Romancing the Crown Series

by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)

  "Why? You have never cared for my opinion or my approval before," Ahmed snapped. "Why now?"

  Hassan lifted his head and met his father's dark gaze. He had never relied on his family; like Elena he had thought he needed no one in this world. "I cannot give Elena everything I want to give her alone. I must have you, Mother, Rashid, the girls.. .I must call on you all to give Elena what she needs."

  "What does she need?"

  If he went to Elena alone, without what he wanted most to give her, they would survive. They would love and thrive and grow. They would be happy. And still, he wanted, so much, to do this for her.

  "She needs a family. The family her father took from her, from the day he murdered her mother to the day he died, standing there telling Elena that she meant nothing to him." A surge of anger welled up inside him. "She deserves better. And I can't give her everything she should have without your help."

  The sheik's expression softened, his posture relaxed. "Do you love her so deeply?"

  "Yes."

  The old man shook his head while he motioned with his hand for Hassan to rise. "Stand up. If this woman means so much to you, you have my wholehearted support and my official and unofficial endorsement. When is the wedding?"

  Hassan smiled wanly as he rose to his feet. "First I must convince her to say yes. So far she has steadfastly refused me."

  "Foolish girl," Ahmed muttered.

  "No," Hassan said quickly. "Elena is not a foolish girl, she is a fine woman. I do not blame her for refusing me thus far. I lied, seduced her, asked her to trust me and killed her father."

  "To save her and Prince Lucas," Ahmed added.

  "And after all that, all she did was love me. She loves me still, I know it. She is not a foolish girl," he insisted again.

  "When are you returning to Texas?"

  "Today," Hassan answered quickly.

  The old man shook his head. "EI-Malak's daughter," he grumbled. "I'm sure you will be very happy with her, but what do I get out of the bargain?"

  Hassan grinned. His heart had never felt so light and free. "Another beautiful daughter," he said. "And more grandchildren. Lots of them, I imagine. Stubborn grandsons and headstrong granddaughters."

  "How could I not give my blessing to such a proposition?"

  Now all he had to do was get Elena to say yes.

  * * *

  She should have gone back to work, by now, but Kitty assured her everything was fine and she was not needed. Just as well.

  Elena leaned back on her hands and watched the river run. Smokestack grazed nearby, perfectly content. There were no storms on the horizon.

  No matter how much she tried to convince herself that she didn't, she missed Hassan. She'd tried to reason that it wasn't Hassan she missed, that any man who was attentive, charming and handsome would easily fill his shoes. But in her heart she knew better. She loved him. She always would. And she didn't know if she'd ever see him again.

  She closed her eyes. Blind faith. She understood the concept, she truly did, but it was hard to have faith in anything when her world was falling apart. The father she had worked so hard to love had been willing to kill her, in the name of his terrorist organization. Her mother hadn't died in a freak car accident, she'd been murdered by the man she'd loved and married, the father of her child. And Johnny.. .poor Johnny hadn't done anything wrong but to love the wrong woman.

  The easiest thing to do would be to give up on love completely. But she didn't want to do that.

  Elena wanted to love Hassan, and she wanted him here. She took a deep breath, reached deep inside herself and tried to find her faith. Faith that love could conquer all, faith that one day her prince would come.

  And she found it, in a wave of peace and a certainty that everything really was going to be fine. She and Hassan would be together, somehow, some way. Some day.

  The gray snickered, and Elena opened her eyes to glance behind her. Far away, it looked like someone was riding the black stallion. Impossible. No one but Hassan could ride that horse. She stood, shielding her eyes with her hand and squinting for a better look. Black and flowing white, that was her first impression. Black and white. Since the horse sped quickly toward her, it didn't take her long to see that it was, indeed, Hassan on the stallion's back. She held her breath, tears filled her eyes, and as Hassan came near she couldn't help but smile.

  He dismounted with ease and came toward her. Last time Hassan had ridden out here he'd been dressed as a proper Texan should be dressed, in jeans and snakeskin boots and a cotton shirt. Today he wore traditional Tamiri dress; flowing white robes over loose snow-white pants, and a gutra that covered his hair. A small leather sack hung from his left hand.

  He walked toward her, white fabric fluttering in the Texas breeze. It was a sight that might take any woman's breath away.

  They didn't speak, but said hello with a kiss. Elena closed her eyes and wallowed in that kiss. In the past few days she had dreamed of this; Hassan's familiar smell and taste and touch. The way his mouth moved over hers.

  Faith was such a wonderful, miraculous thing.

  When their lips parted, Hassan lifted his right hand to touch her face. His gentle fingers traced her jaw, her chin, her lips. "You are more beautiful than I remembered," he whispered.

  "I missed you," she admitted. "The minute the helicopter was out of sight, I missed you."

  "I never should have left."

  For a few minutes they just looked at one another, as if their eyes had been hungry for the vision of the other's face.

  Elena allowed her hands to brush the white silk of Hassan's jacket. "Why the fancy outfit?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

  "This is an important occasion," he answered. "One that should not be taken lightly."

  Her stomach dropped to her knees. "It is?"

  "Yes."

  Elena laid her hand flat on Hassan's chest, needing to assure herself that he was real. Solid and warm and truly here. It was so hard for her to admit that she needed anyone, but she needed him more than she needed air and water. When he was gone, a part of her was missing.

  "Elena, mar..." Hassan stopped suddenly, took a deep breath and began again. "Will you marry me?"

  "You're a prince," she whispered. "I'm just..." Faith. She smiled. "Yes."

  His grin was brilliant. "I hope you don't believe in long engagements," he said. "I don't."

  She shook her head. "Neither do I."

  "Good." He took her arm and led her to the crest of the hill, where they both sat to look down on the river. "My mother is already planning the wedding."

  "You were confident I would say yes?" she teased.

  "I had faith," he said, reaching inside the leather bag and drawing out a yellow gold and emerald ring. He took her left hand and placed it on her ring finger.

  "Me, too," she whispered as Hassan brushed one fingertip against the perfectly fitted emerald ring, his hand so large and capable against hers. It was a hand made for holding. "It hasn't been easy, but...I'm learning. Thanks to you."

  Hassan leaned into her and kissed her, a deep kiss to seal the bargain. Or perhaps he was simply as hungry for the taste of her as she was for the feel and taste of him.

  "It is tradition," he said, drawing away and dropping his eyes to the ring on her finger, "to offer the bride mahr. A wedding gift."

  "The ring is beautiful," she whispered.

  "There's more," he reached into the bag and pulled out a handful of pearls and emeralds. A bracelet, earrings, necklaces, another ring.

  "Hassan, this is too much," she said as he dumped the pile of gems into her lap. They looked ridiculous against her worn jeans, out of place even as they sparkled in the sunlight.

  "No," he protested. "This simple gift is not too much. I can never give you too much."

  She fingered the gems in her lap. "I don't need pearls and emeralds."

  "There is more," he said softly, touching her face and forcing her to look him in the eye.

  I
f she had ever doubted that she loved him and always would, the moment swept away all doubts. She saw love in his eyes, she saw a lifetime. "I don't need anything but you. Just you, Hassan."

  It was the truth. She could lose everything she knew, and as long as she had Hassan, it didn't matter. For someone who had tried for so long not to depend on anyone else, it was a jarring thought. And a warm one.

  "I want to give you more," he said gently. "So much more. We will live here, rebuild the refinery, make a home together. But you will also have a home on Tamir. And I offer you my most precious treasures."

  He laid a comforting hand on her cheek. "My love, I give you a brother who will protect you when I cannot. Sisters who will adore you. A father who will never betray you."

  Again her eyes filled with tears, but her smile was real and heartfelt.

  "And a mother," he finished. "Who will not try to take the place of the mother you never knew, but who will make her own place in your heart." His fingers stroked her cheek.

  Chills ran down her arms, danced down her spine. "You offer more than I ever expected," she said softly. "More than I ever hoped to have in this life." She raised one arm to encircle Hassan's neck and draw him close. "I am so very lucky to have found you."

  "Ana bahibeck." He slanted his head and moved his lips toward hers. "That means..."

  Elena laid a silencing finger over his lips. "Some things don't need any translation," she whispered as she movedher finger, tracing the lines of his mouth as she did so. When her hand rested on his cheek she moved her mouth unerringly toward his. "I love you, too."

  * * * THE END * * *

  Virgin Seduction

  Kathleen Creighton

  ROMANCING THE CROWN

  The crown prince of Montebello is home at last. Now the Montebellan royal family extends its hand in friendship to the Tamiri sheikhdom and journeys to Tamir to celebrate a royal wedding - or is that weddings?

  Leila Kamal: The youngest Tamiri princess's impulsive actions have stirred up a hornets' nest. But what stings most is that her new husband has yet to make love to his wife!

  Cade Gallagher: This brash American knows he's all wrong for a pampered princess. Still he's never seen anyone so lovely.. .or wanted a woman so much.

  Dear Reader,

  I was thrilled to be asked to participate in this wonderful series, ROMANCING THE CROWN, but I must confess that when I learned I would be writing about the princess of a mythical Arab kingdom, my first thought was, "Who, me? But I don't do Arab sheikh books!" How, I wondered, would I ever be able to write convincingly of a people and a culture I knew absolutely nothing about?

  But as I began the research for Virgin Seduction, it suddenly came to me: this isn't a book about sheikhdoms and Arabs and Eastern Mediterranean culture, it's the story of two complete strangers, who don't even know they're in love yet, struggling to find a way to make a life together. Throw in the fact that they are already married to each other for a dash of suspense, I thought, and, lo and behold, here are all the elements I love most to write about! From that moment on, Virgin Seduction truly became for me a labour of love.

  Now perhaps you, too, will fall in love with Princess Leila and her handsome Texan, Cade Gallagher, as I did, as they seek their very own happily-ever-after.

  All the best,

  Kathleen Creighton

  Prologue

  Sheik Ahmed Kamal, absolute ruler of the Mediterranean island kingdom of Tamir, had reason to count himself among those whom Allah has richly blessed. Indeed, he was the happiest of men as he stood in the modest but beautifully appointed mosque that was his family's traditional place of worship and prayed for divine guidance and blessings for his youngest son, Hassan, on the solemn occasion of his marriage.

  Before him were the bride and groom—at this moment, at least, appropriately separated—with eyes downcast as befitted such a solemn and worshipful occasion. Today the bride—as well as many of those assembled for the Nikah ceremony, and Sheik Ahmed himself—was modestly veiled and dressed in the traditional costume of her husband's people. In Ahmed's opinion, it was a much more pleasing mode of dress to both the eye and the spirit than the Western styles he'd grudgingly adopted in recent years.

  A fine woman, Elena Rahman, Ahmed thought to himself. Hassan had chosen well—or so Ahmed had been assured by Alima, his wife, whose judgment in such matters he had learned to trust. To be honest, he'd had reservations about the girl at first—she was, after all, an American. And the daughter of a terrorist! But as Alima had pointed out, she was at least a true believer by blood and birth. And it must not be forgotten that Elena Rahman was CEO of one of the most prosperous oil refining companies in the American state of Texas. Yes, thought Ahmed, who had ambitious plans for his country's own oil resources.. .Hassan had made a very good choice, indeed.

  As he began the first of the required Quranic verses, Ahmed's gaze expanded to include the two people standing with the bride and groom as witnesses, and his heart grew near to bursting with pride and thanksgiving. His eldest son, Sheik Rashid, and Rashid's wife, Princess Julia of Montebello, were only recently wed themselves, and parents of Sheik Ahmed's first grandchild, Omar—already the apple of his grandmother's eye, and, it must be confessed, of his grandfather's as well.

  As serene and happy as the couple appeared today, the truth was that Rashid and Julia's union had come about only after much intrigue and extreme peril. In the end, it had brought about the reconciliation of a century-old feud between their respective countries, and as a result, prospects for a future of prosperity and mutual cooperation between Tamir and Montebello had never been more promising.

  It was time now to conclude the ceremony with the traditional prayers for the bride and groom, for their families and friends and for the community at large. As he intoned the beautiful and time-honored words, Ahmed raised his head and his arms to encompass them all: his two sons and their wives; his own beloved Alima, still as lovely as the day of their own Nikah ceremony; their three daughters, Nadia, the eldest; gentle Samira; and Leila, the youngest and secretly his favorite—and most vexing—child.

  The ceremony was almost concluded. Quickly, Ahmed's eyes continued their sweep of those assembled inside the mosque—a small, select group, for the most part close family and friends, according to the traditions of his people. There in the back, he caught sight of Butrus Dabir, his trusted advisor and—who knows?—perhaps soon-to-be son-in-law, if only Nadia—stubborn daughter!—would see fit to accept him.

  But that small cloud over the sheik's happiness passed quickly.

  Also among the guests assembled in the mosque were the bride's two guests, from Texas—that rather outspoken woman who was Elena's friend—what was her name? Oh yes, Kitty. And the tall and somewhat mysterious man who had come as the bride's guardian and protector. According to Elena, the man was her adopted brother and only family, although, since there was no actual blood tie between Cade Gallagher and Elena Rahman, and Ahmed being a suspicious and extremely traditional man by nature, he thought it a strange relationship.

  Near the front of the assembly, dressed in well-tailored Western-style suits, was the contingent from Montebello. Several, including Ahmed's new ally and in-law King Marcus Sebastiani and his firstborn son, Prince Lucas, stood with heads respectfully bowed. The day after tomorrow, to conclude the weekend's festivities, there would be a state dinner and reception to celebrate the joyous occasion of the prince's miraculous return from the dead as well as the new alliance between the two countries as personified by the marriage of Rashid and Julia.

  But first.. .tomorrow would be the Walima, the feast given by Hassan to celebrate the consummation of his marriage to Elena Rahman. The palace would be ablaze with flowers and light and alive with laughter and music. There would be an abundance of good food, good friends and good conversation, all of which Ahmed most especially enjoyed. It would be a joyous occasion. On this day, all was well with the Kamal family. Tamir was at peace, and prospects for its f
uture prosperity were bright.

  Yes, thought Sheik Ahmed as he uttered the final words of the Khutba-tun-Nikah, life is indeed good.

  Allah be praised.

  Chapter 1

  From a balcony overlooking the palace gardens, Leila watched the man in the dove-gray cowboy hat stroll unhurried along tiled pathways. She'd watched many people traverse the garden that morning, but she particularly liked the way this man moved—confidently but without arrogance. The way he seemed to study everything around him—the flowers, the fountains, the colorful mosaics at his feet—with unselfconscious interest reminded her of a child at the zoo.

  She laughed out loud as a brightly colored bird flitted across the man's path, startling him. He lifted his head to follow the bird's flight, revealing a deeply tanned, hard-boned face, cheeks creased, teeth bared in a smile. For several seconds he seemed to look right at Leila, and her breath caught, stifling the laughter. Oh, she knew he couldn't really see her. She was well concealed behind the balcony's intricately carved screen. It was just that he had such a nice smile.

  "That one," she said in a conspirator's whisper to the woman beside her. "Who is he—the one in the hat? I saw him yesterday at the wedding. He must be an American."

  "Oh yes, Princess, he is—and not only that, but from Texas." The servant Nargis threw a guilty glance toward the divan where her mistress, Leila's sister Nadia, had her nose—and her attention—safely buried in her sketchbook. She lowered her voice anyway. "His name is Cade Gallagher. The princess—er.. .Mrs. Elena invited him. Salma heard her tell Madam Alima that he is her guardian."

  Leila made a derisive sound, forgetting to whisper. "Do not be silly. Elena is an American. In America women don't have guardians." She couldn't keep a note of envy out of her voice. Her new sister-in-law was only four years older than Leila, but so smart and sophisticated, and the head of her own company! And still she had managed to attract and win the love of a handsome and powerful man like Hassan.