Desert Rogues Part 2

by Susan Mallery

  He had the nerve to brush her hair off her face. “Rest now, Daphne. You can deal with our marriage in a few days.”

  She smacked his hand away. “Don’t touch me. Not ever again. I hate you.”

  That got his attention. Murat straightened, then stood and walked to the foot of the bed where he loomed over her.

  “You forget yourself.”

  “Not even for a second. If I’m your wife—” the word tasted bitter on her tongue “—then I can do as I please.”

  “You will still remember your place.”

  “Oh, right. That would be as your slave here in the harem. Gee, how exciting. I’m delighted to be the unimportant plaything of a dictatorial, arrogant, selfish prince.”

  He glowered at her.

  She didn’t care about anything he might be thinking. And the pill must be kicking in because the pain started to fade.

  She pushed herself into a sitting position and glared back at him with all her considerable fury.

  “You are a most frustrating woman,” he said.

  “Let me tell you how much I don’t care about your opinion.”

  He drew his eyebrows together. “You complain now, but I did this for you.”

  “Oh, right. Because I’ve been begging for us to be married.”

  “No, because of what happened. You hurt yourself. Someone has to watch over you.”

  “You married me to protect me from myself?” She didn’t dare shake her head in disbelief, although she wanted to. “I guess you’re reduced to telling yourself lies so you can sleep at night.”

  To think that she’d gotten all soft and gooey inside thinking he actually cared about her, that he’d worried while she’d been out of it. Instead he’d simply been protecting his new toy.

  “There is also the fact that we made love,” he said, as if explaining things to a small and slow child. “You were not a virgin.”

  What on earth did that have to do with anything? “So?”

  “You should have been.”

  “You married me to punish me?”

  “Of course not.” The glower returned. “You are being most difficult.”

  “Gee, I wonder why. So you’re saying you married me because I wasn’t a virgin, but if I had been we would have been flirting with defiling territory, so that wouldn’t have been much better.”

  “You are correct. I would have married you if you had been a virgin.”

  Talk about being between a rock and a hard place.

  The sensation of being trapped sucked the last of her energy. Daphne slid down onto the mattress and closed her eyes.

  “You are feeling unwell?” he asked.

  “Go away.”

  She heard him walk closer, then he touched her forehead. “I wish to help.”

  She forced herself to open her eyes and stare at him. “Do you think I will ever care about what you want? Get out now. I never want to see you again. Get out. Get out!”

  She screamed as loudly as she could. When Murat still hesitated, she reached for the empty glass on her nightstand and picked it up to use as a weapon.

  “Get out!”

  “I will check on you in the morning.”

  “Get out!”

  He turned and left.

  She put down the glass, then curled up in the big bed and closed her eyes. The pain was still with her, but this one had nothing to do with her head injury and everything to do with the loss of her freedom.

  She didn’t doubt that Murat had married her and that she was well and truly caught in circumstances that would be difficult to undo. The sense of betrayal hurt more than anything. Her eyes began to burn again, but this time she didn’t fight the tears. She gave in to them, even though she knew they wouldn’t help in the least.

  With the aid of the painkillers, Daphne managed to sleep through the night. She saw the doctor the next morning, who told her to stay in bed at least twenty-four more hours and not to return to her normal routine for a few days.

  For reasons she didn’t understand but was grateful for, Murat didn’t return to visit her, which meant she was left in solitude, except for the quiet presence of the nurse who brought her meals and stayed out of her way.

  On day three, Daphne sent the poor woman away. “I’m fine,” she said after she’d showered and dressed and found that walking wasn’t all that difficult. “You should return to someone who actually needs your help.”

  “You’re very kind, Your Highness,” the woman said. “I wish you and the crown prince a long and happy marriage.”

  Daphne didn’t know what to say, so she smiled and thanked her again. Obviously, she’d been out of the room when Daphne’d had her screaming fit. No one witnessing that could ever imagine a successful relationship as the outcome.

  She still had bouts of weariness and despair, but when they hit, she used her anger to fuel herself. Murat wasn’t going to get away with this. She wasn’t sure what she was going to have to do to get away, but she would find out and make it happen.

  After finishing her breakfast, she walked to the gold doors and pulled them open. No guards. No doubt Murat had released them from their duties after the wedding. He no longer had to worry about her escaping. As the queen, she couldn’t go out unaccompanied. No driver would take her. No pilot would leave the country without express permission. She might have the freedom of the palace now, but that simply meant she’d graduated to a larger prison.

  She walked through the quiet halls of the palace. As always the beauty of the structure pleased her. She paused to admire a particularly lovely and detailed tapestry of several children in a garden. She recognized the stone wall and the placement of several trees. The scene might be from four hundred years ago, but the garden itself still existed just outside.

  The history of Bahania called to her, but she ignored the whispers. There was nothing anyone could say or do to convince her she had to make her peace with what had happened.

  She saw several people hurrying from place to place. When she recognized one of the senior staff, she stopped the man and asked after the king. The man led her outside, and Daphne stepped into bright sunshine.

  For a second the light hurt her eyes and made her head throb, but she adjusted, then made her way along the stone path. She heard voices before she saw the people, and when she turned the corner, she recognized Cleo, Sadik’s wife, with the king.

  They sat across from each other. A pretty baby stood between them.

  “You are so very clever,” the king said with obvious delight. “Come to Grandpa. You can do it.”

  The baby, dressed in pink from the bows in her fine hair down to the hearts on her tiny laces, laughed and toddled toward the king. He caught her and swept her up in the air.

  “Ah, Calah, I had not thought to find love at this stage in my life, but you have truly stolen my heart.” He kissed her cheek.

  Cleo grinned. “I’ll bet you say that to all the grandkids.”

  “Of course. Because it is true.”

  Daphne didn’t know what to do. While she had business with the king, she didn’t want to interrupt such a private family moment. She felt a twinge of longing for the connection the king had with his daughter-in-law. Cleo might have come from ordinary circumstances, but no one held that against her. Funny how a girl who grew up in foster care and worked in a copy shop could go on to marry a prince and be accepted by all involved, while Daphne had never been as welcome in her own family.

  King Hassan looked up and saw her. “Daphne. You are looking well. Come.” He patted the bench. “Join us.”

  She moved forward and greeted Cleo and her daughter. “She’s walking,” she said, touching Calah’s plump cheek and smiling.

  The baby gurgled back.

  “Barely,” Cleo said. “Which is okay with me. She’s a complete terror when she crawls. I can only imagine what will happen when she starts running everywhere. I’m going to have to get one of those herding dogs to keep her out of trouble.”

 
The king shook his head. “You will dote on her as you always do. As will Sadik.”

  “Probably.” Cleo bent down and collected Calah. “But right now we have to deal with a dirty diaper. See you later.”

  Her exit was so quick and graceful, Daphne wondered if it had been planned in advance. Not that anyone would tell her. She seemed to be the last to know about almost everything.

  “How are you?” the king asked as he turned toward Daphne and took one of her hands in his.

  The right one, she noticed. Not the left one, now bare of the ring Murat had given her. She’d left that in her rooms.

  “I’m feeling better physically,” she said. “Emotionally I’m still in a turmoil.” She stared directly at the king. “Is he telling the truth? Did Murat really marry me while I was unconscious?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  It was as if all the air rushed out of her lungs. For a second she thought she might pass out.

  “Are you all right?” King Hassan asked.

  “Yes. I just…” Her last hope died. “I don’t understand why you allowed this to happen. What Murat did was wrong.”

  “The crown prince cannot be wrong.”

  Ah, so they were going to close ranks around her. “I don’t believe that, and I don’t think you believe it, either. He had no right to trap me into a marriage I don’t want. Neither of us will ever be happy. Surely you want more for your son.”

  “I am confident you can work things out.”

  She stared in the king’s handsome face. He was so much like his son—stubborn, determined to get his own way, and he held all the cards.

  “I want an annulment,” she said quietly.

  He patted the back of her hand. “Let us not speak of that. Instead, we will talk of the beauty of Bahania. If I remember correctly you enjoyed your time here. Now you will be able to explore the wonders of our country. You can meet the people. I understand you have become a veterinarian. Practicing your chosen profession outside of the palace could present a problem, but we can work on that. Perhaps you could do some teaching. Also, I have enough cats to keep you busy.”

  She felt as if she were sitting next to a wall. Nothing was getting through.

  “Your Majesty, please. You have to help me.”

  He smiled. “Daphne, I believe there is a reason you never married. It has been ten years since you left Bahania. Why, in all that time, did no other man claim your heart?”

  “I never met the right man. I’ve been busy with my career and—” She stared at him. “It’s not because I’ve been pining for Murat.”

  “So you say. He tells me much the same. But he never found anyone, either. Now you are together, as it was always meant to be.”

  This wasn’t happening. “He trapped me. Tricked me. How can you approve of that?”

  “Give it time. Get to know him. I think you’ll be happy with what you find.”

  The hopelessness of the situation propelled her to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me,” she mumbled before turning and hurrying back toward the side door into the palace.

  She felt broken from the inside out. No one would listen; no one would help. The tangled web of her circumstances would tug at her until she gave in and surrendered.

  “Never,” she breathed. “I’ll be strong.”

  She turned a corner and nearly ran into a young woman in a maid’s uniform.

  “Oh, Your Highness. I was sent to look for you.” The woman smiled. “Your parents have called and wish to speak with you. If you will please follow me.”

  No doubt her parents had learned about the marriage. They wouldn’t care about the circumstances, she thought glumly.

  Sure enough, when she picked up the phone, her mother couldn’t stop gushing.

  “It’s wonderful,” she said. “We’re thrilled.”

  Her father had picked up the extension. “You did good, baby girl.”

  Tears burned in Daphne’s eyes. Funny how until this moment, she’d never heard those words from her father before. Apparently she’d never “done good” until she’d been trapped in marriage to a man she didn’t love.

  Her mother sniffed. “We would have liked a big wedding, but this is fine, too. I read that there will be a huge reception in a few months, so as soon as you have the dates, let us know. We’ll need to make arrangements to fly over. Oh, darling, I’m so happy for you. Are you happy? Isn’t this fabulous? And just think—in a year or so, we’ll hear the pitter patter of a little prince or princess. Oh, Daphne. You’ve made us so proud.”

  Her mother kept on talking while her father added his few comments, but Daphne wasn’t listening anymore. Instead she stared blankly out a window as a horrible, stomach-dropping thought occurred to her.

  She and Murat had made love without protection. Right there in the oasis, she’d let him take her to paradise and back never once considering the consequences. She could be pregnant.

  “I have to go,” she said, and listened as they told her of course they understood. A woman in her position had responsibilities and they would talk soon.

  She hung up and tried to shake off her daze.

  Pregnant. Oh, God. If that was true…She knew enough about Bahanian law to know that no royal child was ever allowed to leave the country in the case of a divorce. Which meant if she had a baby, she would be forced to stay here forever. Abandoning her child wasn’t an option.

  “It was just one time,” she told herself as she hurried back to the harem. She couldn’t get pregnant that easily, could she?

  As she stepped off the elevator, she saw another young woman in a maid’s uniform sitting in a straight-back chair by the gold harem doors. When the woman saw her, she rose.

  “Your Highness, I was asked to wait until you returned. It is my honor to show you to your new quarters.”

  Daphne’s headache had returned. “New quarters?” Oh. “With the crown prince.”

  The young woman beamed. “Yes. If you will follow me.”

  She didn’t want to. She wanted to sit down right there and never move again.

  “My things?” she asked.

  “Have been sent ahead.”

  Of course. Murat would want the details taken care of so she couldn’t put up a fuss.

  “Very well,” she said, wanting only to find a quiet place and close her eyes until the pain went away. Not just the pain from her head, either, but the aching in her heart.

  She allowed the woman to lead her to the elevator, then through a maze of hallways, with them finally stopping in front of a large, carved wooden door. The maid opened it and Daphne stepped inside.

  Her first impression was of openness and light. Massive windows and French doors led onto a private balcony with what seemed to be a view of the world. It was only after she’d stared at the vastness of the city and the water did she realize they were at the very top of the palace, on the corner.

  To the left was the Arabian Sea, twinkling blue and teal and green in the sunlight. To the right was the skyline of the city. And beyond it all, the desert stretched for miles, compelling in its starkness.

  When she returned her attention from the view to the room, she saw comfortable furniture, an impressive collection of artwork and a space big enough to roller blade in. Doors led to other rooms. Most likely a dining area, a bedroom and an office, in case the crown prince wanted to work from “home.” Because she had no doubt she had been brought to Murat’s suite of rooms. Where else would his wife live?

  Her heart ached, her legs felt as if they would give way at any moment and her head throbbed. She thanked the maid and made her way to what she hoped was the bedroom. Unfortunately, when she stepped inside, she found she was not alone.

  Murat sat in a chair in the corner. Waiting? She wasn’t sure. She ignored him as she made her way to the huge bed and crawled onto the mattress.

  “You are ill,” he said as he jumped to his feet. “I will call the doctor.”

  “I’m fine,” she told him. “Just tired. Ple
ase, leave me alone.”

  “I cannot.”

  She turned away, curling up on the embroidered bedspread and doing her best not to give in to the tears. Not again. There had been too many over the past few days.

  But the strain was too much and the first tear leaked out of the corner of her eye. She did her best to hide it, but somehow Murat knew. He sat on the bed and gathered her in his arms.

  “It is all right,” he said quietly.

  “No. It’s not and you’re the reason.”

  He stroked her hair and her back and rocked her. She wanted to protest that she wasn’t a child, that he couldn’t make things better with a kiss and a hug, but speaking was too difficult. Right now it was all she could do to breathe.

  She wasn’t sure how long he held her, but eventually the pain eased. The tears dried up, and when he offered her his handkerchief, she took it and blew her nose.

  “I talked to your father,” she said. “He won’t help me.”

  “Are you surprised?”

  “More like disappointed.” She shifted away from him and stared in his face. “You know I will never forgive you for this.”

  Murat did know. Marrying Daphne that way had been a calculated risk. But once he had made up his mind, there was no going back. He would face her wrath in the short term to gain her acceptance in the long term.

  “Time is a great healer,” he said.

  “Not in this case. My anger will only grow.”

  He tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled. “I have seen the new sculpture you have started. I believe it is going to be me falling down the stairs. You have found a way to release your anger.”

  “It’s not enough.” Her blue eyes flashed fury. “You had no right to—”

  He pressed his fingers against her mouth. “Let us not have that conversation again.”

  “Then which one do you want to have? The one where I call you a lying bastard? The one where I say that taking away my freedom is an unforgivable act and that you’ll never get away with it?”

  “They are variations on a theme.”

  “It’s what I want to talk about.”