by The Sheikh
Emma found use for one of her fancy dresses two nights later when she was invited to dine with the king, Cleo and her husband, Prince Jefri and Murat, the crown prince of Bahania. Nerves rode a roller coaster through her stomach as she carefully applied her makeup, and she wished Reyhan was going to be around. With him at her side, she would find it a whole lot easier to make casual conversation with everyone else at the table. But she hadn’t heard from him since he’d left and she was beginning to think she wasn’t going to.
What if the two weeks ended while he was gone and she had to leave Bahania without seeing him again? She briefly closed her eyes and told herself not to think about it. If she had to leave without seeing him again, she would survive.
Maybe it would even help her get over him more quickly.
Not that she had anything to recover from. It’s not as if she was falling for him or anything.
After checking the mirror one last time and smoothing the front of the peach-colored cocktail dress she’d pulled on, she walked out of the suite toward Cleo’s rooms. Cleo and her husband had offered to escort her to the dinner so she wouldn’t get lost on the way.
“This is Sadik,” Cleo said a few minutes later as she introduced her husband.
Emma wasn’t sure if she was expected to curtsy or what. Wishing she’d asked Cleo in advance, she held out her hand and tried to look more impressed than nervous.
“Your Highness.”
Sadik—tall, darkly handsome and more than a little intimidating—smiled. “As you are a member of the family, I suspect first names would be allowed.” He bent slightly and kissed the back of her hand. “Welcome, Emma. I’m not sure how you have been able to put up with my brother these past few days, but the fact that you have is a testament to your character.”
She’d been expecting to shake hands, so the kiss startled her, although not as much as the gentle teasing. Were all the princes nice as well as good-looking and powerful? Was it possible?
“He’s been very kind,” she murmured.
“But a fool. Any man who leaves such a beautiful wife on her own takes his chances.”
Cleo, lush and amazing in a dark blue low-cut gown, raised her eyebrows. “Sadik, are you flirting?”
He turned to her. “I am making our new sister feel welcome. You know there is but one woman in my world.”
He spoke with an intensity and love that made Emma feel she’d stumbled into a private moment. She turned away, but not before she saw the way Cleo smiled at her husband. It was a smile of true contentment and security. In that moment Emma vowed she would find a man who would love her as Sadik loved his wife, and she would give her whole heart to him.
The three of them walked into the hallway.
“Jefri’s fun,” Cleo said, linking arms with Emma. “He’s the youngest and has a great sense of humor. Murat is more stuffy. I guess it’s the whole crown prince thing.”
“Murat has many responsibilities,” Sadik said firmly. “The weight of the country rests on his shoulders.”
“He’s also still single,” Cleo told her. “Imagine marrying him.”
“No, thanks. I’m having trouble dealing with being a princess, however temporarily. I wouldn’t want to think about being queen.”
“Someone’s going to have to,” Cleo said. “The king has started talking about Murat needing an heir. Not that there aren’t hundreds of women lining up to volunteer.”
“She will be the mother of his sons,” Sadik said. “Not a choice to be made lightly.”
“Exactly,” Cleo said with a grin. “Now, if he was going to only have daughters, then he could pretty much marry anyone.”
Sadik sighed. “You mock me, wife.”
“Pretty much every chance I get.” She looked at Emma. “It’s a hobby.”
Emma was still chuckling when they walked into the formal dining room. This was not the same dining room she’d been in on her second night in Bahania. That room had been impressive, but small and intimate. This one was much larger, with arched windows and elegant tapestries.
The table itself would seat at least twelve, and judging by the chairs lined up along one wall, could expand to seat many more. The inlaid wood gleamed in the soft light of crystal and gold chandeliers. The floor was marble, the flatware gold and the plates appeared hand painted and antique. Equally impressive, there wasn’t a cat to be seen.
Despite the warm temperature outside, the room was cool and a fire crackled in a massive carved fire-place. The king stood beside it, a drink in his hand. Two men stood next to him. They were both tall and dark, with strong features and lean bodies.
Do they know how to grow handsome princes here or what? Emma thought, trying not to give in to her nerves and panic. She just had to get through the dinner, then she could escape back to her room. No biggie. Besides, if Jefri and Murat were as well mannered as Reyhan and Sadik, she would be made to feel welcome. There was nothing to worry about. Really.
Emma had nearly convinced herself when the king turned and saw them. As he approached, she felt her knees begin knocking together. Telling herself over and over that he was just a man didn’t help. Not even a little.
“Emma,” King Hassan said as he approached. “How lovely to see you.”
He squeezed her arm lightly, then turned to Cleo, whom he kissed, then Sadik.
The two men shook hands.
“I heard you went to our marketplace earlier this week,” the king said as he led her to the other princes. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Very much. The people were gracious and kind.”
“A Bahanian trait,” he told her, then he introduced her to his sons.
They were much like Reyhan, yet different. Murat was taller and more serious.
Jefri smiled easily. Both welcomed her.
When a servant approached to take her drink order, Emma chose white wine because she didn’t want to appear out of place, but she had no intention of actually drinking any liquor. Not under these circumstances. Back home her friends teased her about being a complete lightweight, which was true. One drink and she was giggly, two and the world got blurry. Better to keep her wits about her tonight.
“It is unfortunate Reyhan couldn’t be with us,” Murat said a few minutes later.
Emma noticed the king in conversation with Sadik and Cleo while Jefri had excused himself to take a quick call from America. Something to do with the new Bahania Air Force. She smiled at the crown prince.
“Another familiar face in this impressive gathering would be helpful,” she admitted. “But he has responsibilities and I understand that.”
“Many women do not.”
“I can’t imagine why not.”
“They find reasons.” He sipped his drink as he studied her. “Is it true you knew nothing of who he was?”
“Absolutely. I didn’t completely believe it even after I was brought here. The whole prince thing isn’t exactly a part of my regular life.”
“The life you will return to in a few days?”
She nodded.
“Regrets?” he asked.
She considered the question. “One or two foolish ones.”
“Why foolish?”
She motioned to the room. “This is fifteen light-years from where I belong.
Reyhan needs to find a wife who will fit into his world.”
“You let him go easily.”
Was Murat criticizing or stating the obvious? “It’s what he wants.”
“And what do you want?”
Emma thought of her time with Reyhan. How he’d made her laugh and made her ache.
Of how her heart fluttered when he was in the room. Of how innocent she had been all those years ago and how she’d let him walk away.
“I would like to go back and do things differently.”
“Not possible,” he told her. “Not even for a prince.”
Jefri returned just then and dinner was announced.
Emma found herself seated on the king’s
left, with Prince Jefri next to her.
Murat was across from her. She felt the sharp gaze of the crown prince settle on her more than once as the appetizers were served. She longed to ask what he was thinking and if he would say anything to Reyhan when he returned. Were the brothers close? Did they confide in each other? Did Murat know something of Reyhan’s heart, and if he did, would that information please her or hurt her?
“The planes are being delivered next week,” Jefri said, sounding pleased.
“All that training will finally pay off,” the king said. “Are they being delivered to El Bahar, as well?”
Jefri nodded. “The people from Van Horn will be here by the end of the month to start the integration process.”
Cleo leaned toward Emma. “Okay, you look confused. El Bahar and Bahania are starting a joint air force to protect the oil fields. Jefri, who has been a flying fool for years, is in charge. He bought a bunch of really fast planes.
F-somethings. Anyway, Van Horn Enterprises is a private firm that trains fighter pilots.”
Sadik sighed. “I’m not sure where to start, Cleo.”
She straightened. “What? Did I get any of it wrong?”
Jefri looked at her. “You called me a flying fool.”
“And?”
One corner of his mouth twitched. “Never mind.”
King Hassan looked indulgently at Cleo. “She has given me my first grandchild.
Little else matters.”
Cleo winked. “You gotta like that, right?”
Emma nodded, thinking that they might be royal and rich and live in a palace, but at heart this was a family like every other. The knot in her stomach untied and faded away.
Conversation turned to current events and how they impacted Bahania. Emma had long known that Bahania was an American ally, but she was surprised by the close relationship the king and Murat obviously had with the president and several leaders in the Senate.
They had just been served a delicious chicken dish when one of the servants approached the king and spoke into his ear. The monarch listened, said something back, then looked at Emma.
“It seems there has been a slight plumbing problem in your suite,” he said. “A pipe cracked and flooded the room. Nothing of yours was damaged, but you’ll need to spend the night somewhere else.” He smiled. “I think we can find a spare bed.”
She thought of the dozens of rooms in the guest section. “I’m not concerned about it.”
“Good. I have asked for your belongings to be packed and moved. After dinner I’ll escort you to your new quarters myself.”
“Thank you.”
The meal lasted another two hours. When it was over, Emma felt so full, she could barely move. The king made good on his word and walked her to her new room.
“I hope you’re enjoying your stay in my country,” the monarch said as they turned a corner and started down a long corridor.
“Very much. What I’ve seen is so beautiful. And everyone has been so kind.”
“Even my son?”
She glanced at him. He was tall, with a slight graying at his temple. In his dark suit he looked both regal and powerful.
“Especially Reyhan.”
“I was sorry he could not dine with us tonight.”
Emma agreed, but didn’t want to say that. “He has responsibilities.”
“He takes them seriously,” King Hassan said. “As do all my sons. But in Reyhan’s case, perhaps too seriously.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant, but before she could figure out a polite way to ask, they stopped in front of a large door.
“You will be staying in here,” her host told her. “I hope you will find the room to your liking.” He smiled and left.
Emma opened the door and stepped inside. The quarters were larger than her own had been, but more spartan. There were no overstuffed sofas and lush paintings.
Instead the room was filled with simply designed pieces in muted earth tones and the artwork leaned more toward sculptures with a few boldly colored abstracts for contrast.
She turned on several lamps and walked around the living room. Something about it made her feel…not uneasy, just odd. The room was almost familiar. How strange. Had she seen it when she and Reyhan had toured the palace? She didn’t remember any guest rooms being on their tour. Had she seen one similar?
She walked into the bedroom. The huge bed rested on a platform. Massive pieces of furniture filled the space without crowding her. Again the colors were muted but not—
She froze in place. There was a book on a nightstand. An open book. Quickly she crossed to the closet and pulled at the double doors. Dark suits lined one side of the closet. Built-in shelves were home to shirts, sweaters and shoes. Her own newly purchased wardrobe filled the other side of the closet. She fingered the sleeve of the closest suit and knew exactly who owned it.
Reyhan.
The king had moved her in with her husband.
Emma sighed, not sure what to do with the information. Should she protest? Request another room? Was King Hassan testing her? Testing them? Even with Reyhan gone, she felt that she didn’t belong in his rooms. They had never lived as man and wife. This felt too…intimate.
In the bathroom she found her cosmetics on the same counter as his shaver. Two bathrobes hung by the large glassed-in shower. As if they had always been together.
Not sure what to do, Emma decided she would stay the night, then speak with Cleo in the morning. Perhaps the other woman would know what was going on and what Emma should do about it. In the meantime, she would simply pretend all this was real and that this was where she belonged.
Reyhan arrived back at the palace shortly after midnight. The same demons that had driven him away had forced him to return. He had to see her, touch her, breathe the same air she breathed. The need inside of him had grown until he couldn’t eat or sleep. He could only want.
He took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the second floor, he walked toward the guest wing. But as he approached her door, he slowed his step until he stopped several feet away.
What was he going to do? Break down the door and take her? He closed his eyes and shook his head. No. He would be strong. Just a few more days and she would be gone. He was back in the palace now. Within a few feet of her. That would be enough. He would retreat to the safety of his own rooms and figure out a way to survive until she was gone.
Retracing his steps, he made his way to the other side of the building and let himself into his suite. He shrugged out of his jacket and left it on the back of the sofa. As he loosened his tie, he walked into the bedroom, only to come to a complete stop.
He was not alone.
A woman lay in his bed. In the moonlight streaming in from the open French doors he could see a bare arm, the curve of a cheek and dark hair tangled on a white pillow.
His heart stopped for a full second, then resumed at a thundering pace. His body heated as blood raced down to his groin. He was instantly hard and ready to take.
Emma was in his bed.
Chapter 8
Reyhan told himself to leave, to back out of the room before she awoke. As much as he wanted her, he couldn’t have her. Not now, not ever. But he couldn’t move.
The passion was too strong. He could only stand in place and drink in her beauty.
He must have made a sound, or perhaps she sensed his presence, because she stirred, turned over then opened her eyes.
“Reyhan?” she asked, her voice sleepy. She pushed her hair out of her face and raised herself on one elbow. “What time is it?” She glanced at the clock, then back at him. “I’ve only been asleep for a couple of seconds. I thought…” She blinked. “Wait. What are you doing here?”
“This is my room.”
“What?” She glanced around. “Oh.” Her breath caught. “Oh! Right. I, ah, I had dinner with the king and your family and while we were eating someone came and told him that a pipe had broken in my suite. So he said he would pu
t me somewhere else. Which turned out to be here. I thought it was weird, but it was late and I figured I would just stay here until morning, then straighten it out.
I didn’t think you’d be back tonight.”
Of course she didn’t. He hadn’t told her when he would return. But he’d told his father who had most likely arranged for him to find Emma sleeping in his bed.
While he was curious as to why his father wanted to tempt him with Emma, he was more concerned about the temptation itself. He had to get out of here before he said or did something he would regret. Before he gave in to the hunger consuming him.
“I’m sorry,” she said, sitting up and drawing her knees to her chest. “I should have said something right away. I can go find somewhere else to sleep.”
She started to climb out of the bed. He caught a glimpse of semitransparent fabric and sensuous curves.
“Don’t,” he said, turning away and staring blindly out the French doors. “Just stay there. I’ll leave.”
“But this is your room.”
“Tonight it is yours.”
Tonight and always, he thought, knowing he would never forget seeing her there.
In the morning, when she was gone, he would haunt the rooms, searching for some hint of her presence, some clue that she’d been there at all.
“How were your meetings?” she asked.
“They went well.”
“Did you really have to go, or were you just avoiding me?”
The softly worded question surprised him. The Emma he remembered would never have been so bold. He returned his attention to her and found her sitting cross-legged, staring at the sheets.
“I was avoiding you, but not for the reasons you think.”
Her chin lifted and her eyes widened. “I don’t understand.”
Perhaps it was the night. Perhaps it was the ache inside of him, an ache that grew and fed on his soul. Perhaps it was the hint of sweetness in the air, the scent of which could only come from Emma. Perhaps it was madness. Regardless of the reason, he decided to speak the truth.
“I cannot be around you without wanting you,” he said. “Rather than give in, I went away.”
Understanding dawned slowly. The soft light of the moon didn’t allow him to see her blush, but he imagined it. She swallowed, then shrugged.
