Royal Spy

by Valerie Parv

  Nadia ignored Butrus and went to the attendant. "Are you all right?"

  Tahani nodded, biting her lip to hold back tears. "Mr. Dabir sent a car for you, and they insisted I return at once. I wanted to wait for you."

  Nadia took her friend's hand. It felt icy in hers. "It's all right. You did the right thing." The only thing, if Butrus's implacable expression was any guide.

  Tahani brightened a little. "Thank you, Princess."

  "You can go now. Please fetch cool drinks for me and Mr. Dabir."

  With alacrity, Tahani jumped up from the sofa, giving Butrus a wide berth, Nadia noticed, as she headed for the door. The princess waited until the door closed behind Tahani, then turned her attention to her fiance. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?"

  He folded his arms and glared at her. "I thought you could tell me. Quite the adventuress, aren't you, little one?"

  "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  His dark brows arched. "No? Then why was your servant disguised as you, painting at your easel, while her mistress was nowhere to be found?"

  "I had an errand to run."

  "What could possibly be so urgent that you had to go in person, rather than send your maid?"

  She stood up. "Why don't we stop playing cat and mouse, Butrus. Say what you came here to say."

  He stood up, too, and moved to stand over her, his closeness daunting. She refused to back away. "Very well. I' ve known for some time that you have a habit of changing places with the maid and going off on your own for hours at a time."

  Horror made her skin crawl. "You had me watched? How dare you do such a thing to a member of the royal family?"

  "Oh, I dare." He reached into the jacket of his impeccably tailored suit and pulled out a handful of photographs, dropping them onto the couch beside her. "You forfeited any protection due your royal status when you assumed the guise of a humble maid. No one could blame me for treating you as such. Look at you!"

  He was referring to her simple attire and disheveled state after her stint at the orphanage. She drew herself up, refusing to look at the photographs. "One does not have to appear royal to be royal."

  "But one does have to maintain certain standards. You can hardly be said to have maintained them today."

  "Are you worried about my actions or my image?" she asked wearily.

  He placed his hands on her upper arms. "Since we are to be married, both are of concern to me."

  She glared at him. "Remove your hands from me. We are not going to be married."

  She had not intended to be so blunt, but Butrus had left her no choice. His attitude confirmed what she had long suspected—that as his wife, she would be no more than a chattel to him, her royal status a convenience that would be ignored when they were alone. She would tell her father of her decision as soon as he returned.

  Butrus's grip tightened to bruising force as he urged her to her feet. "That's where you're wrong, my princess. We are going to be married, and soon."

  She caught her breath. "You can't make me marry you."

  "No, but your father can. Once he hears what you've been up to..."

  She felt the color rush to her face. "You wouldn't tell him." Her father would be devastated by her behavior, especially when the tale was slanted to show her in the worst possible light, as Butrus was sure to do.

  Butrus's eyes lit with purpose. "Not unless you force me to."

  "He will never take your side against his own daughter."

  "Once he sees these photographs, you'll be lucky to claim that status."

  She made herself look at them, horrified when she saw that the photographer had captured her in Gage's arms the first time they had kissed under the colonnade at Zabara. The odd lighting suggested some kind of security camera or infrared device, but there was no mistaking the scene. There were more pictures of her changing places with Tahani, driving alone in her car and, worst of all, entering the orphanage at Marhaba.

  "How did you get these?" she asked, her throat so tight that speaking was an effort.

  He grinned, running his hands along her arms from wrist to elbow. "Changing your tune a little, are you? As you should. I've had you followed for some time, but saw no reason to interfere in your activities until now."

  Until it was beneficial to him, she interpreted. She pulled free of him and moved away, feeling cold in spite of the day's warmth. "I'm surprised you would want to marry a woman who has so dishonored herself," she said, her voice dripping sarcasm.

  He chose to ignore her tone, taking her words at face value. "I'm glad you agree that your behavior is dishonorable, my princess. I confess, I did think of baring my soul to your father. No woman has been stoned for immoral behavior in Tamir for centuries, but Sheik Ahmed might be persuaded to revive the custom if the transgression is sufficient. You must agree, your transgressions are more than sufficient."

  She shook her head, refusing to entertain the vision of herself being so punished, although her blood chilled at the very thought. "You sound like someone from the Dark Ages, Butrus. My father would never condone such a thing."

  Butrus began to gather up the photographs. "Shall we put his response to the test when he returns from Jawhar tomorrow?"

  "No, wait." She couldn't let her father see the photos.

  Butrus paused, the photos fanned in his fingers like a hand of cards. The one of Gage kissing her was uppermost, she noticed. Remembering how special he had made her feel, she couldn't bring herself to regret the moment. She only regretted that Butrus had found her out. What sort of woman did that make her? Was Butrus right about her lack of morals?

  No, she thought defiantly. No matter how sordid Butrus made this look, she cared about Gage, even if he did not return her affection.

  She loved him.

  The realization left her thunderstruck. She had thought herself infatuated with him, driven to find out what his lovemaking was like, but never in love with him. Now she made herself face the truth. From the moment she had set eyes on him, he had begun to capture her soul.

  That he had thrown her feelings in her face didn't stop her from having them, any more than she could stop the sun from rising in the morning.

  Did Butrus know that she and Gage had made love? If he did, nothing on earth would have stopped him from seeing her punished as cruelly as he could devise, she knew. Apparently he did not know, not yet.

  "What do you want from me?" she asked.

  The gleam of satisfaction fired his gaze. "What I've always wanted from you—membership in the most exclusive club on earth, the royal family."

  "Power and prestige mean so much to you that you would marry me, knowing how I feel toward you?"

  "You don't understand, do you? You've always had power, always had people rushing to do your slightest bidding. Yet you throw it all away to pretend to be less than you are. You would not be so eager to do so if you knew what it's like to be truly less than others."

  She clasped her hands together. "You're right, I don't understand."

  A timid knock interrupted them. At Nadia's distracted command, Tahani entered with a tray containing two glasses of chilled fruit juice and a plate of sweetmeats. The glasses rattled as she edged past Butrus and placed the tray within Nadia's reach. "Thank you. You may lay out my clothes for this evening," Nadia told her.

  Tahani gave her a grateful smile and disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door carefully behind her.

  "That's what it's like to be less than others," Butrus said, gesturing toward the closed door. "It means being at the beck and call of your betters, jumping when they say jump and being terrified of making the slightest wrong move."

  Nadia refrained from pointing out that it was Butrus who had caused the other woman's fear. "You sound as if you speak from experience," she said, knowing it was impossible.

  He crossed to the tray and picked up one of the glasses, drinking deeply before returning his attention to her. "Bitter experience," he confirmed. "The man you know a
s my father is really my uncle. He took me in when I was orphaned as a small boy."

  Her hand went to her mouth. "I had no idea."

  "I don't want your pity," he said savagely. "I had enough of that as a child. Pity and condescension, always aware that I wasn't a son of the house, but a charity case, taken in on sufferance."

  "Your father...your uncle's behavior never suggested he thought less of you than his natural children," she said, striving to think of a time when she had noticed any discrimination between adoptive father and son. Butrus's family had socialized with hers often enough that she would have noticed some difference. She could remember none. In fact, she had occasionally thought his adoptive father favored Butrus over his other children. Couldn't Butrus see that?

  Apparently not, because he shook his head. "Perhaps not to you. To me, the difference is always there."

  "In you, not in your family," she insisted. "Can't you see, you're fighting phantoms. You don't want to marry me. You want to marry what I am. That makes your actions worse than those you attribute to your father."

  He swept the glasses off the tray onto the floor, making her jump. "You will not judge me. As my wife, you will do my bidding and put a glad face on it. Understood?"

  "I will never lie with you willingly," she said in a low tone, more shaken than she wanted him to know.

  He gave a guttural laugh. "No matter. Unwilling can be even more exciting."

  She couldn't stop a shudder from rippling through her. After the joy she had found in Gage's arms, how could she resign herself to the travesty of a marriage Butrus meant them to have? She would rather die first, and she let her resolute gaze tell Butrus so. "Even though my heart belongs to another?"

  Butrus looked as if he would like to kill her there and then. She saw his hands actually flex and reach out for her before he brought them back to his sides. When he spoke, his voice was as rigidly controlled as his pose. "When I saw the photo of Weston kissing you, I told myself you had been coerced by him. You have not tasted a man's love yet—that boy, the art teacher, was barely a man—so it is natural for you to be curious about such things. And a man from the West has little compunction about despoiling such innocence as yours. I have decided to forgive you."

  Knowing she was flirting with danger, she could not keep silent. "I don't want your forgiveness, Butrus. I was not coerced, nor a victim of curiosity. I am in love with Gage Weston."

  Butrus's expression turned to stone. The coldness in his eyes froze her blood as he said, "Then you are in love with a dead man. Weston is already being hunted by my agent."

  She stared at Butrus, aghast. "You were the one who tried to kill Gage before by sabotaging his car brakes, weren't you?"

  His mouth thinned. "Unfortunately I was unsuccessful. This time there will be no mistake. He sealed his fate by touching my woman."

  "How many times must I tell you I'm not your woman, and never will be? If you harm Gage in any way, I won't rest until you are made to pay."

  Butrus was not as discomfited as she thought he should be. "Without proof that I had anything to do with it, who will believe you? I'll deny we ever had this conversation."

  Suddenly everything fell into place. Appalled, she remembered Gage's determination to convince her that their lovemaking had meant nothing to him. Had he found out that Butrus meant to have him killed and decided to remove her from harm in the only way he could—by driving her away?

  How could she have fallen for his scheme? Her body had known, if her mind had not, that their lovemaking had meant more to him than a casual experiment. He had been willing to sacrifice their love to save her. She had to get to him.

  As soon as she gained her feet, Butrus motioned her to sit again. "Whatever you are planning will be too late to save Weston. By the time you can reach him, his body will be lying in a ditch and my agent will be on his way to claim his payment."

  She felt her eyes brim and she blinked furiously. She refused to accept that Gage was dead. "I can't believe you would stoop to paying someone to do murder."

  "Believe it. I have done worse, and doubtless will again in the future. It is not your concern."

  This time she would not remain seated. "It will certainly be my father's concern after I tell him what you are."

  "Are you sure he does not know?"

  Horror overcame her. She and her father had had their disagreements, but he would never endorse Butrus's crimes. Her father could be hard, but he was just and he always upheld the law. "No, he isn't like that."

  "Of course he isn't. So I undertake the causes he cannot support publicly, using ways and means not open to him to achieve his aims."

  "You're mad. My father would never condone what you're doing."

  Butrus gave an ugly sneer. "How prettily you defend him, my princess, for all the good it will do either of you. Sheik Ahmed benefits from my actions, therefore he is a party to them by default, at the very least."

  Her head swam with the effort to make sense of Butrus's ramblings. He had taken her father's lack of objection for approval, convincing himself that the sheik supported his actions, when the sheik knew nothing of what his adviser was doing. When he learned the truth, Butrus's reign of terror would be over, she knew.

  "How are you going to prevent me from telling my father what you've told me at the first opportunity?" she demanded.

  "The guard at your door is one of my men. He is under orders to see that you remain in seclusion here for the next few days. By the time you are recovered from your.. .indisposition, Weston will be long dead, and our wedding will be only days away. Any hysteria you exhibit will be blamed on prewedding nerves."

  The thought of being unable to save Gage turned her heart to lead. Was her fate always to have her love snatched from her by the cold hand of death? How could she go on living, knowing that Gage was lost to her forever, the last words they shared a repudiation of the love she was sure he felt for her? Why else had he tried so hard to drive her away, if not to keep her from harm?

  "My parents will never take your word over mine," she said bitterly.

  Butrus patted his jacket pocket. "I still have the photographs as a last resort. Once Sheik Ahmed sees them, he will think you are accusing me to deflect censure from yourself. He will be happy to expedite our marriage in order to have such a troublesome daughter off his hands."

  "You really mean to go through with this, don't you? Even though it means I will hate you for the rest of your life."

  "That is a long time," he said equably. "Ample for me to change your opinion of me."

  "Never. You will have to drag me to the ceremony, for I shall not go any other way."

  "Not even knowing that your dear Tahani will be standing in the wings with a knife pressed to her throat?"

  Butrus knew she would never let anything happen to Tahani to save herself, and his smug expression told her he knew he had won. "Cheer up," he added, as if he had not spoken of murder and mayhem the way other people discussed the weather. "When you are my bride, I shall build you the finest studio, where you can dabble in your art to your heart's content."

  "With bars on the windows," she threw at him.

  Her anger rolled off him. "That depends entirely on how you behave." He consulted his watch. "Much as I would like to stay and discuss our plans for the future, I must go. I have an appointment to keep with your beloved's killer."

  "Butrus, wait. Why must Gage die? I could tell Father that he accosted me and forced me to kiss him. He would be banished from Tamir instantly, never to cross our borders again." Bleakness gripped her at the thought of never seeing him again, but at least he would be alive.

  Butrus favored her with a wintry smile. "I wish I'd thought of that. It would have been far less trouble. But I'm afraid you're too late. His body should be discovered within the hour, the victim of an unfortunate robbery. Since your family knows you were acquainted with Mr. Weston, they won't be surprised if you withdraw to your apartments and don't want to see anyone. Very s
ad, really. I wish there was something I could do to help you get over your grief." He brightened suddenly. "Fortunately the prospect of our wedding will restore your mood."

  She grabbed one of the glasses lying on the carpet and flung it at him. He ducked and the glass shattered against a wall, the remaining juice spilling like blood over the costly drapery. "I'll see you in hell before marrying you," she vowed.

  His laughter mocked her. "Princess, this is hell." The second glass exploded against the door, but he had already closed it behind him.

  Chapter 17

  The old fort that housed the orphanage had been built on a rocky promontory overlooking the town of Marhaba. Once, the fort would have commanded unlimited vistas over the surrounding area, but in modern times, greenery had grown up around the old stone walls, although the view was still spectacular from some parts.

  Gage was in no mood to enjoy the scenery as he scanned the bushes for signs of an attacker. Every rustle of a bird made his nerves strain almost to the breaking point as he readied himself for anything. He knew that dealing with whoever was sent against him wouldn't be a picnic.

  Too bad he hadn't brought his gun along on what he'd believed would be a simple surveillance exercise when he left the embassy this morning. A weapon would have gone a long way toward evening the odds. But thinking that an orphanage wasn't the place to bring a loaded weapon, he had left it behind. He hoped his concern for the children's safety wasn't going to cost him too dearly.

  He consoled himself with knowing that Nadia was safe. The specter of her hurt expression as he convinced her she meant nothing to him haunted him, but at least she was back at the palace by now.

  She couldn't know how much she really meant to him, couldn't be allowed to know, as long as it put her in danger. Every time he imagined her here dealing with this, he felt himself break out in a cold sweat. He wasn't afraid for himself, but he was terrified for her.

  He continued walking back to where he had left the car, trying not to betray his tension in his movements. Thinking of Nadia was a welcome distraction. When had she started to mean so much to him? When he kissed her beneath the colonnade at Zabara, he decided. She had been so uncertain, yet she had kissed him back with surprising enthusiasm.