Desert Rogues Part 2

by Susan Mallery

  “Because this isn’t about his health. It’s about his wealth. Farid has six sons. Two are not married. Per our laws, he must leave everything to them equally, which divides his fortune into small pieces. But that is not the best way to maintain wealth in the family. What if the sons do not get along? What if their wives want them to take the inheritance to their own families? If Farid dies married, he can leave forty percent of what he has to his wife. The rest is split among his children. I believe his plan is for one of his unmarried sons to then marry Aisha and together they will run the family business.”

  Daphne looked outraged. “Great. So she’s to be sold, not once but twice? That’s pleasant.”

  “You are missing the point. Farid doesn’t want her for himself.”

  “I get the point exactly. Either way she’s been given in marriage to someone she doesn’t know or care about. And she’s in love with someone else. What about that?”

  Why did Daphne refuse to see the sense of the union? “She could be a wealthy widow in her own right in just a few months,” he said. “She wouldn’t have to marry one of the sons if she didn’t want to.”

  “Are you saying she should agree to this? That in a few months, she could bring in what’s his name—”

  “Barak.”

  “Right. She could bring in Barak? That’s terrible, too.”

  Murat shook his head. “Marriage isn’t just about love, Daphne. It is about political and financial gain.”

  “I see that now. What are you going to do?”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “It’s my choice?”

  “Yes. Consider it a wedding gift.”

  “I want Aisha to have the choice to follow her heart. I want her to be free to marry Barak.”

  “Despite what I have told you?”

  She stared at him. “Not despite it, but because of it.”

  “And years from now, when she and Barak are struggling to feed their many children, do you not think she will look back on what she could have had and feel regret?”

  “Not if she loves him.”

  “Love does not put food on the table.” Love was not practical. Why did women consider it so very important?

  “I want her to be with Barak,” Daphne insisted.

  “As you wish.”

  He led her back to the dais and took his seat. Aisha had been crying, and her father looked furious. Farid seemed resigned, while the young lover, Barak, attempted to appear confident even as his shaking knees gave him away.

  Murat looked at Aisha. “You chose your petitioner well. Daphne is my bride and, as such, I can refuse her nothing. I grant your request, but listen to me well. You are angry that your father would sell you to a man so many years older. You see only today and tomorrow. There is all of your future to consider. Farid is a man of great honor. Will you not consider him?”

  Aisha shook her head. “I love Barak,” she said stubbornly.

  Murat glanced at the boy and hoped he would be worthy of her devotion. “Very well. Aisha is free to marry Barak.”

  Her father started to sputter, but Murat quelled him with a quick glare.

  “I give them three camels in celebration of their marriage. May their union be long and healthy.”

  Aisha began to cry. Barak bowed low several times, then gathered his fiancée in his arms and whispered to her.

  Murat turned to the angry father. “I give you three camels, as well, in compensation for what you have lost in your deal with Farid.”

  Murat knew that Farid had offered five camels, but he wasn’t about to give the father more than he gave the couple.

  Finally he looked at Farid. “When it is your time, your family may bring you to the mountain of the kings.”

  The crowd gasped. The honor of being buried in such a place was unheard of.

  Farid bowed low. “I give thanks to the good and wise prince. I wish that I would live to see you rule as king.”

  “I wish that, as well. Go in peace, my friend.” Murat then waited as they all left.

  “Who is next?” he asked.

  Daphne stayed quiet during dinner. Murat seemed tense and restless. He had been that way since returning to their tent.

  When the last plate had been cleared away, she put down her napkin and smiled. “I want to thank you again for what you did today.”

  “I do not wish to speak of it.”

  “Why not? You made Aisha very happy.”

  “I granted the wish of a spoiled girl. She is too young to know her heart. Do you really believe she will love that boy for very long? And then what? She will be poor and hate her husband. At least her father sought to secure her future.”

  Daphne couldn’t believe Murat actually thought the marriage of a sixteen-year-old to a man four times her age was a good thing.

  “Her father wanted to sell her,” she said in outrage. “That’s pretty horrible.”

  “I agree, the father’s motives were suspect, but Farid was a good man, and she would have had financial security.”

  “Right. To be sold again into marriage with one of his sons.”

  “She might have fallen in love with one as well.”

  “Or she might not.”

  Murat stared at her as if she were a complete idiot. “As a widow, she would be free to marry whomever she liked. No one could force her into the marriage.”

  “Gee, so it’s only the one time. That makes it all right.”

  He turned away. “You do not understand our ways and our customs.”

  “I don’t think it’s that, at all. I think you’re angry because I petitioned for the girl.”

  He stood and glared at her. “I am angry because my wife took the side of a foolish young woman and I did as she requested. I am angry because I believe Aisha chose poorly.”

  He stopped talking, but she sensed there was more. Something much larger than Aisha and her problems. But what?

  Murat walked away from the table into the sitting area of the tent. She followed him.

  “You gave a woman her freedom, Murat. What is so terrible about that?”

  “What is so terrible about our marriage?” he asked. “Why do you seek to escape?”

  Was that it? Did he see her in Aisha?

  “I’m not in love with anyone else,” she told him. “I would have told you if I was.”

  “I never considered the matter,” he said, but she wasn’t sure she believed him.

  “Being married to you isn’t terrible,” she said slowly, still not sure what they were arguing about. “My objection is to the way it happened. You never asked.”

  “I did and you refused.”

  “Right. And you went ahead and married me, anyway. You can’t do that.”

  “I can and I did.”

  She couldn’t believe it. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

  “Achieving my goal is always a good thing.” He moved toward her. “We are married now. You will accept that.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And if you carry my child?”

  Daphne pressed both hands to her stomach. They should know fairly quickly. “I’m not.”

  “You are not yet sure.” He loomed over her. “Make no mistake. Any child will stay here. You may leave if you like.”

  “I would never leave my baby behind.”

  “Then the decision is made for you.”

  She wanted to scream. She wanted to demand that he understand. Why was he being so stubborn and hateful?

  “I won’t sleep with you again,” she said.

  “So you told me before, yet look what happened.”

  She felt as if he’d slapped her. “Is that all that night meant to you? Was it just a chance to prove me wrong?”

  “Your word means very little.”

  She turned away, both because it hurt to look at him and to keep him from seeing the tears in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry I came on this trip with you,” she said. “
I wish I’d never left the palace.”

  “If you prefer to be back there, it can be arranged.”

  “Then go ahead and do it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Murat left the tent without looking back. Daphne wasn’t sure what to do, so she stayed where she was. Less than forty minutes later she heard the sound of a helicopter approaching. One of the security agents came and got her, and before she could figure out what had happened, she found herself being whisked up into the night sky.

  The glow of all the campfires seemed to stretch out for miles. She pressed her fingers against the cool glass window and wished for a second chance to take back the angry words she and Murat had exchanged.

  He’d hurt her. She refused to believe he’d spent last night making love with her only to prove a point. Their time together had to have meant something to him, too. But why wouldn’t he admit it? And why had he let her go so easily?

  Just like before, she thought sadly, when she’d broken their engagement. He’d let her go without trying to stop her then, too.

  The trip back to the palace took less than thirty minutes. She made her way to the suite she shared with Murat and let herself inside.

  Everything was as she’d left it, except that the man she’d married was gone. She had no idea when he would return or what they would say to each other when he did.

  She wandered through the room, touching pictures and small personal things, his pen or a pair of cuff links. She missed him. How crazy was that?

  Something brushed against her leg. She looked down and saw one of the king’s cats rubbing against her. She picked up the animal and held it close. The warm body and soft purr comforted her. Still holding the cat, she sank down on the sofa and began to cry.

  “So, how was it?” Billie asked the next morning as she threw herself on one of the sofas. “I can’t imagine riding through the desert. Flying would get you there much faster.”

  Cleo sat next to her sister-in-law and swatted her with a pillow. “The journey is the point. When you fly you never get to see anything.”

  “Yeah, but you get there fast.” Billie grinned. “I’m into the whole speed thing.”

  “And we didn’t know that.” Cleo fluffed her short, blond hair. “Did you have a good time? I thought you would have been gone longer.”

  “It was great,” Daphne said, hoping the cold compresses she’d used earlier had taken down some of the swelling around her eyes. Crying herself to sleep never made for a pretty morning after. “I enjoyed the riding, and the tent was incredible. Like something out of Arabian Nights. There were dozens of rugs underfoot, hanging lights and a really huge bathtub.”

  Billie smoothed the front of her skirt over her very pregnant belly. “Tubs can be fun. Anything you want to talk about?”

  “Not really,” Daphne said, trying to keep things light. “The cultural differences were interesting. I enjoyed watching Murat work with the council.”

  “You weren’t gone long enough to get to the City of Thieves, were you?” Cleo asked, then covered her mouth. She winced and dropped her hand. “Tell me Murat told you about it. I so don’t want to be shot at dawn.”

  “Not to worry. He did. And, no, I didn’t make it there.”

  She’d been looking forward to it, too. She hadn’t really wanted to leave the caravan. She’d acted impulsively in the moment. Why had she reacted so strongly last night? Why had he been so willing to fight with her and let her go?

  “I wanted to see Sabrina and meet Zara,” she said.

  “They’re both very cool,” Cleo said. “You’ll have time later. Or we could plan a lunch. The show-off here can fly us out there in a helicopter.”

  “Cleo’s just jealous because I’m talented,” Billie said with a grin.

  “It’s disgusting,” Cleo admitted. “And she brags about it all the time.”

  “Do not.”

  “Do, too.”

  Daphne felt a wave of longing. These women weren’t sisters, yet they were closer than Daphne had ever been to anyone in her family. If she stayed, she could be a part of this, as well.

  If.

  Cleo shifted to the edge of the sofa and laced her hands together. “I’m not sure how to say this delicately, so I’m just going to blurt it out. Something’s up. You’re obviously unhappy. You’re back early and Murat isn’t with you. Given how you two came to be married and all, Billie and I were wondering if you wanted to talk. You don’t have to, but we’re here to listen.”

  Daphne bit her lower lip. She did want to confide in someone, but…“You’re both in very different places.”

  “Okay.” Billie looked confused. “I know you mean more than us sitting on the sofa and you sitting on a chair.”

  Daphne couldn’t help laughing. Cleo stared at Billie and rolled her eyes.

  “She means we’re in love with our husbands and she’s not sure she is.” She glanced at Daphne. “Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I knew that,” Billie said. “I guess you have a point. But Murat isn’t so bad, is he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Daphne realized it was the truth. That while she hated what he’d done to her—how he’d used circumstances and manipulated her to get what he wanted—she wasn’t sure how she felt about the man himself.

  “There’s the whole ‘going to be queen thing,’” Cleo said. “Does that count for anything?”

  “Of course it doesn’t,” Billie said. “Daphne has more depth than that.”

  Cleo sighed. “I actually wasn’t asking you.”

  “Do you two ever stop arguing?”

  “Sure,” Cleo said. “When we’re not together.” She linked arms with her sister-in-law. “Billie and I have fabulous chemistry. I love sniping at her more than almost anything. It’s like a sporting event.”

  Billie nodded. “Jefri and Sadik have gotten used to never getting a word in edgewise when the four of us have dinner.”

  “Shopping is a complete nightmare for the guys,” Cleo said. “We have credit cards and we know how to use them.” She disentangled her arm. “How can you not want to be a part of this?”

  “You’re tempting me.”

  “More than being queen?”

  Daphne curled up in the chair and leaned her head against the back. “I remember when I was here before. I was so young, just twenty, and engaged to Murat. The thought of being queen really terrified me. I was sort of a serious kid, and I knew there would be huge responsibilities. I didn’t think I could ever manage.”

  “And now?” Billie asked.

  “I don’t know. There’s a part of me that thinks I could really help Murat. He doesn’t have anyone he can confide in. Not to say anything against his brothers.”

  Cleo and Billie looked at each other, then at her. “I know what you mean,” Cleo said. “Sadik is in meetings with Murat and that kind of thing, but he only has to worry about his own area of expertise. Murat has all the responsibility. King Hassan is handing over more and more of the day-to-day ruling. So a wife he trusted could help lighten the load.”

  “Maybe. I think I could make a difference. As much as I don’t get along with my family, I have to admit I’ve been raised to be married to a powerful man.”

  “How nice not to have to learn what fork goes where,” Billie grumbled.

  Daphne grinned. “It’s a skill that has served me well.”

  “So you’re okay with the office of queen, which means the problem lies with Murat himself,” Cleo said. “I think you’re going to have to solve that one on your own.”

  Daphne knew she was right. “I appreciate the support.”

  Billie slipped to the edge of the sofa and leaned close. “I’m about to say something I shouldn’t, but I have to because I feel bad about what happened. Cleo, you can’t tell anyone. Not Zara or Sadik or anyone.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  Billie nodded and stared at Daphne. “If you want to leave, just tell me. I can get y
ou on a plane and back to the States in five hours.”

  Daphne thought of the long flight over. “How is that possible?”

  Billie grinned. “We’d take a jet. No luggage room, but plenty of speed. I need an hour’s notice. That’s all. If it gets bad and you need to run, I’ll take you.”

  Daphne felt her eyes start to burn. These women didn’t even know her and yet they were willing to offer so much support.

  “I appreciate the offer. I doubt things will come to that, but if they do, I know where to find you.”

  The women left after lunch. Daphne walked into the gardens and admired the bronze artwork there. Her favorite piece stood in the center of a large, shallow pool. A life-size statue of a desert warrior on the back of a stallion. As she studied the power in the horse’s flanks and the fierce expression on the warrior’s face, her fingers itched to be back in clay. She wanted to make something as wonderful as this.

  “If only I had that much talent,” she said ruefully. But she still enjoyed the process. She had time for that here. Time for many things she enjoyed.

  She sat on a bench and raised her face to the sun. Now that she was alone, she could admit the truth. She missed Murat.

  Despite his imperious ways and how he made her crazy, she missed him. She wanted to hear his voice and laughter. She wanted to watch him work and know that his strength would one day be their children’s. She wanted his touch on her body and her hands on his.

  So when exactly had she stopped hating enough to start caring about him? Or had she ever hated him? What did she do now? Accept what had happened and move on?

  Her heart told her no. That giving in would mean a lifetime of never being more than an object in his life. She wanted more than his rules and wishes. She wanted him to care. To woo her. To love her.

  She dropped her chin to her chest as the truth washed over her. She wanted him to love her enough to come after her, instead of always letting her go so easily. She wanted to know it was safe to fall in love with him.

  But how? How did she convince a man who believed he was invincible that it was all right to be vulnerable once in a while? How did she get him to open up to her? How did she get him to give her his heart?