She wasn’t sure how long she sat there grieving for what could have been. An hour. Perhaps two. Then she straightened and brushed away her tears. All along she’d allowed circumstances to choose her path for her. It was time for her to act. She would find Murat and talk to him. If after she explained her feelings for him and her thoughts about staying in the marriage he still wasn’t interested, then she would leave. But she wasn’t going to give up without a fight.
Once again she went to his office, but he was not there. Fouad, his assistant, shook his head when she asked what time he would return.
“Prince Murat has left the country,” he said. “On an extended trip. He is not expected to return for several weeks.”
She couldn’t believe it. “He’s gone? Where?”
“I have his itinerary here, if you would like it.”
She took the offered sheet of paper and tried to read the various entries, but the print blurred.
“Wh-when was this planned?” she asked.
Fouad looked sympathetic. “He has been working on it for a few days now, Your Highness. I’m terribly sorry to be the one to tell you about it.”
The paper fluttered from her fingers, but she didn’t try to pick it up.
He couldn’t have left. Not so quickly. She’d just spoken to him a few minutes ago.
“I don’t understand. When did he pack? He can’t have just left.”
“I’m sorry,” Fouad repeated.
Daphne forced herself to smile. “You’ve been very kind. Thank you.”
She left and made her way to the elevator, then to the suite she was supposed to share with Murat. Only, he was gone and she was no longer his wife.
She stepped inside to find the king waiting for her.
“My child,” he said as he walked toward her. “I have spoken with Murat.”
“He’s gone,” she said, still unable to believe the words. “He left. For several weeks. I had a list of where he was going, but I…” She glanced around for the paper, only to remember she’d dropped it in his office. “He said I could leave. Did he tell you that?”
King Hassan nodded. “The divorce will be finalized as quickly as possible. You are free to return to your life in America.”
“Right.” Her life. The practice she no longer had, the family who would never forgive her, the friends who couldn’t possibly understand what she’d been through.
“He is very sorry for what he has done,” the king said. “He sees now that he should never have held you against your will.”
She drew in a breath. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have meddled, either.”
“I agree.” Murat’s father suddenly looked much older than his years. “I thought the two of you were right for each other. That you only needed time together to realize how right you were. I was an old fool and I hurt you both. I am deeply sorry.”
She swallowed, then shook her head. “You weren’t wrong. Not completely. I know that Murat isn’t interested in me or our marriage, but I…” Her throat tightened. “I love him. I would have stayed.” She touched her stomach. “When I told him I wasn’t pregnant, he told me to leave.”
The king held out his arms, and Daphne rushed into them. She gave in to the tears.
“I could call him back,” King Hassan said. “He still has to listen to me.”
Temptation called, but she pushed it away.
“Please don’t,” she said as she straightened and wiped her face. “There has been too much manipulation already. I wouldn’t want Murat to be forced into our relationship. I would only want him there because it was what he desired.”
“What will you do now?”
“Go back to the States.”
The king bent down and kissed her cheek. “Stay as long as you would like. Despite what has happened, you are welcome here.”
“I doubt Murat would be thrilled to come home and find me here.”
“You never know.”
She was pretty sure. He’d let her go without a fight—as he always had.
It took her most of the next day to gather the courage to pack her things and prepare to leave. She only took a few items of the new clothing she’d received since marrying Murat—the things she’d worn in the desert and the nightgowns she’d worn in their bed. She left all the jewelry, including the diamond band that had been her wedding ring.
“Can we do anything?” Billie asked as she hugged Daphne goodbye. “Are you sure you don’t want me to fly you home?”
“I think I’ll be more comfortable on the king’s plane, but thanks.”
Cleo moved in for her hug. “I’m sorry Murat is being such a jerk about all this. Men are so stupid.” Tears filled her blue eyes. “What I don’t get is I would have sworn he was really crazy about you.”
Daphne had thought so, too, but she’d been wrong. About so much.
“Keep in touch,” Cleo said.
Daphne nodded even though she knew it would never happen. They might send a card back and forth, but in the end they had nothing in common.
“You’ve both been terrific,” she said. “Please tell Emma goodbye for me. And tell Zara and Sabrina I’m sorry I never had the chance to meet them.”
The three women hugged again, then Daphne walked out of the suite with them and carefully closed the door behind her.
She rode alone to the airport. Cleo and Billie had offered to come with her, but she wanted to be by herself. She was done with tears and hopes and shattered dreams. She didn’t want to feel anything, ever again.
But the burning ache inside of her felt as if it could go on forever. How was she supposed to get over loving Murat? Only now that she had lost him forever did she realize that he had been her heart’s desire from the very beginning.
Murat stepped out of the limo and hurried inside the palace. Urgency quickened his steps as he raced up the stairs to the suite he shared with Daphne. He jerked open the door and stepped inside.
“Daphne?”
The large space echoed with silence.
“Daphne? Are you here?”
He walked into their bedroom. She wasn’t there. Nor was the book she kept on her nightstand. He moved to the bathroom next and saw her makeup tray was empty. She was gone.
Defeat crashed through him. He had gone away to forget her only to realize that she was with him always. Even knowing that he owed her the choice, he wanted the chance to convince her to stay. But she hadn’t even waited two days.
He walked down the hall and into his office. Two things caught his attention at once—a diamond band placed exactly in the center of his desk and the sculpture of the lovers he’d seen before.
He moved forward and picked up the ring. Funny how it still felt warm, as if she had only just removed it. He squeezed it in his hand, then dropped it into his jacket pocket. Then he turned his attention to the clay.
The intense embrace mesmerized him. He followed the graceful line of arms and torso up to the—
His heart froze. No longer were the lovers faceless. She had pressed in features. Just a hint of a nose, a slash for a mouth, but he recognized both of the faces.
Swearing, he picked up the phone and demanded a connection to the airport.
The luxurious jet raced down the runway. Daphne leaned back in the leather seat and closed her eyes. While she doubted she would sleep, she didn’t want to watch as Bahania disappeared behind her.
Faster and faster until that moment just before the wheels lifted off. Then the jet suddenly slowed and sharply turned.
“Everything’s fine, Your Highness,” the pilot said over the intercom. “A signal light came on to tell us the cargo door isn’t closed tight. We need to return to the hangar. It will only take a couple of minutes to fix.”
She nodded her agreement, then realized the man couldn’t see her. “Thanks for letting me know,” she said as she pushed the intercom button on the console beside her seat.
She flipped through the stack of magazines left for her and picked out on
e on interior design. When she returned to Chicago, she either had to join another practice or go out on her own. That had been her plan when she’d left.
Maybe a change in cities would be nice. She’d never lived in the South or the West. She could go to Florida, or perhaps Texas.
She glanced out the window and saw several uniformed crewmen rushing around the plane. Then the main door opened. Daphne looked up in time to see a tall, handsome, imperious man striding on board.
Her heart took a nosedive for her toes. Rational thought left her as hope—foolish hope—bubbled in her stomach.
Murat took the seat opposite hers and leaned toward her.
“How could you leave without telling me you love me?” he demanded.
“I…I didn’t think you’d want to know.”
He scowled. “Of course I want to know that my wife loves me. It changes everything.”
She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but drink in the sight of him.
“You told me to leave,” she reminded him.
“I thought you were anxious to be gone.” He glared at her. “This is your fault for not confessing your feelings.” His expression softened. “I am happy to know my love is returned.”
She couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d told her he was a space alien.
“You l-love me?” she asked breathlessly.
“With all my heart and every part of my being.” He took her hands in his. “Ah, my sweet wife. When I realized how badly I had treated you, I did not know how to atone for what I had done. Setting you free seemed only right, even though it was more painful than cutting off my arm. When you accepted my decision without saying anything, I thought you did not care about me.”
“I was too shocked to speak,” she admitted. “Oh, Murat, I do love you. I have for a long time. Maybe for the past ten years. I’m not sure.”
He stood and pulled her to her feet. “You are a part of me. You are the one I wish to be with for always. I want you to share in my country, my history. I love you, Daphne.”
She wasn’t sure if he pulled her close or she made the first move. Suddenly she was in his arms and he was kissing her as if his life depended on her embrace.
She clung to him, needing him more than she’d ever needed anyone ever.
He pulled back. “But if you must leave, I will let you,” he said.
She couldn’t believe it. “But you said—”
He smiled. “You may go, but I am coming with you. I will be next to you always.”
She laughed. “I don’t want to go anywhere. I love Bahania and I love you.”
Right there, in the walkway of a jet, Crown Prince Murat of Bahania dropped to one knee.
“Then stay with me. Be my wife, the mother of my children. Love me, grow old with me and allow me to spend the rest of my life proving how important you are to me.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “For always.”
He stood and reached into his jacket pocket. When he withdrew a ring, she started to shake. Then she realized he wasn’t holding the diamond band he’d given her after their marriage. Instead he held a familiar and treasured engagement ring—the one she’d left behind ten years ago.
“My ring,” she said breathlessly. “You kept it all this time.”
“Yes. In a safe place. I was never sure why, until now. I know I was keeping it for you to wear again.” He slid on the ring, then kissed her.
Lost in the passion of his body pressing against hers, she barely heard the crackle of the intercom.
“Prince Murat?” It was the pilot. “Sir, are we still going to America?”
“No,” Murat said into the intercom. He sank onto a chair and pulled Daphne onto his lap. “We are not.”
“Are we going anywhere?”
Murat leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Do you have any pressing engagements for the rest of the afternoon?”
She shifted so she could straddle him. “What did you have in mind?”
He chuckled, then pressed the intercom button again. “Once around the country.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Which gives us how long?” she asked.
He reached for the buttons on her blouse.
“A lifetime, my love. A lifetime.”
The Sheik and the Virgin Secretary
by Susan Mallery
Published by Silhouette Books
America’s Publisher of Contemporary Romance
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
“I wondered if you were currently looking for a mistress,” Kiley Hendrick said quietly.
Prince Rafiq of Lucia-Serrat stared at the woman sitting across from him. He had thought the biggest surprise of his Monday had been to find Kiley at her desk that morning, instead of on her honeymoon.
He had been wrong.
“You speak of yourself?” he asked.
She nodded, keeping her gaze firmly on the pad of paper she clutched on her lap.
He hadn’t seen his secretary in five days. She’d taken off part of the previous week to prepare for her impending marriage. “I take it the wedding on Saturday was not a success,” he said.
“There was no wedding.” She raised her head and stared directly at him. “Eric and I are no longer together.”
“I see.”
He allowed his gaze to return to her tightly clenched hands and saw that the modest diamond engagement ring was no longer on her left hand. A thin indentation on her pale skin was the only proof it had existed at all.
“I know that you are currently between, ah, women,” she said and blushed. “That is, I sent the final gifts and letter so I thought that you had broken up.” She pressed her lips together as if not sure how to continue.
“I am no longer seeing Carmen,” he offered helpfully.
Kiley nodded. “Yes. I thought so. And while I know you usually have one or two candidates waiting in the wings, I wondered if you would consider me. Even though I’m not your usual type.”
He had a type? “Meaning?”
She released her death grip on her pad of paper and shifted in her seat. “Glamorous. Beautiful. Sophisticated. I’m okay looking, but not in their league. But you’ve only seen me in work clothes. I clean up pretty well. I’m smart, I have a sense of humor.” She paused and bit her lower lip. “I’ve never had a conversation like this. I don’t know what you’re looking for when you pick a woman for, um, well, that.”
“My bed?”
The blush returned. She swallowed but didn’t look away. “Right. Your bed.”
Rafiq had not discussed things so openly before, either. He leaned back in his chair and considered what he looked for in a mistress.
“Obviously some physical beauty,” he said, more to himself than her. “But that is less important than one might think. Intelligence and humor are required. Not every waking moment is spent making love. There is plenty of time for conversation.”
He thought of Carmen’s shrill demands. “An even temper would be desirable.”
“You’ve known me for two years,” Kiley reminded him. “I’ve never gotten angry.”
“Agreed.” She had not. She was efficient, organized and very much responsible for the ease with which his workday progressed. But his mistress?
While Kiley was attractive and he would admit to finding pleasure in watching her move, he had never considered that more than a bonus. Beautiful, sensual women were easy to find. An excellent assistant was not.
The most sensible course was to politely thank her for the offer, then refuse the invitation. He would—
“There will be advantages,” she said, as if trying to convince him. “I understand your work. We can discuss it, if you’d like. Plus I won’t mind if you have to stay at the office late.”
“Most likely you will be working late with me,” he said, wondering why this was so important to her. What had pushed the normally reserved Kiley to make such an outrageous—for her, at least—request?
“Yes, there is that.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t know what else to say. I just hope you’ll consider me.”
He had never been approached so openly by a woman intent on joining him in his bed. He would have bet a considerable part of his fortune that she was not the type to be interested in an affair. He still believed that.
“Why do you want to do this?” he asked.
Kiley returned her attention to him. Her dark-blue eyes flashed with pain. “Revenge.”
“A noble motive. I assume this revenge is because of your fiancé?”
“Yes. Eric.”
She paused, as if considering how much to tell him. Rafiq could guess the basic scenario, but he wanted to hear it from her. He wanted to gauge her emotions and her intent.
While she chose her words, he looked at her. Really looked—not at the ever-present secretary who anticipated his needs and made his life flow pleasantly, but at the woman.
She was of average height—perhaps five foot four or five inches. Her hair, worn short and layered, was the color of gold. Or perhaps the north-shore beaches of Lucia-Serrat at sunset. Her large eyes dominated her face. He’d noticed how the deep blue darkened or lightened with her mood. He had always been able to tell if she was annoyed with him.
She was delicately built, small-boned, with curves that intrigued him. Now he took in the slight swell of her breasts and the shape of her calves below the hem of her knee-length skirt.
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