thing he did so well. That dominant, masterful thing which made her just want to...to what? To go back to being the compliant person she’d been before—the one he’d used to leave at home like an ornament, while he’d courted his royal princess?
But she followed him along the gravelled paths which interweaved the different levels of the gardens, because what else was she going to do? Her canvas sneakers sank into the dusty summer grass and the warm sunshine seeped into her skin. And even though she’d started out by feeling completely strung out, it was perhaps inevitable that some of the tension would leave.
It felt peculiar to be walking alongside him like this—the future forgotten, while they enjoyed the beauty of the Italian gardens. The sunlight glinted off his hair and from time to time she glanced up at him, forcing herself to walk just far enough away to avoid touching him.
She was relieved when they arrived back at the main farmhouse, though less so when he showed her into a cool and shuttered room which commanded a spectacular view over the distant hills. She stared at the amazing view outside, because anywhere was better than glancing at the huge bed which dominated the room.
Murat shut the door and the walls seemed to close in on her as he came towards her, with that dark look of lust which was so achingly familiar.
‘I want you, Cat,’ he said. ‘I want you so badly that I can hardly think straight.’
And she wanted him, too.
She wanted him in a way which made her heart burn and her body ache. She wanted to let him blot out every nagging thought and fear with his kiss. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t pretend—not any more. If he made love to her now, then wouldn’t she be in danger of blurting out how much she loved him—making herself even more vulnerable in the process?
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
But she followed him along the gravelled paths which interweaved the different levels of the gardens, because what else was she going to do? Her canvas sneakers sank into the dusty summer grass and the warm sunshine seeped into her skin. And even though she’d started out by feeling completely strung out, it was perhaps inevitable that some of the tension would leave.
It felt peculiar to be walking alongside him like this—the future forgotten, while they enjoyed the beauty of the Italian gardens. The sunlight glinted off his hair and from time to time she glanced up at him, forcing herself to walk just far enough away to avoid touching him.
She was relieved when they arrived back at the main farmhouse, though less so when he showed her into a cool and shuttered room which commanded a spectacular view over the distant hills. She stared at the amazing view outside, because anywhere was better than glancing at the huge bed which dominated the room.
Murat shut the door and the walls seemed to close in on her as he came towards her, with that dark look of lust which was so achingly familiar.
‘I want you, Cat,’ he said. ‘I want you so badly that I can hardly think straight.’
And she wanted him, too.
She wanted him in a way which made her heart burn and her body ache. She wanted to let him blot out every nagging thought and fear with his kiss. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t pretend—not any more. If he made love to her now, then wouldn’t she be in danger of blurting out how much she loved him—making herself even more vulnerable in the process?
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
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