Desert Sheikh vs American Princess (6 page)

"Me? Don't you think that the Great White Savior thing is super racist?" she asked. "Shouldn't the legendary hero of Askar be from Askar?"

"We know little of Inaya Al Hurra." Faridah instantly went from storyteller to a more scholarly mode. "But we do know she was not from Askar."

"That is true. She sailed her on her fast ship," Suzette agreed. "She could well have been white herself. Or Chinese or Indian or African. Any race, in fact."

"The name, though." Noelle didn't feel like giving this one up. "It's an Arabic name."

"That is true, but she could have taken a new name when she married our prince. To avoid all the people she stole from," Faridah confirmed. "And after she sailed away, Inaya Al Hurra's daughter must have married a European man."

"I don't think--"

Suzette placed her hand on Noelle's. "We forgive you for being white."

The sea of faces around her began to nod in agreement.

She wasn't going to win this one. She might as well give up.

"Er, thanks, I guess?" Noelle couldn't help her words from becoming a question. Her eyes had started to hurt from not rolling. Just because she had a joke tiara and had jumped out a window did not make her a reincarnated pirate princess from a story that probably wasn't even true.

"To this day," Faridah said, "you can see the design on the floor of the tower, where the prince marked the location of his first meeting with Inaya Al Hurra."

X marks the spot,
Bonnie said.

Shhhh
, Noelle ordered. She was still back on "Askar's time of greatest need." "What's going on in Askar? I don't see any major disaster coming."

"You are here," Suzette stated. "That means it is true. You will find the Palm and save Askar from a terrible fate."

So it's true because I'm here and I'm here because it's true...
She didn't bother pointing out the circular logic.

"Already you are in love with Prince Walid."

"I am?" she asked.

"Why else would you stay behind after your parents had gone?" Suzette asked, rhetorically. "He is the best of men and has never brought a mistress to the palace or permitted a woman to stay without an escort."

Because he wants to squeeze money from my father and it will never work
, she didn't say. Sounded like these guys were pretty much Team Walid all the way.

"Whatever help you need, we can provide," Faridah enthused. "As the kitchen women did for Inaya Al Hurra. Ask us for anything and we will see to it."

Allies,
whispered Bonnie.

Exactly what I was thinking
, agreed Noelle.

They can help us find the treasure.

Nope, not what I was thinking. More like helping us get out of this place.

Uh, they're never going to do that. They want us to stay here and help this Walid dude. No, we have to find the treasure.

Why would we do that instead of escaping?

Because we're pirates. Duh.

Oh, those words had gotten her into so much trouble when she was a kid. "Because I'm a pirate" had been the reason for Angelique's cat getting chased up a tree at sword point. It had been the reason she'd buried a Ming vase in the backyard. And the reason the drapes had come out of the wall. Turned out they weren't sturdy enough to swing on when you jumped off the couch.

She had a bad feeling those words would mean trouble again now.

Let's play along for now. See what happens
, she told Bonnie.

"There is something you can do for me," Noelle said. "After I take a shower and change into some better clothes."

"We can brew up some poison, just like that." Faridah snapped her fingers.

I like her,
Bonnie said.

Noelle ignored both of them. "Can you take me to this tower?"

We going over the side again?

Nope, just reconnaissance. It'll give us the perfect bird's-eye view.

I'm in. Let's do it.

As the kitchen women agreed, Noelle's heart jumped inside her. There was just something about that tower...

*****

After her jog, the winding stairs were an extra workout. Her quads were going to kill in the morning.

Faridah chattered straight through the climb, pointing out the places where this or that historical event happened. With a special emphasis on Inaya Al Hurra, of course.

The irony was, of the two of them, Noelle would have pegged Faridah for the princess. That head-to-toe pink had a definite Disney vibe. If she'd burst into "A Whole New World," Noelle wouldn't have batted an eyelash.

Then they came to a small landing with plain doorway. Nothing special about it. Just a wooden plank of a door, ordinary in every way, except for being worn and old. Centuries old.

But if the door was nothing unique, why was her pulse beating like an '80s hair-band drummer on crack?

"And now," Faridah said, building up drama by pausing with her hand on the iron door pull, "what you most wish to see."

Heart threatening to choke her, Noelle stepped into the room and saw...

Sheikh Walid.

He faced away from the door, sitting cross-legged on a padded, but plain woven mat. No intricate carpets here. The curved stone walls of the circular room had no adornments. Pretty much a prison cell, like in Faridah's story.

He turned at the noise behind him, looking over his shoulder. Those amber-rimmed eyes scanned Faridah and herself and instantly zoned in on her as if the kitchen maid wasn't there. One black eyebrow lifted as one corner of his mouth tightened.

"Leave," he ordered Faridah, who disappeared instantly, the traitor.

Implicit in the word was an order for Noelle to
stay
.

Oh yeah. Her morning's work came flooding back to her. The body-hugging workout gear. The "important" guest who didn't look happy. The opposite of happy, in fact.

Focus, girl
. She tried to summon some bluster from deep inside. She had the right to wear what she wanted, to do what she wanted. He'd said to treat the place like her home. That was what she'd done, just the same as she would do back in San Fran.

And if she'd messed up something important, that was great, right? Revenge. Or something.

"Praying, Sheikh Walid?" She hadn't figured him for the spiritual sort, but you never knew. The call to prayer filled the air five times a day here, blasted from ancient mosque minarets by high-tech loudspeakers. She didn't mind, except for the ridiculously early sunrise one. In front of his carpet, a diamond-shaped design on the floor pointed toward the one window. She did a quick mental calculation. Southwest. Sort of, but not quite, toward Mecca.

"Meditating," he answered, rising to his feet and managing to do it in a regal way. "I am not a religious man."

"Sorry for interrupting," she offered. Oh yeah, she was supposed to not care about that. "I'll just go."

"You will not."

She shrugged. "It was worth a try."

"What possessed you to run around my palace with clothing that looked as if it had been painted on your body? The looks you were getting from the guards alone."

"You told me to treat this place like home," she reminded him. "So I did."

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if fighting a headache. "I also told you to behave in a reasonable manner. You do not run around naked in a Middle Eastern nation."

"I was fully dressed. More covered than I was at dinner the other night." True enough. The sequined couture gown had left her shoulders bare.

"In
private
," he stressed. "Where no other men could see you."

"That's a weird thing to say. Why would you care if other men saw me?"

He dodged the question. "The deal with Sheikh Al Khalili fell through because of your actions."

"Oh." The word
sorry
was once again on her lips. She bit it back. To tell the truth, he wasn't raising his voice. He hadn't lead with that bit of info either. He seemed more interested in this
other guys not seeing her
thing. "You don't actually seem unhappy about that."

He gave an ever-so-slight nod. "My moment of anger has passed. And I dislike pretense. Lying."

Hmmm. Hated lying? Maybe that was why he kept falling for her deceptions--he couldn't recognize a liar when he saw one.

"Had the deal proceeded," he continued, "I would have had to appear more conservative than I am. So perhaps this is for the best."

Good
, she swallowed back.
Because you look so much better in that buttoned-up three-piece gray suit than you did in that robe thing.

"Okay," she said, and left it at that.

He didn't seem to be content. "Several of my most prominent advisors are women," he said, as if he cared for her opinion. "I would have had to hide this. I would find such a thing distasteful."

"Um, good to know where you stand on women's issues." Why were they even having this conversation? They weren't going to be friends or anything.

"Yes, it makes no sense to me to have 49.2 percent of your population unable to contribute to the GDP."

"I guess that's one way to think about it." She fought the smile that threatened. Only this guy could make feminism into a question of economics. Of course
her
human rights were a different matter...

"I will make my personal gym available to you if you wish to continue jogging."

A kind offer. No way would she take it. "Nope. You said I could do what I wanted and I'm going to. If you want to stop me, you'll have to confine me to my room."

Which he could by issuing a single order, she reminded herself. Might have been a better idea to take him up on the gym thing. But the feeling of freedom, of a cool morning breeze against her sweaty scalp. Legs and arms pumping strong and wild, like they were meant to be. That was worth fighting for.

To her surprise, he didn't inform her she was under house arrest. Or maybe room arrest? "Then perhaps you would consider running in some very loose clothing."

Hmm. He was willing to compromise. Too bad she wasn't.

"Not on your life," she told him, happily. Before he could get another argument out, she switched the topic on him. "So, my father hasn't paid up yet."

Not a question. She knew the answer.

"He assures me the payment is en route."

"The check is in the mail." If he was bad at identifying liars, he'd have a hell of a time dealing with Winston Oldrich. How long could her dad string him along? And what would he do when he realized the money wasn't coming?

Walid's jaw tightened, ever so slightly.

"Do you need a rescue?" She heard the words before she recognized they came from her own mouth.

He cocked his head at her, squinting as if she wasn't making sense. Which she wasn't. "I do not know to what you are referring."

"Me neither," she admitted. Unless she was talking about a dumb fairy tale she'd heard from an over enthusiastic kitchen staff. And then finding him practically locked in a tower.

"I am not the one in my family who requires help from others. I am the one who provides assistance to those around me. With some notable failures."

At his last words, he turned away from her and looked toward the one large window in the room.

Window? More like a gaping hole. The size of a La-Z-Boy chair, it had no glass or bars or anything to keep the elements out. The opening would have made any confinement here into a misery. Even more of a misery than just being in prison. Maybe she'd end up here when Walid gave up on her dad.

That thought brought an involuntary laugh to her lips.

"What is amusing?" he asked.

"Oh, I just thought you might throw me in here. And then I realized how dumb that idea was." She couldn't explain how she knew he'd never stick her in this room to rot. She knew it like she knew there was enough air to breathe.

"You do not have to fear such a thing from me," he assured her.

She didn't need the assurance. "I know."

She walked over to the window and sat down on the jutting stone ledge. The view was insane. Since the Red Palace occupied a hill high above Deira, the whole city splayed out at her feet like one of the citadel's amazing mosaic tile floors. The modern shopping mall was a block of gray concrete to the East. The sprawling market, a jumble of tin and wooden roofs lay to the West. Facing the palace, the azure Gulf sparkled in the mid-day sunshine.

"It's tough to be the one everyone relies on," she said. "I guess. Not something I've experienced." Which made Suzette and Faridah's idea that fate had sent her to save them from some unknown threat even more ridiculous.

"My brother Thalatha is similar. He flicks from one thing to another--the only thing you can count on him for is unreliability."

A brother would have been cool,
Bonnie said.
We would have pillaged entire continents with him.

Doesn't sound like Walid likes his too much,
she pointed out to her imaginary friend.