So why were things between them even more strained than they had been at the beginning? And why had he spent the past two days avoiding her?
“Beautiful women shouldn’t cry.”
Tahira jumped when she heard the words. She turned on the stone seat and saw Doyle walking toward her.
She hadn’t seen him in nearly two weeks, and that one encounter had been a brief conversation at a family dinner. Even knowing it was wrong, she couldn’t help being delighted to see him now and she hoped he would have time to talk with her.
“I’m not crying,” she said even as she wiped away the tears that had trickled down her cheek.
Doyle sat next to her on the bench. “What could possibly make you so sad?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’m fine.” Now.
She looked at his handsome face, the easy smile that always made her lips curve up in return. She wanted to get lost in his dark blue eyes and never find her way back.
“So how’s my favorite princess?” he asked as he took her hand in his.
“I’m not a princess,” she said, trying to tug her fingers free.
He didn’t let go.
She glanced around to make sure they were alone. She could not be seen holding hands with a man other than Prince Jefri. Not that the prince had ever tried to. When she realized they were in a secluded part of the garden, she allowed herself to relax and enjoy the warm touch of Doyle’s skin against hers.
“So what’s the problem?” he asked as he brought her knuckles to his mouth and kissed them.
She felt the warm contact clear down to her toes. He’d kissed her hand! Just like that. While talking! As if…As if…
She couldn’t even think. No one had ever done that. Of course no one had ever kissed her anywhere before.
Why? Why had Doyle done that and why had the contact made her tingle?
“W-what was the question?” she asked.
He grinned. “Why are you hiding out in the garden and trying not to cry?”
“Oh. That.”
She pulled her hand free of his embrace and held in a sigh. “Prince Jefri doesn’t like me very much.”
“Huh. That doesn’t sound good, what with you two practically engaged.”
She stared at him. “What do you mean, practically?”
“Has he proposed?”
“Well, no.”
“Are you wearing a ring?”
She glanced at her left hand. “No.”
“In my world, that means you’re not completely engaged. Is it different here?”
Tahira hadn’t thought of it that way. “But there is an understanding. I was raised to marry a prince. Jefri asked for his father to arrange a match.” Her shoulders slumped. “I fear he is disappointed in me.”
“No way.”
“It’s true. We have nothing to talk about. Things aren’t very comfortable.” She wanted to mention that the prince had never once held her hand or tried to kiss her, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit that to Doyle.
“You don’t have a lot of experience with the boy-girl thing,” he told her. “Maybe you’re making things out to be worse than they are.”
She didn’t think so. “I was too sheltered,” she said. “I wish I were more like your sister. Billie has a career and accomplishments. She’s so confident.”
“She’s okay,” Doyle said. “Why can’t you have a career if you want one?”
“Because.”
“There’s an answer.”
Tahira didn’t know what else to say. “I would have to go to college.”
“So?”
“But that would never be allowed.”
“Why not?”
Two simple words. Two words with the power to alter the very fabric of her world.
Could she? Was she allowed to express preferences and make choices?
“I was raised to marry a prince,” she repeated.
“Times change. It’s a new century, kid, and you can be a whole lot more than some guy’s possession if that’s what you want.”
She didn’t know what to think. The possibilities overwhelmed her.
“I never thought…”
“Then it’s time to start thinking.” He grinned. “I do have to warn you, though. Once you leave the palace, it’s a big, bad world out there and guys like me are going to want to eat you up for breakfast.”
She frowned. “What?”
He leaned close. “I’m talking about men, Princess.”
She ignored the title. “What about them?”
“They’re going to want you.”
As in…She wasn’t sure as in what, but it sounded exciting. “I don’t think Prince Jefri wants me.”
“Then he’s an idiot.”
She gasped. “You can’t say that about a prince.”
“Sure I can. I’ll say it again. He’s an idiot.”
Then, before she could think or catch her breath or figure out what was happening, Doyle leaned close and brushed his mouth against hers.
Tahira couldn’t believe it. He’d kissed her! Just like that. With no warning or anything. Just a quick, fabulous, amazing touch.
“You look stunned,” he said, sounding faintly amused.
“I am.”
“Let me guess. No one’s done that before.”
“The king kisses my cheek.”
“Not the same.” Doyle shifted closer, then cupped her chin. “We’re going to try it again. This time, close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“Oh. All right.” She obediently closed her eyes.
He chuckled. “Why do I know you’re going to get headstrong in a hurry?”
“I have no idea. How long do I keep my eyes closed?”
“As long as you want.”
A soft puff of breath was her only warning, then his mouth was on hers again, but this time it was much more than a brush. His lips pressed against hers in a way that made her blood heat and her fingers curl into her palms. She practically squirmed in her seat as her brain tried to process all the bits of information.
Like how softly he kissed her, yet how firm his lips were. How she could feel the heat from his body surrounding her like a blanket and how her skin felt extra sensitive.
He shifted, dropping the hand that had been cupping her chin to her waist. She felt his individual fingers and the way he squeezed her.
He drew back. “Put your hands on my shoulders.”
She opened her eyes and stared at him. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Because of the prince?”
She nodded.
“Let him get his own girl.”
“I am his girl.”
“Not until I see a ring. Now either put your hands on my shoulders and brace yourself for another kiss or run back inside like a good princess-to-be.”
Tahira stared at him. The choice was very clear. The part of her telling her to run seemed to be getting more and more quiet while the part of her that wanted to keep on kissing Doyle got louder and louder.
Slowly, tentatively, she raised her arms until she could rest her hands on his shoulders. He was big and muscular and solid. She liked that. She liked a lot of things.
“What did you think about the kissing?” he asked.
She ducked her head and blushed. “It was very nice.”
“Ready for more?”
She nodded.
“Ever hear of French kissing?”
Her breath stuck in her throat. Of course she had. In books. And sometimes other girls talked. About how a boy…or in Doyle’s case, a man…would put his tongue…They would kiss with…
“Tahira, look at me.”
She forced herself to raise her head and meet his gaze. The kindness there eased her embarrassment.
“You’re a beautiful woman. I like you and I want to keep on kissing you. I’m sorry if that makes your life more complicated, but I can’t get all worked up about that. What I do care abo
ut is making you uneasy. I don’t want to rush you or make you uncomfortable.”
Her heart swelled until her chest ached. He liked her! He cared about her!
“I think you should kiss me now,” she said.
“Bright girl,” he murmured, right before his mouth claimed hers.
Billie wandered through an unfamiliar wing of the palace. It was her day off and while she’d planned on spending it in town, an unexpected rain storm had trapped her indoors.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t be out in the rain—although humidity did have a way of making her hair go flat—it was that the rain made her sad, which made her want to curl up and think, which under her current circumstances, was not a good thing. So she had decided to take Muffin for a long indoor walk through the wonders of the palace.
On the fourth floor, in the back, she found what looked like an old schoolroom, complete with a few desks and a blackboard. Dozens and dozens of books filled several low bookcases. There were shelves with toys and plenty of windows to let in light.
While Muffin investigated corners, Billie walked into a large playroom. Several airplane models hung from the ceiling.
“Big mistake,” she whispered as she touched the plastic prop on one. She had a good idea of who had painstakingly built them, and then hung them. Of course it was silly to spend time in the palace and expect to escape from thoughts of Jefri.
Still, she kept getting blindsided by thoughts and wishes and dreams. Funny how a whole month after that single night, she still remembered everything about their time together. She still missed him and was coming to grips with the concept that she might have made the mistake of falling in love with him.
If there were—
A soft sound caught her attention. Odd notes of music. She turned in the direction of the sound and walked down the corridor. The music got louder. She pushed open a door and found herself in an old-fashioned nursery. Emma, Reyhan’s very pregnant wife, stood by a crib. She held a music box open on her hand.
“Hi,” she said as Billie entered the room. “Exploring?”
“A little. It seemed that kind of day.”
Emma glanced out the window. “Rain does that to me, too. Most people just want to curl up and read, but I get restless. Reyhan came in for some meetings and insisted I accompany him.”
Billie stared at the other woman’s huge belly. “When are you due?”
Emma grinned. “In three weeks.”
“No doubt he’s terrified you’ll give birth while he’s gone.”
“I promised I wouldn’t, but did he listen?” She closed the music box. “Besides, I like it better at the desert palace. It’s more like a house than this place.”
Billie laughed. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”
“Into the palace, huh?”
“Let’s just say I love my bathroom more than I should.”
Emma nodded. “It’s very beautiful here. I’ll admit that. I mean look at this nursery.”
Billie had to admit the room was amazing. There were mobiles and murals. A long changing table stood against one wall. The decors—blue and pale gray—screamed boy.
“So they really do hate women here,” Billie said with a laugh.
“Nope. There’s a fussy pink nursery next door. They certainly had the room to do both.”
“What are you having?” Billie asked. “Do you know?”
“I wanted to be surprised,” Emma told her. “Reyhan is convinced we’re having a boy. Of course Sadik was sure of that as well, and Cleo had a girl.” She touched her belly. “At this point I don’t care if it’s puppies, I just want it out.”
Billie had never believed in biological clocks or pressure to start a family but at that second, she felt a distinct emptiness low in her belly.
Muffin scampered through the room, stopping long enough to sniff Emma’s ankles before darting out the other door.
“She’s doing well with all the cats,” Emma said. “When I first heard you had a small dog, I’ll admit I was worried.”
“Me, too. But she gets along great with them. Sometimes she’s gone for hours and I have no idea where she’s been.”
“Ah. A dog with a secret life. So you’re enjoying your time here, too?”
Billie nodded. “Even without having a secret life. I love my work and the pilots in the air force are very talented.”
“I’ve heard you regularly beat them. Is that true?”
“Oh, yeah. They love it.”
Emma chuckled. “Why do I doubt that? How does Jefri take it?”
Billie tried not to react to his name. “With a lot of class. He was shocked at first, but he’s gotten over it. Most guys simply can’t handle it.”
Emma looked at her. “Let me guess. Pilots are the only men you meet.”
“Of course.”
“It makes sense. If nothing else, life has a sense of humor. So you’re stuck with men who can’t accept you’re better than they are.”
“Much of the time.” Although not with Jefri.
Don’t think about that, she told herself. Don’t think about him.
“What happens when you want to settle down?” Emma asked.
“I don’t know. For a while I thought I would have to give up my career and settle for something more traditional. But then I realized I can’t stop being who I am simply to get married. I’ll just have to keep looking until I find someone extraordinary enough to handle it.”
“He’ll be lucky to have you.”
“Thanks.”
Emma opened her mouth, then closed it. “Okay, my thimble-sized bladder just started complaining. Excuse me while I waddle off in search of a bathroom. But before I go, Cleo and I are getting together for tea in a couple of hours. Please join us.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good. All right. This is me waddling.”
Emma waved as she walked out of the nursery. Billie moved in the other direction, toward the girl nursery. As promised, it was a paradise of pink and lace.
Billie closed her eyes and let the pain wash over her. If only…
If only Jefri had never spoken to his father. If only Tahira had never arrived. What would have happened? She would have fallen in love with him because that seemed to be her destiny. What about him? She wanted to believe what she read in his eyes. She wanted to know that they could have been together, always. Happy, in love.
While she was living in her fantasy, she would imagine herself as pregnant as Emma, standing in this nursery, preparing it for her daughter. A daughter with her style and Jefri’s eyes. She imagined him standing behind her, pulling her against him, whispering he loved her.
A single tear trickled down her cheek.
She called for her dog and when Muffin appeared, she picked her up and gathered her close.
“We have to go get pretty,” she said. “We’re having tea with a couple of princesses.”
She brushed away the tear and vowed to stay strong. Wishing for the moon would only give her a cramp in her neck.
Chapter Fourteen
“You do not understand,” Jefri said, both angry and frustrated with his brother.
Murat lounged on the sofa and sipped his scotch. “I understand perfectly. You’re engaged to Tahira but are in love with Billie.”
“Stating the problem again does not solve it.”
“Agreed. You already know the solution. Dump Tahira.”
“I cannot.”
“I agree there will be some small scandal and she may be hurt, but if you love the other woman…”
Jefri glared at Murat. “Tahira would be ruined.”
“She would recover.”
“When did you get to be such a bastard about women?”
“I am not. I’m suggesting you be.”
Jefri saw the amusement in his brother’s eyes and wanted to throw his glass across the room. “You are not helping.”
“I know, but in truth, you do not want help. You want a magical solution.
There isn’t one. You will have to choose. A moment of unkindness to Tahira or a lifetime of unhappiness with her. Although I have to admit, should you choose honor and duty, as you have been raised to, then you will turn your back on Billie. I, for one, would be most interested in helping her get over you.”
Jefri didn’t remember moving. One second he was pacing the length of his brother’s luxurious suite, the next he had his brother by the shirtfront.
“She is mine,” he growled.
Murat raised one eyebrow. “As bad as all that? Then I do not envy your choice.”
Jefri released him and straightened. “I should not have done that.”
“Probably not, but as I am not yet king, I won’t have you beheaded. You might want to fix yourself another drink.”
Jefri looked down at the glass he’d dropped on the carpet. “She makes me insane.”
“Which one?”
“Both. I don’t suppose…”
Murat smoothed the front of his shirt and shook his head. “Thank you, no. I have no interest in a child like Tahira. Although she seems nice enough, she is far too young and inexperienced.”
“You would want a wife who was not a virgin?”
Murat frowned. “Of course not. I meant inexperienced in life. Tahira has much to learn and I am far too impatient to want to teach her.”
Jefri picked up his glass and set it on the tray, then collected another and poured a second drink.
“Your time will come. Once I am engaged, Father will turn his sights to you.”
“I suspect he already has,” Murat said grimly.
“And after all this time, no one has caught your eye?”
His older brother grinned. “Many have caught my eye. None has held my attention.”
“What of—”
Murat cut him off with a glare. “Do not say her name.”
“It’s been nearly ten years.”
“I do not care if it has been twelve centuries. Her name is not to be spoken.”
Jefri sipped his drink, but didn’t speak. So even after all this time, his brother still did not want to hear Daphne’s name. Interesting.
But his amusement faded as the ramifications of his brother’s reaction sank in. Ten years after the fact Murat had not recovered from the woman who left him at the altar. Sadik and Reyhan loved their wives with a devotion that was almost embarrassing. Was it a family trait? Was he destined to love only one woman for the rest of his life? And if that was true, how could he survive while married to someone else?
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