The structure extended for what seemed like miles in both directions. It was at least three stories tall with a beautiful tile roof that shimmered in the midday sun. Balconies clustered together, their black wrought-iron railings contrasting with the clean lines of the palace.
A huge archway led inside. As Roger opened the rear door and held out his hand to assist her, she saw that the circular area in front was paved in tiny cobalt-blue tiles. They formed a pattern that looked like the ocean, with fish and boats existing in harmony. It was exquisite and made her feel instantly at home.
“Welcome, Princess Dora,” Roger said, then gave her a wink. “Ready to meet everyone?”
“I hope so.” She glanced at Khalil who stood beside her. Roger had been surprised to learn that the youngest prince had married. What about Khalil’s family—specifically his father? “Do they know about me?”
“My father does. He was delighted when I told him.”
It was a small lie, Khalil thought, but one that Dora needed to hear. He didn’t have to know her well to sense her nervousness, although he couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t every day that one met one’s in-laws. The situation would be worse for a woman marrying into a royal family. Especially as she wasn’t anyone the family would have picked.
He thought about his conversation with his father the previous day. King Givon Khan had roared out his displeasure, refusing to listen to anything his son had to say. Khalil doubted the old man had settled down since then.
They walked across the courtyard with its dozen or so fountains and the guards posted every few feet. El Bahar was a peaceful country, and the men were mostly there for show. The automatic weapons and ammunition draped across their chest were most impressive. Dora pressed close to his side.
Up ahead he saw that the entire family had turned out to greet him. His two brothers lounged against the large pillars in front of the open double doors leading into the palace itself. Malik, Jamal and himself all shared the Khan family characteristics of dark hair and eyes. The three men were more than six feet tall, with Malik topping the other two by about a half inch. They were handsome, although Khalil privately considered himself the best looking in the group.
His grandmother waited on the bottom step. Her slender, nearly frail body gave fools the impression she was weak and feeble, but Fatima Khan could still outwit them all. He found himself hoping his grandmother would take to his new wife. Fatima’s acceptance would make a great difference to Dora’s life in the palace.
Finally Khalil’s gaze settled on his father. Givon Khan was nearly sixty, yet he looked as straight and strong as a man twenty years younger. Despite his preference for Western-style dress, he was often an old-fashioned king. He ruled El Bahar with wisdom and patience…a patience he rarely showed to his sons. Khalil saw the disappointment and anger in his father’s eyes and knew there was going to be trouble.
Khalil and Dora paused in front of the group. No one spoke. His grandmother glared at her son, the king, which meant they’d already had words about Khalil’s marriage, but the old woman didn’t move toward him. Khalil placed his hands on Dora’s shoulders and felt her tremble. He squeezed slightly to give her courage.
“Father, I would like to introduce Princess Dora Khan. Dora, this is my father, King Givon of El Bahar.”
Dora surprised him by stepping forward and giving his father a very smooth curtsy. “Your Majesty, thank you for welcoming me to your most wonderful country.”
Givon glared at her, nodded briefly, then turned his attention on his son. “Khalil, I have been angry with you in the past, I have been frustrated, but this is the first time I have wished you were not my son.”
Dora turned and gave him a stunned, hurt look. Khalil wanted to reassure her, but this wasn’t the time. He thought about trying to explain the situation, but again, he had to wait. Eventually he would tell his father the truth about Amber and their engagement, but not right now. First he had to establish his place—and Dora’s—in the palace.
He drew his wife into the protective embrace of his arm, then faced the king. “You may say what you wish to me, Father, but you will treat my wife with the respect she deserves. I would ask that you welcome her as your new daughter.”
Young eyes glared into old. Tension cracked in the air. It was a battle of wills, something that Khalil had never won before. But then nothing had ever been this important. He waited. Dora trembled again.
The king took three steps forward until he stood in front of Khalil’s wife, then he put his hands on her shoulders, leaned forward and kissed both her cheeks. “Welcome daughter, to the house of your new family. May you be blessed with long life, many sons and peace in your old age.”
Dora smiled at the king. “Nothing about love?”
The king looked as startled as Khalil felt. He hadn’t expected her to speak. This wasn’t some New York City restaurant with his father acting as the lunchtime manager.
“I fear your new husband will not be with you long enough for love to endure.”
“If you’re so angry that you’re going to kill him, then I don’t suppose I can hold out much hope for those sons you promised me.”
Khalil was shocked when his father’s stern mouth curved up at the corners. “Perhaps I’ll just have him flogged.”
She leaned toward the king and lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. “I know exactly how you feel.”
Givon, king of El Bahar, laughed out loud, then drew Dora into a warm embrace. “I have the first hint as to why my son turned his back on tradition and married you. All right, I’ll put my anger aside for now. Come, Princess Dora. Come and see your new home.”
Chapter 7
The rest of the introductions passed in a blur. Before Dora could put names to faces, she found herself being led down a long, wide hallway by a dark-haired servant, then shown into a stunning three-room suite. The young woman was talking, but Dora couldn’t hear anything. She could only stare in disbelief.
The main parlor was at least thirty by forty feet with twenty-foot ceilings. Cool marble covered the floor, but the walls were creamy white—nearly the same color as the palace itself. A large mural of a mother camel and her baby at an oasis decorated the wall to her left, while tapestries hung on the right.
Western-style furniture made an attempt to fill the vast space, but there was enough open area to hold an aerobics class. Still, the most spectacular feature of the room was the wall of windows leading out to a balcony overlooking the Arabian sea.
Dora walked to the French doors and let herself out. Instantly soft sea air surrounded her. The faintly sweet scent teased her, making her relax. There were small tables and chairs along the balcony and she realized it was common to all the rooms on this floor. The individual balconies with their wrought-iron railings were one floor above.
As she had been when she’d first stepped off the airplane, Dora was swamped with a sense of entering a very foreign world. While she seemed to have made a good impression on the king, it hadn’t lasted very long. He’d been anxious to get rid of her—probably so he could speak with his wayward son. If the family wasn’t happy with her marriage to Khalil that must mean that they’d had other plans for him. Which made sense. He was a prince, after all. It wasn’t as if they were going to let him pick his future wife.
“Oh, Khalil, what have you done?” she asked softly and covered her face with her hands. Why hadn’t she thought this through? He wasn’t a regular man who got to choose his future bride. He was royalty. Marriages like his required state approval, didn’t they? Or was that just in England? She glanced down at the heavy diamond ring she wore. Perhaps they weren’t even married.
“Your Highness?”
Dora straightened, then turned to see the servant standing just inside the living room. “Yes?”
The woman was in her early twenties, very pretty, with large dark eyes and beautiful hair pulled back into a bun. She wore a short-sleeved gray dress with sensible flat shoes.
Dora felt as if she were suddenly in a movie where she was to play the innocent American tourist thrust into a difficult situation. But she had a bad feeling her problems weren’t going to be neatly solved in less than two hours.
“What’s your name?”
“Rihana, Your Highness.” The young woman gave a slight curtsy. “It is my honor to serve you.”
Dora wished she could say that it was her honor to be served, but she knew it would take her a long time to get used to that. “Are you allowed to call me anything but ‘Your Highness’?”
Rihana smiled. “Of course. Princess Dora is an acceptable title.”
“Then let’s use that, instead. If I hear my name, I have a better chance of realizing you want a response.” Dora glanced to her left and saw oversize double doors. “Is the bedroom in there?”
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t I unpack my clothes myself? That way I’ll know where they are.”
Rihana frowned. “Princess Dora, my job is to take care of you.”
“And before I arrived, what was your job then?”
“I am part of the household staff.”
“I see.” Dora smiled. “But as I’ve just arrived, I’m going to guess that your assignment to help me is recent. Therefore you probably still have some household tasks to complete.”
Rihana looked confused. “Of course, but they will not interfere with my service of you, Princess. I am a hard worker.”
“I have no doubt.” She drew in a deep breath. “I’m not used to the ways of this country, or of the palace and it’s going to take me a little while to fit in. For now, let me unpack myself. I promise tomorrow you may serve as you see fit.”
Rihana hesitated. Dora smiled, then pointed to the door. “It’s all right, Rihana.”
The young woman made her way toward the exit. “If you change your mind, simply pick up the telephone and ask for me.”
“I will. Thank you.”
When she was alone, Dora stepped into the bedroom. This room was slightly smaller than the living room, but no less impressive. A four-poster bed stood on a raised platform in the center of the room. The opposite wall was glass, with French doors leading out to the common balcony. Blue, green and gold tiles formed a mosaic on the walls, the colors circling each other in exotic disarray.
The furniture was slightly more Oriental, with black-lacquered sides and gold Chinese characters for drawer pulls. Dora crossed the marble floor and pulled open the wooden closet doors, then blinked in stunned surprise at the empty space before her.
This wasn’t Khalil’s suite of rooms; she hadn’t been put in with her husband. Instead she’d been shown to guest quarters, who knows how far from the family’s section of the palace.
Fear and worry knotted in her stomach. What did this mean? Was it a mistake? Would Khalil come looking for her when he realized she wasn’t to share his room? Or was this the way of royal life in El Bahar? Why on earth hadn’t she done some research before they’d left New York?
Fear turned to panic when she realized that except for Khalil and his family, no one in the world knew where she was. Everything had happened so quickly, she hadn’t had time to call any of her acquaintances. Her mother was gone, she hadn’t seen her father in years. She could simply disappear, and no one would ever miss her.
She walked into the living room and paused by the entrance. Was she a prisoner here? Scenes from old movies filled her brain. Pictures of women trapped, stolen, killed. Her mouth went dry as she wondered if she would ever see the land of her birth again. Sadness filled her as she realized she had only herself to blame for this situation. She’d been so excited to have a man interested in her that she hadn’t thought about the consequences of her decision. A prince had appeared in her sad little world, and she’d jumped at his offer of marriage.
She had to get out of here. Now!
Dora pulled open the door to her suite and stepped into the hallway. Her first shock was that the door opened easily, the second was that there wasn’t a guard posted in the hallway. She still remembered those fierce, armed men by the entrance to the palace.
She looked one way, then the other, trying to remember the direction to the front of the palace. If her suite faced the water then that was south and the palace faced…
“Princess Dora, may I help you with something?”
“What?”
She looked up and saw an elderly man standing in front of her. He carried several thick towels in his thin, brown arms. His dress wasn’t familiar to her—an open robe over light-colored loose trousers and an equally loose shirt—but his expression was friendly and welcoming.
“Are you hungry, Your Highness? May I bring you a tray of food? Or would you like me to call Rihana?”
She opened her mouth then closed it. Obviously if she wanted to escape, she needed a plan. “I’m fine,” she said. “Thank you.”
She retreated to her room. First things first, she thought, as she shut her door. Item one—calm her heart rate. Item two—figure out a plan.
She collected a pad of fine linen paper from the desk in the corner, then settled on the sofa. After drawing a rough outline of the palace as she remembered seeing it when they’d flown over on their way to the airport, she began filling in the rooms she knew. Which meant she could write in the entrance, a hallway and her suite. Nothing else. Maybe she could ask Rihana to take her on a tour.
Dora leaned back into the comfortable cushions. Perhaps she was making this too difficult, she thought. Maybe she should simply pick up the phone and ask to be connected with Khalil. After all, he was her husband. If they could speak, if she could at least see him, things would be better. That decided, she closed her eyes for just a minute. She hadn’t slept the night before on the plane. She’d been too tense, with too much on her mind. Just for a second, she thought drowsily. One little second…
“I’m sorry, child, but you don’t have much time,” a voice said.
Dora stirred, then blinked and realized she was in a most awkward position, sprawled in a corner of the sofa. She looked up and saw a tall, slender woman with streaks of gray in her thick, dark hair. A beautifully tailored sapphire-colored suit made her look regal, while matching stones glittered at her ears. But it was her face that captured Dora’s attention. Despite her obvious age and the tiny wrinkles in her paper-thin skin, she was an amazing beauty.
“Fatima,” Dora breathed as she first sat up, then rose to her feet. She realized she was speaking with a woman who was both the mother of the king and a queen in her own right. “I mean, Your Highness.” She gave a shaky curtsy.
Fatima patted her smooth chignon and gave a quick wave. “Oh, please, we’re family, my dear. If Grandmother is too familiar, then call me Fatima. Or ‘Exalted One.’ I’ve always enjoyed that particular title. Of course it was first spoken to me by a visiting head of state some forty years ago. The man in question had his hand sliding up my inner thigh as he said it. I informed him that I was more than willing to be his lover but when my husband, the king, found out about our affair, and I was very bad at keeping secrets, he would make sure that particular dignitary lost his ability to ever be with a woman again. If you get my meaning.”
Fatima winked, then her expression turned slightly sad. “I miss him. My husband, not the other man. Despite my teasing, I was a good and faithful wife for nearly forty years. We had a wonderful marriage.” She touched the neckline of her suit. “It’s Chanel. Don’t you simply adore the Chanel line? I knew Coco, but then at my age, it’s easy to have known everyone. So you’re Khalil’s new wife. I would guess that you’re quite confused by all this.” She motioned to the room.
“More now than before,” Dora replied without thinking, then pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”
Fatima surprised her by laughing. “Yes, but the point is you were thinki
ng it.” The older woman took a seat on the far end of the sofa, then patted the cushion next to her, indicating Dora should sit as well. Dora sank down gratefully.
“I’m a bit eccentric,” Fatima continued. “Some of it is age, but a lot of it is just me. I’ve had more than seventy years to perfect my oddness and I take great pleasure in doing or being the unexpected.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “We’re surrounded by men, my dear. If you haven’t noticed, you will. Givon’s sweet wife died some years ago and I can’t get him to remarry. He had three sons. Bahania, our neighbor to the east and the land of my birth, has a royal family with four sons and only one daughter. We women have to stick together.”
Dora didn’t know what to say to Fatima, so she kept quiet. She still had the oddest sensation of being caught up in a dream. Of course, she’d been living with that feeling since Khalil had first walked into her bedroom and told her that he wanted her.
“The palace is in an uproar,” Fatima said. “Part of the problem is that the youngest son of the king married in a foreign country in a civil ceremony to a complete stranger.” Fatima leaned forward again and patted the back of Dora’s hand. “No offense, dear, but we don’t know you, do we?”
Dora could only manage a weak, “I suppose not,” in response.
“Then there’s the whole issue of Khalil not being like this at all. I won’t say he’s the most arrogant of his brothers because they can all be difficult, but he’s not impulsive. Now if Malik had suddenly shown up with a bride in tow, that would have been more understandable. But not Khalil.” Fatima frowned thoughtfully. “How well do you know my grandson?”
Dora swallowed. “I, um, worked for him while he was in the United States. I was his secretary.”
Finely plucked eyebrows rose at her statement. No doubt Fatima knew that Khalil had been away for all of three weeks.
“An impulse,” the dowager queen said more to herself than Dora. “Has he told you about his scar?”
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