She shuddered again and inhaled sharply, letting out desperate little noises, trying to stifle the sounds so no one else heard. He stayed there for a while, slicing his tongue along her core and filling his mouth with her flesh. She squirmed about the sofa, knees bent and legs spread, hand at the back of his head.
“Taste so sweet,” he breathed.
Damn, this woman.
He knew her. Knew her scent and what every type of moan meant—more, less, or right there. He hadn’t forgotten a single signal nor forgotten how good she felt in his arms. Everything about her was achingly familiar.
He moved higher again, licking his lips, and dropped a kiss on her mouth, the tip of his tongue moving on the inside boundary of her lips. Dahlia whimpered and rubbed against him like a lioness in heat. Her arms fastened around his neck and her fingers strolled through the soft coils on his head.
Anger had transformed into blinding hunger, no longer hiding beneath the veneer of civilized discourse. A need so great he could hardly think. All he could do was seek relief.
“Unzip me.” He wanted to feel her hands on his hard flesh—cupping, stroking, twisting him inside out.
“Kofi...”
“Please.” He guided her hand to his crotch. He’d never begged for anything in his life, but every man had his weakness, and she was his.
The first time they had made love, the pulsing attraction between them had erupted into a volcanic heat and he’d lifted her against the wall. Completely out of control, he’d buried his face in her neck and gripped her thighs as he plunged into her wet, willing body with a ferocity he’d never before experienced. He wanted to lose himself like that again.
He sucked the side of her neck and, shifting a hand beneath her dress again, tried to slip a finger inside her, but she stayed his hand.
“Don’t.” Her voice trembled.
“Dahlia—”
“Please, Kofi. Stop.” She pressed her palms against his chest, and he stilled. Easing back, he looked into her face. She wouldn’t look at him.
With a heavy groan, he launched himself off of her and sat in the corner of the sofa, burying his head in his hands. He smelled the musk from between her legs and wanted to go back there again, press his face to her slick heat and eat until he was satisfied.
Dahlia sat at the other end of the furniture and tugged the dress down to cover her nakedness.
Neither of them spoke.
Finally, Kofi stood and went over to the window, and her gaze blurred behind a screen of tears.
“This isn’t going to work,” she told him.
“Says who?”
“Me. You’re asking too much.”
She barely managed to stop him. Her body hummed from his hands on her breasts and his tongue stroking between her legs. Her fight or flight instincts were fully engaged, warning that she couldn’t sleep with him, but if he’d pushed a little harder, she would have succumbed. Living with him would be torture enough. Intimacy could destroy her.
“I feel so sorry for you, Dahlia, but you’re stuck with me. Maybe it’s your punishment for stealing from my people.”
“I didn’t steal that money.”
“It no longer matters.”
“It matters to me! I can be trusted.”
“Yes, you’ve proven that, haven’t you?” He turned to face her.
“I messed up when I tried to take Noel, but don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same if the roles were reversed. He’s my child and my closest relative. I have very little family left—people I rarely talk to. He was all I had.” He was all I had of you. “You were going to take him away from me if I didn’t follow you to Zamibia, and I didn’t know what to expect once I arrived there.” She took a quivering breath and swiped at her damp eyes. “You have to believe me, Kofi.”
“People make mistakes.”
“I’ve made mistakes, but I’m not a thief.”
He stared at her, hands on his hips. “Why do you want me to believe you?”
“I...” She sniffed. “I don’t know.” It was too humiliating to admit she wanted their marriage to work. To be real. She couldn’t admit she didn’t want anger between them all the time and didn’t want Noel to see them at each other’s throats. She couldn’t admit she wanted him to need her as more than a baby-making machine.
“If you don’t know, then my trust must not be very important to you. As for whether or not we’ll be sleeping together, I promise not to attack you again like a wild boar, but don’t pretend there’s no longer chemistry between us.” His voice grew huskier as he spoke. “That chemistry is all over my mouth and fingers. I can still smell how much you want me.”
Heat swamped her face. “Wanting you doesn’t change our situation. You don’t get it, do you? Three years ago you acted like I was your everything, and then you left and married another woman. I never heard from you again. Now you pop up, threaten to take my child, and oh, by the way, I’m supposed to have more babies with you to continue the Karunzika line.”
“What do you want me to say?” he asked sharply. He took two steps forward. “You want the truth, Dahlia? You were everything to me. Is that what you want to hear? I wanted to place the world at your feet. Yes, I was getting married, but in name only. I wanted y—”
He heaved a sigh and ran a hand down the back of his head.
“I wanted to marry you,” he said in a thick voice. “You really want to know what I would have done if I’d found you here and Noel didn’t exist? I would have asked you to marry me and given you the ring you’re wearing. The ring I had made especially for you before I learned you’d kept my son a secret.” He laughed bitterly. “And do you know why? Because I’m a fool. Because for three months, three years ago, I thought I’d found someone I could trust. Someone different from every other greedy, selfish man and woman I’ve met in my life and tried to protect myself and my people from.”
Sensing what his last words would be, she bent her head. She didn’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes. Hearing the words would be difficult enough.
“That’s why I came looking for you, Dahlia. I held out hope.” His voice dropped lower, became thicker. “But I was wrong. You’re the same as everyone else. You can come to Zamibia or you can stay here. But if you come, you abide by the rules of my country, and in my country, I make the rules.”
He left the room so quietly, she didn’t know he was gone until she lifted her head and saw the empty space where he’d stood. The torn panties on the floor and the dampness between her thighs indicated their lust for each other, but they would never be close again. She saw that now.
Pain scoured her heart.
She told herself she was a fool. She told herself not to cry. She cried anyway.
12
ANNOUNCEMENT FROM THE OFFICE
OF HIS MAJESTY
KING BABATUNDE FRANCOIS KARUNZIKA
* * *
His Majesty King Babatunde Francois Karunzika, Most Honorable Leader of the Nine Tribes of Zamibia, is pleased to announce the engagement of his son, His Royal Highness Crown Prince Kofi Francois Karunzika to Miss Dahlia Sommers of the United States. The king also welcomes the couple’s son and his grandchild, Noel.
The wedding will take place on Saturday, April 14th. The couple and their son will live in the prince’s apartment in The Grand Palace of Zamibia.
Dahlia held the English version of the press release, which included the royal seal—an illustrated lion with a full mane and a crown sitting on its head. There were numerous versions—one in each of the tribal languages and one in French.
The wedding was actually happening. She was going to marry Kofi and become a member of the royal family. She’d left her life in the States behind and embarked on a new life, in an unfamiliar culture, and a life made more intimidating by the social norms she’d have to adhere to as a princess. The big knot in her stomach only grew larger and tighter as they sat on the tarmac awaiting word to descend from the airplane.
T
he royal plane rivaled Air Force One in size and the number of amenities on board. In addition to being able to seat up to eighteen passengers comfortably in fully reclining seats, the jet contained a master suite with adjoining bathroom, guest bedrooms and more baths, offices, a conference room, and a dining room. There was a well-stocked kitchen and pantry, as well as a bar and lounge. One of Kofi’s doctors flew with them and oversaw the medical suite, a state-of-the-art facility complete with medical equipment and pharmaceuticals in case of emergency.
The trip had been mostly uneventful, with last minute preparation and advice from Kemal, who’d prepped Dahlia on her new role.
“Remember to smile, always.”
“Wave with your fingers close together, never apart.”
“You may walk beside Prince Kofi or behind him, but never in front.”
“Prince Kofi will carry Prince Noel off the plane. It is important that the people immediately see his close bond with his son.”
So many rules, and they were only the beginning. The past two days she received a ton of instructions to prepare her and her son for their new life. She glanced at Noel, blissfully unaware of the changes to come as he played with a magnetic drawing board. He did a horrible job of drawing, but the toy kept him busy now that he was awake. She ran a gentle hand over his curls. He would adjust, and she would have to adjust, too. Somehow.
One of the flight attendants crouched in front of Dahlia’s chair. “Are you all right, ma’am?” she asked.
Dahlia didn’t know if she sensed her unease. She hadn’t seen Kofi for hours, but Kemal told her he was working in one of the offices on board, handling royal business and squaring away the final details for their arrival.
She placed a brave smile on her face. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for checking.”
“Can I get you something to drink while we wait?”
Dahlia shook her head. “No.” If she ate or drank anything she’d bring it back up. “Do you know why there’s a delay?”
The other woman nodded. “The crowd is larger than expected. Our citizens are curious to see Prince Kofi’s fiancée, and of course, his son.”
“Crowd?” Dahlia glanced at Noel, more worried than she was before. “It’s not dangerous, is it?”
“Oh no, not at all. But the crowds must be controlled and organized for easy passage to the palace. Please, do not worry. No harm will come to you or our prince.” Like the security guards, she referred to him as “our” prince. She’d already claimed him.
“You don’t know that for sure.”
The flight attendant smiled reassuringly. “Oh, but I do, ma’am.” She leaned closer. “You never have to worry about your safety in Zamibia. Only a fool would harm a member of the royal family.”
She was either a liar or very naive. “Then why the bodyguards?” Dahlia asked.
“Well, one must be prudent.” She laughed. “But I promise, you have nothing to fear. In Zamibia, harming any member of the royal family is the only crime punishable by death.” She straightened to a standing position.
Dahlia blinked. “I had no idea.”
The young woman placed her hands together in a prayer-like position. “You have nothing to fear.”
Dahlia and Noel were left alone for a few minutes, and then the cabin door opened and Kofi entered. She took a silent breath as she absorbed his magnificence, the most recent memory of his fingers and mouth on her body sending her skin into a heated flush. He wore dark shoes polished to a shine, a dark suit, and a vibrant-colored scarf that draped off his shoulder and matched the tie.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He extended his hand and helped her from the chair. In that split second, her heart ached for the past, back to the time when he looked at her with affection instead of suspicion. Too soon, he released her and lifted Noel from the seat. Their son whined for a few seconds because he had to give up his toy, but soon he settled against his father’s torso.
They exited the plane with Kofi leading the way down the stairs and Dahlia a few steps behind. A gust of wind blew across them, and she was glad an assistant on board had secured her hair into a bun at her nape. A cheer went up from the assembled crowd of mostly media. Cameras flashed and journalists yelled questions at them in French, English, and Mbutu.
Dahlia stood beside him on the tarmac, smiling and waving—making sure to keep her fingers together as instructed. Noel viewed the throng with curious eyes and when he was comfortable, waved back. The group erupted into laughter, and then the questions started.
“Prince Kofi, how did you meet?”
“Miss Sommers, how did he propose?”
“Miss Sommers, are you ready for the challenge of being part of the royal family?”
Kofi lifted a hand and the crowd went silent. “We’ll answer your questions at a later time, but for now, we’re tired after traveling for many hours. Please, give us a few days to relax, and give my fiancée and son time to acclimate to their new home.” He lifted Dahlia’s hand and, gazing into her eyes, kissed the knuckles.
“Awwww,” the crowd said, and camera flashes went off in quick succession.
Dahlia’s chest tightened at the tenderness in his eyes and the soft touch. She couldn’t handle him like this. Charming, almost back to the man she’d known before. She preferred him angry and cold, which made it easier for her to keep a wall between them and remain justifiably distant.
She bit down on her lip and then remembered that she should smile. With trembling lips, she forced the corners of her mouth into a curve. Kofi didn’t let go of her hand, and after a while, her fingers closed around his and she leaned into him, taking strength from his solid presence.
After a few minutes, Kofi allowed them to be led away by Kemal and his bodyguards. Dahlia ducked into a waiting limousine with him, the red, green, and black striped flag of Zamibia whipping around in the wind on the hood.
The limousine was in the middle of a caravan of cars, including police motorcycles at the very front and back. They eased off the tarmac and traveled at a slow crawl through the city streets of Jouba, the capital. Dahlia looked out the window at the mix of old and new evident in the architecture. Skyscrapers towered above colorful buildings made of brick or what appeared to be mud. Signs were written in all three official languages. Entrepreneurs sold street food and hawked knickknacks from carts right in front of a sprawling mall with a parking lot filled with cars.
Because of the tinted windows, Dahlia could see out but no one could see in. As they passed by, young people ran along with the car and waved, others—older and with more deference—dropped to one knee and bowed their heads. The ride to the palace wasn’t very long, but about a mile from the destination, police barricades blocked either side of the road to keep back crowds of people who craned their necks to catch a glimpse of their prince and the newcomers. The people were a mix of modern and traditional like the buildings. They wore kente designs and Ankara print clothing as well as Western-style dress.
When they finally turned onto the road that led up to the palace, Dahlia’s mouth fell open. Tall, green, cone-shaped trees flanked either side of the roadway, drawing the eye to the palace at the far end. The large, three-story structure sprawled across the landscape on a mound elevated above street level. The entire palace was a sandstone color with a verdant-green roof, and what appeared to be a giant metal door at the front was the same color as the rooftop. Dozens of windows dotted the exterior in the shape of arches and rectangles.
The cars crept forward, bringing them closer to a decorative sandstone-colored wall that lined the front of the mound, with a series of sculptures displayed before it, including the head of a roaring lion at the very top of the wall. The caravan turned right and up an incline to the circular driveway. By the time they stopped in front of the building, a line of employees had emerged. Servants dressed in white shirts and tan pants, and ten guards dressed in crisp blue-on-blue military gear stood on either side of the
m. The guards held themselves perfectly still with a gun on one hip, a dagger on the other, and one hand on ceremonial spears at their sides, gazes fixed on some object in the far distance.
Kofi climbed out first, holding Noel who’d remained silent as he absorbed his new surroundings. Dahlia followed behind Kofi, and as soon as his foot touched the sidewalk leading up to the palace, the entire line of servants and guards dropped to one knee and bowed their heads in unison.
While Dahlia stared, lips parted in awe at the respect Kofi commanded, he didn’t even acknowledge them. She realized with a start that one day, her son would command the same amount of deference.
13
“Kofi!” His cousin Imani ran to him and threw her arms around his neck.
Laughing, he squeezed her tight and lifted her off the floor. “What are you doing here?” He held her at arm’s length, observing her bright eyes and her hair cut in a bob a few inches off her shoulders. “You cut your hair? Is that what you’ve been doing in Barrakesch?”
Barrakesch was a Middle Eastern country and a long time ally of Zamibia. Their relationship started when the Arab nation sold the Zamibians guns to help them fight the British over a century ago. His cousin went to graduate school at a top university there and was now ensconced in the Zamibian embassy as an ambassador. Her title was Lioness Abameha, an honorific reserved for female members of the royal family ranked lower than a princess.
Imani thumped him on the arm. “You don’t like my hair?”
“It suits you. Short and sassy.”
She thumped his arm again, her grin broadening. “I came home because I want to meet your son and future wife.”
“Then you’ll have dinner with us?”
Imani lived in her father’s apartment in the palace, with their own set of chefs and servants to cater to their family.
“I will. Baba and his wives are out of the country, and I don’t want to eat alone.”
Princess of Zamibia Page 7