Romancing the Crown Series

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

"They're very good," she said.

  He grinned. "Yeah, they aren't bad for an eleven-year-old." His smile faded and he pulled his hands from his pockets. "Samira—"

  "There's a third bedroom, isn't there?" She swept past him back into the hallway. She disappeared into the smaller third bedroom and again Farid watched her from the doorway as she looked around the room that had been his mother's sewing room.

  "This will make a perfect nursery," she exclaimed. "We won't even have to repaint, this peach color is lovely."

  For just a moment Farid's head was filled with a vision … a crib by the window, a rocking chair nearby. The room would smell of baby powder and Samira's sweet scent. He could see her sitting in the rocking chair, singing softly as she soothed their baby to sleep.

  He shook his head to dispel the image, knowing it was one that would never come true. He couldn't give her what she wanted, what she needed for a happily ever after, and he knew she wasn't here because she loved him desperately.

  She was here because she felt grateful to him, because she didn't know what else to do. He needed to send her home before the chasm between her and her parents got too wide to breach.

  "Samira, come back to the living room. We need to talk."

  Her gaze held his for a long moment. "I don't think I want to," she replied.

  What Farid wanted to do was to wrap her in his arms, pull her close against his chest where he could feel her heart beating against his own.

  What he wanted to do was to kiss her trembling mouth until she gasped with pleasure, but doing those things would solve nothing.

  Instead he held out a hand to her and together they walked from the small spare room back into the living room. As they passed the front window a shaft of sunlight caught the gold of the ring on her finger and it seemed to wink at him, mocking him.

  A princess deserved better than a plain gold band. This princess deserved better than a man who'd been dishonored and banished and had no idea what his own personal future might hold.

  It was time to send her back home where she belonged.

  He led her to the sofa and they sat side by side. "Don't send me away, Farid," she said, as if she'd read his thoughts and was attempting to preempt him. Her eyes sparkled with the reflection of her silver dress. "I won't leave. I belong here … with you."

  "Samira, you belong in the palace, with your family who loves you," he replied, trying not to notice the hurt that resided in her almond eyes.

  Still, he continued, wanting her to understand all that she was giving up to be here with him now. "Samira, you will want your parents and your siblings surrounding you, especially as your pregnancy progresses."

  "I will want my husband with me," she countered. Before he could reply there was a brisk knock on the front door.

  Frowning, Farid got up from the sofa and went to the front door. He was surprised to see two armed palace guards. Farid recognized them both, although he knew neither very well.

  "Yes?" He looked at them expectantly.

  "Farid Nasir, we are to escort you back to the palace," the eldest guard said.

  Samira joined Farid at the door and grabbed his arm, a beatific smile lighting her face. "Farid, perhaps Father has changed his mind!"

  Moments later Samira sat next to him in the back of the official car and squeezed his hand tightly. "I knew Father's anger couldn't last forever," she said. "I'm sure he has called you back to make things right."

  "Samira, I wouldn't be too quick to get my hopes up if I were you," he warned.

  A bad feeling filled him as he stared out the window at the approaching palace gates. His instincts were screaming that something was wrong – something was terribly wrong.

  If Sheik Ahmed had changed his mind about Farid's banishment, he wouldn't have sent armed guards to escort him back to the palace.

  Chapter 13

  Samira sat next to Farid in the back of the car, her heart filled with a new joy. Her father was going to relent. She was sure of it. He would relent and apologize to Farid and everything would be wonderful.

  She still couldn't believe that she'd stood up to her father. For the first time in her life she'd met him shout for shout, demanding he remove his banishment of Farid. The sheik had not relented, and for the first time in her life, neither had Samira.

  "You must decide what frightens you more … your father's anger, or being without the man you love." Alima's words had played and replayed in Samira's head and after surprisingly little thought, she'd known which frightened her more.

  Breaking ties with her father would be painful, but living without Farid was impossible to fathom. She drew a deep breath, certain that her father had had a change of heart and now intended to welcome Farid into the family.

  She gazed at Farid now, fighting the impulse to reach out and take his hand. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him. Her love for him ached inside her with the need to be verbalized, but now was not the place or the time.

  She wasn't sure there would ever be a time or a place for her to speak to him of how deeply, how profoundly she'd come to love him.

  Love had never been part of their marriage arrangement, although certainly passion had sprung to life between them. Was passion enough to keep them together for a lifetime?

  She frowned and shoved the question out of her head. Looking at him again, she felt the distance that radiated from him, saw the frown that cut deeply across his brow.

  He'd never said he loved her. He'd never even intimated such a thing. Instead of looking happy that her father might have relented about his banishment, he looked tense and worried.

  Maybe he didn't want her father to relent. Maybe it had been his intention all along to get her back home, back in the loving arms of her family, then separate from her.

  As they turned into the palace gates, she felt an overwhelming sense of despair. Had her fight with her father been for nothing? For the first time in her entire life she'd stood up and fought for what she wanted, but had she fought for something that ultimately she could never have?

  Duty. That's why he had married her. Was it fair for her to keep him bound to her when he didn't love her? He was an honorable man who would, in all probability, stand by his duty and the vows they had taken as long as she wanted. Was her love for him enough to make her happy?

  And what of his happiness?

  At the moment, there was no more thought of anything but the immediate future. The car pulled up in front of the palace and Samira and Farid were escorted inside.

  To her surprise, they were not taken into her father's private office where they had spoken to him that morning, but rather into the grand chamber – the room used for official business and to greet visiting dignitaries.

  For the first time since the two guards had appeared at Farid's house, a sense of disquiet swept through Samira. Perhaps her father had not relented after all.

  The guards took positions in the back of the room, leaving Samira and Farid alone before the dais and the throne from which Sheik Ahmed Kamal ruled his country.

  "I can't imagine what's going on," she whispered to Farid, who stood at attention as if prepared to face a firing squad. "I don't understand why we were brought in here," she said, her anxiety growing by the minute.

  At that moment her father entered the room. When they had met with him earlier he had been dressed casually, but now he was dressed formally, in the splendor of Tamir tradition.

  Clad in a deep-purple jacket and a white shalwar, he carried himself with a dignity and presence that commanded respect.

  On his head he wore a matching dark-purple turban embedded with pearls, rubies and emeralds, completing the imperial aura.

  Samira's stomach tied itself in knots as he took his seat on the throne, his gaze meeting neither hers nor Farid's, Alima entered next and sat in the smaller chair next to his, her eyes downcast above the traditional veil that covered the lower portion of her face.

  Samira's uneasiness reached a fever pitch i
nside her. What was going on? This was far too formal and her parents looked far too solemn for this to be a family forgiveness kind of session.

  "Guards," Sheik Ahmed bellowed. "Please bring in our visitors."

  Visitors?

  Samira turned around to see two Montebellan officials between the two Tamiri guards. What on earth was going on? The tension in the room was positively air-stealing.

  "Father?" Samira looked at Sheik Ahmed worriedly.

  "These men are here to speak with Farid Nasir. Farid, this is Inspector Faud and Inspector Najib from Montebellan Royal Security," Sheik Ahmed said.

  "Farid Nasir?" The shorter of the two spoke. "I'm Inspector Faud." He was a swarthy-looking man with little eyes and instantly Samira didn't like him.

  "Yes?" He eyed the two men. "What can I do for you?"

  "We're here to ask you some questions about Desmond Caruso," Inspector Faud explained.

  Desmond? Samira's thoughts whirled. Was it possible that Desmond was pressing charges against Farid for the incident last night in the restaurant?

  If this was the case, Samira desperately hoped the whole thing didn't spin out of control. The peace between Tamir and Montebello was new, although made solid by the marriage of her brother Rashid to the Montebellan princess, Julia. Their young son, Omar, was a physical embodiment of the countries' new friendly relationship. If King Marcus got angry over the abuse of his nephew by a Tamiri bodyguard, then the peace could become strained, and who knew what would happen between the two small kingdoms?

  "What about him?" Farid replied, his voice thick with his obvious dislike of Caruso.

  The two inspectors exchanged glances with each other.

  "What exactly is this all about?" Samira asked. She focused her question to the taller of the two, Inspector Najib.

  "We understand that you and Desmond had an altercation in the Glass Swan Restaurant yesterday evening," Inspector Faud said, his beady eyes narrowed.

  It seemed impossible that it had only been yesterday that she and Farid had enjoyed a nice dinner – a dinner that had been ruined by the horrible words Desmond had spoken to her and the resulting fracas between him and Farid.

  "We did," Farid answered. "He insulted the princess and I felt he needed to be taught some manners." He looked from one to the other of the inspectors. "Has Caruso decided to press charges? Is that what this is all about?"

  "I'm afraid Caruso won't be pressing much of anything. He was found dead this morning in his guest house," Inspector Najib exclaimed.

  "Dead?" Samira gasped as her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. Farid grabbed her arm and pulled her against him to steady her.

  Desmond dead? Her mind struggled to comprehend what the inspector had just said. Was it possible Farid had somehow hurt him, resulting in an accidental death?

  "He's dead?" Farid's shock was obvious as he stared at the two men before him.

  Dead? Desmond was dead? She wrapped her arms around her stomach as if to shield the baby she carried from the news. Samira hadn't wanted Desmond to be a part of her child's life, and now he never would be.

  However, as much as she'd hated the way Desmond had betrayed her, as much as she hated the way he had talked to her in the restaurant, she certainly had never wished him dead.

  She shot a frightened look at Farid. A pulse ticked at his jaw, a telling sign of nervous tension.

  "What happened to him?" Farid asked.

  "We were hoping you could tell us that. I'm afraid you will have to return to Montebello with us, Mr. Nasir," Inspector Faud said, his gaze cold as it lingered on Farid. "We have a lot of questions for you concerning the murder of Desmond Caruso."

  "Murder?" Farid's body stiffened.

  "Murder?" Samira gasped again and leaned weakly against her husband, positively stunned by the news.

  "Caruso was murdered in cold blood in his guest house. A maid found him early this morning in his bedroom," Faud explained.

  "How … what killed him?" It was obvious Farid was as stunned by the news as Samira. The pulse in his jaw worked frantically and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

  "He was hit in the back of the head by some instrument with a tremendous amount of force. He died instantly," Faud explained as he pulled a set of handcuffs from his pocket.

  "Wait!" Samira said, feeling as if the whole world had gone crazy. "It's impossible. Farid didn't murder Desmond … he couldn't have." Samira stepped forward in an effort to make the two officials understand. "I know Farid, and he is not a murderer," she said fervently. "Besides, he was with me all night."

  Farid grabbed her arm and pulled her back, stepping in front of her as if to shield her from the gazes of the two men.

  "You'll have a chance to explain your alibi or whatever when we return to Tamir. At the moment we have eyewitnesses of you threatening to kill Caruso. More than a dozen people in the restaurant heard you threaten him."

  Farid nodded. "That's true. I did threaten him, but I didn't murder him."

  Inspector Faud smiled thinly. "We can't just take your word for that. In any case, the threats at the restaurant are only one incident pointing to your explosive temper that has been brought to our attention. Somebody else has come forward with a similar complaint."

  "This is ridiculous. Farid doesn't have an explosive temper." Samira's anger was growing along with her fear.

  "A reporter has come forward to say that you got quite violent with him."

  Tension roiled from Farid. "He was attempting to take pictures of the princess – pictures she didn't want taken. I merely took his camera from him and exposed the film."

  Inspector Najib took a step toward Farid and Samira. "I'm afraid you must come with us, Mr. Nasir. We will continue our interrogation in Montebello."

  "Father! Do something," Samira cried and for the first time in her life her father seemed utterly helpless. She left Farid's side, ran to her father and sank down at his knees. "I beg of you, Father. Please don't let them take him. He did nothing. He's innocent!"

  "Samira, I cannot stop an official investigation, especially an investigation into the murder of King Marcus's nephew," he said, pain obvious in his dark eyes.

  With tears half-blinding her, she got up and ran back to Farid's side, a deep, wrenching sob choking from her as Inspector Faud pulled Farid's hands behind his back and handcuffed him.

  Samira clung to Farid, as if by sheer willpower alone she could keep him by her side. Had she stood up to her father, only now to have Farid taken away on a murder charge?

  * * *

  "Samira," Farid said, wishing his hands were free so he could hold her in his arms, tell her that somehow, someway, everything would be all right. "Don't let me leave here with the sounds of your crying the last thing I hear. Besides, all those tears can't be good for our baby."

  She straightened and swiped at the tears in her eyes, showing him a strength he wouldn't have guessed she possessed. "This is a terrible miscarriage of justice," she said. "I'm telling you he was with me all night long."

  "We have a job to do, Princess," Inspector Najib said, his voice soft, yet respectful. "His alibi will be checked out thoroughly."

  Farid felt as if he'd been plunged into a nightmare and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't wake up. The handcuffs bit into his wrists and his head swam with questions.

  Who could have killed Desmond Caruso? The man was slimy enough, there must be a hundred people who would have loved to see him dead.

  But, more important, how in the hell was Farid going to prove himself innocent? Although Samira would swear that he had been with her, how seriously would they take her alibi when they realized she was his wife?

  He had to admit, the scene in the restaurant last night certainly didn't help his case for innocence.

  As Inspector Faud grabbed his hands to lead him from the grand chamber, Farid was grateful to see Alima leave her seat and hurry to Samira's side.

  They had walked only a couple of steps when Fa
rid thought of something. He stopped in his tracks. "When did this happen? Has a medical examiner determined the time of Desmond's death?" Farid looked from Inspector Faud to Inspector Najib.

  The two men exchanged glances once again, then Faud shrugged. "The medical examiner has determined the time of death to be between the hours of ten p.m. and two a.m."

  "Then it's impossible to tie me to the murder," Farid replied, relief coursing through him. "Not only because I'm innocent, but also because Samira and I were on the plane to return here to Tamir before ten last night."

  "That's right," Samira exclaimed. "He couldn't have murdered Desmond and been on the plane at the same time."

  "We got in here just after midnight," Farid continued. "You can check the flight records, talk to the pilot. Better yet, talk to the driver of the car who took us to the airport in Montebello. It was one of your own palace cars that took us to the airport."

  Once again the two inspectors exchanged glances with one another. "Is there a telephone we could use?" Inspector Faud asked.

  "I'll show you where you can make your calls in private," Alima replied and led the two men out of the office.

  There followed an uncomfortable silence as Farid, Samira and Sheik Kamal awaited the return of the Montebellan officials.

  Samira moved once again to stand at his side and Farid breathed deeply of her scent, wondering, if they took him to Montebello to face murder charges, when he would ever see her, smell her, touch her again.

  Samira's father stared at some point above his head, his reproach unspoken, but thick and oppressive. No matter what came from this particular trauma, Farid was certain that the sheik had not softened where he was concerned.

  As the moments ticked by, Farid's tension rose. Would they be able to contact the driver who had taken them to the airstrip last night? Would they be able to contact the proper authorities at the airport to confirm the time of their flight?

  Samira leaned against him, as if attempting to offer him strength and reassure him. When he looked down at her and into her eyes, he saw her fear … fear for him.

  At that moment Alima returned with the two investigators. "It would seem that your alibi for the time of the murder stands up," Najib said.