Daphne clutched the phone. “This is crazy. Laurel, think about it. Why on earth would I want to marry Murat? Didn’t I already dump him once?”
“You’ve probably regretted it ever since. You’ve just been waiting for the right opportunity to pounce.”
“It’s been ten years. Couldn’t I have pounced before now?”
“You thought you’d find someone else. But you didn’t. Who could measure up to the man who’s going to be king? I understand that kind of ambition. I can even respect it. But to steal your only niece’s fiancé is horrible. Brittany will be crushed.”
“I doubt that.”
“I never should have trusted you,” Laurel said. “Why didn’t I see what you had planned?”
“There wasn’t a plan.” Except making sure Brittany didn’t throw her life away, but Laurel didn’t have to know about that. “I told you, I’m not engaged to Murat. I don’t know what the papers are talking about, but it’s a huge mistake.”
“Oh, sure. Like I believe that.”
“Believe what you want. There’s not going to be a wedding.”
“Tell that to my heartsick daughter. You’ve always thought of yourself instead of your family. Just know I’ll never forgive you. No matter what.”
With that, Laurel hung up.
Daphne listened to the silence for a second, then put down the phone and covered her face with her hands. Nothing made sense. How could this be happening?
She had a lot of questions, but no answers, and she knew only one way to get them.
She stood and crossed to the heavy gold doors.
“Hey,” she yelled. “Are you guards still out there?”
“Yes, ma’am. Is there a problem?”
“You bet there is. Tell Murat I want to see him right now.”
She heard low conversation but not the individual words as the guards spoke to each other.
“We’ll pass your message along to the crown prince,” one of the men said at last.
“Not good enough. I want his royal fanny down here this second. And you can tell him I said that.”
She pounded on the door a couple of times for good measure, then stalked back into her bedroom. Suddenly the phrase “dressed to kill” took on a whole new meaning.
Murat finished his second cup of coffee as he read over the financial section of the London Times. Then the door to his suite opened, and his father stepped in.
The king was perfectly dressed, even with the Persian cat he carried in his arms. He nodded at the guard on duty, then walked into the dining room.
“Good morning,” he said.
Murat rose and motioned to a chair. The king shook his head.
“I won’t be staying long. I only came by to discuss the most fascinating item I saw in the paper this morning.”
“That the value of the Euro is expected to rise?” Murat asked calmly, knowing it wasn’t that.
“No.” The king flipped through the pages until he found the local edition—the one with the large picture of Daphne on the front page. “Interesting solution.”
Murat shrugged. “I said I would have a Snowden bride, and so I shall.”
“I’m surprised she agreed.”
Murat thought of the message he’d received from the guards outside the harem. Even though he suspected they’d edited the content, Daphne’s demands made him smile.
“She has not,” he admitted. “But she will. After all, the choice of fiancées was hers alone.”
“Oh?”
“I told her there would be a wedding, and she said Brittany would not be the bride. That left Daphne to fill the position.”
“I see.” His father didn’t react at all. “Do you have a time line in place for this wedding?”
“Four months.”
“Not long to prepare for such an important occasion.”
“I think we will manage.”
“Perhaps I should go to her and offer my congratulations.”
Murat raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure Daphne will welcome your visit, but may I suggest you wait a few days. Until she has had time to settle in to the idea of being my wife.”
“Perhaps you are right.” The king stroked the cat in his arms. “You have chosen wisely.”
“Thank you. I’m sure Daphne and I will be very happy together.” After she got over wanting him dead.
By ten that morning Daphne was convinced she’d worn a track in the marble tile floors. She’d showered, dressed and paced. So far she’d been unable to make any phone calls because of the stupid time difference. But she would eventually get through to someone and then Murat would taste her fury. She might not be the favorite Snowden, but she was still a member of the family and her name meant something. She would call in every favor possible and make him pay for this.
“Of all the arrogant, insensitive, chauvinistic, ridiculous ideas,” she muttered as she walked to the French doors.
“So much energy.”
She spun and saw him moving toward her. “I hate that you do that,” she said. “Appear and disappear. I swear, when I find that secret door, I’m putting something in front of it so you can’t use it anymore.”
He seemed completely unruffled by her anger. “As you wish.”
“Oh, sure. You say that now. Where were my wishes last night when you were sending your lies to the newspaper?” She stalked over to the dining room table and picked up the pages in question.
“How could you do this?” she asked as she shook them at him. “How dare you? Who gave you the right?”
“You did.”
“What?” She hated that she practically shrieked, but the man was making her insane. “I most certainly did not.”
“I told you there would be a Snowden bride and you declared it would not be your niece.”
“What?” she repeated. “That’s not making a choice. I never agreed with your original premise. Where do you get off saying you’ll have a Snowden bride? We’re not ice cream flavors to be ordered interchangeably. We’re people.”
“Yes, I know. Women. I have agreed not to marry Brittany. You should be pleased.”
Pleased? “Are you crazy?” She dropped the papers and clutched at the back of the chair. “I’m furious. You’ve trapped me here and told lies about me to the press. I’ve already heard from my sister. Do you know how this is going to mess up my life? Both of our lives?”
“I agree that marriage will change things, but I’m hoping for the better.”
“We’re not getting married!” she yelled.
Instead of answering, he simply stared at her. Calm certainty radiated from him in nearly palpable waves. It made her want to choke him.
She drew in a deep breath and tried to relax. When that didn’t work, she attempted to loosen her grip on the chair.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s start from the beginning. You’re not marrying Brittany, which is a good thing.”
He had the gall to smile at her. “Did you really think I would be interested in a teenager for my wife? Bringing Brittany here was entirely my father’s idea. I agreed to meet with her only to make him happy.”
Spots appeared before her eyes. “You what?” No way. That couldn’t be true. “Tell me that again.”
“I never intended to marry Brittany.”
“But you…” She couldn’t breathe. Her chest felt hot and tight and she couldn’t think. “But you said…”
“I wanted to annoy you for assuming the worst about me. Then when you offered yourself in Brittany’s place, I decided to consider the possibility.”
Offer? “I never offered.”
“Oh, but you did. And I accepted.”
“No. You can’t.” She pulled out the chair and sank onto the seat. “I know you’re used to getting your way, but this time it isn’t going to happen. I need to be very clear about that. There isn’t going to be a wedding. You can’t make me, and if you try, you’ll be forced to tie me up and gag me as you drag me down the aisle. Won’t th
at play well in the press.”
“I do not care about the press.”
She grabbed the paper again. “Then why did you bother telling them this?”
He sat down across from her. “Make no mistake. My mind is made up. We will be married. This announcement has forced you to see the truth. Now you will have time to accept it.”
“What I accept is that you’ve slipped into madness. This isn’t the fifteenth century. You can’t force me to do what you want. This is a free country.” She remembered she wasn’t in America anymore. “Sort of.”
“I am Crown Prince Murat of Bahania. Few would tell me no.”
“Count me among them.”
He leaned back in his chair. “You never disappoint me,” he said. “How I enjoy the explosion. You’re like fireworks.”
She glared at him. “You haven’t seen anything yet. I’ll take this all the way to the White House if I have to.”
“Good. The president will be invited to the wedding. He and I have been friends for many years now.”
At that moment Daphne desperately wished for superpowers so she could overturn the heavy table and toss Murat out the window.
“I’m going to speak slowly,” she said. “So you can understand me. I…won’t…marry…you. I have a life. Friends. My work.”
“Ah, yes. About your work. I made some phone calls last night and found it most interesting to learn that you have left your veterinary practice in Chicago.”
“That was about making career choices, not marrying you.”
“And you have been very determined to keep me from your niece. Are you sure you do not secretly want me for yourself?”
She rolled her eyes. “How amazing that you and your ego fit inside the room at the same time.” Although her sister had made the same accusation.
It wasn’t true, Daphne reminded herself. Murat was her past, and she was more than content to keep him there. She hadn’t spent the last ten years pining. She’d dated, been happy. He was a non-event.
“I haven’t thought about you in ages,” she said honestly. “I’m even willing to take an oath. Just bring in the Bible. I wouldn’t be here now if you hadn’t acted all caveman over my niece. This is your fault.”
He nodded. “There is a ring.”
She blinked at him. “What? You want to try to buy me off with jewelry? Thank you very much but I’m not that kind of woman.”
He smiled again. “I know.”
Her rage returned, but before she could decide how to channel it, the phone rang again.
She hesitated before crossing the room to answer it. Was Laurel calling back to yell some more? Daphne had a feeling she was at the end of her rope and not up to taking that particular call. But what if it was Brittany, and her niece really was upset?
“Not possible,” she said as she crossed to the phone and picked it up. “This is Daphne.”
“Darling, we just heard. We’re delighted.”
Her mother’s voice came over the line as clearly as if she’d been in the same room.
Daphne clutched the receiver. “Laurel called?”
“Yes. Oh, darling, how clever you are to have finally snagged Murat. The man who will be king.” Her mother sighed. “I always knew you’d do us proud.”
Daphne didn’t know what to think. She wanted to tell her mother the truth—that there wasn’t going to be a wedding, that this was all a mistake, but she couldn’t seem to speak.
“Your father is simply thrilled,” her mother said. “We’re looking forward to a lovely wedding. Do you have any idea when?”
“I—”
Her mother laughed. “Of course you don’t. You’ve only just become engaged. Well, let me know as soon as the date is finalized. We’ll need to rearrange some travel, but it will be worth it. Your father can’t wait to walk you down the aisle.”
Daphne turned her back so Murat couldn’t see her expression. She didn’t want him to know how much this conversation hurt.
“Laurel was pretty upset,” she said, not knowing what else to say.
“I know. She got it in her head that Brittany would be the one for Murat. Honestly, the girl is lovely and will make a fine marriage in time, but she’s just too young. There are responsibilities that come with being queen, and she simply wasn’t ready.” Her mother laughed. “Queen. I like the sound of that. My daughter, the queen. My sweet baby girl. All right, I’m going to run, but I’ll call soon. You must be so very happy. This is wonderful, Daphne. Truly wonderful.”
With that her mother hung up. Daphne replaced the receiver and did her best not to react in any way. Sure, her eyes burned and her body felt tense and sore, but she would get over it. She always did.
“Your parents?” Murat asked from his place at the table behind her.
She nodded. “My mother. My sister called and spoke with her. She’s d-delighted.”
The crack in her voice made her stiffen. No way was she going to give in to the emotion pulsing through her.
“She wants details about the wedding as soon as possible. So she can rearrange their travel schedule.”
“You did not tell her there wouldn’t be a wedding.”
“No.”
Because it had been too hard to speak. Because if she tried, she would give in to the pain and once that dam broke, there was no putting it together.
“Don’t think that means I’ve accepted the engagement,” she whispered.
“Not for a second.”
She heard footsteps, then Murat’s hands clasped her arms and he turned her toward him. Understanding darkened his eyes.
She was so unused to seeing any readable emotion in his gaze that she couldn’t seem to react. Which meant she didn’t protest when he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. Suddenly she was pressing against him, her head on his shoulder and the protective warmth of his body surrounding her.
“You can’t do this,” she said, her voice muffled against his suit jacket. “I hate you.”
“I know you do, but right now there isn’t anyone else.” He stroked her hair. “Come now. Tell me what troubles you.”
She shook her head. To speak of it would hurt too much.
“It’s your mother,” he murmured. “She said she was happy about the engagement. Your family has always been ambitious. In some ways a king for a son-in-law is even better than a president.”
“I know.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and hung on as hard as she could. “It’s horrible. She’s horrible. She said she was proud of me. That’s the first time she’s ever said that. Because I’ve always been a disappointment.”
The hurt of a decade of indifference from her family swept through her. “Nobody came to my college graduation. Did you know that? They were all still angry because I’d refused to marry you. And they hated that I became a vet. No one even acknowledged my finishing school and going to work. My mother didn’t say a word in the Christmas newsletter. She didn’t mention me at all. It’s as if by not marrying well, I’d ceased to exist.”
She felt the light brush of his lips on her head. “I am sorry.”
She sniffed. “I’m only their child when I do what they want. I was afraid it would be the same for Brittany. I wanted her to be happy and strong so I tried to let her know that I loved her no matter what. That my love wasn’t conditional on her marrying the right man.”
“I’m sure she knows how much you care.”
“I hope so. Laurel said she would be heartbroken.”
Murat chuckled. “Not to marry a man twice her age whom she has never met? I suspect you raised her better than that.”
“What?” She lifted her head and stared at him. They were far closer than she’d realized, which was really stupid—what with her being in his arms and all.
“I didn’t raise her,” she said. “She’s not my daughter.”
“Isn’t she?”
It was what she’d always believed in her heart but never spoken of. Not to anyone. How could Mur
at grasp that personal truth so easily?
“I know all about expectations,” he said, lightly tracing the curve of her cheek. “There was not a single day I was allowed to forget my responsibilities.”
Which made sense. “I guess when you’re going to grow up and be king, you aren’t supposed to make as many mistakes as the rest of us.”
“Exactly. So I understand about having to do what others want, even when that means not doing what is in your heart.”
“Except I wasn’t willing to do that,” she reminded him. “I did what I wanted and they punished me. Not just my parents, but my sisters, too. I ceased to exist.”
His dark gaze held her captive. She liked being held by him, which was crazy, because he was the enemy. Only, right this second, he didn’t seem so bad.
“You exist to me,” he said.
If only that were true. Reluctantly she pushed away and stood on her own.
“I don’t,” she said. “I have no idea what your engagement game is about, but I know it’s not about me.”
“How can you say that? You’re the one I’ve chosen.”
“Why?” she asked. “I think you’re being stubborn and difficult. You don’t care about me. You never did.”
He frowned. “How can you say that? Ten years ago I asked you to marry me.”
“What does that have to do with anything? If you’d really loved me, you wouldn’t have let me go. But you didn’t care when I left. I walked away and you never once came after me to find out why.”
Chapter Five
Murat left Daphne and returned to his office. But despite the meeting he was supposed to attend, he told his assistant not to bother him and closed his door.
The space was large and open, as befitted the crown prince of such a wealthy nation. The conversation area of three sofas sat by several tall windows and the conference table easily seated sixteen.
Murat ignored it all as he crossed to the balcony overlooking a private garden and stepped outside. The spring air hinted at the heat to come. He ignored it and the call of the birds. Instead he stared into the distance as he wrestled with the past.
How like a woman, he thought. She questioned why he had not gone after her when she had been the one to leave him. Why would he want to follow such a woman? Besides, even if the thought had occurred to him—which it had not—it wasn’t his place. If she wished them to be in contact, then she should come crawling back, begging forgiveness for having left in the first place.
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