wanted him to understand, then she was going to have to tell him how she was feeling.
‘I have,’ she said. ‘I’ve changed. And I’ve realised that it hurts too much to know we’re living on borrowed time. Every kiss we share is like a protracted goodbye. Every time you touch me, it makes me feel...diminished.’
‘Diminished?’
She saw his eyes narrow and guessed he would be filing her words away under psychobabble. But that didn’t matter. She no longer had to impress him or try to be his perfect woman. All she had to do was to remain true to herself.
‘Yes, diminished.’
He was shaking his dark head. ‘I don’t understand you, Cat,’ he bit out, his voice filled with frustration.
‘And you don’t need to. When we leave here we won’t ever have to see each another again. My role in your life is over. I shouldn’t...’ For a moment, she stopped. Was that why people hid behind lies so often, because the truth was too painful to confront? ‘I shouldn’t have agreed to come, but since I have I’ll do what’s expected of me. I’ll play your perfect hostess one more time—but I can’t be intimate with you again. From now on, this relationship has to be platonic. It...hurts too much to be anything but platonic. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to unpack and then shower. I need to get ready for when your guests arrive.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
BENEATH A JASMINE-COVERED pergola, the long table was laid with heavy silver and crystal, which gleamed golden in the candlelight. Desperately trying to concentrate on the beauty which surrounded her, Catrin sipped from her glass of water. Overhead, bright stars glittered—and occasionally one would shoot through the indigo sky in a blurred silvery trail so fast that if you blinked you would miss it. They had eaten tiny cheese soufflés followed by giant prawns and now they were lingering over the peach sorbet, which a young Italian woman had just served to them.