She held her breath, wondering if he’d pack the camera away and storm off. She had a contingency plan involving a small camcorder in her luggage, but it would be hard to match the quality with the expensive, high-tech camera they’d been shooting with so far.
“I’m a professional, and I’ll shoot it. Even if it has your wedding to someone else in the final act.” His pale eyes glittered.
“I’m sorry, Allan.” His visible anger reminded her that he did feel emotion and that she’d hurt him, or at least really ticked him off. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I thought we’d just come here, shoot the film and go get married. This trip has been full of surprises.”
“As long as I’m on a plane tonight, I don’t really care what happens any more. Get your gold dress on and let’s get it over with.”
She didn’t bother telling him she had no intention of marrying Osman during the ceremony. If he knew her at all he’d figure that out. She’d also managed not to mention their steamy tryst, which hopefully he hadn’t heard through the wall.
She grabbed her bags—she thought it safest to assume they would not be coming back here after the ceremony—and they headed down the hallway toward the main door. “Okay, let’s go.”
The sun hung above the mountains like a lantern as Osman guided the car onto the road to Nabattur. He’d insisted that Sam ride in a different car from him, because he didn’t want to place her life in danger. She’d chosen to drive the Land Rover with Allan, which he didn’t like much, either, but he didn’t intend to start the day with an argument.
The cars had all been checked and rechecked for explosives, and he and his heavily armed entourage followed at a considerable distance, just in case some fool decided to target him again.
Zadir peered anxiously at him from the passenger seat. “You’re not going to screw this up, are you?”
“Beshwistar, brother. Beshwistar.”
“I’m trying, but I can’t get married until you do and I’m growing impatient.”
Osman turned to him. “You do have someone in mind. Am I right that it’s the mysterious architect you plan to hire?”
His brother’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you worry about your own nuptials, and I’ll take care of mine when the time comes.”
“Point taken.”
“I see you’re dressed the part but your bride is in khakis.”
“Yes.” Osman tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. “It’s not ideal but not worth making a fuss over either.” He grinned. “Otherwise we’re well on track.”
Of course you weren’t supposed to sleep with your intended bride on the eve of the wedding, but neither he nor Sam had exactly followed the life path of a traditional Ubarite couple.
“You really think she’s going to marry you today?”
“Alarishim.”
Zadir smiled. “You’re just full of ancient Ubarite aphorisms today, aren’t you? I hope your confidence is well placed. American women aren’t usually ready to commit to anything on the basis of two days’ acquaintance. You might want to pace yourself and focus on getting engaged rather than actually married.”
“Not a bad idea, brother.” Osman kept his eyes focused on the car ahead. “But if we’re not married then a distance of many thousand miles could sap our relationship of its strength. It’s better if we commit.”
“Well, good luck to you. Amahd and I are counting on you.”
“What’s that Jeep up to behind us?” He’d noticed an old army-green jalopy following them at a distance, behind his security staff in their car, for some time now. His brain—and armed services—were on high alert after yesterday’s attack. They’d found the rocket launcher in the mountains. Apparently his adversary had deep pockets to leave such an expensive piece of equipment unguarded, or they’d been surprised into flight.
Osman had no intention of cowering inside his palace, and he wouldn’t encourage his guests to, either, but he made sure they had cover from all directions, and the mountains were filled with his foot soldiers looking for any signs of brewing trouble.
Zadir glanced over his shoulder. “There are a million Jeeps like that on the road.”
“There are probably less than five thousand vehicles of any type in our entire nation,” contradicted Osman.
“Okay, but it’s a common car. Don’t worry too much.”
“I just don’t want anything to interfere with today’s events.” He glanced in the mirror again. It had fallen back and seemed to be deliberately staying at a distance, despite the fact that traffic grew heavy as they approached Nabattur. “I’d be less suspicious if he was riding my staff’s bumper. It’s like he doesn’t want anyone to get a close look.”
“I’ll tell the guards to keep an eye on him, okay? You get back to concentrating on what’s really important.”
Osman smiled. He and his brothers hadn’t been reunited for long, but they were a great team already. “Thanks, bro.”
Allan was very quiet on the drive into Nabattur in the restored Land Rover. Not that Allan’s sulking was anything unusual for this trip, but his silence had a menacing quality to it that she hadn’t noticed before. Sam was sore from yesterday’s crash, and he must be, too, but she didn’t want to invite a litany of complaints by asking about it. She drove, as usual, and decided to shoot some footage of the events herself, just in case Allan was tempted to drop the ball somehow. Osman’s men had been recording sporadically with small cameras, but she had no idea if they recorded anything usable, or if she’d ever get to see it. At least she had the existing footage backed up on her laptop.
She couldn’t believe she was even thinking like this, but then she hadn’t expected to break up with him in the middle of the shoot, either.
“Who do you think we should use for the voiceover?” Maybe talking about the project would get them back on track.
He shrugged. “I don’t really have an opinion.”
“Come on. Of course you do.”
“How about Samuel L. Jackson?” He didn’t look at her so she couldn’t tell if he was kidding.
On reflection she thought he might be onto something brilliant. Allan did have flashes of inspiration that could transform a project. And her mom or dad might be able to make an introduction. “He’s so hot I can’t imagine he’d say yes. Still, it can’t hurt to ask.”
Allan turned and stared at her. “Yeah, I’m sure he’ll drop whatever A-list Hollywood blockbuster he’s starring in and come murmur authoritatively about Ubarite marriage rituals for us.”
Okay, so he was kidding. She felt thoroughly smacked down. Maybe it was better not to talk at all.
A glance in the rearview mirror confirmed that Osman was following behind her at a distance with his brother Zadir. They seemed to have no problem navigating the ancient and virtually unchanged world of Ubar after spending years in the U.S. Maybe they were just the kind of people who thrived wherever they found themselves.
The usual throng of foot traffic—on two feet and four feet—slowed down their progress as they approached Nabattur. It was even slower than usual today, since she knew guards were searching everyone to ensure that no weapons or explosives entered the walled city. When she saw Osman’s men swing off the road in front of her, she followed them across the sparse grass of the plain toward the private gate.
“Aren’t you going to miss all this?” She asked Allan.
“I’m going to miss you.”
His quiet comment struck her hard in the chest. “I’m going to miss you, too.”
“You’re the only person I know who doesn’t mind watching an entire movie with subtitles.”
“I’m easygoing like that.”
“I suppose that’s why it doesn’t bother you that you can’t understand a word that’s going on around you.” He stared straight ahead out the windshield.
She wanted to laugh. “You’re right. I kind of like it. It makes me more aware of their body language and expressions. I’m picking up a few wor
ds here and there, though.”
“That’ll come in useful when you move here.” Now he did turn to her and pinned her with a hard, pale stare.
“I think we both know that isn’t going to happen.” She tried to remain calm and focus on the driving. She wished the car in front would slow down. The ground was bumpier than it looked and she had to grip the wheel to keep the car straight. “You can have the apartment, though. I already thought about that.” Maybe that would boost his mood. It was only two blocks from the subway, with big sunny rooms and the girl who owned it sublet it to them for a steal by local standards.
“Thanks.”
Sam was relieved they were able to break up in such a relatively grown-up fashion, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that the other shoe was about to drop. The car in front swung left toward the gate, and she followed, with Osman and another car of his men right behind them. Already she could hear music from within the walls of the city, so the third and final day of the festival was getting under way.
The marriage ceremony.
They called it betrothal, or at least that was the closest translation, but since the promise was of a lifetime commitment it also functioned as the wedding. Extended families gathered to meet and mingle and exchange gifts and promises. She’d been dying to see it in action but never thought she’d have to worry about becoming a participant.
Sam pulled up next to the first car and climbed out with the equipment. She put the car keys in her pocket in case Allan got any ideas about disappearing. He’d been known to do that if he felt overwhelmed or otherwise disadvantaged. It wasn’t a big deal if he took the subway home from a party by himself, but she didn’t want to get stuck here in Nabattur with no means of transportation except a man who wanted to marry her that day.
They ascended to the balcony and looked down over the crowd. People looked up, too. If they were the royal couple they’d be waving and smiling. Women always gazed at Osman with a mix of awe and admiration, and she could completely identify with them. Effortlessly gorgeous, today he looked breathtaking in the blue garb of a hopeful husband. The rich cobalt set off his tan skin and enhanced his naturally regal bearing. She could hardly believe he’d dressed to identify himself as a groom. He must know people would talk. Maybe he didn’t care.
She lifted her chin and tried not to look too shabby in such illustrious company.
Allan finished setting up the camera controls the way he wanted them and headed off into the crowd by himself. As soon as he was out of sight, Sam got her own small camera out and adjusted the settings for the strong light.
“You’re shooting, too?” Osman looked at her in surprise.
“I told Allan this morning that it’s over between us.” She said it as quietly as possible. “I figured I’d better shoot some footage just in case he decides to….” She wasn’t sure how to put it.
“Get revenge.” Osman’s brow raised.
“Well, not revenge exactly, but yes. What we’ve got so far is too exciting for it not to have a satisfying ending.”
“One could say that about us, too.” Humor shone in his eyes.
Her stomach clenched. It was hard to tell him I’m going back to America today, so stop dreaming. It was hard to think it.
“Let me shoot some footage of you.” She wasn’t sure Allan had any of Osman. He usually tried to stay as far away from him as possible. At least she’d have something to remember him by. She’d be able to look back at the shaky footage and remember her days and nights of romantic adventure in the magical land of Ubar.
“Go ahead.” He smiled and tilted his head to the camera. “What would you like me to say?”
“Anything you like.”
A tiny smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, and he began talking in the idiomatic local dialect. She couldn’t understand a word, but she filmed silently while he talked with his hands as well as his broad, sensual mouth.
When he was done, she lowered the camera. “What did you just say?”
“I guess you’ll have to hire a translator to find out.” He smiled mysteriously.
Sam took that as a reassuring sign that he knew she was going back to the States without him. “Shall we go down and walk around?”
“Of course.”
She couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of pride walking next to the most handsome man at the whole festival. Thank goodness no one knew that she’d spent the night in his arms. He beamed at the crowds, happy and confident. She felt kind of bad that she wasn’t marrying him. What an adventure that would be! Queen Sam. How her friends back home would laugh. And Osman could charter a plane to fly them all out to visit.
Not that Osman was ever going to be her husband! Her imagination was running away with her today. It must be the nights of interrupted sleep and all the unfamiliar food wreaking havoc on her system.
She filmed several couples and even had them sign releases with Osman’s interpretive assistance. He also assured her that releases weren’t necessary as he, the crown prince, would vouch for his people’s willingness to participate in her documentary.
“How do you know that?” She laughed. “You can’t speak for them.”
“Officially I can.”
“Maybe if you were elected democratically. You’re being thrust upon them, not chosen by them.”
“They’ll find I have their best interests at heart.”
She shook her head, smiling. “I’m not sure if your self-confidence is awe inspiring or frightening.”
“Running a country is not so different than running a business. I’ve been doing that since my teens, and Ubar is considerably smaller than some of the companies I’ve run. I’m confident I can do it justice and make our people proud.”
She couldn’t help thinking he was right.
Around midday they ate a picnic that his men laid out on the balcony. More fragrant chicken and rice with an ambrosia-like fruit salad and a milky, sweet rose-flavored drink.
“I’m going to miss the food here,” she said with a satisfied sigh.
“No, you won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not leaving.” The sparkle of humor never left his eyes. She tried not to look at him too much because every glance reminded her of the effect he’d had on her body last night. Worse yet, the effect he was having on it right now.
“You’re going to keep me here as your prisoner?” She made sure to keep an edge in her voice, which wasn’t difficult under the circumstances.
“Oh, no. I won’t need to.” Again that infuriating cocky reassurance.
“I’m not marrying you,” she whispered. “Do you seriously think I would? We’ve only just met.” She hoped none of his men could hear. Even though he fully deserved to have everyone in the marketplace know what he was up to. Though they would probably sympathize with him since apparently two days of courtship was enough for everyone in Ubar. “I realize it’s in your DNA to gamble your whole life on a two-day acquaintance but I’m from more ponderous European stock.”
“I know.” He stood and extended his hand to help her up. “Shall we go watch the couples make their vows?”
18
Sam brandished her tiny camcorder like a weapon. Surely Osman wouldn’t make any kind of move on her on camera? He glowed with what appeared to be genuine happiness as they moved among the couples and their families, gathered in groups for the betrothal. Sam expected to see at least some of the girls in tears or the young men chewing their mustaches in terror, but they all looked excited and fairly relaxed. Of course, life was different in a traditional society. These girls would still be surrounded by the family and friends they’d known since birth, and their mom and sisters would live within shouting distance if they needed help or a shoulder to cry on. It wasn’t like they were being asked to move to a foreign country where they didn’t speak the language and didn’t know a soul.
Except one very arrogant and commanding sheikh.
They watched as one boy’s f
amily placed a necklace of coins around the girl’s neck.
“Is that her mahr?” Mahr was a traditional gift of money or items of value that a groom presented to his bride in this part of the world. Sam kept the camera running.
“Symbolically, yes, but the necklace is not meant to be broken up and used as currency. Most aren’t even that valuable. The real mahr will be livestock, or a house hand-built by the boy’s family.”
“It’s interesting that in this culture the woman is given money upon marriage. In other societies the bride’s family was expected to come with some wealth in the form of a dowry to pay for her upkeep.”
“Perhaps women are considered more precious in Ubar.” His velvet voice sent an annoying shiver of arousal to her core. Worse yet, he reached into his sash and brought out a necklace of coins. Unlike the one she’d just filmed, this one was bright-yellow gold.
She filmed him—the camera as her shield—as he held it out in his hands. “I offer this to you.”
She swallowed, trying to ignore that this was a de facto proposal from the most amazing man she’d ever met, and she had to say no. Best to focus on practical details. “Is that twenty-four karats?” She couldn’t even imagine how much something like that would cost.
“Of course.” He lifted it, apparently eager to put it on her neck.
She took a step back but lowered the camera. “It pains me to turn down a gift probably worth more than I’ve earned in the last five years but you already know my answer.”
“Just accept it as my gift. No strings attached.” He held it closer.
She shook her head. “I can’t.” Everything had strings. That was the way of the world. “Next thing I know I’ll be legally married and I can’t let that happen.” She’d seen her parents acting on pure emotion and hurling themselves from drama to drama, never stopping to think of the consequences for those around them, and she’d taken pains to live her life as differently as possible. She was sorry that it had to be all or nothing and that they couldn’t just date for a while or something. She’d really like to get to know Osman better.
Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology Page 55