Desert Rogues Part 2 (52 page)

“I'm sorry,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “No. You are wise. I am the fool. I wish for what I cannot have and refuse to accept anything less.”

He turned back to her and reached into his pocket. “I have something for you. I have been carrying it around for a long time, not sure if I should give it to you. If you would accept.”

He pulled out a wide, intricately carved gold bracelet. Different precious gems added to the pattern.

“They are very old and very rare. This one dates back to the early nine hundreds.”

She took the stunning bracelet and turned it over in her hands. “There's no way to get it open.”

He smiled. “That is part of the appeal. This is a version of a slave bracelet. The unlocking mechanism is hidden in the design. Some were made for the women in the harem. That way if they escaped, the bracelet marked them as a possession of the king. Others, like these, were made for the woman who possessed the king's heart. They offered protection, a free right of passage anywhere in the country. Those who aided her were rewarded.”

He reached into his pocket again and held out a tiny key dangling from a delicate gold chain. “You see where the diamonds surround the sapphire?”

She found the spot on the bracelet and nodded.

“The key fits there. If you choose to wear the bracelet, know that you will always have a place to call home here. When you are ready, remove it.”

She knew what he meant. When she loved another, she could take off the bracelet as a symbol of letting go.

Billie traced the wide gold band. The diamonds, sapphires and rubies glinted in the harsh lighting. There was so much history in this single piece of jewelry. So much beauty.

“This should be on display in a museum,” she said.

“I would prefer you to wear it.”

She held out the band and he unlocked it. She slipped her wrist inside and snapped it closed. The cool metal fit perfectly.

Jefri slipped the chain over her head and she tucked the key under her blouse.

“Know you are protected,” he said. “That if you become lost, all you have to do is ask and you will be directed to me. Whatever happens, wherever you go, there will always be a safe place for you here. When I am gone, my heirs will honor the promise of the bracelet until the day you draw your last.”

He spoke the words as if they were a prayer…or a vow. They filled her heart with love and made her ache.

She took his hand in hers and leaned against him. “Maybe I'm not strong enough to do this. Maybe I want us to run away together and say the hell with the rest of the world.”

He touched her lips with his fingertips. “You need only speak the words.”

She glanced at the bracelet, then into his face. He meant it, she thought with amazement. If she asked him to go away with her, he would. He would turn his back on everything for her. The realization humbled her.

It was all there, she thought. Just out of reach. She only had to grab for what she wanted and it would be hers. But at what price? How many people would be hurt or disappointed? Not just Tahira. What about Jefri's family? How long would he be content to be estranged from them? He was a prince and a sheik. He could trace his lineage back over a thousand years.

“Speak the words,” he repeated.

She drew in a breath for courage. “No.”

Sadness darkened his eyes. “Are you sure?”

She wasn't, but she nodded because it was the right thing to do.

“Please take me back to the palace,” she whispered. “I'm going to need a long bath and a lot of chocolate to get through the rest of the day.”

He kissed her. “I will love you forever.”

“I'll love you just as long.”

They drove back to the palace in the back of a limo. Billie snuggled close, resting her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes against the sights of the city she had come to love, knowing that her days there were dwindling. She could feel the weight of the bracelet on her wrist and wondered how long it would be before she was willing to take it off.

She had a vision of herself as a very old lady, showing up at the palace and demanding refuge. Somehow she knew that a handsome young prince would appear. He would speak gently, telling her of his father's death and how Jefri had loved her to the end. Then she would be taken to a pretty room where she would live out her last.

It all sounded romantic, she thought. But in reality, it sucked. Besides, she wanted to spend her last days surrounded by a large, loud family, not alone in a foreign country where no one knew her.

So in time, she would have to find the courage to put her love aside and go out and make a place for herself. There were good men out there. Men who could make her happy.

Or maybe she didn't need a man. Maybe she could start adopting kids and make a family that way. She had a lot to offer—a big heart and plenty of love. She could buy a house somewhere and settle down. As long as she was near an airport.

The limo slowed. She opened her eyes and saw they'd entered the palace grounds. Several guards approached the limo and motioned for the driver to stop. The rear door jerked open.

“Oh. Prince Jefri,” the guard said. “My apologies. I'm under orders to search every vehicle.”

Jefri stepped out. “What is going on?”

Billie followed him. There were dozens of guards everywhere. Up at the entrance to the palace, she saw the king talking with someone. It didn't look like a happy conversation.

“This can't be good,” she said.

“I agree.”

Jefri took her hand and led her toward his father. As they approached, the king dismissed the other man and turned to them.

“You are here at last,” the old man said, looking both angry and worried.

“What has happened?” Jefri asked.

“Tahira is missing, and so is Doyle Van Horn.”

J
efri followed his father into a private room off the entrance. It wasn't until he saw the king glance down that he realized he and Billie were still holding hands.

“When was Tahira last seen?” he asked, not concerned with what anyone might think, including the king.

Billie touched his arm. “I don't know what's going on here, but I know Doyle won't hurt her.”

“Do not be concerned. I trust your brother as well.” He turned his attention back to his father. “Are you sure they are together? Did they leave a note?”

“Tahira did.” The king handed over a scrap of paper. “I cannot believe she has done this. Run away. Of all the ungrateful, disloyal actions…”

The king continued to rant, but Jefri ignored him. Instead he read the few lines Tahira had scrawled.

“I can't do this,” she had written. “Prince Jefri, I apologize for dishonoring you in this way, but I must escape. Please try not to hate me.”

Hate her? He shook his head. Hatred would require a depth of emotion he did not possess.

“She doesn't say anything about Doyle,” Billie murmured. “Maybe he's not with her.”

“They are together,” the king said. “She has shown a particular attachment to him. I did not mention anything because I thought it was a friendship, nothing more.” He glowered. “Young women cannot be trusted.”

Billie released Jefri's fingers and tucked her arm—the one with the bracelet—behind her.

“Are you saying they had a romance?” Billie asked, sounding surprised.

“I am not sure how far things have gone. If he has defiled her…”

Billie paled. Jefri touched her arm.

“Nothing has happened yet.”

They watched as the king stalked to the other side of the room, picked up a phone and barked out orders for more guards to be sent into the city.

“He doesn't look happy,” she whispered. “I don't want to know the punishment for defiling a future princess.”

“The old laws have changed.”

“Great. But what if the new laws aren't any more forgiving?” She stared at him. “Are you angry?”

“That Tahira and Doyle may have run off together? No. I want her back and safe because she is my responsibility, but I have no emotional attachment past concern for her well-being.”

“If she and Doyle did, um, well, you know, what would happen?”

He understood the question. Would there still be an engagement?

“Let us first find out what has happened,” he said, not wanting to wish for too much. If Tahira had fallen in love with Doyle, all of Jefri's problems were solved. But he had a feeling life wasn't going to be that simple.

He urged Billie to go up to her room and promised to notify her when he had word. Then he closed the door and faced his father.

“I am furious,” the king said.

“Yes. You appear most upset. I am surprised.”

His father glared at him. “Why? Tahira is like a daughter to me. To think she would be so disobedient injures me greatly. Plus there is the shame she visits on our family.”

“Yes. A wayward bride is fodder for the media.” Jefri narrowed his gaze. “You said you have seen them together?”

“What?” His father paced to the window and stared out. “A few times. In the garden. I thought nothing of it.”

Jefri found that difficult to believe. “Tahira might be eighteen chronologically, but in experience, she is still very much a child. Did you not consider that Doyle Van Horn could easily seduce her?”

“I trusted him! I allowed him to live in my palace and in return I expected him to respect his place.”

“But to put temptation in his path like that.”

His father turned on him. “What are you saying?”

“That you could have stopped this some time ago, and yet did not. I wonder why.”

The king turned back to the window without speaking. An idea formed in Jefri's mind and he could not seem to shake it.

Was this all part of a plan on his father's part? Not Tahira's arrival—Jefri himself had set that disaster in motion—but the rest of it? Under normal circumstances the king would never allow a future bride to one of his sons to spend afternoons alone with another man, let alone enough time for them to plan an escape. Then there was his father's insistence that Jefri marry Tahira. That she would be destroyed if he broke off the engagement. Had that been a ploy to make him realize the depth of his feelings about Billie?

“You are a wily old man,” Jefri said with a shake of his head.

His father stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You have too much time on your hands. First you played Reyhan with Emma, insisting they spend time with each other before you would grant them their divorce. You suspected they were still in love and forced them into each other's company until they could not deny what they felt.”

His father smiled. “What makes you think Reyhan was the first?” he asked before walking out of the room.

Jefri stared after him. Had his father played a hand in Sadik's marriage to Cleo? Had he been toying with Jefri as well?

He was torn between fury at the old man's meddling and pity for Murat—the last single brother.

 

Two hours later a shamefaced Tahira and a pale but defiant Doyle were returned to the palace. The king chose to meet them in the royal chamber where the large throne and formally dressed guards were designed to shake the confidence of the strongest of men.

Jefri stood at his father's right hand and glared down at Doyle. Whether or not Jefri wanted to marry Tahira, she was his responsibility and he did not take the situation lightly.

“You were a guest in this house,” Jefri told Doyle. “You were treated with honor and expected to act in kind. Instead you have taken one of our greatest treasures for your own personal pleasures.”

Doyle frowned. “She's not a vase or a picture. She's a woman.”

“Exactly. A special young woman with great potential. She is not yours, Doyle Van Horn. You had no right.”

Tahira choked on a breath and threw herself in front of Doyle.

“Don't hurt him. Please, Prince Jefri. I know what I did was wrong and unforgivable, but don't hurt him.”

Doyle put his arm around her. “Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

“In that you are correct,” Jefri said. “You are the one charged here.”

Tahira blanched. “No! You can't. Please. I beg you.”

Doyle stood straight and strong. “I'm not afraid of you.”

“You should be,” the king said sternly. “We have kept the peace here for over a thousand years and we have done that through the use of fair laws that apply to all. No one has the right to kidnap an innocent young woman for his own debased pleasures.”

“I didn't kidnap her,” Doyle ground out through clenched teeth. “I was trying to help her escape.” He looked at Jefri. “You don't want her. You can barely stand her and you'll never love her. So why the hell are you insisting on marrying her?”

He turned to Tahira. “You're just as bad. Tell him the truth.”

She ducked her head. “I am here to do Prince Jefri's bidding.”

Doyle swore. “Tahira, for once would you just say what you want? Nothing horrible will happen. I promise.”

Tears filled her eyes. “They're going to kill you.”

“We're not that savage,” the king said. “But there must be a reckoning.”

Jefri had heard enough. He stepped down and took Tahira's hand. “Come, child,” he said kindly. “We will speak in private.”

As he led her out of the room, he glanced back at the guards. “Hold him until I return.”

He showed Tahira to a small antechamber behind the throne. There he settled her on a chair and got her a glass of water. When she had the tears under control, he pulled up a chair next to her and sat down.

“Are you all right?” he asked, careful to keep his voice calm and gentle.

She nodded, clutching the glass in both hands. “Doyle didn't hurt me. You have to believe me.”

“I do. I know he didn't carry you off against your will. You wanted to go with him, didn't you?”

Her eyes widened as she nodded.

“Over the past few weeks, you have become friends.”

“Yes.”

Good. His father had been telling the truth about that. Now to get the rest of the information.

“Do you love him?”

She shrank back in her seat. “No, Prince Jefri. No. I would never…We haven't…”

“I believe you, but you do care for him?”

She blushed and stared at the glass. “Doyle is very kind to me. When we talk, he makes me laugh. We talk about different things. The world. There is so much I haven't seen.”

“And you want to see it?”

She nodded.

“Without me?”

Her breath caught and she raised her face. “You are so wonderful. You have honored me in so many ways and I am grateful.”

“Tahira, I am not interested in your gratitude. I want your happiness. I was led to believe that you desired this marriage above all things, yet I now think that is not true. Would it not be better to simply tell me what is in your heart rather than risk a life of unhappiness because you are momentarily afraid?”

“You sound like Doyle.”

“Apparently he has occasions of true wisdom.”

That made her smile. She sucked in a deep breath. “I do not want to be married,” she said, speaking quickly as she tightened her grip on the glass.

He took it from her before she snapped it and cut herself. Relief swept through him. He thought he might drown in the sensation. His future suddenly lay before him, a bright road of promise. But he had to be sure.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I would like to study fashion design. In Paris. That's where Doyle and I were going. We weren't running away to be together.” She blushed again. “Not exactly. He was going to help me find a place to stay and look into school.”

“You speak French?” he asked.

“Yes. And Italian. They make lovely shoes there.”

He smiled. “So I have heard.” He took her hand in his. “Tahira, you have honored me with your loyalty. I am sorry you felt you had to sneak away to achieve your heart's desire. That was never my intent. I would very much like to help you get settled and find a school.”

He would take care of her financially, as well, but there was no need to discuss that now.

“You're not angry?” she asked, sounding stunned.

“No. I am delighted.” More than that, but again not a conversation they needed to have.

She flung herself at him. “Thank you, Prince Jefri. Thank you a thousand times.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm at not becoming my wife.”

She giggled. “You know I don't mean it that way.”

“I do.”

She straightened and stared at him. “About Doyle. Please don't hurt him. He didn't do anything wrong.”

“So you keep saying.” He pretended to consider the matter. “I suppose you want to keep seeing him.”

Tahira nodded eagerly.

“He is several years older than you,” Jefri reminded her. “That could present some problems.”

“I can handle them.”

Her confidence made him smile. “As you wish. But your visits with Doyle will be chaperoned for the time being. Until you find your place in the world.”

Tahira hugged him again. He held her briefly, knowing there was somewhere else he would rather be.

 

Billie paced the length of her suite, pausing every few minutes to listen for footsteps. When she finally heard them she raced to the door and jerked it open.

“What happened?” she demanded as Jefri entered the room and pulled her into his arms.

“I love you,” he said as he kicked the door closed and pressed his mouth to hers.

Billie surrendered to his embrace, to the feel of his body pressing against hers.

“I love you, too,” she murmured, barely able to speak as she clung to him.

He bent low and swept her up in his arms. Muffin looked up from a cushion on the sofa, yawned and went back to sleep. He laughed.

“Good. Because you are not invited.” Then he walked into the bedroom and closed the door there.

“What happened?” Billie asked again as he set her on her feet and reached for the buttons on her blouse.

“Tahira wishes to study fashion design in Paris. She has no interest in marrying me and seems to have some fondness for Doyle.”

He pulled the blouse open and gazed at her breasts. “You are so beautiful.”