She paused to glance over her shoulder. “I would have thought that was obvious. I’m going to my rooms.”
He caught up with her in the grand foyer. The sound of running water from the main stone fountain provided idyllic background music. He touched her cheek. “You don’t live in the harem anymore, my little wildcat. You live with me.”
Her brown eyes widened at the news. She glared. He could almost see her temper rising inside her, and he held back his grin. They would fight, then they would make up. He looked forward to both events with equal anticipation. He hadn’t thought that being married would require so much energy, but then he also hadn’t realized the rewards.
Rihana appeared from the shadows and bowed low. “Welcome back.” She gave Dora a shy smile. “I have moved your belongings into your husband’s rooms. May I please show you the way?”
“No,” Dora said sharply, not taking her gaze from Khalil’s face. “Please take my things to the guest suite I was shown to when I first came to the palace. I’ll be staying there.”
Khalil frowned. “Dora, this is ridiculous. What do you hope to accomplish by this game? You’re my wife.”
Her gaze turned icy. “I am, aren’t I. That makes me a princess. As such, I assume I’m allowed to give the servants instructions, and I can expect those instructions to be followed. Is that correct?”
She’d boxed him neatly into a corner. If she was his wife and therefore a princess in the palace, the servants would be expected to obey her. As her husband, he could not take away her power on her very first day. If he did, that decision would affect her position in the palace for the rest of her life.
He gritted his teeth and glared at her. They would have to take this up another time.
“Rihana, you will do as my wife requests,” he said stiffly.
Rihana looked troubled, then nodded slowly. “This way, Princess,” she said and turned away from the corridor leading to his rooms. Dora gave him a smug smile before she left to follow the girl. Khalil stood there alone, wondering how the hell everything had gone so wrong and what he was supposed to do about it now.
Dora stood alone on the balcony, staring out at the sea. She’d spent the past six hours alone in her suite of rooms, trying to savor her victory. But it didn’t taste as sweet as she’d thought it would. She was away from Khalil, which is what she wanted, but she was also by herself. The rest of the day stretched long and lonely in front of her, as did all the days in her future. What was she going to do with herself?
She turned her back on the glorious view, and paced toward the French doors leading into her living quarters. How long would Khalil keep her in El Bahar before realizing their marriage was a mistake? She believed it was just a matter of time until he came to his senses and divorced her. Then she would be free. Until then, she would make the best of a bad situation by enduring her solitude. There had to be something she could do with her time. Maybe—
A light knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She hurried across the large living room and opened her door. But instead of Rihana, or even Khalil, she saw that Fatima was her visitor.
She smiled at the older woman. “What a nice surprise. Please, come in.”
Fatima did as she requested. She glanced around at the suite, as if she’d never seen the rooms before, then settled on one of the sofas facing the view. “I heard that you had chosen to live here instead of with Khalil. I didn’t realize that privacy was so very important to you. I must apologize for making you uncomfortable by asking you to live with me in the harem.”
Color and heat flared on Dora’s cheeks as she sat opposite her guest. She placed her hands in her lap. “You disapprove of what I’ve done.”
Fatima’s thick hair lay coiled at the base of her neck. Her deep purple suit, all elegant lines with a neatly tailored jacket, emphasized her trim figure. She looked like a successful businesswoman about to attend an important meeting.
“It is not my place to approve or disapprove. Marriage is private between the two parties involved.” She pressed her lips together. “I heard about what happened with Rihana, how you forced Khalil to choose between your obedience and your power in the household. While it was a tidy trick, I’m reminded of an old expression. It’s originally British, I believe. Perhaps you’ve heard it—something about winning the battle, but losing the war.”
“We’re not fighting,” Dora said evenly.
“Aren’t you? When a husband and wife choose separate living quarters, it is rarely an indication that all is well, but then I’m from a different generation.”
Dora lowered her head. She didn’t like misleading Fatima. Khalil’s grandmother had been very kind and generous to her. “Khalil and I have some things we need to sort out,” she said. Actually, she had to do most of the sorting. She was still so confused and hurt by all that had happened.
“If you’re waiting for my grandson to bend, you’re going to be living here a long time. Khalil doesn’t give in.”
“Then it might be time for him to learn.” Dora raised her head and straightened her spine. “I haven’t forgotten your advice about bending, Fatima, but there are times when one has to make a stand. This is one of those times.”
The older woman studied her. “Are you going to tell me what my grandson has done?”
“I can’t.” It was too humiliating to discuss with anyone, even someone as kind as Fatima. Besides, Dora knew that when push came to shove, Fatima would side with her family, not with her grandson’s new wife. “I’m making the best of a difficult situation.”
Fatima’s shrewd, dark eyes seemed to see right through her. “And if he doesn’t change? Then what?”
“I don’t know.”
Then she would leave, she thought. She would find a way to insist that Khalil divorce her, and she would be free. The fact that she had nowhere to go didn’t matter. She wouldn’t stay where she wasn’t wanted and respected.
“I thought you loved him,” Fatima said as she rose to her feet. “I’m sorry that I was wrong.”
Dora felt as if she were six years old, and she’d just been scolded for being clumsy. “I do care for him,” she hedged.
“But you don’t love him. Or if you do, it’s not strong enough that you’ll fight for him.” Fatima walked toward the door.
“Goodbye,” she said as she stepped into the hall. To Dora, the words sounded very final.
When Fatima had left, Dora stood alone in the center of her silent rooms. She wanted to cry out that it wasn’t fair—that Khalil had been the one to lie and deceive her, so why was she being punished? She’d married him with the best of intentions. She’d wanted to make her marriage work, she’d wanted to love him and be with him. But he’d hurt her. Worse, he wouldn’t even take responsibility for his actions. He expected her to just understand and get over it. How could she have a relationship with a man who didn’t see her as someone worth common courtesy?
She paced the length of the room, then returned to the balcony. The blue of the sea soothed her battered spirits but couldn’t quiet her mind. Questions continued to fill her. What happened now? Could she stay in this suite indefinitely? Would Khalil want to divorce her? What would happen if he came to her expecting them to make love again? She doubted she had the power to resist him. As much as she didn’t want to give in, her body betrayed her.
Dora sank down onto one of the chairs and covered her face with her hands. Had she won the battle but lost the war? Was she wrong to want more of Khalil? He’d hurt her so deeply. With him, she’d allowed herself to believe, only to find out it was all a lie. He’d used her because she was convenient and because he thought she would make a decent wife. Hardly the declarations of love that a woman longed to hear. So what happened now?
She didn’t have an answer. So she continued to sit there alone until the sun set. Her only visitor that night was Rihana, bringing her a tray for dinner. Apparently Dora was not to be included in the family meal. She went alone to her bed and stayed alone
that night and all through the next day.
Two nights later Khalil appeared in her room. There was no other way to describe it. One minute Dora had been reading and the next her husband loomed in front of her.
“Good evening,” he said and settled next to her on the sofa.
Part of Dora wanted to start screaming at him, demanding that he get out, but only after making arrangements for her to return to the United States, but the rest of her was so grateful for someone to talk to that she nearly wept in relief. Since Fatima’s visit, the only face she’d seen was Rihana’s. And Dora hadn’t had the courage to go in search of company on her own.
“Khalil.” She nodded.
He wore dark slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Something about his mussed hair and a slight air of weariness told her that he’d been working all day. She longed to return to her job as his assistant, or to any job, just so she could get out of her suite and do something with her time.
“I have honored your wishes,” he said curtly.
“What wishes are those?”
“That you be left alone. Are you enjoying your solitude?”
She closed her book and set it on the table next to her. “I never requested solitude, I simply asked for separate quarters. However, you chose to take advantage of that and cut me off from the world. Does it make you feel big and strong to treat me this way? Is this a game of power? If so, you’re only playing with yourself. I’m not interested in one-upmanship.”
He looked at her for several seconds. “It seems whatever I do, you are determined to assume the worst about me. I honestly believed you wanted to be alone. You are my wife, and as such, a member of this family. You are welcome to leave your suite and join us for any meals you wish. This is a palace, Dora, not a prison.”
She didn’t know what to make of his words. Was he telling the truth, or was this all another act? She stared into his handsome face and had to curl her fingers into her palm to keep from reaching out to touch the slender scar on his left cheek.
“All right,” she said at last. “Thank you.”
“You may also return to work,” he announced. “I will expect you in my office at eight in the morning.”
If he’d asked if she would like to return to work, she would have probably said yes. If he’d even hinted that she had a choice, or that it was her decision, everything would have been fine. But for him to have the nerve to give her permission to help him…She sucked in a breath and felt her temper beginning to rise.
“I don’t think so,” she said coolly, as she rose to her feet. She crossed to the open French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. The sun had long since disappeared behind the horizon, leaving the ocean a dark and mysterious glimmering slate of blackness. She stared out into the night sky and pretended to be fascinated by the stars.
“I am giving you my permission,” Khalil said as he followed her onto the marble balcony.
“Yes, I know. I’m telling you that I’m not interested.” She smiled sweetly.
“I want you working for me.”
She shrugged. “I want you to apologize for what you said to me in New York, for lying and for tricking me into marriage. I want you to admit that you were wrong, and then I want you to tell me that you care about me. I suspect that neither of us is going to get what we want.”
She heard him take a step toward her. “You will not toy with me, wife.”
Finally she turned to face him. “And here I thought that was what you wanted.”
His expression tightened. “I am Khalil Khan, prince—”
She cut him off with a wave. “Prince of El Bahar. Yes, I know. I’ve heard this speech a hundred times before. What exactly is your point?”
He froze in place, obviously stunned by her impertinence. Dora was a little surprised herself, but in a good way. Maybe she’d needed time alone to give her the courage to stand up to Khalil. Right or wrong, it was the only way she knew to change things. As much as she might tell herself she wanted a divorce and to go back home, the truth was a little less clear. In her heart of hearts she was willing to admit that she would prefer to stay here—but only as Khalil’s true wife. He didn’t have to love her but he had to care about her and treat her with respect.
“Being the prince doesn’t give you the right to use people,” she went on, praying her courage lasted five seconds longer than his visit. “You were cruel to me. You lied, and you treated me as if my feelings had no consequence. You took advantage of my innocence.”
“I married you.”
“Right. As if being married to you is any kind of picnic.”
He took one more step closer. Now he was within touching distance…as was she. He took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb across her palm. Instantly shivers rippled through her as heat flamed and her body came to life. She disentangled herself and retreated to the railing.
“Come to work for me,” he said.
Ignoring her still tingling palm, she smiled. “I’m the princess of El Bahar. I don’t work. Besides—” She held up her hands “My henna hasn’t worn off. Tradition states—”
This time he was the one to cut her off. “I’m well aware of the tradition. I was born here.” He glared. “If this is what you wish, so be it. You may stay in your rooms but do not attempt to leave them. You will exist within these four walls. For all I care, you can rot here.” He spun on his heel and headed for the door.
Dora swallowed. She heard Fatima’s words again—the ones about winning the battle but losing the war. Was she doing that again? To live by another quote, pride goes before the fall. Did she really want to spend all her time alone in this suite?
“Khalil?” she called before she could stop herself. “I’ll come work with you, but not as your secretary.”
He paused in midstride. “I suppose you want to run the country.”
She ignored his sarcasm. “No,” she said as she crossed to stand next to him. “I want to work with the Western companies who have come here to do business. I’ve been doing a lot of reading in the past couple of days.” She motioned to the stack of magazines and books by the sofa. “There isn’t a single department to coordinate the efforts of Western companies interested in setting up facilities here in El Bahar. I want to be a facilitator between the government and the private companies in the West. I have plenty of experience working with corporate America, and I’m learning more each day about El Bahar.”
He stared at her but didn’t speak.
“It makes sense,” she went on quickly, trying to hang on to her rapidly fading courage. “As a member of the royal family, I would be considered more of a figurehead than a policymaker. That will appease men in government. The companies interested in coming here will be impressed that El Bahar would put a woman in such a visible position.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. “You are my wife.”
“I’m aware of that.”
He turned away. Dora held her breath, then let it out slowly. The idea had come to her in the night, but she hadn’t known who to talk to. She doubted she was much in favor with any member of the family right now. So she’d decided she would just wait for the right opportunity. Was it too soon? Should she have gone to work as Khalil’s secretary for a few weeks first, gaining his trust, before she approached him with her idea?
Too late now, she thought, and didn’t have a clue as to what she would do if he said no.
“You would have to work under the jurisdiction of my office,” he said, not looking at her. He seemed to be studying a portrait of an old man on the far wall.
Her heart began to thunder in her chest. Was he really saying yes? “That isn’t a problem.”
“You would not be allowed to meet alone with any man, and you must dress conservatively. Otherwise my reputation will be called into question.”
“I understand. I have no desire to meet alone with any man, and conservative dress is fine with me.”
He looked at her. She
tried to read his expression, but couldn’t. What was he thinking? Why had he agreed?
“For the sake of appearances, we will need to be the happy couple,” he told her. “You will take lunch with me each day.”
Her tension eased, and a spark of hope burst to life. She remembered their working lunches in New York. Some of the time had been spent dealing with business, but much of their conversation had been more personal. They’d argued politics, discussed books and music. She remembered the heated debates, the laughter, the teasing. She’d missed those times so much—had Khalil missed them as well?
“I would like that very much,” she said.
“Good. Then we are agreed.”
He smiled at her, a slow satisfied smile of a male who had gotten his way. Some of Dora’s happiness faded. Please, God, don’t let him spoil the moment by trying to make it more. But God was busy, or Khalil had a mind of his own, for her husband cupped her face in his hands and stared down at her.
“I want you,” he told her.
His words were like a slap. She was a fool to think that anything had changed between them. She stiffened and willed herself to move away, but it was already too late. Just the feel of hands against her jaw and cheeks was enough to melt both her bones and her resolve. She was trapped in a web of her own making—desiring a man she both wanted and hated.
“Don’t,” she said, at last jerking free of his gentle touch. “I don’t feel well.”
Khalil grabbed her by her upper arms and hauled her against him. When she was pressed flush against him, he rotated his hips, grinding his erection into her belly.
“Call me names,” he growled. “Fight me, hit me, hate me, refuse me, but do not lie to me.”
She felt her eyes burning with tears and loathed herself for the weakness. “Of course. Lying is your job.”
Instead of getting angry, he smiled. “I thought I was marrying someone sensible, but a bit boring. Instead I find myself with a feisty, sexual wildcat. Do you bite, little kitten of mine? I know you try to scratch, although your claws aren’t sharp enough.”
The Desert Rogues Part 1 Page 15
