The Desert Rogues Part 1

by Susan Mallery

  Rafe forced his jealousy aside and caught up with her. “Zara, be careful how you deal with this. The king assumes that you’re a new permanent resident of his country. He thinks of you as a member of his family. As such, he considers your place to be here, in the palace.”

  “What if I don’t want to live in the palace?”

  He didn’t have an answer for that. “Just don’t make any sudden decisions. You’ve spent your whole life looking for your family. Now that you’ve found one that wants you, wouldn’t it be kind of silly to turn your back on them?”

  She slowed her pace and nodded. “I understand what you’re saying. I just have this horrible sensation of being trapped.”

  Zara hoped Rafe had a few words of wisdom to offer, but when he was silent, she wasn’t surprised. He had no experience with her situation. Plus, according to him he’d never wanted to be tied down to anything. He wouldn’t understand the ambivalence she felt.

  They parted company just outside the door to her suite. She stepped inside and heard movement in Cleo’s bedroom.

  “Are you finally actually in residence?” she called, suddenly happy to have someone she trusted and understood to speak with. “I can only imagine what you’ve been up to these past few days.”

  Zara walked into her sister’s room, then stopped just inside the doorway.

  Cleo had indeed returned, but obviously wasn’t staying long. Several suitcases lay open on the bed. Clothes had been dumped inside, some folded, some not. Her sister moved quickly around the room, picking up toiletries and tossing them toward the open luggage.

  “What’s going on?” Zara asked, fighting against the tightness in her chest.

  Cleo glanced up at her, her large blue eyes dark with emotion. “You’re the smart one in the family—I would have thought it was obvious.”

  “I can see you’re packing, but where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  Zara had half expected to hear that her sister was moving in with one of the princes. All of them had paid attention to Cleo, although Prince Sadik had seemed most interested of all.

  “Cleo, what are you doing? I thought you were having a good time.”

  Cleo pulled several shirts out of a bottom drawer and straightened. “I’ve had a terrific vacation, but I’m ready to head back to the real world. I have a job waiting.”

  Zara did, too, but she was on summer break, whereas Cleo had simply taken two weeks off from her job in Spokane.

  “But don’t you want to stay longer?”

  Cleo’s full mouth twisted slightly at the corner. “Not really. I don’t belong here.” She motioned to the luxurious room. “You’re the princess. I’m just some street kid tagging along.”

  Zara moved toward her sister. “Don’t say that. We’re sisters.”

  Cleo shook her head. “No. Your sister is Princess Sabra of Bahania. I appreciate you letting me share the adventure, but now it’s over.”

  Zara’s eyes began to burn. “I don’t understand. Sabrina isn’t my sister. Not in my heart. I barely know her. Cleo, I need you here.”

  “I can’t stay.” She walked to the bed and put the shirts in one of the open suitcases. “You’ll be fine. The king really likes having you around. You’ll be so busy learning how to be royal, you won’t notice I’m gone.”

  Zara didn’t understand what had happened. She recognized Cleo’s determined and prickly exterior as a way to protect herself, but she didn’t know why.

  “Did someone say something to upset you?” Zara asked.

  “No. Everyone’s been great.”

  “Okay. I’ll come with you.”

  Cleo glared at her. “Don’t be crazy. All your life you’ve wanted a father and now you’ve found one. And, gee, he’s a king. Are you seriously going to tell me that you want to walk away from that? If you do, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. We both know that.”

  “But I don’t want to be here without you.”

  “You’ll do fine. You’ve got those guys interested in you. Hey, you’ll probably be engaged by the end of the month.”

  “Not to the duke,” Zara muttered.

  “Then to the other one.”

  “It seems unlikely. You know my luck with men.” Cleo moved close and hugged her. “I would say that your luck is about to change.” She stepped back. “I mean it, Zara. I wish you the best. Really. But I can’t stay here. I am the last person who belongs here.”

  Zara knew that Cleo was thinking about her past, about her early years when she’d grown up on the street or in shelters.

  “None of that matters.”

  “It does to me,” Cleo told her. “I can take care of myself. I have a good job. I’ve worked my way up to manager, and that matters to me. So let me go back to my life and be where I’m supposed to be. You stay here and learn the etiquette of wearing a tiara.”

  Zara nodded. She couldn’t speak because of the tears filling her eyes. She felt as if she was about to lose something precious, and there was nothing she could do to change Cleo’s mind.

  Cleo gave her a soft smile, then hugged her. “Hey, the phones still work. You can call me every couple of days and keep me up-to-date on the royal set.”

  “I promise,” Zara said, holding on tight and wanting to never let go.

  Zara found herself barely able to stay awake. The combination of sleeplessness and boring conversation threatened to cause her to doze off in her salad. She blinked several times and took a sip of ice water. Fortunately, Jean-Paul didn’t seem to notice her inattention.

  “The small flowers are so beautiful,” he was saying.

  She was pretty sure he was still going on about his vineyard. Except for the family chateau, that had been his favorite topic ever since he’d arrived to pick her up at the palace.

  “Sounds lovely,” she murmured when he paused expectantly.

  Just then the waiter arrived with their desserts. Zara took a bite of the chocolate mousse and hoped the sugar would give her a little short-term energy.

  She was sure that Jean-Paul couldn’t possibly be as boring as she imagined. It must be her exhaustion. For the past two nights she’d paced through the large suite, listening to the silence and wishing Cleo hadn’t left. Zara had never felt so alone or out-of-place.

  She tried to clear her head. This wasn’t the time to think about Cleo’s sudden departure. She was out with a good-looking French guy who was obviously rich and into wine and vineyards. She should try to enjoy the evening. At least it was more private than her date with Byron. This time there weren’t any Hummers or Jeeps. Instead Rafe sat at a nearby table, no doubt trying not to listen.

  “You must come to France,” Jean-Paul told her. “In the fall, I think. When the tourists have left, yes?”

  “You’ve made it all sound very magical,” Zara said, annoyed on behalf of tourists everywhere. Jean-Paul might not like them around, but she would bet they bought a lot of his wine and generally contributed to the economy.

  “I remember fall when I was a small boy,” he said, sipping the brandy the waiter had brought along with the crème brûlée Jean-Paul had ordered. “I would run barefoot through the leaves. The scent of those days is with me even today. I would take my little dog down to the stream behind the house.”

  He was off on another tale of his exploits. Zara surreptitiously glanced at her watch. They’d been at dinner more than two hours, and Jean-Paul had spent the entire time talking about himself. The only questions he’d asked had been those inquiring as to whether or not she agreed that his home sounded beautiful. She wondered if he even saw her as a person. Was she simply a single female possibly related to a king? Maybe she could have sent one of Hassan’s precious cats in her place. She wasn’t sure Jean-Paul would have noticed.

  The endless dinner came to a close when the waiter cleared their plates and placed the bill on a small leather tray. Relief coursed through Zara. Rafe was on his third cup of coffee. No doubt he’d needed the caffeine to stay a
lert, what with being in earshot of Jean-Paul’s voice.

  She was trying to decide if it would be all right to simply wait outside while Jean-Paul paid, when he startled her by reaching across the table and taking her hand in his.

  “Zara, you are an exceptional woman.”

  She really wanted to ask how he knew. After all, she’d barely said more than a couple of sentences. Instead of creating trouble, she smiled.

  He stared at her, his dark eyes alive with promise. “I would very much like to make you mine. I think we would do well together.”

  She felt her jaw drop. Make her his? Was he offering marriage or simply an affair—and did it matter which?

  Annoyance bubbled up inside of her. Did the man really think she’d been charmed by his egotistical, self-centered, boring conversation? That she was available for the asking?

  Zara pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. “I’m afraid you’ve misjudged the situation,” she said formally, her tone frosty.

  Rafe moved to her side in an instant.

  “I need to get out of here,” she told him, ignoring Jean-Paul’s protests.

  “You’re the boss,” Rafe told her. He put his arm around her and led her from the restaurant.

  Initially Zara was too shocked by Jean-Paul’s declaration to notice that they didn’t get into the limo that had brought them from the palace. She barely had time to register that they were walking along the streets of the city, before Rafe guided her into a small bar.

  The main room held a dozen or so tables, with booths lining the back and side walls. A three-piece combo played on a corner stage. Rafe found a booth in a dark corner and slid onto the bench seat after her. He spoke to the waiter who appeared, then he leaned back in his seat.

  “How was dinner?”

  Zara frowned at him. Instead of answering, she glanced around the establishment, noting the rich red of the drapes behind the small stage and the inlaid wood that made up the tables. With lazily circling fans and the murmur of different languages, she felt as if she’d stumbled into a scene from Casablanca.

  The waiter brought two snifters filled with an amber liquid, put them on the table and left.

  “Cognac,” Rafe said. “You looked like you could use a drink.”

  She took a sip and felt the burn all the way to her stomach.

  “Want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” She leaned back against the seat and drew in a deep breath. “I’m assuming you could hear Jean-Paul’s scintillating conversation.”

  “Even though I tried not to.”

  “You’ll get no sympathy from me. I was forced to sit across from him and act interested.”

  “So you decided against the great seduction scene.”

  He was teasing her. She could hear it in the tone of his voice and the light in his blue eyes. She smiled in return.

  “I don’t think I would have stayed awake for the event.” She touched the base of her glass. “This is so much harder than I thought it would be,” she admitted.

  “What part?”

  “All of it. I miss Cleo.”

  “I’d heard that she returned to the States.”

  Zara nodded. “She only had two weeks vacation. I’m off for the summer, so my schedule is less pressing. I just wish she’d been able to stay. I liked having her around. I felt more safe with her here.”

  “Nothing bad is going to happen to you.”

  She shook her head. “This isn’t about being kidnapped. We both know that’s unlikely. I mean everything else. When I was little and Fiona would move us every year, I used to dream about finding my father. I always imagined he had a big house with lots of pets and a garden, that he had never known about me and was so happy to see me he held me close and promised to never let go. He told me that I would never have to move again or be the new kid in school.”

  “Isn’t that what happened?” Rafe asked quietly.

  “Yes, and it’s terrifying.” She wondered if there was a way to explain the fear inside of her. “Tonight was a good example. What was that? Why on earth would Jean-Paul be so incredibly boring and then ask me to be his? I don’t even know if he was offering to make me his mistress or proposing. Not that it matters. Does he really think I would be so flattered that I would accept?”

  “Maybe he was putting all his cards on the table.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “You can’t actually believe that.”

  “No, but it sounded good.”

  She angled toward him. “How am I supposed to fit in with these people? I always wanted roots, but not ones that ran so deep. The king can trace his ancestors back nearly a thousand years. I was thinking more like a couple of generations.”

  “Is this where I remind you to be careful of what you wish for?”

  His words danced across her skin like fire. Against her will, she found herself staring at his mouth, at the lips that had so tenderly kissed hers. While she couldn’t imagine having this conversation with any other man she’d ever met, with Rafe she felt perfectly comfortable.

  Be careful what you wish for. He was smart to remind her of the danger, because what she wanted most was him. He drew her with a power she didn’t understand and could never explain.

  “I guess you were right,” she said, more to herself than him. “I’m a wife-and-kids kind of woman. Which doesn’t bode well for my life as a princess, should that happen.”

  “You’ll hear within the week.”

  “I’m starting to regret pushing the king to have the blood test. Now that it’s done, I don’t want to know.”

  He took a sip of his cognac. “With most people I’d be assuming they were afraid they wouldn’t be a relative, but you’re afraid of the opposite.”

  She shrugged. “I never said I was brave.”

  “Your concerns about dealing with an entire new way of life aren’t cowardly. You’re intelligent enough to be able to see the consequences of your actions.”

  “Only it’s a tiny bit too late. After all, I’m here in Bahania, instead of safely back in my little life.”

  “Sometimes a bigger life is better.”

  “Maybe.”

  She wasn’t convinced. A bigger life required a different kind of person. Zara had never considered herself very special. If she was Hassan’s daughter, she would be a royal princess. The reality of the situation made her palms sweat.

  “I don’t want to talk about that anymore.” She studied him in the dim light. “How did a nice American guy like you become a sheik?”

  He flashed her a smile. “Never tell a man he’s nice. We hate that word.”

  “Then I take it back. So how did a mean, surly, very manly guy like you become a sheik?”

  “I saved Prince Kardal’s life.”

  He spoke casually, as if giving directions to the airport. She leaned forward. “How? No, wait. First tell me about Prince Kardal. Who is he?”

  “Sabrina’s husband. He’s…” Rafe hesitated. “This is confidential, Zara. You can’t repeat this information to anyone.”

  His blue eyes darkened with intensity. She felt as if she was about to get the secret code that would save the country from certain destruction. For a brief second she thought about saying she didn’t want to know, but then curiosity won.

  “I promise.”

  He studied her as if gauging the value of her word, then he nodded.

  “You may have heard of the legend of a secret city on the border between El Bahar and Bahania. The story goes that nomads call this place home. Those who wrote about the city claimed it was a walled wonder filled with treasures stolen from all over the world.”

  She frowned as bits of history came back to her. “I remember reading something about that. I think I even saw part of a documentary. There are a lot of writings about the city, but no real proof it exists.”

  “The City of Thieves is real and it’s still around today. Kardal is the Prince of Thieves, the next in a long line of men who
rule the desert. Back when the silk roads were in use, travelers feared being attacked. The nomads offered protection, for a price. They also stole from those who would not pay. When oil production began, they quickly learned there was more money to be made from the earth than from stealing. Now the City of Thieves guards the oil fields. Using a combination of the old ways and modern technology, we keep the peace.”

  Zara didn’t know what to say. “It’s real?”

  Rafe nodded.

  She couldn’t begin to imagine such a place. A mythical city that still existed? “It would be like learning that Atlantis was alive and well.”

  “As long as the world doesn’t find out.”

  “I won’t say anything,” she told him earnestly. “I would never betray your trust.” Questions filled her mind. “How did you come to be there?”

  “I told the truth before. I worked for a paramilitary organization. Prince Kardal hired us, and when the job was over I stayed on. About a year after that I worked my way up to the head of security. One day we were out in the desert when we were attacked. I saved Kardal’s life. In gratitude he made me a sheik.”

  Rafe unbuttoned the cuff of his right shirtsleeve and pulled up the material. She saw a small mark on the inside of his wrist. Zara leaned closer to study the intricate design.

  “What is it?”

  “The seal of the City of Thieves. I carry the mark of the prince. As such I own land, livestock and have a fortune, which, while modest by royal prince standards, will keep me comfortable for a long time. They also offered me the woman of my choice, but I turned that down.”

  Zara nearly choked. “A woman? They offered you a woman?”

  He grinned. “Don’t you just love it here?”

  She glared at him while he fastened his cuff. “That’s positively feudal.”

  “I wasn’t all that comfortable with the idea, which is why I refused.”

  She didn’t even know what to say. They’d offered a woman along with livestock? Typical.

  “If you’re so wealthy with your land and camels and fortune, why do you still work?”