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by lovers in the past, but he didn’t set out to be cruel—and certainly not to Catrin, who was the longest lasting of all his lovers. He just knew his limitations; it was as simple as that.
    Emotion left him cold and duty was his lifeblood. He had no desire to indulge in something as dull as analysing his feelings, for his demanding position as Sultan left him no time for such self-serving pursuits. His father had drummed into him what was expected of a desert king. He knew the future which had been mapped out for him and he accepted the strictures it placed on him. He thought Cat had accepted them too—for he had laid down his terms for the relationship from the very beginning. Yet hadn’t it already lasted longer than anticipated—and weren’t questions now being asked in Qurhah about the Sultan’s English lover and her significance in his life?
    He had told his advisors that his private life was exactly that and he did not intend discussing it. And fortunately, his exalted position and power and the sheer force of his personality had guaranteed their immediate silence. But deep down he had known that he could not continue with this double life much longer—especially now that his sister was married and heavy with child. His filial responsibilities had been discharged and now it was his own marital future which was giving his country cause for concern. His people wanted their sultan to marry and they were eager for him to produce an heir. Hadn’t that been why he had agreed to the latest attempt at matchmaking, even though something inside him had told him from the start that it was destined to fail?
    His mouth tightened as he looked at her trembling lips and knew he should tell her.
    But when?
    He remembered the old saying which his palace tutor had taught him. This year? Next year? Some time? Never?
    He certainly didn’t want his sweet Welsh lover to wear that look of hurt which her smile couldn’t quite disguise, or for her beautiful green eyes to darken when she looked at him like that.
    He walked over to where she sat on the window seat, before bending down to brush his lips over hers. ‘You know that I would prefer to spend the evening here with you and only you—but this meeting is important. And it gives me an invaluable opportunity to talk football—since nobody appreciates the sport as much as an Italian.’
    ‘Which I agree is much too good an opportunity to pass up,’ she said. ‘If only I could remember the offside rule, then maybe I could talk football, too.’
    He relaxed a little as he saw that her uncharacteristic sulk was already subsiding, and he tangled his fingers in the silky fall of her hair. ‘I’d love to see Da Conti’s face if you started talking about the offside rule! And if I can’t persuade you to rub me dry, then I guess I’d better go and get dressed. I won’t be long.’
    Catrin sat staring into space while Murat changed and he reappeared just as the peal of the doorbell echoed through the apartment. Outside the heavily fortified door stood two bodyguards, who accompanied them down in the elevator. Murat’s bullet-proof car was waiting in the street, with a second vehicle ready to follow close behind. The whole operation happened with a swift smoothness which Catrin now took for granted.
    Her lover had riches beyond the dreams of most men, but it was difficult to get to do anything ‘normal’ with him. Going anywhere meant having a whole team of accompanying guards, which always made people stare. The only place where they could be really private was tucked away inside his apartment. He told her that he’d eaten in fancy restaurants all his life and they bored him. That he’d rather spend time alone with her. At the time his declaration had flattered her, but now she was beginning to wonder whether she should have asked for more.
    Catrin frowned. Had she been crazy to settle for what he had offered her—or rather, for what he hadn’t offered her? Had she