The Desert Rogues Part 1

by Susan Mallery

  “Good. Let me know if they give you any trouble.”

  With that he returned to the counter by the door and reached for his phone. Babette gave her an appraising glance. “He must love you very much, Your Highness. You are a fortunate woman.”

  Dora didn’t have a response, so she just smiled. She was willing to admit to fortunate, but she was also confused. Did Khalil, as Babette suggested, love her? Dora wanted to believe that was so, but she wasn’t sure. Everything had happened so quickly.

  She glanced up in time to see the redheaded model disappearing around a screen. Three more models appeared, each in a different type of clothing. One wore a short nightgown that barely skimmed her knees. The light green silk reflected the light, while side slits emphasized thighs, not hips. The second model sashayed along in a hunter-green velvet evening gown that was so beautiful, it made Dora’s mouth water. The shoulders were wide and padded, the neckline plunging, while the lightweight velvet skimmed over the lower half of the body. Dora thought she just might have a shot at wearing that dress and looking decent.

  The final model had been attired for business, in a navy pin-striped coatdress with a wide collar. Behind the models, three more women appeared, each carrying several outfits.

  “We will start with the basics,” Babette said, turning to her. “These are all in your size. Why don’t you see what you like, and then we can start with the fittings. Marie—” She pointed to a tall, young blonde. “We’ll need shoes.” Babette looked at Dora. “Your Highness, what size shoes? Oh, and may I offer you some coffee, or perhaps a light snack?”

  Three hours later all Dora wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep for a week. She hadn’t realized that trying on clothes could be so exhausting. She stood in the center of a large dressing room with two fitters working on the dress she wore.

  She’d lost track of how many outfits she’d already chosen. Babette had a master list, but for Dora it was all too confusing. There were the clothes themselves and the shoes. Babette had chosen hats for some of the dresses, as well as pins and scarves. There were wraps for evening gowns and a casual coat for her slacks. One clerk had brought out a tray of costume jewelry, but Babette had cast a meaningful glance at Dora’s impressive wedding band all the while murmuring that “Her Highness will not bother with artificial stones,” and the tray had been whisked away.

  The two fitters finished their work. Dora took the moment of freedom to step out of the changing room and go find Khalil. What had he been doing all this time?

  She made her way into the front of the showroom and saw him speaking with a young woman. At first Dora thought she was one of the salespeople—she was too short to be a model. Then Dora realized their conversation wasn’t the least bit casual.

  As she watched, her controlled, elegant husband put his hand on the woman’s shoulder and pushed her away from him. The woman, her long, dark hair swaying down to the middle of her back, glared at him and spoke. Dora was too far away to hear their words, but she read the anger in the woman’s body language. Rage surrounded her like a venomous cloud.

  Khalil gestured. The woman shook her head, then, as if she’d just caught the scent of something unpleasant, she froze and turned.

  Instinctively Dora took a step back. But it wasn’t enough. The young woman stared at her. She was so beautiful that Dora’s breath caught in her throat. Her perfect features were marred only by the look of pure hatred in her large, expressive eyes. For a moment, Dora thought her life was in danger. Then Khalil took the woman’s arm and led her out of the boutique. Dora moved toward them, wanting to ask him who the woman was, but before she got close enough, Babette had cornered her.

  “Your Highness, you must try on the rest of the shoes.”

  Dora nodded, but promised herself she wouldn’t forget to speak with Khalil later.

  “Khalil, who was that woman in the store?” Dora asked as the limo drove them from the hotel to the airport where Khalil’s private jet waited. “The pretty one you were speaking with so intently.”

  Khalil thought about pretending he didn’t know what she meant, but he knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t be easily distracted.

  The pretty one, he thought with faint humor. Amber would be most insulted by the inadequate description. She wasn’t merely pretty—she was a goddess…and a snake.

  “She is of no importance,” he told her with a smile. “A friend of the family. Her father works in government. I told her about our marriage.”

  “She didn’t seem very happy about it.”

  Khalil thought of Amber’s shriek of rage and her threats to both him and Dora. “She was surprised, nothing more.”

  He spoke easily because the lies were all Dora needed to know. The fact that Amber had gone for his eyes, then had called him names even he hadn’t realized she’d known wasn’t anything his wife needed to hear.

  His wife. He looked over at the quiet stranger he’d married. She might not be as lovely as Amber, but in every other way she was Amber’s superior. If he’d had any doubts, the chance—or perhaps not-so-chance—encounter with his ex-fiancée in the salon had taken care of them. Dora would learn the duties of her new position quickly. She would be loyal, loving, and would never cause a scandal. If he were lucky, she might even grow to be more pliable with time.

  He reached over and took her hand. “I’m happy to have married you,” he told her.

  She gave him a slightly shaky smile. “I’m glad.”

  He squeezed her fingers, then released her. Yes, he’d been fortunate to find a way out of his dilemma, and he’d found an adequate substitute as well. It had been a very successful trip.

  Dora stared out the window of Khalil’s jet, but the terrain below was as unfamiliar as a moonscape. She didn’t know enough about the region to be able to tell where one country ended and another began, and unlike her school atlas, the different areas weren’t neatly color-coded. She could only stare and wonder if they’d crossed into El Bahar yet.

  The trip was too long, she thought, trying to hold panic at bay. She’d had too much time to think, especially when Khalil had dimmed the cabin lights, stretched out in his comfortable seat and fallen asleep. Now they were within a few minutes of landing, and she desperately wanted to tell him that she’d changed her mind.

  She glanced to her left and saw Khalil lost in a report on waste management. He’d slept for most of the eleven-hour flight, then had awakened in time to eat breakfast, shave and change into a clean shirt. She looked at her own wrinkled dress and wished she’d thought to bring something to put on before they landed, but she hadn’t and all her luggage was stowed in the belly of the jet.

  I’m fine, she told herself, even though she didn’t believe the words or the sentiment behind them. She wasn’t fine, she was terrified. What on earth was she doing here?

  In a panic, she reached for the air phone tucked neatly into her armrest. Then she paused. Who was she going to call? She hadn’t seen her father in twenty years, and her mother had passed away the year Dora had turned twenty-five. There weren’t any other relatives. As for friends, most of them were more acquaintances than people she would feel comfortable confiding in. Besides, what was she going to say? That in day two of her marriage, she was having serious second thoughts? That she was terrified about leaving her country behind and moving to El Bahar?

  She dropped her hand back to her lap and sighed. She was going to have to get through the next few days without doing anything rash. In time, the situation would settle down, and she wouldn’t feel so lost in unfamiliar territory.

  She looked at Khalil again and saw that he was still reading the same page of his report. Was he distracted as well? Was he having doubts? She desperately wanted to ask him, but then she decided she was afraid of the answer. What would she do if he said yes, that he wasn’t sure, either?

  If only they’d had one more night in New York before leaving for El Bahar. If only she hadn’t gotten so drunk the night of their
marriage so they could have talked more and made love. If he could have held her one more time and told her that he cared about her, she would have felt better about everything. But they hadn’t. Instead they’d boarded his private jet, repaired at last. There were not only the pilots, but two stewards who had seen to their every need and not given them a moment’s privacy.

  Pressure built at her ears, and she instinctively swallowed. They were descending. Dora looked out the window and saw that they’d left the vast desert behind. Below them was a sprawling city with wide streets and hundreds of buildings, including modern glass towers. She caught a glimpse of glittering blue.

  The Arabian sea, she wondered in astonishment. Had she really come halfway around the world?

  “There’s the palace,” Khalil said, pointing out the window. “On the coast. You can also see the old city walls.”

  She saw a huge creamy-white structure poised on the edge of the water. Beyond it extensive grounds formed a patchwork of colors. The wall he’d spoken of made a rough square around much of the city, although it didn’t include the high-rises she’d noticed earlier.

  Excitement began to replace the panic inside of her. From the safety of the jet, El Bahar looked exotic but still welcoming. Perhaps things weren’t going to be so frightening after all.

  The jet made a smooth landing, then taxied to a small single-story building at the far end of the runway. As Dora stepped out of the jet, she noticed a much larger terminal across the tarmac.

  “That’s for the commercial aircraft,” Khalil said, noticing the direction of her gaze. “Immigration and customs are there, as well. On the far side we have a substantial area for freight companies. They even have their own runways. As you can see, El Bahar is ready for the new century.”

  “Very impressive,” she told him.

  She walked down the narrow flight of stairs and drew in her first deep breath of El Baharian air. It was slightly cool, but pleasant. She caught the elusive fragrance of a flower of some kind, but couldn’t see anything planted nearby. The sky overhead was an amazing shade of blue, and seemed more vast than any sky she’d seen before. She told herself that she was being fanciful—that this was the same sky she always looked up at. Yet it felt and looked different.

  Khalil led the way to the waiting limo. It was white and had two small flags on the hood. The bright gold royal emblem fluttered in the light breeze. As she approached, she noticed the uniformed chauffeur holding open the rear door, but before she could slide onto the back seat, Khalil stopped her with a light touch on her arm.

  “Dora, this is Roger, our favorite driver. He’s been with my family for as long as I can remember.”

  The chauffeur, an attractive light-skinned man in his fifties, touched the brim of his cap. “Thank you, Prince Khalil, but I must take offense at the phrase ‘for as long as I can remember.’ The young lady is going to think I’m as old as dirt.” The Englishman smiled as he spoke.

  “Maybe not as old as dirt,” Khalil admitted. “How about as old as time?”

  Roger grinned. “All right, Your Highness. Be that way if you must.” He winked at Dora.

  She found herself smiling back at the older man. At least the first person she’d met in El Bahar hadn’t terrified her.

  Khalil gripped Roger’s shoulder briefly. “I’m glad you’re the one who came to the airport today,” he said. “Now Dora won’t be so worried about staying in El Bahar.”

  She glanced at him in some surprise. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

  “I’m your husband. Why wouldn’t I know?”

  She didn’t know how to respond to the question. Yes, he was her husband, but he didn’t know her very well. At least she didn’t think he did. Or had she misjudged him? Perhaps he’d been telling the truth when he said he’d noticed her from the first moment they’d met. The idea left a warm glow in her stomach.

  “Your wife?” Roger said, his voice laced with disbelief. “Sir, I had no idea.” He pulled off his cap and gave Dora a low bow.

  She was so startled by the act of deference that she could do little more than stare at Roger’s close-cut sandy-red hair before glancing helplessly at her husband. But Khalil didn’t look the least bit upset by the other man’s actions. Of course, he was a prince by birth and quite used to this sort of treatment.

  “Your Highness,” Roger began. “I meant no disrespect. If I’d known—”

  Dora might not know much about being a princess, but she knew plenty about getting along with people. “I hope you would have been as friendly to me,” she said gently, as she cut him off in midsentence. “The prince is correct. This is my first time in El Bahar, and I’m a little nervous. You’ve given me a gracious welcome.”

  “Thank you.” Roger nodded his head, then motioned to the open door. “If Your Highness pleases.”

  Dora slid onto the rear seat. Khalil followed, but not before Roger said, “Well done, sir. She’s quite the lady.”

  Khalil didn’t respond. Dora knew that she wasn’t supposed to have heard the comment, but it allowed her to relax a little. Perhaps she had a chance of getting it right after all. If only the royal family was as friendly as Roger, she would be just fine.

  When the luggage had been loaded into the trunk, Roger got behind the wheel and started the limo. In a matter of minutes they’d left the airport behind and were headed for the city. Dora let her gaze move from window to window as she took in the sights of her new homeland.

  They headed south to the coastal highway, then east, toward the city. The roads were wide and well-maintained, and the cars she saw were a mixture of old and new. The blue sky drew her attention again and again, and she found herself wanting to lower the window so that she could inhale the scents of the air.

  “Would you mind?” she asked, lightly touching the control lever.

  “Please.” Khalil leaned back in the seat. “This is to be your home. I want you to feel comfortable.”

  She thought about telling him that she’d feel much more comfortable if he would touch her arm or take her hand, but she didn’t have the courage. They might technically be married, but she didn’t feel she had the right to any of a wife’s privileges.

  She pressed the lever, and the window on her side lowered soundlessly. Instantly a cool breeze whispered against her face. She could feel the warmth of the sun, inhale the faint salt of the sea, along with that strange, slightly sweet aroma.

  They were in the far left lane of the highway, moving along at a fast rate of speed. Dora saw rows of palms along the side of the road. “Date palms?” she asked.

  “Yes. Not that long ago they were a staple food supply through the long summer. Now they have become more of an export crop, although they are still a part of the El Baharian diet. Look.” He pointed to her left.

  She turned and saw a man in nomadic dress leading two camels laden with burlap bags.

  “He’s heading for the souk—the marketplace,” he added. “One of the largest and oldest in the city is by the palace. I’ll take you there sometime.” Despite her nerves, Dora felt a flicker of excitement at the thought of all the exotic adventures awaiting her.

  They continued toward the city. As they passed through the financial district, she strained her neck to try to see the tops of the glass high-rises. Several of the names on the signs out front were from companies she recognized.

  “Jamal, my middle brother, handles the country’s finances, as well as the family money.” Khalil jerked his head toward the cluster of Western-style buildings. “While my father had the idea of making El Bahar the financial center of the Arab world, Jamal is the one who made it happen. He designed the packages that brought the big banking and financial companies here. Of course our billions are substantially less than the Bahanians’ wealth.”

  “Who?” she asked.

  “Bahania—it’s our neighbor to the northeast. Between us and Yemen. My father always says that his troubles are nothing when compared with the king of Bahania.
Where I am one of three sons, the king of Bahania has four sons and a daughter.” He shook his head. “The two fathers are good friends, and for a while my brothers and I thought there would be an arranged match between the two countries, but my grandmother is Bahanian, and there was concern about mixing the blood lines.”

  Dora stared at him, her interest in the city temporarily forgotten. “Your father has arranged marriages for his sons?”

  “Of course. We’re a royal family.”

  As if that explained it all. Except it explained nothing. “But you don’t have an arranged marriage.” Horror gripped her. “You have. You have other wives.” Her stomach tightened as a cold fever swept through her. Wasn’t El Bahar a Muslim country? Weren’t men allowed four wives? Dear God, she’d made a hideously, awful mistake and she had to—

  Khalil laughed. “I’m not sure what you’re thinking right now, but you look as frightened as a mouse about to be eaten by a hawk. I have no wife other than you, Dora. El Bahar allows its people to celebrate many religions, but a man may take only one wife. My father claims for some men that’s one wife too many.”

  She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Are you sure?”

  His expression turned indulgent. “Quite sure. I’ve lived here all my life, and I’m familiar with the customs. Now stop asking questions and look. We’re coming up to the palace.”

  Only then did she notice that they’d turned off the main road and were on a side street. Although the street was smoothly paved, the alleys leading off between buildings were cobblestoned. She could see storefronts and small houses right next to an apartment building with brightly colored laundry lining the balconies. In a large side yard, a half-dozen children played soccer. One of the boys—a child of maybe eight or nine—saw the car and called out to his friends. Immediately all the children ran toward the limo. They waved and called out greetings. Khalil put down the window on his side and waved back.

  “Prince Khalil! Prince Khalil! Welcome home.”

  One of the little girls bent down, picked a flower and tossed it toward the slow-moving car.