“I promise you that the guards currently stationed here have been checked and double checked and I’d trust them with my own life.”
She lifted a brow. “You don’t strike me as someone who’d worry all that much about your own safety.”
He chuckled. “Okay, I’d trust them with far more precious lives, like your girls.”
She shot him a cool glance, then turned quickly to the interior. She was coming. He’d accomplished his mission. A sense of triumph mingled with the dangerous heat of arousal that rose inside him whenever he was near Aliyah. Totally unprofessional, of course. Tonight he’d keep that tightly under wraps.
He didn’t want to mar Aliyah’s reputation as the chaste widow in the eyes of the family. He suspected none of them had any idea of the strength, courage and fire hidden beneath that demure exterior—even Aliyah herself seemed doubtful—but he knew.
In less than a minute she was back, with a silver scarf draped over her beautiful hair and around her slim shoulders. “I’ve already eaten dinner.”
“They’re probably on dessert by now. Almost anyone can find room for an almond cake or some coffee.” He gestured for her to walk ahead of him, and kept his hands to himself.
She strode along the wide corridor with her head held high and all the dignity of the queen that she was. “I’m not sure I can help them. I really don’t know anything about the neighboring leaders. My husband had contact with them, of course, but I was never present.”
“I think the brothers are more interested in hearing your perspective as someone from the region who knows how the people here think.”
She turned and flashed him a glance. “I can’t claim to know how anyone thinks, other than myself.”
“But you can provide context, and perspective. Remember all of the others have spent half their lives or more overseas, which gives them a very different viewpoint. You’ll know much more quickly how a person from this region will react to a proposal or situation.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll certainly try to help.”
The family greeted her warmly and Osman pulled out a chair for her. A glance at Aliyah’s face told Gibran she was glad to be invited and welcomed. Her predicament as an outsider in her own family touched even his flinty heart, so he was pleased to see her being drawn into their midst.
“We really appreciate you sharing your insights,” said Osman. “Since you’re the only one whose perspective is purely Ubarite. As long as we haven’t yet contaminated you too much with our Western ideas.”
“Well, I have experienced Christmas now,” she teased. They were speaking Ubarite, so she could communicate confidently. “And it was so wonderful I suspect I’ll want to celebrate it every year.”
“See?” said Sam, with a grin at Osman. “I told you everyone would love it. And next year we can blend in more Ubarite traditions that I haven’t yet discovered.”
“We’re planning to invite the leaders of Satya, Tabriq and Akar to a sort of summit to discuss how we can mutually support each other,” said Osman.
“But our true motive is to get them drunk and see what they really think about us and each other,” said Zadir.
“That will be difficult.” Aliyah smiled. “Because people in this region don’t drink much. Though perhaps monarchs are different. I explained to Gibran that I haven’t actually met any of them, though I know that Sheikh Hamed of Akar visited at least once when your father was alive. There may have been all kinds of drunken merriment but I wasn’t privy to it.”
“Our father certainly drank,” said Amahd. “It was one of his many vices.” Gibran had noticed that Amahd was the most serious of the three brothers, who rarely did anything but work.
“Perhaps getting them relaxed will have the same effect, without the liver damage,” said Ronnie. “They might be pleased to have a chance to share what’s on their minds. Maybe you can all agree to build better roads between your nations, for one thing.”
Osman looked doubtful. “I have to admit I am starting to think like an old-time ruler. The prospect of new roads makes me wonder what unexpected influences they will bring in. I need to bring my modern, expansive mindset to Ubar, not shrink my thinking to fit historical norms. I think we should propose better roads, invite their proposals for increased trade in whatever commodities and services they suggest, and ask them about their concerns.”
“Do you think they will even come?” Amahd looked dubious. “They may be as wary of change as Osman is becoming.” He eyed his brother.
“I think they will.” Osman squared his shoulders. “I’m sure they’re curious about us. Wary, yes, but I don’t think they’ll miss a chance to figure out what’s on our minds either. Aliyah, can you think of anything we could do or say that would encourage them to come?”
Gibran watched her think. He could tell how badly she wanted to say the right thing, and suddenly he wanted that for her, too.
“Honor is very important to men in our region.” She spoke hesitantly, as if she might somehow be impugning their honor to say it. “So if you can make it a matter of honor they’ll be sure to come.”
Zadir frowned. “You mean, like a contest of sorts?”
Amahd sat up. “Yes! I’ve been wanting to organize a tent-pegging contest. It’s an ancient sport that originated in our region. And it would be fun.”
Gibran was surprised to see Amahd concerned about fun. This was the first time he’d shown any interests outside of business.
Osman laughed. “Won’t they be wary of a contest that evolved out of pulling your enemies’ tent pegs and collapsing their tents so you can run off with their women?”
“Their women?” said Sam and Ronnie in unison.
“And their treasure,” said Amahd with a shrug. “But we can reassure them that it’s just a friendly contest.”
“What do you think, Aliyah?” asked Osman. Obviously he was seriously considering the idea. Gibran thought it rather outrageous, but it might create the kind of festive, competitive spirit that would reveal people in their true light.
“I think that might work very well. You could invite them for three days, entertain them in grand style, like your father would have, and keep them busy so that you’re managing their activities and getting what you want out of them.”
Gibran let out a guffaw. “Spoken like a true stateswoman.”
The cold look she shot at him dampened his enthusiasm slightly. But only slightly! He deserved it, after all.
“I like it,” said Sam. “I think it’s clever to go with something traditional. And turning it into a sporting event makes it seem less serious and intimidating than a formal summit of some kind.”
“It sounds like a blast,” said Ronnie. “And Amahd can show off his tent-pegging skills. I can’t wait to see what that involves.”
“So who do we invite?” Osman narrowed his eyes, thoughtful. “The local rulers are all older guys who won’t want to ride themselves.”
“You might be surprised,” said Aliyah with a smile. “But you could ask each of them to bring a team of three riders so that there’s no pressure on them to ride themselves if they don’t want to.”
“Perfect,” said Amahd, clapping his hands together. Gibran had never seen him so excited. Even as a young boy Amahd had been rather studious and serious. “Now I’ll be really disappointed if they don’t come.”
“And you should probably deliver the invitations on horseback.” Aliyah looked excited that her suggestion had inspired them. “Do everything in the traditional style. They’ll appreciate that you are observing and celebrating the old ways. They’re probably all a bit nervous that you want to change everything overnight.”
“Good idea.” Osman nodded. “Rifal can suggest the three most ideal staff to dress up in some kind of ceremonial messanger costume and deliver the invitations.”
“What if they say no?” asked Sam. She accepted a tiny date sweetmeat from a staffer passing a plate.
“I don’t think they wil
l,” said Zadir.
“Me either,” chimed in Amahd. “And whoever suggested that Aliyah needed to be part of the conversation is a genius.”
“That would be Sam.” Gibran wanted to give her the credit, partly because he suspected Aliyah would be pleased that Sam had asked for her by name. He could tell that Aliyah admired Sam, but was rather intimidated by the confident American.
“Amahd, you’re in charge of developing the contest and planning the events.”
Osman gave kingly commands with effortless ease. Gibran rather admired the brass balls that took. And he did it with a cool confidence that inspired others to want to obey them. Quite a contrast to some of the tin-pot dictators Gibran had encountered, who could only issue orders with confidence when there were threats to back them up. “Aliyah, would you be willing to help us plan the entertainments?”
Gibran was impressed that Osman asked her rather than commanding her to do it. Probably it was just a sign of how distant their relations had been until now, but it showed respect.
“I’d be happy to. And I’m sure Samantha and Veronica will have many good ideas, too.” He noted how she called the other women by their full names, instead of the familiar nicknames everyone else used. Perhaps this event would bring them all closer together. Gibran cursed himself for caring enough to hope that it would.
Aliyah was going to great pains to ignore him. He could tell this because he sat directly opposite her at the table and she was looking everywhere but at him. He enjoyed the opportunity to stare at her long enough to enjoy her rare beauty, though he tried to be subtle enough that no one else would notice.
He really should leave her alone. He’d already rattled her cage enough to wake her up to possibilities beyond her bland, dowager existence as widow of the dead king. There was no sense in starting something that could place both of them in a precarious position. If anything he should push himself to view her as a sort of sister, both of them members of the family, but also outsiders to the inner sanctum.
Hopefully he’d be sensible enough to keep a professional distance from her, while tugging on her lovely golden chain a little, until he’d done his job and could get the heck out of here. She was too good for him, and he knew it. After surviving marriage to a murderous elderly tyrant, she deserved someone loving and loyal, not an itinerant bastard with a sharp sense of humor.
The others were draining their coffee cups and muttering about bed. “Aliyah, would you allow me to escort you back to your quarters?”
He wondered if she’d reject his offer in front of them all.
“That would be fine,” she said primly. Still without looking at him. She bid good night to the others with a smile, and rose from her chair. Anticipation pricked him at the prospect of walking behind her on the way back to her rooms.
As soon as they were out of the way of the others, he congratulated her on helping them figure out the idea.
She didn’t even look at him. “I’m sure they would have thought of it sooner or later. And who knows if it will even work?”
She was still mad about how he’d behaved earlier. “I can tell you don’t want to talk to me and I can’t blame you. I’m a man of my word, however, and I promise I won’t make any more inappropriate comments or gestures.”
She turned, one eyebrow raised. “And you really expect me to believe that?”
“I’ll prove it to you.” His chest swelled. If nothing else this would be an important test of his strength of will. You didn’t last long in his business if you didn’t possess total self-control. “On my honor.”
“As you know, honor is a very serious matter in these parts.” She looked skeptical, but rather intrigued. He took that as an encouraging sign. “A man whose honor is tarnished will never regain it.”
“And I won’t make that mistake.”
“We shall see.” She swept forward, a queen speaking to her subject.
Frustration bubbled inside him, but he kept a calm demeanor. “And I propose that we schedule your first driving lesson for tomorrow morning, if you have no urgent plans.”
Her shoulders twitched. “I might be busy planning the event.”
That wasn’t an outright no. “Indeed you might. I have some more interviews to conduct, but I’ll be at your disposal. Just think of the freedom you’ll have to drive around our nation. To take your daughters to visit your family, at least once the violence ends.”
“I can do that right now, with a driver.”
“That’s not the same thing as being completely in control of your own destiny.” He’d caught up with her and was walking level with her along an arched corridor. Colored mosaic walls sparkled in the torchlight.
“None of us is completely in control of our own destiny. Any man who doubts that is a fool.” She shot a dark glance at him.
“It’ll give you a measure of independence.”
“Except that I’ll be utterly dependent on you while I’m in the car with you. That is not a prospect I relish.” Her eyes flashed.
Already she seemed more independent and outspoken than when he first arrived. Aliyah had endured a lot, and her strength attracted him as much as her beauty.
His own strength, however, begged to be tested. “On my honor, I will be a perfect gentleman.”
She stopped and turned to him in front of the door to her chambers. “Well, since that seems so unlikely, and since your honor is now at stake, how can I resist testing you?” A tiny smile tugged at her beautiful mouth.
“Excellent. I’ll pick you up at nine.” He bowed low, turned, and strode away before she could protest again.
CHAPTER TEN
Aliyah waited with trepidation for Gibran’s arrival. She’d busied her children with coloring books and crayons Ronnie had brought from America for them, and their nanny was pledged to take them for a walk around the gardens before lunch and naptime. Which left her free to go driving with Gibran.
It seemed like a terrible idea. Driving alone terrified her, and the prospect of sitting next to such an unpredictable and dangerously attractive man in the close quarters of a car seemed fraught with disaster.
Still, learning to drive appealed to her hugely. Sam and Ronnie both drove and were always taking trips to different parts of the country to perform various tasks. Why was she the only useless one who needed to be chauffeured around? If she wanted to become a close confidant of her new sisters, it made sense to develop the skills they had. Maybe they’d been nervous when they started driving, too?
She wore a very plain dress of dark green silk with long trousers and a dark scarf over her hair. No one could accuse her of dressing like a temptress. She even left off her usual bangles so they wouldn’t create annoying feminine clatter as she turned the wheel and adjusted the gears. She intended to approach this as if it was a professional assignment. She’d certainly endured worse in her role as a royal wife!
A sharp rap on the door made her jump, even though she was expecting it. She tugged it open and steeled herself against reacting to the tall, broad silhouette that greeted her. “Good morning,” she managed, looking somewhere in the vicinity of his collarbone.
“Good morning, madam.”
She dared to glance up and the twinkle in his eye rather undercut the submissive greeting.
“Your vehicle awaits you at the east gate. Today’s session will be short. Just fifteen minutes to familiarize yourself with the controls and drive a very small distance.”
Already she felt relieved. “That sounds perfect.” She’d worried that he planned something intimidating like driving her far over the mountains and making her drive back. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
He gestured for her to walk ahead of him, and she tried to keep her hips from swaying because she could almost feel his eyes burning into her backside.
Or maybe she was just imagining it. Gibran did alarming things to her imagination.
They traversed the garden, and a rarely traveled stretch of worn stone corridor, and
emerged into bright morning sunshine outside the tall wood doors of the east gate. Empty terrain stretched ahead, as most of Ubarite civilization lay in the other direction. The one road headed for the mountains, with few obstacles in the way.
The car was the same type of silver Mercedes sedan that most of the family and their staff drove daily. Gibran opened the driver’s side door for her like a perfect gentleman. Shame she knew he was anything but. She settled herself behind the wheel, put on her seat belt, and ran her hands over its smooth leather surface.
“Power at your fingertips.” Gibran sounded amused. “Wait until you turn on the engine.” He showed her which pedal was which, and she placed her foot firmly on the brake. Then he showed her how to put the key in the ignition and turn it until the engine purred to life. When she moved her foot slightly, the car lurched and panic surged through her.
“What was that?”
“If you lift your foot very slowly off the brake, the car will start to move.”
Terror coiled in her stomach. “I’m scared.” She knew this was a terrible idea. This was worse than a horse. She had someone else on board who she could kill or injure, too! Still, she didn’t want to admit defeat at this early stage.
Especially not to Gibran.
She held her breath, scrunched her toes, and lifted her foot very, very slowly. The car jerked forward a few inches before she pushed her foot back down.
“Now you’re a driver.” Gibran turned to her and beamed. “There’s not a whole lot more to it than that. Do it again.”
Biting her lip and with her fingers gripping the wheel, she lifted her foot, and this time allowed the car to cruise forward a few feet before pushing it back down. The whole event was smoother than last time.
“Very nice! On my first driving lesson I ran up onto a curb and into a parking meter in the instructor’s vehicle. He’d said he’d never seen a more reckless driver in his life.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” she teased. Already she was feeling more relaxed. It was sweet of Gibran to encourage her to get past her fears. No one else had ever offered her such a chance at freedom.
Desert Kings Boxed Set: The Complete Series Books 1-6 Page 53
