The Sheik and the Runaway Princess

by Mallery, Susan

  She reached the window and tried to find beauty in the view of the courtyard below and the marketplace in the distance. It was growing late and most people were hurrying home. She wished she could do the same. She turned to retrace her steps.

  “Stand still so that I may look upon you.”

  The words came out of nowhere and startled her into freezing in place. Kardal stood just inside the door. He had entered as quietly as a ghost. She’d heard neither the door open nor close. Darn the man for being so stealthy.

  He’d cleaned up, she thought, looking at him and trying to still the rapid thundering of her heart. The man cleaned up pretty good. He still wore loose trousers and a linen shirt, but they were freshly pressed. His hair gleamed damply in the lantern light and his jaw was freshly shaved. Not wanting to know what he was thinking, she avoided glancing at his eyes, but she couldn’t help notice the elegant sweep of his nose or the strength inherent in his jawline. Were he not a kidnapper and a potential defiler of women, she might think him very handsome.

  She had tried to make her study of him surreptitious, but he did not share her good manners. Instead he gazed at her as if he were considering the purchase of a mare. He stalked around her, looking at her from behind, then returning to stand in front of her again.

  His attention made her shiver. She felt both his power and her near-nakedness. She liked neither. Fear took up residence low in her belly, making her chest tighten and her fingers curl toward her palms.

  “You can’t do this,” she said, trying to make her voice strong, but sounding scared instead. “I’m a royal princess. The price of doing…that to me would be death. Besides, as the Prince of Thieves, you owe allegiance to the king of Bahania. To so insult his daughter would be an insult to him.”

  Kardal folded his arms over his chest. “You’re forgetting that the king of Bahania doesn’t care about his daughter.”

  She fought back a wince. “Actually I have trouble forgetting that, as much as I would like to.”

  “Do you really think he would be angry?” he asked, stepping closer.

  He reached for her right hand and took it in his. The contact startled her. She tried to pull away, but he would not release her.

  “He might be annoyed,” Kardal conceded even as he ran a single finger along the length of her palm. Something unexpected skittered up her arm, as if a nerve had been jolted. “He might stomp about the castle, but I doubt he would kill me.”

  “It doesn’t matter what he thinks about me,” she said, hating that those words were true. “But if you defile me, you defile a woman of his household. Regardless of his lack of concern, he would not let that go unpunished.”

  Kardal shrugged. “Perhaps you are right. We’ll have to find out together.”

  He moved with a swiftness that defied physics. One second he was lightly stroking her hand, the next he’d snapped something heavy around her wrist. She’d barely had time to gasp when he did the same to her left arm.

  The air fled her lungs. She tried to scream in outrage, but had no breath. Slave bracelets. The man had claimed her with slave bracelets.

  “You—” She searched her mind for an appropriate slur and was disgusted when none came to mind. “How dare you?”

  Instead of being afraid—which was obviously too much to ask with this man—he grinned at her. “You appreciate that which is ancient and valuable. You should be honored.”

  Honored? Her gaze dropped to the gold encircling the five inches of her arm just above the wrist. The slave bracelets were obviously old and handsomely made. A swirling pattern had been etched into the gold—the design both intricate and beautiful. She knew that somewhere was a tiny latch which when pressed, would cause the locking mechanism to release. She also knew that it could take her weeks to find it.

  “How dare you?” she demanded again, glaring at Kardal. “You mark me.”

  He shrugged. “You are my possession. What did you expect?”

  The insult was nearly unbearable. “I am not a creature to wear a collar.”

  “No, you’re a woman in slave bracelets.”

  She stuck out her arms. “I demand you remove them.”

  He turned away and walked over to a bowl of fruit left on a table near the door. He picked up a pear, sniffed it and then took a bite. “I’m sorry. Were you speaking to me?”

  She jerked at the right bracelet, knowing it was useless. “I hate this. I hate being here. I refuse to be your slave. And there are times when I really hate being a woman. My father and my brothers ignore me, you think you can do anything to me. I will not be treated with the contempt you give a camel.”

  At last he turned to face her. “On the contrary,” he told her, then took another bite of the pear and chewed slowly. “I have great respect for camels,” he said when he’d swallowed. “They provide a lifetime of service and ask very little in return.” He glanced at her, starting at her feet and ending at the top of her head. “I doubt the same may be said for you.”

  It was too much. She screamed, then reached for the bowl of fruit. Her fingers closed around an orange and she threw it at him.

  “Get out!” she shrieked. “Get out of here and never come back.”

  He headed for the door. The man was laughing at her. Laughing! She wanted him killed. Slowly.

  “You see,” he said as he reached the door. “You are not going to be as well behaved as a camel. I’m disappointed.”

  She threw a pear at him. It bounced off the door frame. “I’ll see you in hell.”

  He paused. “I’ve lived a most exemplary life. So when we are both in the great afterward, I’ll try to put in a good word for you.”

  She screamed and picked up the entire bowl. Still laughing, he stepped into the hall and closed the door, just as the bowl exploded against the wall.

  Kardal was still chuckling as he entered the oldest part of the castle. He’d offered to modernize this section, but his mother protested that she preferred to keep things as they had been for hundreds of years.

  He rounded a corner and saw an open arch, leading to what had been the women’s section. Nearly twenty-five years ago, his mother had opened the doors of the harem. Eventually she had sold them. As they had been nearly fourteen feet high, twelve feet wide and made of solid gold, they had fetched an impressive price. She’d promptly taken the money and used it to fund a clinic for women in the city. Well-trained doctors now monitored the women’s health, delivered their babies and took care of their young, all free of charge. Cala, his mother, had said the generations who had lived and died within the confines of the harem would have approved.

  Kardal stepped through the open arch. What had been the main living area of the harem was now a large office. It was late enough in the day that her staff had left, but a light burned in his mother’s office.

  He crossed the elegantly tiled floor and knocked on the half-open door.

  Princess Cala glanced up and smiled. Tall, slender and doe-eyed, she had an ageless beauty that affected any man still breathing. A year away from turning fifty, she looked to be much closer to his age than her own. Her long dark hair was sleek and free from gray. During the day she wore it up in a sophisticated twist, but when work was finished, she often put it back in a braid. That combined with jeans and a cropped T-shirt allowed her to frequently pass for a woman half her age.

  “The prodigal mother returns,” Kardal teased as he stepped around her desk and kissed her cheek. “How long will you be here this time?”

  Cala turned off her computer, then motioned to the visitor’s chair across from her own. “I’m thinking of making this an indefinite stay. Will that cramp your style?”

  Kardal thought of his recently monastic life. His workload had been such that he hadn’t been able to take time for female companionship. “I think I’ll survive. Tell me about your latest coup.”

  She smiled with pleasure. “Six million children will be inoculated this year. Our goal had been four million, but we had an unexp
ected increase in donations.”

  “I suspect it’s due to your persuasive nature.”

  Cala ran an international charity dedicated to women and children throughout the world. When Kardal had gone away to boarding school, she had begun to busy herself with her charity work, traveling extensively, raising millions of dollars to help those in need.

  She touched the collar of her dark red suit. “I’m not sure of the cause of the generosity, but I am grateful.” She paused to study him speculatively. “Is she really Princess Sabra?”

  Kardal told himself he shouldn’t be surprised. News traveled quickly within the walls of the city and his mother always knew everything.

  “She goes by Sabrina.”

  Cala raised her eyebrows. “I hadn’t thought you could still surprise me, but I find I’m wrong. I’m sure you have a reasonable explanation for kidnapping the daughter of a trusted ally.”

  He told her about finding Sabrina in the desert.

  “She was looking for the city, but there was no way she was going to find it. She would have died if we hadn’t helped her.”

  “I don’t dispute the fact that you should have offered assistance. What I question is you holding her captive. I heard that you brought her into the city on your horse, with her hands tied.”

  He shifted uncomfortably.

  “Why was she looking for the city?” Cala asked, leaning toward him. “I can’t imagine she’s interested in the treasures.”

  “Actually she is. She said she has a couple of degrees. Archeology and something about Bahanian artifacts or history.”

  “You can’t remember what she studied?” Cala shook her head as if silently asking herself where she’d gone wrong with him. “It was too much trouble to pay attention. Yes, I can see how a first conversation with one’s betrothed could be tedious.”

  Kardal hated when his mother spoke as if she was being reasonable when in fact she was verbally slapping him upside the head.

  “She is all I feared,” he told her. “Not only doesn’t she know we’re betrothed, but she’s willful, difficult and very much a product of the west.”

  His mother’s dark eyes didn’t show even a flash of sympathy. “You knew her reputation when you agreed to the match. Don’t forget it was your decision. I wasn’t even here when King Hassan approached you.”

  “I couldn’t refuse him without creating an international incident.”

  Cala didn’t bother answering that. He knew the truth as well as she. Tradition stated that he marry the oldest Bahanian daughter, but it wasn’t a matter of law. Kardal supposed he could have insisted on finding a wife of his own choosing—a love match. But he didn’t believe in love. Not the romantic kind. So what did it matter who he married? The purpose of the union was to produce heirs. Nothing more.

  “You and Sabrina have more in common than you realize,” Cala told him. “You would be wise to seek out those things. Also, if she is truly willful, I suspect there is a reason. Much would be gained by finding and understanding her motivation.”

  “None of that is necessary.”

  “Kardal, your future happiness is at stake. I would think you would be willing to put in a little effort.”

  He shrugged. “To what end? Sabrina isn’t the sort of woman who can make me happy.” Except possibly in bed, he thought remembering how she’d looked in the costume he’d made her wear. There she could please him very well.

  “A wise man would make peace with his future wife. If she is content, she will be a better mother.”

  “If only she were more moldable,” he grumbled. “Why did King Hassan allow her to be raised in the west?”

  “I’m not sure. I know that he married Sabrina’s mother very quickly. Theirs seemed to be a match more about passion than affection. I have heard that if not for Sabrina, they would have divorced in a matter of months. Apparently when they did finally end the marriage, Hassan’s wife wanted to take her daughter with her back to California and he agreed.”

  Kardal shook his head. “Why would a man allow his child to be taken from him? Bahanian law required Sabrina to stay with her father.” While the law allowed for either parent to take custody of the children, in the royal house, the children stayed with the royal parent. Sabrina had been the only exception.

  “Perhaps the king was being foolish,” Cala said quietly. “Men act that way all the time. I know of a man who won’t even bother to get to know his future wife. He also assumes they can never be happy together. All this based on a few hours in her company.”

  “Imagine,” Kardal said dryly. “All right. You have made your point. I will spend more time with Sabrina before I pass judgment on her. However, I’m convinced I will find her wanting.”

  “Yes. Of course. As long as you keep an open mind.” His mother gazed at him. “What am I to do with you?”

  “Admire me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I see I gave you your way too much when you were young.”

  He didn’t doubt that was true, but what he remembered from his youth was his mother’s loving attention. She was devoted to him, always there when he needed her, always stepping back when he needed room to experience life.

  She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Kind, intelligent, wise beyond her years. Yet she’d lived her life alone.

  “Was it because of me?” he asked.

  Cala took several seconds to figure out what he meant. She rose and circled the desk, then crouched in front of him and touched his cheek. “You are my son and I love you with all my heart. My reasons for not marrying have nothing to do with you.”

  “Then it must be his fault.”

  Cala rose and stared down at him. “Kardal,” she said warningly.

  He recognized the tone. Restless, he stood and glared at her. “I do not understand why you refuse to see the truth about the man.”

  “Because there are things you can’t understand.”

  There was no point in arguing about it. They’d had the same discussion dozens of times before. Instead Kardal kissed her cheek and promised to dine with her later that week. Then he left.

  But his anger didn’t ease. With each step it grew, opening old wounds that still had the power to make him ache inside. Perhaps it was wrong, but Kardal had always hated his father.

  Thirty-one years ago, King Givon of El Bahar had arrived in the City of Thieves. Cala, the only child of the Prince of Thieves, had turned eighteen. With no male heir, tradition required her to have a son by the king of a neighboring kingdom. King Givon had been her father’s choice. Her son would then be betrothed to the daughter of the king of Bahania, thereby cementing the relationship between the two countries and the desert city.

  Givon had seduced Cala, stayed until she was pregnant and then had abandoned both her and her child. In the past thirty-one years he had never acknowledged her or his son. Kardal had been a teenager before he’d even known the identity of his father. But knowing the truth had only made his situation worse. He’d longed to meet the man, yet had stayed away. King Givon’s behavior had made it clear he had no interest in his bastard son.

  Kardal stopped in the middle of the stone corridor. There was no point in visiting these memories again. Nothing had changed. So he forced himself to push down his rage. Over the years, he’d grown to be an expert at ignoring the past.

  He continued down the hall, barely noticing the paintings, statues and tapestries that decorated this part of the castle. He pushed through a pair of wooden doors and entered into the “business” side of the castle.

  Within the walls of a fourteenth-century addition existed a modern office complex and security center. A raised tile floor concealed miles of cable, electrical wires and fiber optics. Computers clicked, faxes beeped and telephones rang. He thought about Sabrina in the old living quarters and smiled. What would she throw at him if she knew the truth about this part of the castle? Perhaps if she was very good, one day he would show it to her and find out.

  He no
dded at his male assistant and stepped into his office. A large L-shaped desk sat in the center. At the far end of the room, French doors opened onto a courtyard.

  He ignored the view, the blinking message light and the papers left for him. Instead he crossed to his desk and reached for the phone. He dialed the operator and asked to be connected to the king of Bahania. Even a disinterested father would want to know that his only daughter had survived her time in the desert.

  “Kardal,” a familiar voice said as King Hassan picked up the line. “Is she with you?”

  “Yes. We found Princess Sabra yesterday. She’d lost her horse and her camel in a sandstorm.”

  Hassan sighed. “She took off without saying anything, which is just like her. I’m pleased she is safe.”

  Kardal tapped his desk. “She seems to be unaware of our betrothal.”

  “Yes, yes, that’s true. When I started to explain that I’d arranged a match for her, she screamed at me and bolted from the room before I could give her any details.” There was a slight pause. “She’s flighty, like her mother. A woman without great depth or intelligence. I fear for the minds of her children. I don’t suppose, now that you’ve met her, that you wish to continue the engagement.”

  Kardal had heard that the king of Bahania didn’t pay much attention to his daughter, but he wouldn’t have thought the man would insult her so freely. While Sabrina wasn’t what he would have chosen for a wife, he’d seen no sign of her being slow-witted. Quite the opposite.

  He might have toyed with the idea of ending the engagement, but Hassan’s bald assumption that Kardal would dislike his daughter bothered him.

  “I have not made any final decision,” Kardal said at last.

  “Take all the time you need. It’s not as if we’re eager to have her back at the palace.”

  They discussed a minor matter of security, then Kardal ended the call. Sabrina had hinted that things were not as she would like them at the palace, but he’d had no idea how her father thought of her. Not that Hassan’s attitude should make any difference. Still, it might explain a few things.