Desert Rogues Part 2 (64 page)

She felt as if she were sitting next to a wall. Nothing was getting through.

“Your Majesty, please. You have to help me.”

He smiled. “Daphne, I believe there is a reason you never married. It has been ten years since you left Bahania. Why, in all that time, did no other man claim your heart?”

“I never met the right man. I've been busy with my career and—” She stared at him. “It's not because I've been pining for Murat.”

“So you say. He tells me much the same. But he never found anyone, either. Now you are together, as it was always meant to be.”

This wasn't happening. “He trapped me. Tricked me. How can you approve of that?”

“Give it time. Get to know him. I think you'll be happy with what you find.”

The hopelessness of the situation propelled her to her feet. “If you'll excuse me,” she mumbled before turning and hurrying back toward the side door into the palace.

She felt broken from the inside out. No one would listen; no one would help. The tangled web of her circumstances would tug at her until she gave in and surrendered.

“Never,” she breathed. “I'll be strong.”

She turned a corner and nearly ran into a young woman in a maid's uniform.

“Oh, Your Highness. I was sent to look for you.” The woman smiled. “Your parents have called and wish to speak with you. If you will please follow me.”

No doubt her parents had learned about the marriage. They wouldn't care about the circumstances, she thought glumly.

Sure enough, when she picked up the phone, her mother couldn't stop gushing.

“It's wonderful,” she said. “We're thrilled.”

Her father had picked up the extension. “You did good, baby girl.”

Tears burned in Daphne's eyes. Funny how until this moment, she'd never heard those words from her father before. Apparently she'd never “done good” until she'd been trapped in marriage to a man she didn't love.

Her mother sniffed. “We would have liked a big wedding, but this is fine, too. I read that there will be a huge reception in a few months, so as soon as you have the dates, let us know. We'll need to make arrangements to fly over. Oh, darling, I'm so happy for you. Are you happy? Isn't this fabulous? And just think—in a year or so, we'll hear the pitter patter of a little prince or princess. Oh, Daphne. You've made us so proud.”

Her mother kept on talking while her father added his few comments, but Daphne wasn't listening anymore. Instead she stared blankly out a window as a horrible, stomach-dropping thought occurred to her.

She and Murat had made love without protection. Right there in the oasis, she'd let him take her to paradise and back never once considering the consequences. She could be pregnant.

“I have to go,” she said, and listened as they told her of course they understood. A woman in her position had responsibilities and they would talk soon.

She hung up and tried to shake off her daze.

Pregnant. Oh, God. If that was true…She knew enough about Bahanian law to know that no royal child was ever allowed to leave the country in the case of a divorce. Which meant if she had a baby, she would be forced to stay here forever. Abandoning her child wasn't an option.

“It was just one time,” she told herself as she hurried back to the harem. She couldn't get pregnant that easily, could she?

As she stepped off the elevator, she saw another young woman in a maid's uniform sitting in a straight-back chair by the gold harem doors. When the woman saw her, she rose.

“Your Highness, I was asked to wait until you returned. It is my honor to show you to your new quarters.”

Daphne's headache had returned. “New quarters?” Oh. “With the crown prince.”

The young woman beamed. “Yes. If you will follow me.”

She didn't want to. She wanted to sit down right there and never move again.

“My things?” she asked.

“Have been sent ahead.”

Of course. Murat would want the details taken care of so she couldn't put up a fuss.

“Very well,” she said, wanting only to find a quiet place and close her eyes until the pain went away. Not just the pain from her head, either, but the aching in her heart.

She allowed the woman to lead her to the elevator, then through a maze of hallways, with them finally stopping in front of a large, carved wooden door. The maid opened it and Daphne stepped inside.

Her first impression was of openness and light. Massive windows and French doors led onto a private balcony with what seemed to be a view of the world. It was only after she'd stared at the vastness of the city and the water did she realize they were at the very top of the palace, on the corner.

To the left was the Arabian Sea, twinkling blue and teal and green in the sunlight. To the right was the skyline of the city. And beyond it all, the desert stretched for miles, compelling in its starkness.

When she returned her attention from the view to the room, she saw comfortable furniture, an impressive collection of artwork and a space big enough to roller blade in. Doors led to other rooms. Most likely a dining area, a bedroom and an office, in case the crown prince wanted to work from “home.” Because she had no doubt she had been brought to Murat's suite of rooms. Where else would his wife live?

Her heart ached, her legs felt as if they would give way at any moment and her head throbbed. She thanked the maid and made her way to what she hoped was the bedroom. Unfortunately, when she stepped inside, she found she was not alone.

Murat sat in a chair in the corner. Waiting? She wasn't sure. She ignored him as she made her way to the huge bed and crawled onto the mattress.

“You are ill,” he said as he jumped to his feet. “I will call the doctor.”

“I'm fine,” she told him. “Just tired. Please, leave me alone.”

“I cannot.”

She turned away, curling up on the embroidered bedspread and doing her best not to give in to the tears. Not again. There had been too many over the past few days.

But the strain was too much and the first tear leaked out of the corner of her eye. She did her best to hide it, but somehow Murat knew. He sat on the bed and gathered her in his arms.

“It is all right,” he said quietly.

“No. It's not and you're the reason.”

He stroked her hair and her back and rocked her. She wanted to protest that she wasn't a child, that he couldn't make things better with a kiss and a hug, but speaking was too difficult. Right now it was all she could do to breathe.

She wasn't sure how long he held her, but eventually the pain eased. The tears dried up, and when he offered her his handkerchief, she took it and blew her nose.

“I talked to your father,” she said. “He won't help me.”

“Are you surprised?”

“More like disappointed.” She shifted away from him and stared in his face. “You know I will never forgive you for this.”

Murat did know. Marrying Daphne that way had been a calculated risk. But once he had made up his mind, there was no going back. He would face her wrath in the short term to gain her acceptance in the long term.

“Time is a great healer,” he said.

“Not in this case. My anger will only grow.”

He tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled. “I have seen the new sculpture you have started. I believe it is going to be me falling down the stairs. You have found a way to release your anger.”

“It's not enough.” Her blue eyes flashed fury. “You had no right to—”

He pressed his fingers against her mouth. “Let us not have that conversation again.”

“Then which one do you want to have? The one where I call you a lying bastard? The one where I say that taking away my freedom is an unforgivable act and that you'll never get away with it?”

“They are variations on a theme.”

“It's what I want to talk about.”

She was so beautiful, he thought. Not just in her fury, but always. There was an intensity about her, and he longed for that energy to be focused on him.

He captured her left hand and held it in his. “You do not wear your ring.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it is a symbol of our marriage and your position in my world.” He pulled the ring from his pocket and tried to slide it on her finger. She pulled back.

“You are not usually one to act like a child,” he said.

“I'm making an exception.”

“Very well. I will leave it here until you change your mind.” He set the ring on the nightstand.

She drew in a breath. “I'm leaving, Murat. Eventually I'll find a way to escape you and this palace.”

“You are not my prisoner.”

“Of course I am. I have been from the beginning. I don't suppose you would care to tell me why.”

“You have made all the choices, save one.”

“Yeah, that last really big one when there was a wedding.” She pressed her lips together. “I
will
leave just as soon as I'm sure I'm not pregnant.”

Her words crashed into him. He stood and stared at her. “Pregnant?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don't you give me that happy expectant-father face. It's unlikely. We only did it the one time, and let me tell you how much I'm regretting that incident.”

Pregnant. Of course. He had been so caught up in making love with Daphne that he had not taken precautions, which was very unlike him. He had always been careful not to be trapped by that particular game.

A child. A son. An heir.

“Stop grinning,” she demanded.

“Am I?” He felt as if he could fly.

“There's no baby.”

“You don't know that.”

“I'm reasonably confident. It was just one time.”

“It only takes one time.” He cupped her cheek. “You understand the law, Daphne. You know what happens if there is a child.”

Despair entered her eyes. “You win. I couldn't leave my baby, and I would never be allowed to take him or her from the country.” She shook off his touch. “But know this. I'm not sleeping with you ever again, and as soon as I know I'm not pregnant, I'm leaving.”

Strong words, but he doubted she meant them. Not completely. “Would you leave the people of Bahania so soon? You are their future queen.”

“They've lived without me this long. I'm sure they can survive into the future.”

“You will change your mind.”

“I won't.” She stood and faced him. “Murat, you think this is a game, but it's very serious. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be married to you.”

“I will convince you.”

“You can't.”

But he could. He knew that. He was Crown Prince Murat of Bahania, and she was a mere woman. Her will could not withstand the pressure of his.

He knew now he should never have let her go all those years ago. It was a mistake he would not repeat again.

“I want to love the man I marry,” she told him earnestly. “I don't love you.”

“You will.”

“How do you figure? You're going to force me to love you?”

“Yes.”

“It's not possible.”

“Watch me.”

C
leo sat in the middle of several boxes of shoes and grinned. “So I guess when you're the once and future queen, you don't go to the accessories, the accessories come to you.”

Daphne wove her way between nearly a dozen racks of clothes sent over to the palace by boutique owners and fashion designers.

“The clothes, too,” she said as she took a cashmere jacket off a rack and studied the light-blue color. “This is overwhelming.”

Cleo held up a pair of strappy sandals. “I hate you for not having the same size feet as me. Just so we're all clear. I don't think I've ever seen a shoe this narrow.”

“Or as long,” Daphne said. “I have big feet.”

“But skinny. I, of course, wear a 6 wide.” She wiggled her hot-pink painted toes. “Billie's going to have a heart attack when I tell her what she's missed.”

Daphne put the jacket back on the rack and returned to the sofa. “Then please don't tell her while she's flying. She only has a couple more weeks until the doctors ground her for the rest of her pregnancy. Besides, as far as I can tell, the clothesfest is going to go on for several more weeks, so she's welcome anytime.”

“Cool.” Cleo dropped the shoes back in the box and picked up a leather handbag. “At least I can borrow this. If you're getting it. Are you?”

“I have no idea.”

The clothes had started arriving three days ago. At first Daphne had kept the racks in the spare bedroom in their suite, but that space had filled rapidly. She'd finally asked for a large unused conference area and had all the clothes brought down, along with some sofas and several large mirrors. Dressing as the wife of the crown prince was serious business.

“You should be happier,” Cleo said. “These are all beautiful.”

“I know.” Daphne did her best to smile. She wasn't sure she'd been convincing.

The problem was without Calah around to distract her—the baby was currently down for her nap—Cleo was far too observant. Daphne didn't know what to say to her new sister-in-law. That it had been a week and she still felt angry and trapped.

True to her word, she avoided Murat as much as possible and slept in the suite's guest room. He acted as if there was nothing out of the ordinary and insisted on discussing their future in terms of decades.

“Want to talk about it?” Cleo asked.

“I don't know what there is to say.” Or how much she was willing to confess.

“I know the marriage happened pretty fast,” Cleo said as she stood and walked over to the same sofa and sat at the opposite end. She fingered her short, spiky blond hair. “There was some talk.”

“I'll bet. It's just…” She sighed. “I didn't ask for this. I know, I know.” She held up both hands. “Boo-hoo for the poor woman who married a prince and will one day be queen. How sad.”

Cleo shook her head. “If you're not happy, you're not happy.”

“I wish it were that simple.” She didn't want to talk about what Murat had done. Somehow she guessed that Cleo wouldn't want the information, nor would she act on it.

“Have you thought about giving the relationship a chance?” Cleo asked. “I know these guys act all imperious, but underneath, they're amazing husbands. You just have to get past the barrier down to their hearts.”

“I don't think Murat has a heart.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“No.” He must have. Somewhere. “I'm finding the situation overwhelming. I'm doing interviews later for my chief of staff. I need someone to help me stay organized. Invitations are pouring in. I don't want to accept any of them, but Murat has to go, which means…”

She still hadn't decided what it meant. Did she go with him? Put on a front and pretend to be the happy bride? Did she refuse? While she wouldn't mind rubbing his face in what he'd done, he wasn't the only one involved. In some ways she felt responsible for the citizens of Bahania. She didn't want them embarrassed by her behavior.

“I don't want to make life easier for him,” she admitted, “but my own sense of what is right is on his side. I really hate that.”

Cleo leaned close. “You're thinking too much. Just relax and take each day as it comes. These royal things get easier with time. At least you have the advantage of breeding. You should have seen my first few lesson with the etiquette guy. I think I completely scared him.”

Daphne stared into Cleo's big blue eyes and easy smile. “I doubt that. I'm sure he was charmed.”

“Not when I accidentally poured the hot tea into his lap instead of his fine china cup.”

Daphne laughed. “I'll bet that got his attention.”

“In more ways than one.” She shrugged. “The princes are worth it. That's the best advice I can give you. Know that they're worth every annoyance, every pain. I'm so thankful I met Sadik and fell in love with him. It wasn't easy, but now…” She grinned. “I know this sounds lame, but my life is perfect.”

“I'm happy for you,” Daphne said, and meant it. Cleo had grown up in difficult circumstances. She'd more than earned her happy ending.

But not everyone's story was the same. Should Daphne ignore her responsibilities because she was still intent on leaving? Should she play the part while she was here? And if she played it too much, would she become complaisant? She would never forgive herself if she gave in to Murat. Worse, she would have taught him not only was it acceptable to treat her badly, but that there were no consequences. Ignoring everything else, did she want to be married to a man who thought so little of her?

Cleo stood. “Sorry to gush over your clothing and run, but Calah will be waking up soon and I want to be there.” She smiled. “Sadik tells me that our nanny has the cushiest job around. Great pay and I never let her do any work.”

“Your daughter is lucky.”

“I like to think I'm the lucky one.” She wiggled her fingers at Daphne and crossed to the door. When she reached it, she turned back. “If you need to talk more, you know where I live.”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. I'll—” Cleo gave a laugh and turned around “—look who just appeared,” she said and dragged Murat into the room. “Your wife needs help,” she said. “Too many good clothing choices. Maybe you could talk her into modeling a few things for you.”

Murat glanced between the women. “An intriguing proposition. I will consider it.”

Cleo left.

Daphne stayed where she was on the sofa while Murat walked through the maze of racks and the boxes of shoes, purses and scarves.

“Have you made sense out of any of this?” he asked.

“Not really. I need a schedule first to figure out what sort of clothing I'll need.”

“I see. And you do not want to agree to a schedule because that is too much like giving in.”

She shrugged, even though he'd guessed correctly.

“You have time,” he said. “No one will expect you to have a full schedule right away.”

“And if I don't want one ever?”

He sat down across from her. “There are advantages and disadvantages to any position in life.”

“I know your advantages,” she said. “You pretty much get whatever you want.”

“True, but there is a price to pay.”

“Which is?”

“I have much to offer. Favors, knowledge, an interesting circle of acquaintances. Who comes to see me because of who I am and who comes because of what I can do for him?” He loosened his tie. “Now I am aware of the possibilities at the first meeting, but when I was younger, it was not so easy to see those who expected something in return.”

Daphne understood exactly what he meant. “I had the same thing, on a much smaller scale. Not so much with friends, but sometimes my teachers were too impressed by my parents to actually pay attention to me.”

“Exactly.” He shrugged. “Reyhan, Sadik and Jefri were free to roam the city, making trouble, having fun. I was not. While they played, I learned about governments and rulers and history. All in preparation. Each day I was reminded of my responsibility to my people. I did not know who they all were, but sometimes I hated them.”

The man sat across from her but she could easily picture the boy. Tired, restless, but forced to stay inside for one more lesson when all he wanted was to go play with his brothers.

Compassion made it difficult for her to want to keep her distance, which meant he was making good on his word to convince her to care about him. Talk about smooth.

“While we are on the subject,” he said, “your father called me. He wishes to discuss expanding the family business into Bahania, and from there El Bahar and the Middle East.”

Daphne couldn't believe it. Her own father? Heat flared on her cheeks and she had a bad feeling she was blushing.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I'll phone him right away.”

Murat leaned back in the sofa and shook his head. “There is no need. As my father-in-law, he is due some consideration. I will put my people on it and he can work through them.”

“It's only been a week,” she said, angry that after years of ignoring her, her father was now willing to use her situation to his advantage. “He could have waited a little longer.”

“Perhaps, but if you allow yourself to get upset over every person who comes looking for something, then you will spend your life in a state of great anxiety. It means nothing, Daphne. Let it go.”

Maybe it meant nothing to him, but it meant something to her. Unfortunately, no matter how much she wanted to hate Murat, he was the only person who could understand what she was going through.

She didn't want to live in a world where people used her to get what they wanted, yet that had been his whole life.

“Have you ever been sure about anyone?” she asked. “How do you know if he or she is interested in you or what you can offer?”

“Sometimes the situation is very clear. Those are the people I prefer. When I know what they are after I can decide to give it or not. But when they play the game too well…” He sighed. “I was more easily fooled when I was younger. After college, a few women managed to convince me that their love for me was greater than the universe itself when what they really wanted was the title and money.”

She winced. “That couldn't have been fun.”

“No. But for every half-dozen of them there was someone sincere. A young woman who didn't know or didn't care. You, for example.”

She smiled at the memory. “I didn't have a clue.”

“I know, and when you found out, I thought you would run so far in the opposite direction that I would never catch you.”

Her smile faded. “And when I did run, you didn't come after me.”

He stared at her, then dropped his gaze to her left hand. “You still refuse to wear your ring.”

“Are you surprised?”

“No. Disappointed.”

“Want to talk about what I'm feeling?”

“If you would like.”

She narrowed her gaze. “That's new. Since when do you care about my feelings regarding anything?”

“I want you to be happy.”

She couldn't believe it. “You kept me prisoner, then married me against my will. Not exactly a recipe for happiness.”

“We are husband and wife now. I would like you to make the best of the situation. You may find yourself pleasantly surprised.”

She leaned toward him. “Murat, when will you see what you did was wrong? Why won't you at least admit it? I meant what I said. I want out.”

“There will be no divorce. The king will not allow it.”

Daphne stood, with the thought of escaping, only there wasn't anywhere to go. She glanced around at all the clothes she had to try on, the reminder about her interviews, the stack of books on history and protocol.

“Did it ever occur to you that whatever chance we might have had for happiness is now dead because of what you did?” she asked quietly.

Murat stood and moved close. He touched her cheek. “In time you will let go of the past and look toward the future. I can be patient. I will wait. In the meantime I have a meeting.” He glanced at his watch. “For which I am now late.”

“Somehow I don't think you'll get a reprimand.”

He flashed her a smile. “Probably not.” He nodded at the clothes. “Are you truly overwhelmed?”

“Of course. How could I not be?”

“Would you like to leave this all behind for a few days?”

“Is that possible?”

“Yes. Although it requires you getting back on a horse.”

“I can do that.”

“Good.” He tightened his tie. “Be ready, tomorrow at dawn. You'll need to dress traditionally. I will have someone leave the appropriate clothing in our room.”