Desert Kings Boxed Set: The Complete Series Books 1-6

by Jennifer Lewis

  Osman greeted them first, as the eldest, and they all bowed low to each other.

  Amahd eyed Darud with suspicion, but the older man greeted him with warmth and enthusiasm, and presented each of them with a gift. A set of jeweled goblets for Osman and Sam, white peacocks for Zadir and Ronnie, an ornamented bridle and saddle for Amahd, and hand-tooled silver plates for Gibran and Aliyah. Amahd was relieved they hadn’t given any of them a horse, which was a traditional lavish gift, because they would have felt obliged to use it during the contest to be polite.

  The peacocks immediately filled the courtyard with their mournful wail, and Aliyah’s children rushed forward to exclaim over them, servants brought drinks, and they toasted each other and suddenly it felt like a party.

  Amahd was not a fan of parties, but this one had a purpose, so he gritted his teeth and made small talk with Darud’s attendants, young men around his age who he’d be riding against tomorrow. Every time he saw a flash of yellow—Mackenzie Malone wore a yellow shirt with her jeans and boots—his eyes darted toward it.

  Most of the time it was someone else—apparently half the people in the palace were wearing yellow this morning—and he cursed himself for even glancing. He tried to think of a pretext for sending her back to her real job, but couldn’t come up with one that wouldn’t draw attention to himself. Why should he care which mechanic was on hand at the palace?

  He was extolling the virtues of his horse to a man named Lenaz when he saw the lights flicker. The effect was subtle since not many lights were on in the daytime and they came back on right away, but that was a telltale sign that the power had gone down and the system rolled to the backup generator.

  He glanced at Osman, who was now in hurried consultation with two members of the security staff. “Do excuse me.” He headed for Osman. “Did we lose power?”

  “Yes, cut lines in the desert.”

  “But how? They’re patrolled since the last incident.”

  “If only we could patrol every inch all the time.” He turned to the security system manager. “Is the security system online?”

  “We’re checking it, sir.” He frowned and murmured into his phone, then looked up at Osman again. “It appears that some of the panels are still down.”

  Amahd saw a yellow blur darting along the hallway to the left—this time it was Mackenzie, running toward the equipment room.

  On instinct, he headed after her. Only to see if he could help, of course. She was new to the palace and its workings, and as someone with a strong interest in technology and systems he had done a good deal of research into the equipment here.

  He walked briskly along the hallway, then opened the door to the large, air-conditioning-cooled storage room that housed all the palace’s most sensitive equipment.

  Mackenzie jumped and wheeled to face him. She composed herself quickly. “The security cameras are down. I know they’re an important part of your plan to find out what’s going on.”

  Before he could respond she’d hurried down an aisle of racks, each stacked high with black equipment and almost indistinguishable, lights blinking. She pulled out a panel and started to study the circuit boards, as more staffers entered the room. He tore his eyes from the voluptuous curves encased by her jeans.

  “I need to check these circuits to see if power surge has fried them.”

  If she knew what was on his mind—

  Her pale yellow shirt was unbuttoned low enough that he could see the top of her cleavage as she bent over the panel. He jerked his eyes upward as heat rushed through him.

  “Nope, they look okay.” She tucked the boards back in. “So the damage is elsewhere. Let me check the cameras and the monitors.”

  “We don’t want our guests to be aware that we’re recording everything,” he said sternly, trying not to notice the way her blue eyes sparkled.

  “Of course. I’ll be discreet.”

  He opened his mouth to speak. How was it possible to be discreet when your body attracted the attention of every man in the room? Especially men from this conservative region who were used to women being covered from neck to ankle.

  But she was already marching out of the equipment room, tool bag in hand. He followed her. To make sure she didn’t do anything inappropriate, of course.

  She checked a camera in one of the colonnaded hallways, which involved climbing up on a tall stepladder. Naturally he held the ladder so she wouldn’t be in danger.

  She unscrewed the casing on the small camera, then handed him her screwdriver as if he were her helper. He took it, blinking in astonishment.

  “Hmm. This looks okay, too. I sure hope the problem is with the monitors and not all the wiring buried in the walls.” She held her hand out for the screwdriver, and he replaced it, then held the ladder steady as she climbed down.

  “Thanks,” she said brightly. She folded the ladder and leaned it against the wall, then picked up her tool bag. A waiting staff member retrieved the ladder. “I have a hunch.”

  He continued after her as she headed for the control room, where staff whirled around trying to figure out why all the palace monitors had gone dark. “Let me check something.”

  She headed for the far wall with that characteristic, confident swing to her hips. She opened a breaker box and flipped all the switches, then flipped them back. One by one the monitors popped back on, with their views of each private and public corner of the palace. “Problem solved.”

  “How simple. Odd that no one thought to check.” He frowned at his staff. All of these expensively paid security team members and no one checked the breakers?

  “Outside of routine maintenance, ninety percent of what I do is troubleshooting. It’s a process of elimination. I hope none of the guests noticed anything wrong.”

  “I think there’s enough commotion to keep them busy.” She had a tiny mole by the lower-left side of her mouth. Why had he never noticed that before? The effect was undeniably sensual, the kind of thing other women would draw on to enhance their beauty.

  A curling strand of red hair had unwound itself from her bun and cascaded in front of her ear. It accented her pretty pink cheek and the broad smile beaming on her lush mouth.

  Really, Amahd? Had he no self-control? He should be greeting and entertaining their distinguished guests, not noticing the eccentric charms of an employee. “Thanks for solving the problem,” he said gruffly.

  “All in a day’s work. Glad I could help.” Her grin was so infectious he had to fight grinning in response. “I hope nothing else goes wrong. Do they know if this was sabotage?”

  “We believe so. And I think we should expect more of the same and be prepared.” He tried to look stern and businesslike.

  “I agree. I like to think I prepare for disaster every day of my life. With my family it’s usually a good strategy.” Her eyes twinkled.

  “Your brothers?”

  “My mom and dad are nuts, too. I guess that must be where I get it from.” She was rifling through her tool bag looking for something, that lock of bright hair falling forward.

  Amahd asked himself again why he was still standing here. He had royal duties to perform. “I must go.”

  “Of course.” She glance up and dazzled him again with that pearly smile. “I’ll be around, making sure everything runs smoothly.”

  Mac heaved a long, hearty sigh of relief as Amahd turned and swept back toward the elegant gathering in his long, regal robe. Luckily, she’d managed to do her job and not babble like a gibbering idiot except right at the end when she started rambling about her family.

  No wonder he said he had to go.

  She couldn’t understand the effect he had on her. Yes, he was handsome, but so were a lot of other guys and they didn’t turn her insides to jelly. Normally, she was fairly sensible and levelheaded about men. Yes, she’d had her head turned once or twice—including by Maddy’s father—but she’d never felt her heart beat faster just when a man came near.

  A man she didn’t know well
.

  Who was her boss. And a prince.

  It didn’t make any sense!

  Her friend Faye would probably say it was chemistry. She was a big believer in chemistry. She gave it a lot of credit that it probably didn’t deserve. To Mac it seemed like something that could get you into a lot of trouble.

  “Great job. We heard you solved the problem.” A woman’s voice jerked her out of her ruminations. It was Sam, closely followed by Ronnie and Aliyah. Did they walk around in a pack all the time? It was a little intimidating.

  “Please don’t be offended,” said Ronnie. Mac braced herself for offense. “But we were wondering if you’d mind changing into traditional clothing.”

  “You mean the long robes?” She gestured to the flowing outfits the three women now had on, even the Americans.

  “It’s just that our guests are very traditional, including the women. We could tell they were surprised to see a woman fixing things and really surprised to see her doing it in pants.”

  “Maybe they need to get with the times.” Mac said it brightly, while rubbing her now-sweaty palms on her jeans. “I’m not sure it would be safe for me to climb a ladder in one of those.”

  “They have pants underneath,” said Sam, lifting up her skirt to reveal matching pajama-like pants. “So you could always tuck it up should the need arise.”

  “I don’t know.” These slim, graceful woman looked okay swathed in yards of embroidered silk. She’d probably look like an explosion in a fabric store. “I’d feel awkward.”

  “We did too, at first,” said Ronnie with a smile. “We dressed up to blend with the crowd in Nabattur to hear our men speak. But once you get used to it the clothing doesn’t seem strange at all. It’s very comfortable.”

  Mac sighed. “As long as I don’t have to wear it all the time.

  Aliyah grinned. “I have some clothes for you to try.”

  Mac looked doubtful. Aliyah, shorter than the other two, was about her height, but built a lot slimmer. “I think I have more of a…” She tried to indicate her bust delicately.

  Aliyah laughed. “They’ll fit okay. They’re from when I was pregnant. I was as big as a house.”

  Mac blinked. Okay, now she was offended! But she could tell Aliyah didn’t mean any harm and English wasn’t her first language. “Well, if your house was as big as my house…I’ll give it a try.” Sam and Ronnie both looked a few months pregnant. She couldn’t be sure, and she certainly wasn’t about to risk asking. They both had small, cute bellies that showed when they turned a certain way, noticeable because they were so tall and slim otherwise.

  Why did she feel like there was some kind of conspiracy afoot?

  “Come to my quarters,” said Aliyah. “You can change right now. Hopefully, my daughters won’t cause chaos while we’re gone.”

  “You worry about them too much,” said Ronnie. “They have plenty of family to keep an eye on them. Besides, they’re always so well behaved. I can only dream my child will be as polite and sweet.” She patted her belly.

  Check! Mac grinned. “You’re expecting?”

  “Not for a while, but yes.” She smiled shyly. “And so is Sam.”

  Mac hoped there wasn’t anything in the water. She’d become pregnant with Maddy while using contraception.

  Why did it matter? She wasn’t about to make love with anyone while she was here. Or have sex. Or kiss…again.

  Luckily, they were all walking toward Aliyah’s quarters so her confusing and embarrassing train of thought wasn’t obvious to everyone even if it was written all over her face.

  But if fertility was in the air she might get pregnant from one of those blistering looks Amahd kept giving her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I feel self-conscious.” Mac smoothed the soft silk of her dress. It was a pale robin’s-egg blue that made her eyes look like pale blue glass and her hair like fire. She wouldn’t have thought the color would complement her coloring so well. And it fitted her body elegantly, shaping to her breasts then falling gently to her hips. She wondered what Amahd would think of her in this?

  “You look great.” Ronnie crossed her arms and looked her up and down with satisfaction. “That silver trim is so pretty.”

  “A long garment is not very practical,” protested Mac.

  “I suppose that depends what you’re trying to accomplish,” said Sam rather mysteriously. “It’ll keep you cool and mollify our older, more conservative guests.”

  “I suppose so.” They were still in Aliyah’s spacious apartments, which she’d moved back into temporarily for the event. She and her husband Gibran now spent most of their time living in the house they shared with his mother. It was reassuring to see that even tiny princesses—Aliyah’s daughters were two and four—made a mess with their books and toys. “I need to get back to work. What if something broke while you were transforming me from an ugly duckling into a swan?”

  “If something went wrong they’d have called you,” said Aliyah. “But let’s get back before they all wonder what happened to us.”

  Mac felt naked without her trusty cowboy boots, but even she had to admit they didn’t go. She did insist on putting them, and her clothes, in a bag to bring with her, in case she needed real clothes. Walking in the delicate silver sandals Aliyah had loaned her made her feel even more like some kind of Arabian Nights stand-in. She had no idea what she was in for when she took this job in a strange country!

  “I’d better go run a check on the AC,” she murmured as they walked nearer to the festivities. More guests had arrived and the public areas now bustled with people in brightly colored and exotic attire—much like her own.

  “It’ll be fine until after lunch.” Sam quickly shoved an arm through hers, which took Mac by surprise enough to make her gasp. “You can’t miss lunch. You’ll be starving.”

  She wanted to protest about the PB&J sandwich she had in a cooler in the maintenance closet, but had a feeling Sam wouldn’t be too interested. As an employee, Mac couldn’t protest too much. She might as well just deal with it—and hopefully she’d satisfy them enough to get that sweet bonus Bubba mentioned.

  The thought of the extra money put a spring in her step, and made her long skirt swish louder. And nothing they could say would make her stay here past five, when she needed to leave to pick up Maddy. She’d quit before leaving her daughter in the lurch.

  They entered a grand dining room with crazy-high ceilings covered with colorful mosaic patterns. The long table was laden with silver and gold platters piled high with food: flat loaves of bread, scented rice, glistening slices of fresh fruit, spicy-looking pieces of chicken. Mac begged her stomach not to rumble.

  Eyes swiveled toward them as they walked in. She could imagine the neighboring rulers must have heard a lot about the kings’ new American wives, but possibly never seen them before. Now they took their chance to stare. She realized with a shock that since they didn’t know Sam and Ronnie, they might mistake her for one of them. She tried to look as regal as possible—then wanted to laugh at her own efforts.

  She followed the other women’s lead in picking up an engraved plate and helping herself to rice and chicken, and some unfamiliar scented fruits.

  “The drinks are mostly based on rose water. It’s a popular delicacy here,” confided Ronnie, as a white-robed servant handed her a pink-and-gold glass of a mysterious liquid. “We’ll all go sit at the main table.”

  “But…I—” Ronnie had already swept away, her sleek white-and-silver robe flying out behind her.

  Suddenly Mac sensed one very particular pair of dark eyes on her. Amahd’s. His gaze was like a touch, making her skin jump and her breathing quicken—as usual. She felt a powerful need to explain herself so she moved toward him. “Sam and Ronnie insisted that I join you all for lunch. I hope you don’t think it’s inappropriate.”

  As soon as she’d spoken she realized that even speaking to a royal prince at an occasion like this might be considered inappropriate. And proba
bly calling the queens by their nicknames wasn’t right either. His quietly alarmed expression confirmed her suspicion that she’d made a massive social faux pas.

  She shouldn’t be here. Being raised in a tiny hick town in Nowheresville, Texas, did not give you any training and preparation to handle a situation like this. Mac knew how to chase off rowdy roughnecks in a bar, but she had no clue how to interact with a bunch of crowned heads in a foreign palace.

  “Why are you wearing…our native dress?” Amahd’s voice was gruff, presumably from displeasure.

  “Sam and Ronnie….” She felt like a rat fink for trying to accuse them of everything. “They thought the guests would be shocked by the sight of me in jeans. That I’d fit in better like this.” She gestured to her pale blue attire. And sighed. “If anything it probably makes me stand out more.”

  His eyes raked over her, stern and unforgiving, and she felt her big bonus evaporating in the heat of his gaze. “Perhaps I should get back to work. I don’t need to eat. I brought a sandwich.”

  “Of course you must eat,” he said roughly, eyes glittering with an odd expression. “Though that clothing is not suitable for your work. If you were to get tangled in your skirt while climbing a ladder, for example.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. I wasn’t sure if I should protest, though. I don’t know how to behave around royals.”

  “So you decided to do exactly what they asked.” A crease hovered near his left brow.

  “Pretty much.” She shrugged.

  His eyes drifted over her again. What was he thinking? His chiseled, handsome face revealed no sign of his thoughts. “I’ll have to speak with them.” He almost growled the words. “They have no right to interfere with your duties.”

  He gave her one more breath-stealing stare, then strode off across the room, probably to give someone a good dressing-down. Mac’s stomach had shriveled to the size of a peanut while he was speaking, and her heavy plate of food wobbled in her hand. She wished like heck she could run and hide in the storage closet to catch her breath and regain her composure.