Protecting the Desert Princess

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘Zahid loves you.’

  ‘So many people who love me!’ Layla shrugged. ‘Aren’t I lucky?’

  Trinity was close to tears. Just knowing that Mikael was on his way and that Layla did not know had her heart racing.

  Jamila painted Layla’s eyelids and eyelashes till they glittered as much as the Opium ruby that she would hand to the man she chose.

  ‘I wonder what gift Hussain will have for me,’ Layla said. ‘I doubt he will bring flowers.’

  ‘You are to behave today,’ Jamila said.

  Layla swallowed down tears and then nodded, for she had promised that if she could just have her freedom for a short while then she would marry with dignity and grace.

  Oh, it was hard, though.

  ‘I shall do your lips and cheeks after you are in your robe,’ Jamila said.

  Layla stood and lifted her arms, and tried not to shake as the white and gold robe was slipped over her head.

  She opened her eyes and saw Trinity was looking out of the window. And then she turned and stared at Layla, and there were tears in Trinity’s eyes, and Layla could no longer be angry.

  It was not Trinity’s fault; it was just ancient rules that had to be obeyed.

  Now was the time to be brave.

  ‘I will be okay.’ Layla smiled, for she loved Trinity, even if she was cross and so very scared. ‘I always knew that this day would come.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  MIKAEL GAVE HIS name at the palace gates and drove slowly forward when they opened.

  He was nervous.

  He had not lied to Layla that day in the café. Until she had come into his life he had never cared about anybody enough to be nervous.

  Mikael drove through the gates and climbed out of the car. He looked up to the gleaming palace and saw a blonde-haired woman step back from a window.

  So, Trinity knew that he was here.

  A small door carved within the huge main ones opened and a robed man who did not introduce himself gestured for Mikael to follow him. He led him around the side of the palace and to another door.

  From there he was taken through a labyrinth of corridors to doors that had guards beside them. When they were opened, Mikael stepped in to face his judge and jury.

  ‘It is customary to bow when you greet the King,’ Fahid said. He sat at his desk and Zahid stood behind him, a little to the side.

  Mikael bowed.

  He could see the fury in the King’s eyes and indeed Fahid was furious—for Zahid had just told him that Layla had possibly been friends with the man they had just paid. A man they had thought had taken care to ensure that Layla was safe and looked after.

  Layla had told him herself that she had danced, and of other things that she had done.

  ‘You are dismissed,’ Fahid said to Abdul, and when it was just the three of them he addressed Mikael. ‘I assume you are not here to discuss your fees?’

  ‘That is correct,’ Mikael said.

  Ill, old, Fahid was still very much a king, and he looked with distaste at this man who came from a country with the most expensive apples in the world.

  ‘Why are you here?’ the King demanded. ‘What is it you want?’

  ‘Permission to ask Layla to be my wife.’

  Mikael heard an angry breath from the King before he responded.

  ‘A commoner does not ask royalty to marry him. It is for Layla to choose…’

  The King halted then. He was an honest man, but as he met Mikael’s eyes he looked away, for the truth was that Layla did not truly choose.

  ‘I went through your bill very carefully and I also spoke with Layla. She says that she drank alcohol and danced. Were you with her when she did these things?’

  Fahid did not give Mikael time to answer.

  ‘The fact you are here must mean that something more went on in those days that she was away.’ The King was almost shaking in fury. ‘Or is she such an amazing dancer that you want to marry her? Was there a romance?’ Fahid demanded.

  Mikael looked briefly to Zahid. He was terrified now for Layla, for the damage his being here might cause her, but Zahid gave Mikael the slightest nod.

  ‘Yes,’ Mikael said. ‘There was a romance.’

  ‘Have you any idea how foolish of you it is to admit that?’ The King stood. ‘What went on between the two of you?’ he demanded.

  Mikael’s face was as impassive as it was in court. He watched every flicker of the King’s reaction as he used one of the few weapons he had against this powerful man.

  ‘Your Highness, just as you must have the moment you saw Layla, I fell in love.’ He watched as the King’s hand moved to his ear. The slight telling gesture told Mikael he was right and so he continued. ‘The first time I looked into her eyes I knew I would do anything to save and protect her.’ He looked to Zahid, who stared straight ahead. ‘I knew that Layla would do those things with or without me, and I considered her safer with me than without.’

  ‘Oh, so you did not lead my daughter to do these things? You are telling me that it was all Layla’s fault…?’ He cursed at Mikael, but Zahid spoke to his father in Arabic.

  ‘Father, I realise now that Layla had been planning this escape for some time. She tried to go to London with me once. She would have done those things there.’

  Fahid felt sick at the thought of Layla in London, trying those things, doing those things, and he looked to Mikael again, who had returned her with not so much as a bruise. Here was a man he begrudgingly admired for having the nerve to stand before him and admit to these things.

  ‘Did she ask you to get her a joint?’ Fahid asked.

  ‘She did.’

  ‘And you said no to her?’

  The King frowned, for very few people said no to his daughter.

  ‘Did she remind you she was a princess?’ Fahid watched the slightest smile twitch on Mikael’s lips.

  ‘She did.’

  ‘But still you said no.’ Fahid thought for a moment and then turned and spoke to his son in Arabic.

  ‘I should have him removed.’

  Very possibly he could have Mikael killed, Zahid guessed, for he doubted it had been such a sweet romance as the one Mikael depicted.

  ‘You could pardon him for ensuring she returned safely,’ Zahid said.

  ‘King Fahid.’ Mikael pulled out his final weapon. ‘I understand you know nothing about me. And I cannot imagine raising a daughter alone, as you have done. It must be unbearable that your wife is not here to discuss this with—’

  ‘There is nothing to discuss!’ Fahid snapped.

  But Mikael knew that the seed had been sown, for the King closed his eyes and breathed in for a moment, and it was as if Annan had stepped into the room to plead for their daughter’s freedom. Mikael could see the struggle on Fahid’s features as his once wild wife fought from the grave for her child.

  The King spoke some more in Arabic to his son and Zahid translated his words to Mikael.

  ‘My father says you are as arrogant as a rooster, and if you did marry her it would mean you would bow to him, obey him…’ Zahid challenged.

  ‘I would.’

  Zahid crossed the room and walked till he was in Mikael’s face. ‘Given that one day I will be King, are you therefore saying you would also bow to me and obey?’

  A muscle flickered in Mikael’s cheek but he had planned his closing argument and was prepared.

  ‘I will be more obedient to you than to my own right hand.’

  Mikael watched the slight flare in Zahid’s eyes as he answered him with an Arabic saying that might just mollify the King, but then Zahid closed his eyes in regret as Mikael qualified it slightly.

  ‘When I am in Ishla.’

  Zahid knew the King wo
uld never let Mikael take her away, as he was clearly hoping to do.

  ‘If Layla moved to Australia I would do my best to give her a wonderful life and return here often. When here, I will wear robes and bow and do everything that is expected. It would be my pleasure to do so.’

  ‘You will not take her overseas,’ Fahid said.

  ‘All I want is for Layla to be safe and happy—as must you.’ He knew the King was ill, and yet he pushed on. ‘I know how nervous she must make you, for I felt the same fear. She is independent and strong, and she insisted I leave her so she could enjoy her freedom, and yet…’ He looked right at the King and both matched and voiced what was surely the King’s greatest fear. ‘I was scared at the thought of her in the world without me.’

  ‘She is the end of the vine…’ Fahid’s voice wavered. ‘My daughter, my precious. I don’t want her overseas.’ The King looked to his son and then back to Mikael. ‘I am not just talking about tradition…’

  ‘I understand that fear,’ Mikael said. ‘Your daughter is trouble. I wanted her off my hands, and yet I felt ill at the thought of her coping in a city she wasn’t used to. If Layla came to live in Australia then I would take time off from work—however long it takes—to ensure she understands all that your son does, having lived overseas. Layla could still work, still see her students…’

  ‘I don’t want to lose her.’

  For the first time in more than two decades Zahid watched as his father struggled not to break down.

  ‘You could never lose Layla,’ Mikael said.

  It was then that Mikael was glad that Trinity was not there. She did not understand just how ingrained these traditions were. She would have argued Layla’s case, interrupted him; instead Mikael had stated his own case to a king who was listening.

  ‘You couldn’t lose Layla,’ he reiterated, and then admitted what he perhaps shouldn’t. ‘I have already asked her to marry me and she laughed in my face. She said she would not turn her back on her country and you. I am as sure as I can be that Layla would only ever leave with your blessing—and, if she did, she would return often with love and gratitude to you.’

  Mikael had nothing left. He had used every argument he could, every weapon in his arsenal, had planned every move to the endgame.

  It was as if the Queen that Layla so sorely missed had nudged him to checkmate.

  Yes, it was for the King to decide now—but before he did, Mikael voiced the one united thought of everyone present in the room.

  Even Queen Annan.

  ‘I love Layla.’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ‘READY?’ TRINITY ASKED.

  ‘I am,’ Layla said, though her heart was breaking.

  Of course she was ready, she told herself. She had known for ever that this day had to come.

  ‘I have my memories and I have all my dreams…’

  ‘You do.’

  Trinity was torn. It was like taking a beautiful lamb to slaughter; how she wanted to tell Layla that Mikael was here, and yet Zahid had told her not to.

  In this she had to trust that her husband knew best.

  Layla walked down the palace stairs, determined to see this through without breaking down—and then she saw the closed doors and thought of the men behind it, and Hussain.

  She looked down to her wrist, at the tiny little mark there, and knew that the match had burned more than twice for now it flared again.

  ‘No!’ Layla screamed, and went to run up the stairs.

  Jamila grabbed her arms and a guard caught her by her dress as she dropped to the floor.

  ‘She’s having another seizure!’ Jamila shouted.

  ‘No!’

  She kicked and she fought and Mikael, who was kneeling with the other suitors as the King sat on his throne, lowered his head and smiled as he heard her scream his name, weep and beg that she wanted to die a virgin spinster if she could just dream of him each night. It was the sound of torture, but it came from love.

  Mikael lifted his head and looked to Hussain, who was kneeling to his right. It had to be him, for he was an arrogant and pompous git, but he was sweating now as he was shamed for a second time. Mikael felt another gaze on him then, and looked over into the tired eyes of the King as Layla’s screams continued to fill the palace.

  ‘Perhaps you can handle her?’ the King said to Mikael.

  Fahid was weary and, though he would never admit it, it was quite a relief that Mikael was here today—especially now, as Mikael stood and took over the rebel princess.

  He would take care of her, Fahid knew, and he felt the first glimmer of peace as they walked out of the room to the spectacle that awaited. He loved his wild daughter so…

  ‘Layla…’ Mikael’s fingers gripped her cheeks just in time to stop her biting a guard. ‘It is time to choose your husband.’

  Layla thought she was dreaming—for dressed in robes of white and gold, and just so beautiful, was the man who would for ever live in her dreams. Not a night had passed since their parting that hadn’t been spent together in her mind.

  ‘Mikael…’ She stood for a sixth of a second, then leapt like a cat into his arms.

  ‘Layla!’ her father scolded as Mikael put her down. ‘You are to follow tradition.’

  ‘Father, I don’t understand…’ She frowned. She could barely make sense of anything; she looked to her father and simply didn’t understand how Mikael was here or what was going on.

  ‘Mikael has spoken with Zahid and me today. He wants to give you a life in Australia but you shall return here often. It is up to you if you choose this man as your husband.’

  ‘Oh, but I do.’

  ‘Layla…’ The King’s tone warned her of their traditions. ‘What do you do now?’

  As she had on the day they had first met, she took the precious stone from her tunic and placed it down.

  ‘You have to offer your gift to me now,’ Layla said.

  Trinity saved the day and retrieved Mikael’s jacket from the room where he had changed into traditional robes.

  ‘My wallet.’ Mikael handed it over and smiled at the dark bastard he had once been, for he had sworn that if this day ever came there would be a watertight pre-nup; instead he handed her the keys to his home, his passport—she could have the lot.

  ‘That’s a black credit card,’ he said as she went through his wallet.

  ‘What’s a credit card?’ she asked.

  ‘It means I can keep you in peeled, thinly sliced apples prepared by gourmet chefs.’

  ‘Good.’ Layla smiled.

  Then she took out the folded piece of paper that told him she would never forget him, and the online chess name that she had thought might be their only link, and she looked up as Mikael spoke for the first time in Arabic. It was her favourite saying—one Layla had never thought could apply to the man who would be her husband

  ‘Hayet albi enta,’ Mikael said.

  ‘And me.’ Layla smiled again. ‘You are the life of my heart too.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  MIKAEL BOUGHT A return flight this time, when he went back to Sydney without her.

  There was an appeal to be lodged for his bastard client, and a lot of desk to be cleared—especially given that Mikael would be changing career direction when next he returned.

  He poured a glass of sparkling water and even the bubbles seemed to fizz in delight as he acknowledged that when he returned it would be with Layla.

  It was time to make a call.

  ‘Demyan.’ Mikael followed protocol. ‘How is the baby?’

  ‘Her name is Annika.’

  ‘How is Annika?’

  ‘She is awake for twenty-three hours a day,’ Demyan said. ‘I forgot how much noise babies make. So, where have you been? What hap
pened with you and Layla?

  ‘Well, as Layla would say, we are betrothed!’

  Demyan laughed as he heard that Mikael would be getting married in Ishla and that it would be a very traditional wedding.

  He’d laugh even more, Mikael thought privately, if he knew he was marrying a virgin. In fact Demyan might drop the phone if he found out that it was Mikael who had insisted that Layla save herself for their wedding night.

  ‘Layla is going to be living here after we marry, but her father is not well so we shall be returning to Ishla often. I am not taking any more cases for now. I’m going to take a few months off to teach her about traffic lights and currency and such things.’

  ‘You have it bad,’ Demyan said, for he could hear the adoration in Mikael’s voice even as he tried to keep it light.

  ‘I have it so good,’ Mikael said. ‘Demyan, I understand it is short notice, and you have Annika, and things might be difficult to arrange, but—’

  ‘We will be there.’

  They had grown up on the streets together; they were family—just not by blood.

  ‘Will you be part of the wedding party?’ Mikael asked. ‘You would have to frock up.’

  Demyan said something very rude in Russian, and then laughed and said that he would be delighted.

  ‘I need another favour,’ Mikael said.

  ‘Apart from my wearing a dress?’ Demyan checked.

  ‘I need to speak with Alina.’

  ‘Alina?’

  ‘Women’s business.’

  ‘Very well.’

  It was possibly the most awkward conversation of Mikael’s life, but for Layla he pushed through it.

  * * *

  ‘But, Father…’

  They were waiting for Mikael to arrive back at the palace—not that Layla was allowed to see him till their wedding day. She was more excited than she had ever thought possible about her wedding, and yet it was dawning on her that she was moving far, far away.

  ‘Jamila will be so bored without me, and she will fret and worry. I think it would be good for her if she came to live in Australia with me.’