The Sheik and the Virgin Princess (20 page)

“You don’t look so great,” he told her.

“That matches how I feel.” She stared at him. “It’s going to be much more than I’ve imagined, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “The circus begins.”

The first flicker of fear snaked along her spine. “How bad?”

“I don’t know. Just do me one favor. Don’t get difficult about having me around. Before I was your bodyguard on the whim of the king. It was a precaution but not necessary. Now I’m going to earn my paycheck.”

She didn’t like the sound of that, but it was too late to change anything now.

Zara tried to blink normally as the hairdresser snipped wildly around her head. Pieces of dark hair went flying and the low-grade panic she’d been fighting for the past two days increased about 15 percent.

“You look like you’re going to bolt,” Sabrina said from the salon chair next to Zara’s. She took a sip of water from the crystal glass the receptionist had carried over on a tray. “Relax.”

“Easy for you to say,” Zara muttered.

She found herself blinking frantically again and had to remind herself that eventually she would get used to the sensation of something being in her eye.

“Beauty is pain,” Fiona had always told her.

That went double for contact lenses, Zara thought, trying to find the humor in the situation. If only her world would slow down long enough for her to catch her breath. In less than forty-eight hours everything had changed.

Two days ago Sabrina had arrived in her rooms shortly after the king had left. Armed with a secretary and a massive list, they’d gone to work, organizing the first few days of Zara’s life as a princess. Their first stop that morning had been at the eye doctor, where Zara had been fitted with soft contact lenses. From there they’d hit several boutiques. She couldn’t remember what she’d bought and what had been discarded. Sabrina had done most of the choosing. There had been ball gowns and day clothes and suits and dresses and shoes and handbags.

Zara fingered the fabric of the linen slacks she’d worn out of the last shop. Sabrina had paired them with a turquoise silk shirt and simple loafers. All very upscale and very expensive. She didn’t want to think about how much all this was costing. In theory, as the daughter of a king, price shouldn’t matter. But she was still Fiona’s daughter, as well, and from her mother she’d learned how to stretch a dollar until it whimpered for mercy.

“You can’t avoid the press conference,” Sabrina said, pulling out the notebook that had accompanied them everywhere. Hassan had already made a formal announcement, and the press were clamoring to meet the new princess. “However, we can limit participation and the number of questions. We’ll schedule a few magazine interviews, as well. Maybe one or two weeklies and several monthlies. That should satisfy the public’s need to know, at least for a while.”

More hair tumbled to the floor. Zara was about to give in to her panic and run when the stylist put down the scissors and reached for the blow dryer.

It was impossible to talk over the hum of the dryer, so while Sabrina made notes, Zara glanced around at the shop. The large open area was decorated in black and red, with white accents. She didn’t doubt her cut and style would cost more than she’d spent on food the previous month. After her hair was done, she was to get a makeup lesson and whatever new products she might need. Then she could crawl back to the palace until the press conference the next morning.

As warm air blew over her head, she thought about Cleo. Her sister would have loved the attention and made the situation a whole lot more bearable. But Cleo was back in Spokane, and the couple of times Zara had called to talk to her, Cleo had been distracted.

Three hours later she and Sabrina ate small sandwiches and tea cakes in Zara’s palace suite. Dozens of bags and boxes filled the rooms. Stacks of cosmetics and hair products filled her bathroom. Zara figured it would take her half the night to get everything put away.

“The thing is,” Sabrina was saying, “you’re the princess. You can’t forget that. You might have been raised in a relatively normal family, but everything is different. Wherever you go, you represent Bahania. An insult or slight to you reflects on the people.”

“I haven’t gotten used to having people,” Zara said wryly. “I’m not sure they’re going to be real keen on me, either.”

“They’ll adore you,” Sabrina assured her. “Just be yourself.”

Zara didn’t think the people wanted to hear about her rising panic or her urge to throw up.

“You’ll need a social secretary,” Sabrina said. “I thought I would loan you mine for a few months, just until you learn the ropes. Then you can hire your own. Depending on how much traveling you’re going to be doing, you might also want to think about an assistant. Someone to help with the details of getting your luggage to where it needs to go, packing, unpacking.”

Zara clutched her cup of tea. Sabrina was acting like her staying here was a sure thing. What about her teaching job back in Washington? She’d worked hard to get her doctorate. Was she just going to give it all up?

Her head began to pound. Zara set her cup on the saucer and rubbed her temples. “I think I’d rather just be the quiet daughter no one knows anything about.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” Sabrina said kindly. “My father has told the world about you.”

Zara nodded. She’d seen the press conference on television. At her request she hadn’t been there. Her trial would come in the morning. Sabrina had already helped her pick out a dress and accessories. The king was sending over a string of pearls with matching earrings that had belonged to his mother.

Sabrina glanced at her watch and groaned. “I’m late. Kardal is going to kill me.”

“I doubt that,” Zara told her, rising to her feet. “He adores you.”

Sabrina smiled happily. “The feeling is mutual. Are you going to be all right? I’d stay with you this evening, but Kardal committed us to this dinner, and I can’t get out of it.”

“I wouldn’t want you to try. You’ve been so kind already. Go have fun with your husband.”

Sabrina rose, waved and hurried out of the room. Zara sank back onto the sofa and stifled the urge to rub her eyes. Until she removed her contacts, she wasn’t allowed to touch them. The last thing she wanted was her new contacts getting lost.

Someone knocked at her door. Zara straightened as her heart began to beat faster. Her first thought was that it was Rafe. As Sabrina’s bodyguard had done the shopping—makeover-thing with them, she hadn’t seen Rafe all day. She rose quickly and smoothed the front of her slacks. Would he notice the change? She sighed as soon as she thought the question. Of course he would notice—the more important query was would he care?

She opened the door and nearly melted in a puddle on the floor. Rafe stood in the hallway, dressed in a suit and looking good enough to be dessert. No matter how many times she reminded herself that they couldn’t possibly have a future and that he’d made his reluctance to get involved incredibly clear, she couldn’t help wanting him in her life.

“Hey, Zara, I—”

He broke off in midsentence to stare at her. She self-consciously stepped back. Rafe followed her, then motioned for her to turn around. She spun slowly. As she moved she reached up and fingered her hair. The stylist had cut off about four inches, which had released more waves. Layering and thinning allowed her shorter hair to fall just below her shoulders. He’d blown it out in a soft, sleek style that made her feel glamorous. More intense makeup than she usually wore emphasized her eyes, which were more clearly visible without her glasses.

Between the new hair and makeup and the new clothes, she felt almost pretty. But it was the approval she saw in Rafe’s eyes that convinced her she just might be attractive for the first time in her life.

He gave a soft whistle. “Impressive,” he said. “You were something before, but now you’re serious princess material.” He held up his hands. “Now, the last time a man tried to pay you a compliment, you went ballistic. Are you going to take a swing at me?”

She laughed, remembering her temper over Byron’s insincere praise. “No. I know you mean it.”

“I do.”

He took a step toward her. The pleasure in his eyes turned to fire. Zara’s breath caught in anticipation. Rafe might promise that nothing was going to happen between them, but she knew he wanted her. His desire—so thrilling coming from a man like him—made her weak with her own need. She longed to be in his arms, kissing him, touching him and having him make love with her. If that wasn’t possible, she simply wanted to spend time with him. He was still her favorite person in Bahania.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Everything is so strange. I feel as if I’m caught in the middle of a tornado.”

“It’ll get worse before it gets better, but hold on to the thought that it will get better.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Hey, don’t I know everything?”

She laughed. “Sometimes it seems that way.”

“What’s going on tonight?” he asked. “I passed Sabrina in the hall, and she said she’d released you for the day.”

“I’m just staying in. I have a bunch of stuff to read over before the press conference in the morning.”

Rafe nodded. “Want a little company before you get to work? We could order dinner in.”

She thought about spending a couple of quiet, uninterrupted hours with Rafe. Although her pulse rate increased, the rest of her relaxed. He was exactly what she needed.

“I’d like that,” she whispered.

“Whatever Princess Zara wishes,” he said formally, then gave a slight bow. “Mine is to serve.”

If only that were true, she thought longingly. If only she could convince him that he was wrong to walk away from relationships. But while the rest of the world might start to see her as Princess Zara of Bahania, she knew that on the inside, she was still Zara Paxton, virgin and unsuccessful graduate in the school of love. Men like Rafe were out of her league. Still, just for tonight, she could dream.

Dozens of flash bulbs exploded in her face. Zara tried not to wince as temporary blindness set in.

“Princess Zara, how do you like Bahania?”

“Princess Zara, has the king given you a fortune?”

“Is there anyone special in your life?”

“Where did you grow up?”

Nearly thirty reporters called out their questions, while Zara tried to keep from bolting. Sabrina had warned that her first press conference would be the most difficult of all. The format was unfamiliar and the members of the press were determined to find out as much about her as they could. Zara did her best to ignore the television cameras in the rear of the room.

She stood behind a podium. Sabrina had suggested the venue be set up that way, rather than with Zara sitting. “Easier to escape when you’ve had enough,” her sister had said, only half joking. “Plus, when it’s time to leave, no one will capture the awkward moment of standing and then put an unflattering photo on the cover of every magazine.”

King Hassan had been with her for the first twenty minutes, telling how Zara had come into his life and how happy he was to have her with him. Unfortunately a luncheon with the Spanish ambassador had called him away, leaving Zara at the mercy of the press.

There were too many things to remember, she thought as she frantically tried to decide which question to answer first. They continued to pelt her, like small stones. She grabbed the first one that seemed easy.

“I like Bahania very much,” she said in a clear voice. Sabrina had told her to take deep breaths and to project her voice, while avoiding speaking above a normal tone. “The countryside is beautiful and the people have been very gracious.”

Not that she’d met all that many people, but so far everyone had been really nice.

“What do you think of the king?”

“Have you met the princes?”

“Is the king going to arrange a marriage for you?”

“Right now I’m in the process of getting to know my new family,” Zara said. “The princes have been most welcoming and Princess Sabrina has been helping me with the transition. Without her assistance I would have run in terror the second I saw all of you waiting for me.”

Several people laughed, which eased some of Zara’s tension. Still, she would rather have had a root canal than face this crowd.

She answered questions for about ten more minutes before stepping back and glancing around for Rafe. He read her intentions and quickly moved toward her. After taking her by the arm, he led her out of the press room and back into the private section of the palace.

“That was horrible,” Zara said. She trembled and found it difficult to walk.

“You did great.”

“I felt like an idiot. Why did all those people show up just to get a picture of me? And some of the questions seemed really personal.”

Rafe didn’t answer. She glanced at him and saw the set of his jaw. Anger radiated out of him. She instantly felt small and foolish.

“You think I’m complaining for no good reason,” she murmured. “After all, I wanted to find my father and I did. This is the price of that connection.”

He frowned at her. “No, I was thinking about those jackals and how different your life is going to be now. You think it’s going to be easy to return to your old world, but you’re wrong. Nothing is ever going to be simple again.”