Desert Rogues Part 2 (20 page)

“It was not. I was in your country to continue my education. I earned my master's degree there.” His expression turned contemptuous. “I honored you by giving you my name and my protection. As for trying to get you into my bed, the effort was hardly worth the meager reward.”

She shrank back into the cushions. Humiliation joined the fear. As much as she tried to block out their nights together, they continued to haunt her. She supposed her part of it could be an illustration of what
not
to do on one's wedding night and the few nights that followed.

Not that it was her fault, she told herself, trying to grab on to a little temper to give her courage. She'd been the virgin. He should have done better, too.

But if Reyhan hadn't married her to get a green card or to sleep with her, why had he?

“Are you sure the marriage was real?” she asked. “My parents' lawyer said that it wasn't.”

“Then their lawyer was mistaken.” Reyhan glared at her. “You are my wife. That is why you were brought here. Now that you are in my country, in my home, you will treat me with respect and reverence. Is that understood?”

The need to bolt for freedom grew exponentially.

“Reyhan, I—”

But she never got to say whatever she'd been about to blurt out. For just at that moment, a petite, curvy, beautiful young woman walked into the room.

“This isn't good,” the woman said. “I heard Emma had arrived and fainted at the sight of you. Is that true?”

Reyhan turned his attention from Emma to the woman. His glare only deepened.

The woman rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You're insulted. But don't forget, I gave birth to your older brother's firstborn, so you have to be nice to me.”

“One wonders what Sadik sees in you.”

The woman leaned close and smiled. “I'm a hottie. It's a curse, but there we are.”

Emma didn't think things could get more shocking, but she was proved wrong when Reyhan actually smiled at the woman, then kissed her forehead.

“Can you fix this?” he asked the woman.

“I'm not sure if you mean Emma or the situation. If you ask me, the one who needs fixing is you.” She held up her hand before he could speak. “I'll do my best. I promise. Now why don't you give us some girl time together? I'll answer Emma's questions and make her feel at home. You can go work on your charm.”

Reyhan raised his eyebrows. “I'm very charming.”

“Uh-huh. Just a tip here. The ‘I'm Prince Reyhan of Bahania' thing gets old really fast. Trust me. Sadik tried it on me, too.”

“You're a troublemaker.”

“That's true.”

Reyhan nodded at Emma, then at the woman and left. Emma watched him go.

“Is this really happening?” she asked, feeling both weary and more confused than ever.

“It sure is,” the other woman told her. “Right down to you sitting in the middle of the Bahanian royal palace.” She plopped down next to Emma on the sofa and smiled. “Let's start at the beginning. Hi. I'm Cleo.”

“I'm Emma. Emma Kennedy.”

Cleo looked her over. “Love the hair. My sister-in-law Sabrina puts red highlights in hers, but the color is nothing like this. Is it real?”

It took Emma a second to process the question and realize Cleo wasn't asking about the hair itself, but the color.

“Yes, it's natural.”

“Me, too,” Cleo said, tugging on her short, spiky blond hair. “I put in gold highlights once, but was
that
a mistake. I thought I'd look more elegant and classy, which is so not going to happen. I'm stuck being a tacky bottle blonde for the rest of my life. No biggie. I mean I'm a princess, so now I can be royal and tacky, which I like.”

Emma felt as if she'd fallen into an alternate universe. “I'm sorry. I don't understand.”

Cleo grinned. “I know. I'm rambling. Plus, do you really care about my hair? So here's the thing. You're in Bahania, and Reyhan really is a prince. There are four of them altogether. Murat is the oldest and heir to the throne. Then Sadik, my husband. He's in charge of finance. Reyhan is next. He runs the whole oil thing, and let me tell you, do they have a bunch of that floating around under the sand. Then Jefri, who is putting together a joint air force with El Bahar. There's also Zara, who was my foster sister and didn't know she was a princess until about a year ago, and Sabrina, the king's daughter. She lives in the desert, but that's a whole other story.”

“Oh.” Emma wasn't sure what to say. Her level of confusion had just gone off the scale. “That's a lot of people.” She swallowed. “And you're Princess Cleo?”

“In the flesh.” Cleo leaned close. “I'm from Spokane, Washington. That's right by Idaho. I know—not exactly the birthplace of a lot of royals. I had a ton to learn—protocol and how to address everyone. I've gotten involved with some charity work, which is pretty cool, and I have a new baby. Calah.” Cleo's expression softened. “She's a dream. Just three months old.”

Emma wanted to ask for note cards so she could write all this down and try to keep everyone and everything straight.

Reyhan, a Bahanian prince? Was it possible? And if he was, why had he married her?

“Do you know—” Emma cleared her throat. “There was a wedding a few years back. I thought maybe…My parents hired a lawyer and he thought it wasn't exactly real.”

Cleo patted her arm. “Sorry. From what I've heard, it was plenty real. You're well and truly hitched to Reyhan. And he's just like his brother. All stuffy with an ‘I'm the prince' attitude. That reverence and respect stuff. Oh, please. Okay, I'll do the respect thing, but reverence? It is
so
not going to happen.”

So she was married. To a prince.
Her.

“None of this makes sense,” she whispered. “I don't understand.”

Why had Reyhan done any of it? Why had he married her and disappeared from her life? And why, all of a sudden, did he pick now to get in touch with her? Did he want to marry someone else? The thought of it gave her an odd squeeze in her empty stomach, but still she had to know.

“Is he engaged?” she asked.

Cleo shook her head. “It's not like that. After Calah was born, the king decided it was time for Reyhan to tie the knot and give him more grandchildren. That's when he had to fess up about his relationship with you. That there was already a Mrs. Reyhan floating around.”

Emma felt the room begin to fold around the edges. She had a feeling that if she'd been standing, she would have fallen again.

Cleo grabbed her hand. “Keep breathing,” she instructed humorously. “I'm supposed to be making things better, not worse.”

“It's not you,” Emma told her. “It's everything. I can't believe what's happening.”

“Hardly a surprise. The good news is, the palace is beautiful and Reyhan is pretty easy on the eyes, too. If you can get past all that honor and tradition, he has a wicked sense of humor. Won't that be nice?”

Nice? As in Emma would enjoy spending time with him? Was that the plan?

She shook her head. This wasn't happening, she told herself. None of it.

A tall man carrying a black case entered the room. Cleo waved a greeting.

“Dr. Johnson. You're still making house calls.”

The older man smiled. “Yes, Princess Cleo. As I will continue to do.”

Cleo leaned close to Emma. “Dr. Johnson is on call for the royal family. He's pretty cool. You'll like him.”

Emma stared into the man's warm blue eyes and felt some of her anxiety fade.

He sat on the coffee table in front of her and reached for her hand. “How are you feeling? I heard you fainted.”

“I don't know what happened,” she admitted. “One second everything was fine, and the next, I was falling.”

“Prince Reyhan filled me in on what occurred.” He released her wrist. “Your pulse is normal. Have you blacked out since regaining consciousness?”

“No.”

He glanced at Cleo. “Is she speaking coherently?”

“Yup. She's a little shell-shocked, but under the circumstances, who can blame her?”

Dr. Johnson made a noncommittal noise, then pulled out a stethoscope.

Fifteen minutes later he pronounced Emma exhausted, a little dehydrated, but otherwise fit. After giving her something to help her sleep, he said he would check on her the next day.

“Everything will be better in the morning,” he promised as he left.

Emma watched him go, then nodded as Cleo excused herself to return to her baby. When Emma was finally alone, she stared around at the luxurious suite and the view of the ocean in the distance.

As much as she would like to believe Dr. Johnson, she had a feeling that the passage of night wasn't going to change one thing about her situation.

 

Reyhan did not want to speak with his father, but the request had been worded such that he'd known he didn't have a choice in the matter. So he'd appeared on time in the king's private rooms and now paced the length of the salon, all the while stepping to avoid the half-dozen or so cats milling around.

“What do you think now that you've seen her?” his father asked.

“That Emma should not have been brought here. A divorce could have been arranged without her presence.”

“You defied me by marrying this young woman. Six years have passed, and you never mentioned her or spent time with her. I want to know why.”

Reyhan had no answers to the questions, nor did he want to make up any. Thinking about Emma, being with her…He reached the window and stared out at the garden below. Seeing her again—it had been worse than he'd imagined.

His father stood and crossed the room to stand next to him. “You are my son and a prince,” he said. “As such, you were not permitted to take a wife without my permission. Now it is done. Before I approve your divorce, I will get to know this young woman. Two weeks, Reyhan. Surely that is not too much to ask.”

Reyhan knew it was not. His father's request was more than reasonable, and yet he would have given much to keep Emma away.

He nodded once and walked to the door. “Excuse me, Father. My presence is required at a meeting.”

The king nodded, and Reyhan left.

As Reyhan walked toward the business wing of the palace, he wondered how he would endure the next fourteen days. There was much to occupy his time—negotiations for oil purchases, dealing with a small band of renegades, reviewing a list of potential brides. Yet he knew none of that would fill his mind. Instead he would think of a woman—the woman he had married. Emma. Their time apart had done nothing to diminish his need for her. Six years ago she had been his greatest weakness, and so she remained.

He paused at the door to his office. No one would ever be permitted to know, he promised himself. Wanting her,
needing
her, had nearly destroyed him once before. That would not happen again. In two weeks the king would grant their divorce, she would be gone and he, Reyhan, would be allowed to remain strong. That he would live the rest of his life without her was of little consequence. He had survived this long. He would survive the rest of his days. Survive—not live. He reminded himself that most of the time, enduring was more than enough.

E
mma awoke to the not-so-surprising realization that, despite the doctor's promise, little about her situation had changed or improved during the night. Not that she'd expected either, although it would have been nice.

She sat up in the huge bed and pulled her knees to her chest. She remembered the doctor insisting she take something to help her sleep, then she'd changed into her nightgown and nearly collapsed into bed. Then nothing.

The good news was she felt more rested. The bad news…well, where exactly was she going to start? There was so much to consider. That she might really be married to Reyhan and might have been married all this time. That she was in Bahania and he was the son of the king.

She shook her head. Way too many difficult thoughts for first thing in the morning. She should take a few minutes and get her bearings, then deal with the weirdness that was her life.

Emma rose. Her toes curled in the plush carpet that was thick enough to serve as a mattress in a pinch.

The bedroom had been decorated in pale yellows and blues. Ornate, carved dark wood furniture made up the elaborate headboard, footboard and matching nightstands. An armoire stood across the room. When she crossed to it she found a large television inside, along with a DVD player and a wide assortment of movies. There was also a detailed listing of the various channels available via satellite.

“Amazing,” she murmured as she touched the carved birds and flowers on the door.

The bedroom itself was about the size of the average three-bedroom house back home in Dallas. She remembered the living room had been equally huge. With two parts anticipation and one part trepidation, she walked into the bathroom.

Huge
didn't begin to describe it. Her entire apartment could have fit inside, with room to spare. The long marble vanity was about twice the length of her main kitchen counter. The tub had whirlpool jets and could have served as a playground for an entire water park full of seals. There was a glass-enclosed shower, towels as big as bedsheets and every toiletry known to womankind.

Emma turned in a slow circle and tried to imagine what it would be like to live somewhere like this permanently. Was it possible to get used to this level of luxury, and would the palace continue to be a delight?

Twenty minutes later she'd showered and washed her face. After dressing, applying mascara and some lip gloss, she returned to the bedroom and put away the rest of her clothes. With that done, there was little to do but explore the rest of the suite and try to figure out what she was going to say when she next saw Reyhan.

In the light of day she knew that there was more to their relationship than her parents had told her six years ago when she'd returned home brokenhearted. But what exactly?

She left the bedroom and walked into the living room of the suite. The shutters were open and pulled back. The view was so amazing—blue ocean, bright sky, the tops of several trees—that she hadn't noticed Reyhan. But when she turned, she saw him seated at the dining room table in the corner. He studied the newspaper in front of him and hadn't seen her, either.

Her first thought was to bolt for the safety of her bedroom, but before she could get her feet to move, she found herself mesmerized by the man himself.

He was so handsome, she thought, remembering how his dark good looks had stunned her the first time they'd met. His hair was cropped short, in a stylish cut. Strong cheekbones emphasized the leanness of his features. His eyebrows were pulled together, giving him a stern expression. He looked intense and dangerous, something she remembered from their past together. Being around him had always left her tongue-tied and feeling more than a little foolish. That sensation returned big-time.

She winced as she recalled accusing him of marrying her to get a green card. He was a member of the Bahanian royal family. No doubt he could come or go at will just about anywhere in the world. As for wanting her in his bed…she had her doubts. The experience had been a disaster and after those first couple of nights, Reyhan had never come looking for her again.

“How long are you going to stand there?” he asked without looking up from his paper. “I have ordered you breakfast, Emma. You didn't eat before or after you arrived at the palace. I don't want you making yourself ill.”

He set down the paper and looked at her. His dark gaze seemed to see all the way inside to her quivering heart. He raised one eyebrow.

“Are you so afraid of me? I swear that I have never attacked before ten or eleven in the morning. It is not civilized.”

She glanced at the antique grandfather clock by the entryway. “So I'm safe for another ninety minutes?”

“At least.”

He rose and pulled out a chair. Not knowing what else to do, she settled in it then watched as he lifted the tops off several serving dishes on the sideboard.

“What would you like?” he asked.

She blinked at him. “You're going to serve me?”

“You are my guest. In the interest of privacy I sent the maid away, so there is just the two of us this morning.”

The implication being she was his responsibility? Reyhan had always had the most amazing manners. Apparently that hadn't changed.

She stood and crossed to the sideboard where she studied the assortment of offerings. There were eggs and bacon, fresh fruit, croissants, Danish and a selection of cereals, both hot and cold.

“I can't eat all this,” she told him.

“I'll help.” He motioned to the plates stacked on the left. “Please begin.”

She reached for the plate. As she leaned forward, Reyhan moved and her hand grazed his arm. The instant heat nearly made her stumble. Awareness rippled along her skin like a sudden cool breeze, making her shiver and break out in goose bumps. She found herself wanting to touch him again, wanting to move closer, to have him touch her. Erotic images sprang into her mind, and before she knew what was happening, she realized it was difficult for her to catch her breath.

All of this happened in a matter of seconds. Then she became aware of herself, of Reyhan's expression of polite interest and she quickly stepped back and turned toward the food.

This was not good, she thought frantically. Not good at all. She didn't like how her heart raced whenever he was nearby. That hadn't happened before. If anything, he'd terrified her as much as he'd intrigued her. Not that she was any less terrified, it was just now she was frightened for a different reason.

She scooped fresh fruit onto her plate, along with some eggs. After taking a biscuit and butter, she returned to the table and poured them each coffee. Reyhan waited until she was seated before claiming his chair.

“You slept well?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Dr. Johnson said that your fainting was not likely to reoccur. He decided it was the combination of lack of food and sleep, along with minor dehydration and the shock of seeing me again.” Reyhan's steady gaze never left her face. “Had I known you would react so strongly, I would have given you some warning. Stunning you into fainting wasn't my goal.”

“Imagine what you could do if it was,” she said lightly.

She noticed his single raised eyebrow again, but Emma refused to be intimidated, despite the instinct to cringe and apologize. She turned her attention to her breakfast instead and plunged her fork into a piece of mango. Sexual awareness swirled through the room like an erotic mist, but she was determined to ignore it.

Maybe she always had reacted so strongly to Reyhan but wasn't aware of it, she thought wryly. Maybe when they'd first met there had been this same powerful physical attraction between them but she'd been too young and innocent to recognize it. All she'd known back then was that she loved him and feared him with equal intensity. It was amazing she'd managed to find the strength to leave him.

Then she reminded herself that she hadn't left him. He'd left her and she'd hid out at her parents' home. Any additional contact had been through them. She hadn't even had the courage to tell him she didn't want to see him again. Not that he'd tried very hard.

“Why the heavy sigh?” he asked.

She looked up. “Did I sigh? I didn't mean to.”

“You were thinking of the past.”

“It's a logical place to go.”

He nodded. “We will speak of it.”

A statement or a command? “And if I don't want to?”

The words were out before she could stop them.

His mouth curved up in amusement. “You defy me?”

“Will that get me fifty lashes or time in the tower?”

“Nothing so boring.” He sipped his coffee. “Why do you not wish to talk about our situation?”

“I do.” She shrugged. “Knee-jerk reaction, I guess. My parents were always so protective. They meant well—they still do. My independence is hard-won and I get my back up when someone gives me orders.”

“I see.”

She had no idea what the silken words meant, nor did she want to ask for an explanation. She doubted whatever contact Reyhan had had with her parents had been especially pleasant.

“You're right,” she said. “We need to talk about what happened and what's going to happen.”

He nodded slightly. “If you wish.”

“You're mocking me.”

“I am terrified by your steely will.”

Emma doubted anything terrified Reyhan. Which meant he was teasing her. Interesting. She wouldn't have thought royal princes had senses of humor.

“Do you believe our marriage was real?” he asked.

“I don't want to, but, yes. You have no reason to lie, and my presence here is more than enough proof.” She shifted in her seat. She'd been married for six years and hadn't known. Talk about being a fool.

“Why did you marry me?” she asked him, knowing it hadn't been for any of the usual reasons. At the time she'd thought Reyhan had loved her, but his behavior proved otherwise.

He chewed and swallowed. “You were a virgin,” he said calmly. “I would not have defiled you.”

Ten simple words that made her drop her fork, push back her chair and spring to her feet.

“What?” she demanded. “You married me to sleep with me? The whole thing was about sex?”

If love was out of the question, shouldn't he have at least liked her? Shouldn't he have pretended to care?

“Sit down, Emma. You're overreacting.”

She took her seat before she remembered she wasn't going to let anyone run her life ever again. Once seated, it seemed silly to stand up and make a fuss. She settled on glaring at him.

Reyhan looked at her. “Why are you so outraged? Do you think there are any men who marry without the thought of their wives being a sexual partner?”

“Most men think about more than just doing it.”

That made him get stiff and stern. His gaze narrowed. “I am Prince Reyhan of Bahania. When I married you, I not only gave you my name and protection, but honored you by making you a princess of my country. Had you been willing to continue our relationship, I would have brought you here where you would have lived in this palace. Neither you nor our children would have wanted for anything. I would have been faithful to you until I breathed my last breath. Who and what you are would have been passed along to our children, and through that, you would have joined in the history of my people. I believe that would be defined as more than just doing it.”

“But you never told me any of this,” she reminded him, feeling more than a little embarrassed. “Nor did you ask me if this is what I wanted with my life. What about my plans? My dreams? Marrying you could have changed my world forever.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

She thought of her small apartment and her quiet life. She remembered her conversation with Cleo the previous night and what she'd said about the palace and the princes.

“You didn't give me a choice,” she said. “Not about staying or going. You married me without telling me the truth, then you disappeared without a word.”

Reyhan leaned back in his chair. “Our recollection of the events that happened are very different, but that is of no consequence. What matters is our present circumstances. We are married—something neither of us wishes to continue. The king's permission is required for a prince to divorce, and he has insisted you spend two weeks here until he will grant the decree.”

Countless years of having her life run by her parents had made Emma hypersensitive to being told what to do. Her first instinct was to tell Reyhan that maybe she didn't want a divorce, thank you very much. Maybe she wanted to stay married.

She stopped herself before she could blurt out the irrational statement. She didn't know the man. She didn't want anything to do with him. Of course she wanted to go get a divorce and go back to her life.

“You didn't need his permission to get married, but you need it for a divorce,” she said. “That doesn't make sense.”