Ronnie and Zadir kissed, and the crowd clapped and whistled. They were the cutest couple. Ronnie had blossomed in the time since she’d moved here, shedding much of her reserve and becoming—as she’d said herself—the closest thing Sam ever had to a sister.
Sam herself had moved here—a land where she didn’t speak the language and knew only one person and his family—with no idea whether she’d ever even have a friend again. And now she had a brilliant, funny and sweet girlfriend to share all their new experiences. It would have been far too much to ever ask for and she didn’t take it for granted.
She dabbed quickly at a tear running down her cheek. She had her own ceremony to get through next, and she wasn’t sure how she’d manage without bawling.
“Are you okay?” Ronnie rushed up to her.
“I’m feeling very emotional. I suppose that’s normal on your wedding day. Or is it? I am already married to him after all. I almost wish we could skip this big do I’ve been planning for so long and I could just hold him and have a good cry.”
“You’re probably overwhelmed by the excitement of having so many visitors and all our family members gathered together for the first time. It’s wonderful, but it’s also rather emotionally draining.”
“I suppose you’re right. My mom’s labor scare wasn’t the ideal way to start the day.”
Ronnie nodded sympathetically. Zadir strode up to his new wife and kissed her. “How are you, Mrs. Al Kilanjar?”
“Wonderful,” she said, smiling. “And you?”
“You do realize that’s not your real title.”
“I suppose it is kind of western. What should I call myself?”
He pretended to frown. “According to our convention, your mother’s name would be in there. Her name is Selena, so I think it would be something like, “Her Glorious Majesty Veronica bin Selena Al Kilanjar.”
Veronica grinned. “It has a nice ring to it. My mom will like it. Can you believe she’s sitting with Mr. Suleiman? And look at the way she’s glowing. It’s extraordinary. She hasn’t been on a single date in twenty years as far as I know.”
“A Christmas miracle?” Sam smiled. Ronnie’s mom looked so happy basking in the radiant adoration of her charming companion.
“I don’t know what it is but I’m thanking my lucky stars she’s not casting daggers at my dad. It was so wonderful that he could be here to walk me down the aisle. I’ll never forget today as long as I live.”
Sam kissed her on the cheek, her own hot tears streaming once again. “Me neither.”
“Stop crying!” Ronnie commanded. “You’re ruining your makeup.” She used a thumb to neaten it. You’d better get up there right now for your own ceremony. Osman looks sensational in a tux.”
“Doesn’t he?” Osman was talking to friends on the opposite side of the garden, doing his best to stay away from her—at her request—until their ceremony began. He kept glancing up at her, though. He really was the best looking man on the planet. And he was hers!
Emotion welled inside her and threatened to spill over again. Uh-oh, she’d better get up there and get this over with before her dress split open. Her dad was already in position, waiting to lead her up the aisle.
Sam sucked in a deep breath, hoping she could hold it together long enough to get through her vows. Her dad smiled and took her arm.
“Is Mom okay?” Her mom looked fabulous, as usual, in a suit cut to hide her bump, but it was hard to tell with an actress.
“Right as rain.” Her dad patted her arm. He probably wouldn’t tell her the truth anyway. It hadn’t been easy growing up with people who lived in a world of illusion. Maybe that’s why she’d started making documentaries—an endless quest for factual evidence in a world where the truth shifted daily. “You look lovely, sweetheart.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “Is my mascara all over my face?”
“No. You look perfect. Which doesn’t surprise me as you have your mother’s beauty.”
Sam sighed. Her parents really did seem to love each other after all these years. Which was surprising since they were at each other’s throats more often than not. Maybe that kept things exciting. “How many years have you and Mom been married?”
“Far too many.” He winked. “But not nearly enough. You know I can’t utter the truth in public as then people will know your mom is older than she claims.”
Sam laughed. “Too true!”
The music started, a beautiful nineteenth century wedding march she’d admired for years and always hoped to have at her own ceremony. And here she was! Her true wedding had been an impromptu immersion in Ubarite culture, but this was the one she’d dreamed of since she was a little girl.
She choked back happy tears and took her dad’s arm, before walking down the aisle with the hem of her long, poufy dress trailing behind her.
They said the traditional vows they’d written together, Osman so serious and proud, and herself so breathless and emotional that she jumbled her words together. When she finally said, “I do,” she wanted to collapse with relief—but she reminded herself that she couldn’t even take a deep breath in her beautiful but super-tight dress.
When Osman kissed her, she ached to melt into him, but restrained herself in front of all these people, many of who were seeing her for the first time. It was sometimes hard to remember that she was a queen now, and had to behave with appropriate decorum, so groping the king had to wait for a non-ceremonial occasion.
“What are you laughing at?” Osman saw her funny expression.
“Everything. My whole life. How I’m here right now with you, when a few months ago I could never have imagined anything more outlandish than moving to a faraway country and marrying its king.”
“I love you, Samantha Al Kilanjar.”
“I love you, too, Osman Al Kilanjar.” Emotion swelled her chest until she worried her dress might burst. “And I intend to spend a very long and happy life with you.”
The crowd pressed around to offer congratulations, which made tears prick her eyes again, but Sam was relieved when Ronnie suggested that they step away for a few minutes so she could change out of her too-tight dress.
Ronnie insisted on stopping by her own room to pick something up, and when they reached Sam’s room and closed the door behind them, she whipped it out from the folds of her dress.
Sam stared at the colorful box. “A pregnancy test?”
“You’re very emotional.” Ronnie lifted a brow.
“It’s my wedding. Of course I’m emotional. Aren’t you?” Her voice rose as she spoke. It’s not like there was something wrong with having strong feelings at your own wedding, with all your family gathered around you.
“Take it. Prove me wrong.” Ronnie thrust it at her.
Sam took it and examined the box. A plus sign for yes, and a minus sign for no.
“But first we’ll need to get your dress off, or you’ll lose the stick in all the tulle under your skirt.”
“It’s a miracle the zipper didn’t burst. My chest has been heaving with happy tears since I put it on.”
Ronnie fiddled with the zipper, easing it down slowly so it wouldn’t break. Sam inhaled and let out a huge sigh of relief. “I don’t know how I managed to gain that much weight so quickly.”
Ronnie chuckled. “Take the test.”
“All right. I’ll take it for you. I bet I’m not, though. I’d just know. I’m sure of it.”
Ronnie cocked her head, and stood there with her arms crossed. Sam hurried into the bathroom in her underwear. She read the teeny print of the directions on the packet. This was silly! Their wedding reception was going on right now. She should be downstairs entertaining her guests.
“Did you do it yet?” called Ronnie through the door.
“You’re so impatient. Give me a minute.” She managed to fumble the stick out of its wrapping and followed the directions. Of course now she was going to be crushed when it came back negative. She really shouldn’t get her hopes up on
an important day like today. And what was the rush, anyway? Her biological clock was hardly ready to sound an alarm. She had plenty of time.
“I’m waiting!” Ronnie’s singsong voice annoyed her. “Bring it out here. We can watch it together.”
“You’re nuts.” Sam opened the door and walked out. She’d probably done it all wrong. The little circle wasn’t changing color at all.
Ronnie peered at the stick. “And you’re pregnant.”
9
“What?” Sam held it up to her eyes. A tiny pink cross now filled the circle.
“I knew it. It’s not like you to sob your mascara off over nothing.”
“Nothing? Besides, I almost never wear mascara.” Sam stared at the plus sign on the stick. “How do we know this is accurate?”
“I have four more of them in my bedroom. Would you like me to get one?”
Sam bit her lip. She didn’t need another test. “No.” She looked up at Ronnie, whose eyes shone. “You were right. I’m pregnant.” The last two words came out in a rasping whisper. Then she grinned. “I can’t wait to surprise Osman.”
“Are you going to tell him right now?”
“I’ll have to wait for a private moment. Maybe tonight.”
“Your wedding night.” Ronnie winked.
“Yes.” She tucked the stick away in her underwear drawer. “So until then we have to act like nothing is different, okay?”
“Okay.”
Mackenzie Malone had never experienced anything like this party. The reception took place in the garden, where guests gathered under the orchard trees. The butterflies were everywhere, perching on people’s champagne glasses and fluttering around their heads.
In small-town Texas, the fanciest affair she ever attended was her cousin Chrissy’s wedding where they’d hired the high school band to play for the reception at the local Elks Lodge.
For this double wedding the couples had flown in friends and family from all over the globe—seriously, there were people from India and Africa as well as the U.S.A.—and there must be over a hundred staff waiting on the guests.
She wasn’t even supposed to be here. She’d flown into Ubar for a job interview only to be informed on arrival by HR that the whole country had ground to a standstill for the royal weddings, and that she was invited to attend. She didn’t mind. She was between jobs right now and they’d paid for her flights and were putting her up in a brand new hotel near the oil facilities. Her parents were taking care of little Madison, who she’d skyped before she came, so she’d lucked into an all-expenses-paid vacation.
Yes, she’d cried at the wedding. Both couples were so obviously in love, and everyone around them seemed so happy for them. She sighed. Once upon a time she’d dreamed of her own wedding. Nothing fancy like this, but it would have been magical all the same. Hadn’t happened though, and her little girl was plenty of consolation for her one failed attempt at a Happy Ever After.
And she’d danced with that super hot guy yesterday. He was local and obviously found having her thrust on him rather awkward, but he’d spoken flawless English and was by far the best looking man she’d ever danced with in her life. She felt a smile sneak across her mouth just thinking about him.
Ahmad was his name, if she’d heard it right. And he was right there on the other side of the room. He’d watched the ceremonies with grim concentration and was now tapping furiously into his phone as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. Obviously royal weddings weren’t his thing.
They weren’t hers either! She wasn’t exactly dressed for this affair. In fact this wasn’t a dress at all, but a Victoria’s Secret nightgown. Luckily for her it was black and plain enough to pass as a dress, so she’d been wearing it almost non-stop since she arrived.
Mackenzie was interviewing to be a mechanic, so she’d intended to wear khakis and a denim shirt for the interview. She wasn’t likely to get the job. She wasn’t even sure how she felt about moving out here with her daughter, though the money was really, really good. A year or two would give her enough savings to buy a house back in Texas and change their lives.
The person hiring was named Bubba White, which made him sound like the kind of redneck who’d never have glanced at her resumé if she hadn’t shortened her name to Mac so he wouldn’t know she was a girl. Most likely she’d be rejected and packed off home sometime tomorrow and would never see anything like this again, so she might as well soak it all in.
The brides shared the first dance with their husbands to seventies disco anthem These Are the Good Times and soon everyone joined in, swaying and bopping under the date palms. The atmosphere was festive and a little crazy, as the band—a bunch of bearded guys in long robes—kept lurching between rousing pop songs and haunting Christmas carols, as if they were the same sort of music just because they were western.
Once again she was alone, a wallflower. It wasn’t all that embarrassing because everyone was too busy to notice, but she was a little sad not to join in the fun. If only she had the nerve to approach Amahd again.
Heck, why not? She’d never see him again, so what did it matter?
What was the worst that could happen? He’d say no. How big of a deal was that?
Screwing up her courage, she peeled herself away from the column she’d been propping up and launched across the floor. Unlike the other women here, she wasn’t teetering on heels, because she’d hardly have needed those for an interview as a mechanic. She wore a pair of black roman sandals she’d worn to be comfortable on the plane.
He glanced up suddenly, which made her breath hitch. He must have felt her eyes on him. He stared at her for a moment, as if wondering who she was, then frowned.
Panic flashed through her. Abort mission! Or was he encouraging her? There was something intense in his gaze that told her to keep going. Someone tapped him on the shoulder—a staff member—and he turned to speak with him.
Adrenaline pumping, she marched forward. She was only about twenty feet away, so in less than a minute she’d either be dancing with a handsome man or slinking away with her tail between her legs.
“Hi.” He’d gone back to his phone and hadn’t seen her approach.
He looked up, startled. “Hello.” His dark eyes were fringed with ridiculously long dark eyelashes but nothing about him looked girly. His jaw was hard as granite and his features bold and commanding. He was obviously friendly with the royals here and possibly pretty important.
Still, she was a free American and could talk to whomever she wanted, right? “I’m Mackenzie, from yesterday. We danced together.”
He still hadn’t said anything, but at this point she was sure he recognized her. In fact his blistering dark gaze darted to her bust for a split second. Normally that kind of thing would annoy her, but in this instance she took it as strictly encouraging.
“I was wondering,” she swallowed. Was she really about to ask a guy to dance? You could probably get thrown out of Texas for something like that.
“Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?” His request pre-empted hers, saving her all kinds of embarrassment and making her want to sing with relief. He was probably just being a gentleman, but that only made her like him more.
“I’d love it.” She smiled and took his arm. The band had segued clunkily from Silent Night to Michael Jackson’s Thriller, so this time they wouldn’t actually have to hold onto each other.
Shame.
Good lord he was handsome. Dressed in a black tuxedo with a bow tie—just like the gorgeous grooms—Amahd was by far the most elegant man she’d ever spoken to. And she wouldn’t run into anyone like him back in the Texas oil fields, so she might as well enjoy the view.
They gyrated next to each other, which was kind of funny, since he was obviously rather serious and she was a tomboy rather than a disco diva. He even shot her a sweetly encouraging smile that filled her chest with warmth and made her glad she’d taken a chance and come over.
Now that she wasn’t pressed up against h
im she could appreciate his height—over six foot—and the broad-shouldered, athletic body hidden under all that well-cut cloth. Right now she could soak up enough material to fill her daydreams for five solid years! Which was a good thing as with a demanding job (hopefully soon) and a toddler she didn’t have the time or energy to date.
Her heart sank when the song drew to a close. Was he going to rush off again? She wouldn’t be mad if he did. It was sweet of him to ask her to dance and she wouldn’t act spoiled and hope for more.
Sam, the girl who’d first introduced them, walked out into the middle of the room, clanging a spoon against a champagne glass. She looked resplendent in a long, blue beaded dress—her tan complexion sparkling and her long, dark hair in an elegant updo—every bit the wife of a king. Mac knew she could never look like that in a million years, which was fine, since she had no desire whatsoever to be a king’s wife.
Amahd hadn’t moved. Which was kind of him, since this would have been the perfect opportunity for him to bow out.
“I want to thank you all for being here to share this special day with us.” Sam had a clear, ringing voice as if she addressed large assemblies all the time. “It’s the first time Christmas has been celebrated here in the palace, and possibly the first time it’s been celebrated anywhere with this many butterflies and goats.”
There was a pale yellow goat still running through the crowds. Mac had caught a glimpse of it right in the middle of the second wedding ceremony. That was the kind of thing that would happen at one of her family’s weddings, though maybe with pigs or chickens instead. She grinned, feeling strangely at home here.
“I’m sure some of you think it’s strange celebrating Christmas in a faraway desert kingdom, but whenever I wonder if I’ve gone right off the rails—with all my imported mistletoe and forcing the band to all the Christmas carols—I remind myself that Christmas started in a desert kingdom and must have once felt rather strange and out of sorts when it first found itself in a Scandinavian log home or a saltbox in colonial Massachusetts.”
Desert Kings Boxed Set: The Complete Series Books 1-6 Page 45