Desert Rogues Part 2 (57 page)

He nodded. “There is a ring.”

She blinked at him. “What? You want to try to buy me off with jewelry? Thank you very much but I'm not that kind of woman.”

He smiled again. “I know.”

Her rage returned, but before she could decide how to channel it, the phone rang again.

She hesitated before crossing the room to answer it. Was Laurel calling back to yell some more? Daphne had a feeling she was at the end of her rope and not up to taking that particular call. But what if it was Brittany, and her niece really was upset?

“Not possible,” she said as she crossed to the phone and picked it up. “This is Daphne.”

“Darling, we just heard. We're delighted.”

Her mother's voice came over the line as clearly as if she'd been in the same room.

Daphne clutched the receiver. “Laurel called?”

“Yes. Oh, darling, how clever you are to have finally snagged Murat. The man who will be king.” Her mother sighed. “I always knew you'd do us proud.”

Daphne didn't know what to think. She wanted to tell her mother the truth—that there wasn't going to be a wedding, that this was all a mistake, but she couldn't seem to speak.

“Your father is simply thrilled,” her mother said. “We're looking forward to a lovely wedding. Do you have any idea when?”

“I—”

Her mother laughed. “Of course you don't. You've only just become engaged. Well, let me know as soon as the date is finalized. We'll need to rearrange some travel, but it will be worth it. Your father can't wait to walk you down the aisle.”

Daphne turned her back so Murat couldn't see her expression. She didn't want him to know how much this conversation hurt.

“Laurel was pretty upset,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

“I know. She got it in her head that Brittany would be the one for Murat. Honestly, the girl is lovely and will make a fine marriage in time, but she's just too young. There are responsibilities that come with being queen, and she simply wasn't ready.” Her mother laughed. “Queen. I like the sound of that. My daughter, the queen. My sweet baby girl. All right, I'm going to run, but I'll call soon. You must be so very happy. This is wonderful, Daphne. Truly wonderful.”

With that her mother hung up. Daphne replaced the receiver and did her best not to react in any way. Sure, her eyes burned and her body felt tense and sore, but she would get over it. She always did.

“Your parents?” Murat asked from his place at the table behind her.

She nodded. “My mother. My sister called and spoke with her. She's d-delighted.”

The crack in her voice made her stiffen. No way was she going to give in to the emotion pulsing through her.

“She wants details about the wedding as soon as possible. So she can rearrange their travel schedule.”

“You did not tell her there wouldn't be a wedding.”

“No.”

Because it had been too hard to speak. Because if she tried, she would give in to the pain and once that dam broke, there was no putting it together.

“Don't think that means I've accepted the engagement,” she whispered.

“Not for a second.”

She heard footsteps, then Murat's hands clasped her arms and he turned her toward him. Understanding darkened his eyes.

She was so unused to seeing any readable emotion in his gaze that she couldn't seem to react. Which meant she didn't protest when he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. Suddenly she was pressing against him, her head on his shoulder and the protective warmth of his body surrounding her.

“You can't do this,” she said, her voice muffled against his suit jacket. “I hate you.”

“I know you do, but right now there isn't anyone else.” He stroked her hair. “Come now. Tell me what troubles you.”

She shook her head. To speak of it would hurt too much.

“It's your mother,” he murmured. “She said she was happy about the engagement. Your family has always been ambitious. In some ways a king for a son-in-law is even better than a president.”

“I know.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and hung on as hard as she could. “It's horrible.
She's
horrible. She said she was proud of me. That's the first time she's ever said that. Because I've always been a disappointment.”

The hurt of a decade of indifference from her family swept through her. “Nobody came to my college graduation. Did you know that? They were all still angry because I'd refused to marry you. And they hated that I became a vet. No one even acknowledged my finishing school and going to work. My mother didn't say a word in the Christmas newsletter. She didn't mention me at all. It's as if by not marrying well, I'd ceased to exist.”

She felt the light brush of his lips on her head. “I am sorry.”

She sniffed. “I'm only their child when I do what they want. I was afraid it would be the same for Brittany. I wanted her to be happy and strong so I tried to let her know that I loved her no matter what. That my love wasn't conditional on her marrying the right man.”

“I'm sure she knows how much you care.”

“I hope so. Laurel said she would be heartbroken.”

Murat chuckled. “Not to marry a man twice her age whom she has never met? I suspect you raised her better than that.”

“What?” She lifted her head and stared at him. They were far closer than she'd realized, which was really stupid—what with her being in his arms and all.

“I didn't raise her,” she said. “She's not my daughter.”

“Isn't she?”

It was what she'd always believed in her heart but never spoken of. Not to anyone. How could Murat grasp that personal truth so easily?

“I know all about expectations,” he said, lightly tracing the curve of her cheek. “There was not a single day I was allowed to forget my responsibilities.”

Which made sense. “I guess when you're going to grow up and be king, you aren't supposed to make as many mistakes as the rest of us.”

“Exactly. So I understand about having to do what others want, even when that means not doing what is in your heart.”

“Except I wasn't willing to do that,” she reminded him. “I did what I wanted and they punished me. Not just my parents, but my sisters, too. I ceased to exist.”

His dark gaze held her captive. She liked being held by him, which was crazy, because he was the enemy. Only, right this second, he didn't seem so bad.

“You exist to me,” he said.

If only that were true. Reluctantly she pushed away and stood on her own.

“I don't,” she said. “I have no idea what your engagement game is about, but I know it's not about me.”

“How can you say that? You're the one I've chosen.”

“Why?” she asked. “I think you're being stubborn and difficult. You don't care about me. You never did.”

He frowned. “How can you say that? Ten years ago I asked you to marry me.”

“What does that have to do with anything? If you'd really loved me, you wouldn't have let me go. But you didn't care when I left. I walked away and you never once came after me to find out why.”

M
urat left Daphne and returned to his office. But despite the meeting he was supposed to attend, he told his assistant not to bother him and closed his door.

The space was large and open, as befitted the crown prince of such a wealthy nation. The conversation area of three sofas sat by several tall windows and the conference table easily seated sixteen.

Murat ignored it all as he crossed to the balcony overlooking a private garden and stepped outside. The spring air hinted at the heat to come. He ignored it and the call of the birds. Instead he stared into the distance as he wrestled with the past.

How like a woman, he thought. She questioned why he had not gone after her when she had been the one to leave him. Why would he want to follow such a woman? Besides, even if the thought had occurred to him—which it had not—it wasn't his place. If she wished them to be in contact, then she should come crawling back, begging forgiveness for having left in the first place.

She should know all of this. She came from a family familiar with power and how the world worked. He had known that they favored the match, and he was willing to admit he had been surprised she would stand against them.

Murat turned his back on the view but did not enter his office. The past flashed before him—a tableau of what had been. His father had told him she left. The king had come to him full of plans of how they would go after her and bring her back, but Murat had refused. He would not chase her around the world. If Daphne wanted to be gone, then let her. She had been a mere woman. Easy to replace.

Now, with the wisdom of hindsight, he admitted to himself that she had been different from anyone he had ever known. As for replacing her…that had never occurred. He had met other women, bedded them, been interested and intrigued. But he had never been willing to marry any of them.

He knew he should wonder why. What was it about her that had made her stand out? Not her great beauty. She was attractive and sensual, but he had known women who seemed more goddess than human. Not her intelligence. While hers was better than average, he had dated women whose comprehension of technical and scientific matters had left him speechless.

She was funny and charming, but he had known those with more of those qualities. So what combination of traits had made him willing to marry her and not another?

As he walked back into his office, he remembered what it had been like after she had left. He hadn't allowed himself to mourn her. No one had been permitted to speak her name. For him, it was as if she had never been.

And now she had returned and they would marry. In time she would see that was right. She might always argue with him, but she knew who was in charge.

He moved to his desk and took a seat. In a locked drawer sat a red leather box that contained the official seal of his office. He opened that box and removed the seal, then moved aside the silk lining. Tucked in the bottom, in between folds of protective padding, lay a diamond ring.

The stone had been given by a Bahanian king to his favorite mistress in 1685. He had been loyal to her for nearly thirty years and when his queen died, he married his mistress. Many told the story of how the ring had saved the mistress's life more than once, as other jealous women in the harem sought to do her harm. The stone was said to possess magical powers to heal and evoke love.

Of all the diamonds in the royal family's possession, this had been the one Murat had chosen for Daphne and the one she had left behind when she'd gone. He picked it up now and studied the carefully cut stone.

Such a small thing, he thought. Barely three carats. He'd been a fool to think it contained any magic at all.

He returned the ring to its hiding place, replaced the seal, then put the box back in the drawer and locked it. Later that afternoon the royal jeweler would offer a selection of rings for Murat's consideration. He would choose another one for Daphne. A stone without history or meaning. Or magic.

 

Daphne spent the morning considering her options. Murat had left in a huff without saying much to make her feel any better. He refused to admit there wasn't going to be a wedding, nor had he told her how her sister and the newspaper had found out so quickly. Obviously, he was to blame, but why wouldn't he just say so?

As she walked through the garden she told herself that an unexpected engagement certainly put things in perspective. Twenty-four hours ago her biggest concern had been how long he would keep her trapped in the harem. She'd been sure he would want to make his point—that she'd defied him and had to be punished in some way—but she'd looked at it as an unexpected vacation in a place not of her choosing. Now everything was different.

She wanted to tell herself that he couldn't possibly marry her without her permission, only she didn't know if that was true. Murat was determined and obviously sneaky. Should anyone be able to pull that off—he was the guy. She was going to have to stay on her toes and prevent the wedding from happening. Finding herself married to him would be a disaster of monumental proportions. Getting out of this engagement was going to be difficult enough.

She needed a plan. Which meant she needed more information. But how to get it?

“Hello? Anybody home?”

Daphne turned toward the sound of the female voice. None of the servants would address her that way. Not after they knew about the engagement. To be honest, none of the servants had addressed her at all—it was as if they'd been told to avoid conversation.

She hurried back into the harem.

“Hello,” she said as she stepped into the large, cool main room.

Three women stood together. They were beautiful, elegantly dressed and smiling.

Two blondes and a redhead. One of the blondes—a petite woman with short, spiky hair and a curvy body to die for—stepped forward.

“We're your basic princess contingent sneaking in to speak with the prisoner.” She grinned. “Not that you're really a prisoner. There were rumors, of course. But now you're engaged to Murat, which makes you family. I'm Cleo. Married to Sadik.” She rolled her big, blue eyes. “How totally
Lawrence of Arabia
to introduce myself in terms of who my husband is.”

“You're a disgrace to us all, Cleo,” the other blonde said fondly. She was a little taller, even more curvy, with big hair and sandals that looked high enough to be a walking hazard, especially considering her obvious pregnancy.

“Daphne Snowden.”

“Hi.” The redhead waved. “I'm Emma. Reyhan's wife.” She motioned to the pregnant woman. “That's Billie.”

Billie frowned. “Didn't I give her my name?”

“No,” Cleo and Emma said together. Cleo sighed. “Billie thinks she's all that because she can fly jets. Like that's a big deal.”

“It
is
a big deal,” Emma whispered. “We talked about it.”

“I know, but we don't want her to get a big head or anything.”

“It'll match my big stomach,” Billie said with a grin.

Daphne didn't know what to say. Just then she heard a rapid clicking sound. She glanced around and saw a small Yorkshire terrier exploring the main salon of the harem.

“That's Muffin,” Billie said. “My other baby.”

“I didn't know there were any dogs at the palace,” Daphne said. “Doesn't the king only keep cats?”

“He's taken a liking to Muffin,” Billie said. “Which is great because she gets into all kinds of trouble.” She rubbed the small of her back. “Mind if I take a load off?”

“What? Oh, sorry. Please.” Daphne motioned to the closest grouping of sofas. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

The women sat down. Daphne stared from one to the other, not sure what to make of them. The last time she'd been in Bahania, all of Murat's brothers had been happy bachelors.

“I read about your weddings, of course,” she said, then glanced at Emma. “Well, not yours.”

“I know,” she said as she flipped her red hair over her shoulder. “We were a scandal. But I thought the ceremony to renew our vows was very lovely.”

“The pictures were great.” Daphne turned to Billie. “You're married to Jefri?”

The pregnant woman nodded. “I'm embarrassed to say he swept me off my feet, and in the shoes I wear, that's a trick.”

The women laughed. Daphne sensed their closeness and felt a twinge of envy. She'd never had that kind of relationship with her own sisters.

Cleo scooted forward on the sofa. “There are five of us altogether. I know it sounds confusing, but it's really simple. The king has four sons and two daughters. Of the girls, Sabrina is married to Kardal and they live, ah, out of the country. Zara, his other daughter, is married to Rafe. Zara didn't know the king was her father until a few years ago.”

“I remember reading about that. Very romantic.”

“I thought so,” Cleo said.

Billie groaned. “You think everything is romantic.”

Emma sighed. “These two argue a lot. I think they're too much alike. The fighting doesn't mean anything, but sometimes it gets a little old.”

“I'm ignoring you,” Cleo said to Emma.

“Me, too,” Billie added.

Daphne couldn't help grinning. “Do you three live in the palace?” They could certainly make her brief stay more fun.

“
They
do,” Emma said, pointing to the other two women. “As I said, I'm married to Reyhan, and we spend much of our time out in the desert. Reyhan inherited a house there from his aunt. Billie and Jefri and Cleo and Sadik make their home in the palace. Billie and Jefri are involved with the new air force. Billie's a flight instructor. She flies jets.”

Daphne couldn't imagine the big-haired sex kitten flying anything more complicated than a paper airplane. “You're kidding?”

Billie grinned. “Never underestimate the power of a woman.”

“I guess not.”

Emma continued. “I'm in town for a few days while Reyhan has some meetings. We brought the baby.” Her face softened as she smiled. “We have a daughter.”

“That's two for two,” Billie said. “I have a daughter, too. Wouldn't it be funny if there weren't any male heirs?”

“Not to the men in the family,” Daphne said.

“Good point,” Billie said. “So Zara and Sabrina will be out in a few weeks to meet you. They said to say hi for them in the meantime.”

Talk about overwhelming, Daphne thought. “You're very sweet to visit me.”

“Not a problem,” Cleo said. She fluffed her short, blond hair. “Besides, we want all the details. This engagement has come about very quickly.”

“That's subtle,” Billie said.

“Well, it has,” Cleo insisted.

Emma cleared her throat. “I think what she means is how wonderful that you and Murat have found each other.”

Daphne hated to burst their bubble, but she wouldn't pretend to be something she wasn't. “Murat and I haven't found anything. I don't know why he announced we're engaged, because we're not. And there isn't going to be a wedding.”

The three women looked at each other, then at her.

“That changes things,” Cleo said brightly.

Daphne smoothed the hem of her skirt. “I know it sounds terrible.”

“Not at all,” Emma said.

“Sort of,” Billie said.

Daphne couldn't help smiling. “You guys are great.”

“Thanks,” Cleo said, preening a little. “I like to think we're pretty special.”

Daphne chuckled for a second, then sobered as she thought about her impossible situation. “My family is big into politics and power,” she said. “Years ago I was traveling through Europe during a summer break from college and I met Murat. I didn't know who he was and we hit it off. When he invited me back here, I was stunned to find out I'd been dating the crown prince.”

“I know that feeling,” Emma said. “Reyhan isn't going to be king, but he's still royal. I had no idea.”

Billie put her arm around Emma. “She's our innocent.”

Daphne sighed. “Then you can imagine my shock. Before I knew what had happened, we were engaged and everything was moving so quickly.”

Billie frowned. “
Were
engaged. Obviously you didn't get married.”

“I think I remember reading about that,” Billie said. “Ten years ago I was a serious tabloid junkie.”

“You still read the tabloids,” Cleo said.

“Yeah, and then you steal them from me.”

“Ladies,” Emma said, holding up her hand to stop their bickering. “I believe Daphne was talking.”

Cleo smiled at her. “Go on, Daphne.”

“There's not much else to say. Things didn't work out and I left. My family was furious and didn't speak to me for ages. Eventually we patched things up.” Sort of. Her mother had never really forgiven her for not marrying a future king. “Then a few weeks ago my niece, who is barely eighteen, told me that she was flying over to meet Murat and get engaged.”