by Valerie Parv
His gaze flashed from her to the table of gifts and she saw comprehension dawn. “Clear the majlis now,” he ordered, his voice ringing with authority. A moment of stunned silence ensued, followed by shrieks of panic from the women as the security men started to rush everyone out. She saw Markaz directing the magistrates to safety.
Fayed tried to steer her out also, but she shook off his arm. “I’m not going anywhere until Markaz leaves.” The giant wasted no time arguing, instead joining Hamal and the men searching the table. The pungent scent of cold-pressed oil filled the hall as harmless flagons shattered.
“You should go,” Markaz said, moving to her side.
“So should you. Your people need you alive.”
“If there is a bomb.” His tone was dubious. “All the gifts were screened by security.”
“It’s there.” She would stake her life on it. Was doing so, in fact.
“I’ve found it. The security tag on this one is a fake.”
Horror clawed through her as Fayed gingerly isolated a flagon, a gift of death from the last of the rebels. Indistinguishable from the others except for an odd glass bulge protruding below the security tape.
Markaz tensed. “Can you disarm it?”
Fayed shook his head. “There is nothing to disarm. The seal contains a bulb of acid designed to seep through, completing a circuit and triggering an explosion. We have to get out now.”
Her feet were moving even as she heard Markaz bark the order. His arm around her almost lifted her off her feet, propelling her toward the exit as Hamal and Fayed surged with them. Too far, she thought. Now she wouldn’t be sent away after all.
Heat slammed into her back and her lungs emptied of air. A roaring sound filled her ears. Her world turned upside down, blackness eclipsing the sight of Markaz throwing himself between her and a wall of flame.
“Sima, open your eyes.”
Fingers prized up her eyelids, and pinpoints of light invaded the peaceful place where she’d retreated from the reality of Markaz’s death. He’d sacrificed himself to save her, unaware that her heart had died with him.
“Please, my beauty, wake up.”
Shock jolted through her. Then a joy so intense it was close to pain. She opened her eyes, feasting on the sight of Markaz leaning over her. Behind him was Dr. Rakha, but her blurred vision could only accommodate the sheikh. “You’re alive.” She reached out, touching him the only therapy she needed. “The explosion…you came between me and the fire.”
“Only singed. I’ll recover.”
Then she saw the blackened sleeve of his robe falling away from his reddened arm. “Does it hurt?”
“Not as much as the thought of losing you.”
The doctor coughed. “I’ve done all I can for you two, for the moment. With your permission, Your Highness, I’ll tend to my other patients.”
“Are you sure Simone will be all right?”
“I’ll monitor her for signs of concussion, but she should be fine.”
After Markaz dismissed the doctor, she struggled to sit up. She was lying on a couch in Markaz’s office. “Who else was hurt?”
“Hamal was knocked out by the blast, and Fayed sustained minor burns. Nothing worse, thanks to your warning about the flagon. One of my mother’s guards who’d remained loyal to her, was seen placing a flagon onto the table of gifts. The police already suspected that the threatening letter originated inside the palace, and were closing in on him. He died in the explosion.”
“And your mother?”
“She was taken to safety.”
“Then the danger is finally over.”
He nodded. “The majlis will reconvene shortly to give their verdict, putting an end to the rebellion once and for all.”
And to Markaz’s relationship with his mother if she was deported as expected. Simone ached for him. “This must be hard for you.”
“Yes, but harder when I thought you’d been killed.” He perched on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms. “I thought I could send you away and still go on. Now I know I can’t.”
Her stomach unknotted a little. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere. I love Nazaar.”
“What about her sheikh?”
“He’s more of a challenge. He can be the most arrogant, domineering…”
The rest was drowned by his mouth closing over hers. The room swam. When he allowed her up for air, she was panting. “See what I mean? I can’t express an opinion without being silenced.”
“Express another one,” he insisted, his smile provocative.
Her heart leaped. “I’m done.”
“I’m not.” He kissed her again slowly and deeply, parting her lips and exploring like a deep-sea diver entering a newly discovered cavern filled with wonders. Lights danced at the fringes of her vision. If this was concussion, she could handle any amounts of it, she decided.
Her brow creased in sudden concern. “I’m not unconscious and dreaming, am I?”
He nipped her lower lip. “You were only out for a little while.” Then he looked into her eyes. “Vision normal, pupils a little enlarged in response to stimulation.”
Her arms linked around his neck. “What do you prescribe for my condition?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Marriage.”
Her heartbeat double-timed. “A few hours ago, you were putting me on a plane to Australia. Now you’re proposing marriage?”
“A few hours ago, I was a fool.”
She touched her fingers to his lips, inhaling sharply as his teeth closed around the tips. “Don’t talk that way about the man I love.”
His expression became serious. “Even though he tried to send you away?”
“You thought you were doing the right thing. You may still regret taking on an independent-minded Australian.”
“She is also half-Nazaari desert warrior,” he reminded her. “Two women for the price of one.”
“In that case, you won’t need a harem after we’re married. I don’t intend to share you,” she warned.
His mouth curved. “I need only you, if you’ll have me.”
She threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging his head down to plunder his mouth. “From the moment I saw you at Al-Qasr, there was never the slightest doubt. I love you, my sheikh of sheikhs.”
“And I will cherish your love, as I cherish you,” he promised. “As my princess, you’ll rule at my side. And when my final reforms are passed, you’ll lead the women of Nazaar into their future.”
Her breath gusted out. “This princess business is scary territory for me.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Don’t worry. I will teach you everything you need to know.”
Thinking of how much he had already taught her, she slanted him a wicked look. “Everything? You mean there’s more?”
Like hers, his thoughts had spun back to the secret chamber where their love had first blossomed, she saw from the glint in his eye. He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles, his gaze holding hers as he said, “My beauty, we have barely begun.”
Epilogue
“Are those people out of their minds?” Simone’s grip on Markaz’s hand was so tight that her nails dug crescent marks into his palm.
He endured stoically. “We expected the vote in Karama to be divided on the reforms. The province was the last holdout of the rebel movement,” he reminded her, bemused by her interest in the referendum.
Her brow beaded and she closed her eyes, then opened them wider. “Can’t you impose martial law or something, make them see reason?”
He laughed. “Hardly, my love. The point of the voting is to let the people choose their own future.”
Her words came out separated by little puffs of breath. “Even—if—they—don’t—know—what’s—good—for—them?”
The broadcast switched back to the studio, and the woman presenter launched a rundown of the voting so far. Not long ago, she would have been veiled even on camera. Now her exotic beauty shone down the
lens without impediment. Not as lovely as his Simone, he thought, unable to take his eyes off his wife. After ten months of marriage, she was still the most gorgeous woman he knew. Beautiful as she’d been with her hair dark, he adored that she’d returned to her natural golden coloring.
In the background, the presenter announced that only in Karama were Markas’s reforms meeting any opposition. The vote was still in his favor, although by a smaller margin than elsewhere. There was no longer any doubt. The new laws had received overwhelming support throughout Nazaar.
When this was confirmed, a cheer went up around the room and Simone smiled through clenched teeth. “You did it.”
“We did it,” he amended. The women of Nazaar were now legally the equal of their menfolk in everything.
At his gesture, the television was turned off. “The people were inspired by their princess’s example. They would do anything for you,” he told his wife.
Her back arched. “They’re welcome to do this,” she said between panting breaths. “Next time it’s your turn.”
He covered her hand with both of his. “You know if it were possible, I would trade places with you in a heartbeat.”
With a mighty, strangled cry that almost shattered his heart, she reared off the bed, her lovely features crumpling with strain. At the foot of the bed, Dr. Rakha bent to his work, then straightened. In his hands he held a mottled, squirming bundle that he placed on Simone’s heaving chest. “Congratulations, Your Highnesses. You have a perfect daughter.”
Markaz swabbed Simone’s brow, sharing her entrancement at the tiny creature nuzzling Simone. In wonder, she touched the head strewn with damp black hair. “Look, she has your coloring. Isn’t she the most beautiful girl in the world?”
His eyes swam and his heart swelled. He looked from the baby to Simone. “She is beautiful, but the title has already been claimed,” he said, his voice thickening as he stroked the side of Simone’s face. He reached out and the baby curled her tiny hand around his finger. Only reflex at this stage, he knew, but he felt as if his daughter was greeting him.
He was a father. He could hardly believe it. After spending the last few months convincing himself that Simone was his to love and cherish for the rest of their lives, now his love expanded to include their baby. Just as well love was infinite.
Suddenly Simone reached for him again, her face contorting with pain. “Markaz,” she cried on a rising note of renewed suffering, her free hand cradling the baby while Simone clung to Markaz with a deathly grip.
Dr. Rakha looked unworried as he leaned over her again. “About time her little brother decided to join us.”
A nurse took their daughter while Simone labored. Then the doctor was holding their second child and Markaz thought his heart would burst. They had twins, a daughter and a son, both perfect.
He kissed Simone’s forehead. “Well done, my love.”
Her dreamy smile rewarded him. “You, too.” The doctor filled Simone’s arms with the babies. She beamed at them. “This is your daddy, little ones. He’s just won a huge vote of support from his people. They love him.”
Markaz could hardly breathe. “Not as much as I love you and our children.”
He saw her eyes struggle to stay open. “I love you so much,” she murmured. Then she drifted and he watched over his family, oblivious to the medical activity continuing quietly around them.
“What?” he demanded, catching Dr. Rakha’s wry look. “Something in my eyes made them water, that’s all.”
The doctor was handing him a box of tissues. “Of course, Your Highness. Happens a lot in here.” Their work done, he ushered his team out of the room.
Simone stirred, gazing at Markaz so tenderly that he stopped caring if his emotions brimmed over. Even a sheikh was entitled to get emotional at a time like this, he told himself. He wrapped his arms around his wife and babies, holding them where they would always belong, close to his heart.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-6316-5
DESERT JUSTICE
Copyright © 2006 by Valerie Parv
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**Code of the Outback
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*The Carramer Crown
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