Nicu picked up the tale again. “The queen hadn’t seen you yet—she’d had a Cesarean—so we thought we could pull it off. And then once she began to recover, we couldn’t confess what we’d done. She was already so attached to Dara. And the Roma people needed hope. They needed to know that the royal line would continue. We didn’t have the heart to break the bad news. But, Maya, you need to know…we didn’t give up. We kept looking for you for years.”
Maya jerked her gaze to Dara, then to the tall man standing behind her, still unable to process it all. “You’re not joking?”
They shook their heads, gazing back at her with somber eyes. She couldn’t doubt their sincerity. They were telling her the truth.
“I…I don’t know…this is all so bizarre,” she said.
“I know,” Dara said, sympathy lacing her voice. “I only found out the truth a short while ago myself. It takes some time to soak in.”
Nicu closed his eyes, and when he opened them, Maya was stunned to see a sheen of tears. “I’m so sorry. All I can do is plead for your forgiveness. We did what we thought best—best for the queen, best for the people, best for you. But we ended up making a mess.”
Maya’s mind whirled. Her entire world had been turned on end. “If this is true…”
“It is,” Dara said.
“Then I…” She shook her head, unable to absorb it. “I’d like to take a test. A DNA test. To make sure.”
Nicu nodded. “Of course. But with the family resemblance, I don’t think there’s any doubt.”
The family resemblance. The words jarred her, further detonating her life. This man was her uncle, the first member of her family she’d ever seen.
And suddenly, other implications roared in. Her family hadn’t abandoned her. They’d loved her, wanted her, searched for her. And they’d put the medallion with her to protect her, just as she’d always dreamed.
She stared at the photo again—her parents, the people she’d longed to know—and blinked back a hot rush of tears. Everything she’d ever thought about herself had been wrong. She’d been wanted, loved.
“There’s so much we need to tell you,” Dara said.
Maya nodded, bit down on her trembling lip, too filled with emotion to speak.
“The crown is safe,” Dara continued, tactfully changing the subject, as if she understood Maya needed time to come to grips with the truth. “It’s with the necklace and dagger. You’ll need to decide what to do with them. Uncle Nicu will help.”
“Singh’s dead,” Nicu added, a hard edge lacing his words. “We’ve confiscated his records. He had extensive lists of the members of his group, an entire genealogy. An international task force is rounding them up. The Order won’t threaten anyone again.”
Singh…“Deven…” Maya sat straighter. “Where is he? Did you see him?”
An awkward silence descended on the group. They glanced at each other, and Maya’s agitation grew. “What happened? Where did he go?”
Dara’s husband cleared his throat and spoke. “We saw him as we were coming in. On the roof. He was waiting for a helicopter to arrive.”
“He’s leaving? Now?” The blood drained from her face.
He hadn’t stayed.
And without warning, the old insecurities flooded back, the sense of abandonment, rejection. The hurt. Deven hadn’t cared enough, hadn’t loved her enough to stay.
No, that wasn’t true. Deven did love her. She’d seen it in his eyes, felt it in his kiss. He’d proven it time after time during their journey as he’d protected her from harm.
But he didn’t think he deserved her. He’d even told her as much.
Her gaze landed on her newfound uncle, part of the family she’d always yearned for. Everything she’d ever wanted had just come true.
But none of it mattered without Deven. She didn’t care about being a princess. It had nothing to do with her life. And she didn’t need these people she barely knew.
She needed Deven. She loved him. She’d worn her independence as a mask to avoid getting rejected or hurt. But love required risk. If she wanted his love, she had to go after him and let her vulnerability show.
She swung down from the bed, disregarding the pain shooting through her bandaged shoulder. She had on a flimsy hospital gown, socks with rubber soles. She pulled a bathrobe from the foot of the bed and tugged it on.
“I’m sorry, I…I have to go.”
“You’re leaving?” Nicu sounded stunned. “But…should you be out of bed?”
Maya didn’t bother to answer. She pushed past them, ignoring their startled faces. She had to find Deven, keep him from leaving. She just prayed that she wasn’t too late.
She rushed to the elevators at the end of the hallway, her urgency mounting as she rode to the roof. The floors flashed by. The elevator dinged an eternity later and jolted to a stop.
She dashed out and ran to the double doors leading to the roof. She shoved them open and stumbled through, and was greeted by a deafening roar. Rotor blades throbbed. Cold wind blasted her face. She turned around, spotted the helicopter just as it lifted off.
And the man she loved flew away.
Chapter 16
Buffeted by the downdraft, the deep vibrations of the rotors pulsing through him, Deven watched the helicopter rise into the sky.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t walk away from Maya again. Even if she despised him, even if she refused to speak to him, he couldn’t leave the woman he loved.
He shoved his hand through his windblown hair and watched the chopper shrink above Kintalabad’s skyline, the noise receding as it headed toward the distant peaks.
He needed her, and maybe it was selfish, but he was going to beg her to let him stay. If she wouldn’t have him, he’d just hang around in her periphery. Better to adore her from a distance than to never see her again.
He turned and started toward the double doors that would take him back downstairs. But then he spotted a woman standing across the rooftop with her face to the sky, her blue hospital robe swirling around her, her long, thick braid brushing her hips.
Maya. He stopped, suddenly unable to move.
She turned around as if he’d spoken, and their gazes met across the roof. Her face was pale, her eyes stricken. Her cheeks glistened with tears.
His lungs squeezed tight, sudden fear for her squeezing his throat. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He hurried toward her, narrowing the distance between them, then stopped as close to her as he dared. He ached to hold her, pull her into his arms, but he didn’t have that right.
She wiped her face with the heel of her hand. “They…They’d told me you’d left.”
She was crying for him? He looked into her eyes, his heart faltering, hardly able to hope. “I tried to leave, but I couldn’t go. I know I don’t deserve you, but—”
“I love you.”
“What?” He gave his head a hard shake, thinking his ears were still ringing from the rotors’ noise.
She moved closer and placed her hand on his arm. “I love you, Deven. I always have. And I…” Her eyes glistened and brimmed with tears. “I don’t want you to go. I need you.”
She loved him. She needed him?
He wanted desperately to believe her, to seize what she offered, but he knew he had to be fair. “Maya…you might be the Roma princess. And if it’s true, you’ll become the queen. I’m Singh’s son—”
“It doesn’t matter. Your parents…my parents—none of that matters. We’re still the same people we’ve always been.”
“But—”
“You’re the boy I fell in love with, the man I love now.”
He lifted his hand to her cheek, his heart swelling, overcome by the emotions careening inside. “I thought I’d lost you that night. When you lunged for Singh…”
His throat knotted up. An unbearable tightness clutched his chest. And he couldn’t resist anymore. He pulled her against him, careful of her injured shoulder, then enveloped her in his arms. He press
ed her head to his chest, buried his face in her silky hair, remembering the blood, the fear, shuddering at how close he’d come to seeing her die.
“I knew it was better for you if I left,” he confessed. “But I couldn’t bring myself to go. I love you too damned much.” He eased back, cradling her face with his hands, and gazed into her gorgeous eyes. “You really love me?”
A tear leaked down her cheek. “I always have. Stay with me, Deven.”
He dipped his head and took her mouth, gently, tenderly, giving vent to the yearning he couldn’t quell. He tasted her warmth, the sweetness of her kiss, the love.
An eternity later, he lifted his head. He traced the fading bruise mottling her cheek, so shredded by emotions he could hardly speak. But he had to be clear. He wanted no secrets between them, not anymore.
“I don’t have anything to offer you. I don’t even have a job. I resigned.”
Maya’s eyes searched his. “Your boss, Skinner. What happened to him?”
“He’s been arrested.” He let out his breath, still disgusted by the man’s betrayal. “Interpol has Singh’s records. They’ve started a worldwide crackdown on the rest of the Black Crescent group.”
But there was more. “I’m Singh’s only offspring, Maya. I inherited his estates, his wealth. But I’m not going to keep it. The money, the lands—it’s all dirty. He got it from drugs, weapons, prostitution. I’m giving it away to charities like your shelter. To repair some of the damage he caused.”
She smiled, a warm, gentle smile that soothed his heart. “I fell in love with you when you had nothing. And I still don’t care what you own.”
He framed her face with his hands. “Then you’ll marry me? Even if I’m the son of your people’s enemy?”
Her eyes gleamed. “Maybe it’s time we changed history. We could merge the lines and start a dynasty of our own.”
His heart missed a beat. “You’ll have my children?”
“As many as I can. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Deven—a family with you.”
Filled with joy, he pulled her carefully into his arms. And then he surrendered to the need sizzling inside him and kissed her—a deep, fiery kiss that incinerated every thought. Except one.
That he’d finally reclaimed heaven.
And this time, he wouldn’t let her go.
Epilogue
“Almost ready, Your Highness?”
“Just about.” Maya pressed her hand to her queasy stomach, struggling to hold down the soda crackers she’d swallowed minutes before. The ceremony was about to begin—her first formal function as queen, the long-awaited moment when they would formally present the sacred Roma treasures to the world.
And the last thing she needed was to get sick.
The maid straightened the hem of her sari and fussed with pleat of the skirt. The gorgeous gown had once belonged to her mother.
The queen. The edge of Maya’s mouth ticked up. She still couldn’t quite believe she was a member of the royal family. But there was no doubt. The DNA test had come back positive. She’d crash-landed into a fairy tale, going from orphan to queen.
The luxurious gown certainly made her feel like royalty. Exquisitely crafted of red zari silk and gold brocade, it draped her like a dream. She wore her mother’s heirloom jewelry—gold bangles on her arms, glittering earrings, rings on her fingers and toes. A jeweled bindi decorated her forehead. A tiny gold hoop graced her nose.
But all that paled next to the necklace Deven had given her on their wedding day. It glimmered against her throat, a shimmering mass of gold that never failed to make her heart catch. It wasn’t his mother’s lost heirloom, but it had replaced her medallion as her most precious possession, and she refused to take it off. She leaned toward the gilded mirror, eyed the red sindoor powder in the part of her hair.
She was married for real this time. And she thanked God every day for her good luck. Deven had been her rock over the past few months—hovering at her side, helping her adjust to the demands of her new life.
And they’d have even more demands to adjust to in seven months.
She pressed her palm to her belly, unable to stop the silly smile that kept threatening to erupt at the thought that she was pregnant. She couldn’t wait to tell Deven the news.
“Here are your shoes.” Gina—the young girl Maya had rescued a few months back—set them at her feet.
“Thanks, Gina.” Maya stepped into the delicate sandals, then drew in a calming breath. “I think that’s it. I’m ready to go.”
She nodded to Gina to open the chamber door. Her role as queen was mostly ceremonial, but she still had influence—which she’d wasted no time wielding. The first thing she’d done was hire Gina, along with many of the other women she’d rescued, to make up her staff. She’d insisted that they continue to study so they could rise to more important positions later, either in the government or in schools. She intended to make sure all women in Romanistan got an education—and more power over their lives.
The door swung open. Maya headed into the hallway and heard the muted roar of the crowd inside the ballroom. Her nerves jangled even more.
Thousands of people had converged on the Himalayan palace for the event—royals, celebrities, antiquity experts, numerous heads of state. More people—Roma from around the world—crowded the streets outside.
And security was beyond tight. Antiterrorist experts had been called in from across the globe. An ant couldn’t crawl near the palace without being picked up on a satellite somewhere.
She continued down the hall to the ballroom, the plush oriental carpet muffling her steps. The palace, which had once been Singh’s, was now a museum of Roma history and heritage—starring the sacred treasures, of course.
Maya caught sight of Deven waiting by the ballroom door with her uncle. His broad shoulders filled his black tuxedo. His thick hair gleamed under the lights. He turned at her approach, and their eyes met. Her heart began its usual off-kilter sprint.
Would she ever get accustomed to this man?
She took in his freshly shaven jaw, the silver scar that had helped make him the man he was. Those eyes that promised ecstasy—and delivered it night after thrilling night. Not to mention the days….
His gaze lingered over her curves, making her heart gallop even more. His lips edged into a knowing smile, and his eyes took on a wicked gleam. “You look beautiful.” He bent close, murmured into her ear, “How long until I can get you out of that dress?”
“Not long,” she promised. She leaned closer, intending to tell him her news, but the tall carved doors to the ballroom opened, and the tumult of voices drowned out her words. Resigned to waiting a little longer, she took her position between her husband and uncle.
The crowd hushed. Enormous chandeliers glittered overhead. They started across the thick Persian carpet toward the dais where the honored guests waited. At the front of the dais, the Roma treasures stood on display.
Maya’s spirits lifted at the sight of the people she’d come to know in the past few months. On one side stood Dara, the former princess, Maya’s adopted sister. They’d grown close as Dara had taught her what she’d needed to know. Dara beamed up at her handsome husband, Logan, the renowned mountain tracker Maya had met in the hospital. They planned to leave after the ceremony to return to Peru.
On the other side of the dais stood the couple from Spain—the sexy gitano thief-turned-security-expert Luke Moreno and his talented wife, Sofia, famous for her fabulous antique reproductions and restoration work. Heavily pregnant, Sofia still managed to look elegant in a plum-colored sheath, with her blond hair in a sophisticated twist. Luke gazed down at her, looking besotted. No one could miss the fierce love in his eyes.
Maya’s uncle moved to the side of the dais. Deven stayed beside her as they took their places in the center of the group.
The crowd quieted. Anticipation hummed in the air.
Maya glanced around the crowded ballroom, filled with pride and satisfaction, then dow
n at the treasures on the black velvet stand. To the right was the necklace, its meticulously hammered gold gleaming like fire. Beautifully crafted, it was adorned with symbols and tiny bells, rare amber that dazzled the eyes—black, green, red, a rare translucent blue.
The dagger was on the left. Over a foot long, made of patterned wootz steel, the lethal blade flashed as it caught the light. It had blood channels etched down the sides, a gold hilt big enough to fit a warrior’s hand. The scabbard lay beside it—intricately beaded, embroidered with gold and silver threads in ancient Roma designs.
And between the dagger and the necklace lay the fabled crown. Her pulse quickened at the sight. It shimmered like the priceless treasure it was, a masterpiece from ancient times—solid gold, carved with the sun, the crescent moon….
A deep sense of awe consumed her. These treasures had endured for centuries. They’d fueled legends, fear, wars. People had hunted for them, died for them, murdered for them. And she could feel their magic, their power. They vibrated with unseen forces, truly a gift from the gods.
Her gaze traveled to the silver medallion—the piece she’d worn next to her heart since birth. And the sadhu’s translation of the ancient inscription flashed through her mind: both darkness and light provide insight into the heart.
She inhaled and pressed her palm on her belly again. The Roma had seen their share of darkness. Her people had been conquered, persecuted, forced to wander homeless for too many generations to count.
But these treasures had given them hope, restoring dignity to a downtrodden people, instilling some badly needed pride. The Roma had begun to heal. Maybe that was the light.
Her eyes returned to Sofia and Luke, Dara and Logan, the people who’d helped fulfill the legend—now her family. Her gaze rested on Deven, her husband, and sheer happiness brimmed inside. They’d all journeyed into the heart of danger, then emerged from their own personal darkness into the light—the light of love.
A new era had begun for the Roma, and a new life was starting for all of them.
The Royal Affair Page 18
