The Sheik and the Virgin Princess (7 page)

“You each have a bedroom,” the woman said, motioning to identical doors on either side of the vast living room. “His Highness thought you would prefer to be together, but if you would rather have separate quarters, that can be arranged.”

She looked at Zara as she spoke. Zara glanced at Cleo, who shrugged.

“This is fine,” Zara told the woman. “The room is lovely.”

“If you will tell me which luggage goes in which room?”

Zara pointed to her two suitcases. A different servant took them to the left. Cleo’s were taken to the right. Zara trailed after her bags and found herself in a massive bedroom.

A four-poster bed stood in the center of the room. Two steps led up to the high mattress. Double doors led to the same balcony she’d seen from the main room. An oversize armoire held a television and DVD unit. Drawers below offered a selection of American and foreign movies.

Dazed and with her senses on overload, Zara moved into the bathroom where she nearly fainted with delight. A private walled garden grew at the edge of the tub. Sunlight dappled the tile floor, illuminating a long vanity and double sinks. The shower could easily hold five or six people, and there were baskets of shampoo, lotion and soaps, all from expensive boutiques. It was girl heaven.

Zara turned and saw the head servant waiting expectantly. “It’s beautiful,” she told her. “Everything is lovely.”

The woman smiled. “I will tell the king you are pleased. Would you like us to unpack for you?”

Zara thought about her discount clothes and the ratty state of some of her underwear. “Um, no. Thanks. We can manage.”

The woman bowed and left, taking the other servants with her. It was only then that she realized Rafe hadn’t followed her into her room. Where was he staying? Not that she needed to concern herself with the arrangements. No doubt the palace had plenty of room for her temporary bodyguard.

“Can you believe it?” Cleo asked.

Zara stepped into the living room. “What’s your room like?”

“Come see. It’s amazing. It’s something out of a movie or a dream.”

Cleo’s room was identical to Zara’s, right down to the baskets of soaps and lotions. Cleo climbed the two steps and threw herself on her bed.

“I’m never going home. This is fabulous. When I grow up, I want to be the daughter of a king, too.”

Zara laughed at her sister’s pleasure. “Wait until you see the harem.”

Cleo sat up, her eyes wide. “There’s a harem?”

Zara held up her hands. “I don’t know. I was kidding. I didn’t read anything about it. I have no idea how old the palace is, but it’s possible.”

“I’m going to ask the king the next time I see him.” Cleo flung herself back on the mattress. “I can’t believe I’m saying that. The next time I see the king. How did you get so lucky?”

Zara didn’t answer. While she, too, was overwhelmed by the luxury of the suite, she still felt uneasy about being in the palace. Everything was so unfamiliar. At least she and Cleo had each other.

A knock on the door drew her into the living room. She found herself hoping it was Rafe, checking up on her. Her heart beat faster at the thought, but when she pulled open the door, the person waiting in the hall was a woman.

Zara opened her mouth to say hello but had to close it without speaking. All rational thought fled. Her mind filled with thoughts, went blank, then exploded with questions.

The woman standing in front of her looked to be about her age. They were of similar height, although Zara was a couple of inches taller. But it was her face that captured Zara’s attention. The shape of the eyes and the mouth. The angle of the cheekbones. The similarities were striking, although the mystery woman was far more attractive. Zara’s stomach plunged for her toes.

“You must be Zara,” the young woman said. “I see what my father meant when he said we could almost be twins. At the very least, it’s obvious we’re sisters.”

They both had dark hair. Zara nervously pushed up her glasses. “So you must be Princess Sabra?”

The woman nodded. “Call me Sabrina.” She slipped past Zara and stepped into the suite. “Nice room. I heard you have a sister, but she’s not really your sister? Is that right?”

“I’m Cleo.”

Sabrina turned toward the voice, saw Cleo entering the living room and smiled. “Well, we don’t look anything alike. Is your hair really that color? It’s gorgeous.”

Cleo fingered her spiky blond hair. “This is me. I tried being a redhead for a while, but blond roots look really weird, let me tell you.”

Zara closed the door. She didn’t know what to think or say. This was her half sister. Princess Sabra…aka Sabrina. She was stunning in her elegant clothes. She wore slacks and a silk blouse that looked expensive. Zara fingered her own bargain cotton dress. Geometric gold earrings caught the light and there was a huge diamond on Sabrina’s left ring finger. She moved with an elegant grace that reminded Zara of her mother. Fiona had been forever trying to teach her to glide rather than stomp, but Zara had never learned the lesson.

The three of them stood awkwardly in the center of the room. Zara couldn’t escape the feeling of being a bad copy of a stunning original. As usual Cleo broke the ice.

“So what do we call you?” Cleo asked. “Your Highness?”

“Just Sabrina.”

“And you’re really a princess?”

“From the day I was born.” Sabrina moved to one of the sofas and motioned for them to join her.

“You sound American,” Cleo said, sitting at the opposite end of the same sofa. “The king has a bit of a Middle-Eastern accent.”

“I spent a lot of my life in California. I can, like, do the Valley Girl thing if it makes you more comfortable.”

Cleo grinned. “Cool. So you live here, now?”

“I live close by.”

Cleo pointed at her diamond. “Great ring.”

“Thank you.”

“Is there a husband to go along with that?”

“Absolutely. Prince Kardal. We’ve been married about a year.”

“A prince and princess. Just like in the fairy tales.” Cleo sighed. “I can’t believe we’re here. This is so not our regular life.”

Sabrina turned her dark gaze on Zara. “Where are you from?”

“Washington State. It’s in the northwest part of the country.”

“Zara’s a professor,” Cleo confided. “She’s really smart. I live about eighty miles away in Spokane where I manage a copy shop.”

“And now you’re in Bahania,” Sabrina said. The words sounded welcoming enough, but there was an edge to her tone that made Zara uncomfortable.

Did Sabrina resent her being there? Dumb question, she thought. She was a complete stranger who arrived from nowhere with a preposterous story about being King Hassan’s illegitimate daughter.

“I know this is unexpected,” Zara said quietly. “For all of us. I don’t know how much the king told you about why I’m here and all.”

“He mentioned that you had recently found some letters he had sent to your mother. Apparently theirs was a great love affair.”

Sabrina smiled, but there wasn’t any humor in her eyes. Zara folded her arms over her chest. She felt awkward and unwelcome. Sabrina was everything she herself was not—elegant, beautiful, well dressed. Zara was reminded of all the times she’d attended her mother’s dance classes and hadn’t been able to help tripping over her own feet. Eventually Fiona had given up trying to teach her daughter to be graceful.

“What I don’t understand is how the two of you ever became sisters,” Sabrina said.

Cleo shrugged. “It was just one of those things.” She began telling the story.

Zara listened for a few minutes, then quietly rose and headed for the French doors. Maybe a few minutes outside would clear her head…or at least help her feel more as if she belonged here. Not that she did.

She stepped out onto the balcony and caught her breath. The city stretched out on either side of the palace. She could see a few buildings over the treetops of the lush gardens surrounding the royal lands. More impressive than that was her view of the ocean. She walked to the railing and leaned against the warm metal. The soft, heavy air covered her in a hot blanket. She could smell exotic flowers and a faint scent of the ocean beyond. She’d never seen anything so lovely.

And yet she desperately wanted to go home. How stupid was that? She was on the verge of having every fantasy ever come true and her heart’s desire was to bolt for safety. She was a coward—or an idiot. Maybe both.

She closed her eyes and let the heat seep into her. The sun had moved low toward the horizon. It was nearly sunset. She felt as if she’d traveled a thousand miles in just one day.

She heard a sound behind her. Before she could turn, she heard a familiar voice that sent shivers dancing along her spine.

“Want to talk about it?”

Zara turned and found Rafe lounging in the doorway to the room next to hers. On cue, her bones began their slow dissolve and her heart performed a steady but disconcerting cha-cha. He’d removed his jacket and loosened his tie. What was it about a man in semidisarray that sent the most sensible woman on the planet into emotional regression?

“Are we neighbors?” she asked, doing her darnedest to keep her voice from coming out in a squeak.

“As your temporary bodyguard it’s necessary for me to stay close.”

Was it her imagination or did his voice sound more like a purr? Or maybe she was being affected by all the cats in the palace.

“I’m sorry they made you move quarters.”

He shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Are you getting settled?”

“Some. The suite is huge. I think the bathroom has more square feet than my town house back home. Everything is lovely.”

She turned back to face the water. When Rafe joined her at the balcony, she told herself not to read too much into his actions. A man like him would never be interested in a woman like her. If all the disasters that made up her personal life weren’t enough to remind her of her unfortunate past, there was always Jon.

“You don’t sound very excited,” Rafe said. “Having second thoughts?”

“Try five hundredth thoughts.”

“You came looking for your father for a reason. You must have wanted to find him.”

“I did. I know it’s not logical to be questioning everything now. I should shut up and be grateful.”

“Maybe. At least he was happy to see you.”

She nodded. “Too happy. His reaction is all about Fiona. He doesn’t know me, yet.” She pointed to the water. “Look at where we’re standing. How is this possible?”

“The palace occupies some great real estate. At least your father isn’t a used-camel dealer.”

Despite her confusion and Rafe’s nearness, she smiled. “I don’t believe there is such a thing.”

Rafe looked at her and smiled slightly. “Sure there is. The aftermarket for camels is a booming business.”

The sight of his smile turned her heart’s cha-cha into a tango. A tiny quivering need took up residence in her stomach. For reasons she didn’t understand, something about this man got to her on a very primitive level. She would have to remember to try not to drool in front of him.

“What do you do here?” she asked. “You’re an American. How did you get to Bahania?”

“Same way as you. By plane.” He straightened and leaned one narrow hip against the railing. “Actually I work for Princess Sabrina’s husband—Prince Kardal. I’m a security and tactical expert.”

“That doesn’t tell me much.”

“You’d find my work very boring.”

She doubted that, but decided not to press. There might be a very good reason Rafe was being reticent. At this point she hardly needed more information. She was already too close to overload.

“I’ve met Princess Sabrina,” she said. “She’s inside making friends with Cleo.”

“Your sister is very friendly.”

That was hardly news. “I know. I’m the smart one. She’s the funny, sexy, adorable one. At least she can distract all the family members so they don’t notice me.”

“Oh, they’ll notice.”

She shook her head. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a lousy job. I hate meeting a lot of people at once. I can never get the names straight and I doubt the royal family will consent to wear name tags.”

“Probably not. But there are compensations. Look at the palace.”

“I’m not in it for the money.”

“I almost believe you.”

He spoke so lightly that at first she thought he was kidding, but when she glanced at him, she saw the truth in his blue eyes.

“I thought we’d covered this material,” she told him. “You all but accused me of wanting to blackmail the king. After you checked me out, I thought you’d changed your mind.”

“I’m 98 percent convinced.”

“Tell me when you are 100 percent.”

“I will.

”She straightened and walked toward a bench between the doors to their rooms. “Is that what everyone is going to be thinking?” she asked as she sat down. “That I’m some horrible person out for what I can get?”

“The king doesn’t think that and his is the only opinion that matters.”