Royal Spy

by Valerie Parv

  Afterward when he complimented her on her dancing, she had seen nothing but compassion and—dare she think it?—admiration in his eyes. Until he spoiled everything by insisting on another meeting. With her secret in his keeping, he must have known she couldn't refuse. Why hadn't he betrayed her to her father? Was he hoping to use what he knew for his own benefit? In Nadia's experience, it was what most men would do. She found herself hoping he wasn't like most men.

  Ramana held out a silky robe and Nadia slipped out of the towel and into the robe, belting the sash around her slender waist. In her bedroom, Tahani had set out her mistress's clothing for the day. Nadia surveyed the choices. A long skirt in tones of sea-green and blue threaded with gold, a matching silk shirt, a wide blue sash and silk-covered pumps in the same iridescent blue. Nadia suspected that Tahani herself coveted the outfit. Since the maid would be the one wearing it for most of the day, why not?

  "Excellent choices for a day of painting," she told Tahani as the maid helped her to dress. She regarded Tahani's own outfit with approval. "I'm glad you're wearing the blue galabiya."

  Tahani's dark eyes sparkled. "It is one of your favorites, Your Highness."

  "Blue has always been my favorite color." It also lent a sparkle to her dark eyes, she knew, wondering at the same time why she cared what she looked like when she was only going to visit the orphanage. The children certainly didn't care what she wore.

  Annoyed with herself, she shifted impatiently as Tahani fluffed her hair into a becoming halo around her head. Her father might not approve of the style, but Nadia appreciated the sense of freedom it gave her. Considering how little freedom she did have in her life, she savored what she had.

  At long last, Tahani stood back to admire her handiwork. "You look breathtaking, my princess. Were I Butrus Dabir, I would walk over hot coals to win the heart of such beauty."

  Nadia kept her hands at her sides, although she wanted to twist them together. "Does your whisper tell you any more than 'perhaps' where Butrus and I are concerned?"

  Tahani gave an apologetic shake of her head. "When you stated so emphatically that you were to marry him, the word popped into my head. I don't even know what it means. Probably no more than a woman's foolishness."

  Nadia tried to ignore the sudden hope welling inside her like the flickering of a candle flame. No amount of soothsaying was going to show her a way out of marrying Butrus, nor was she looking for one. She would meet Gage today as agreed, but make it clear to him that it must be for the last time. Then she would do her duty.

  Astonished at the regret accompanying this thought, she said, "We all have our moments of foolishness. Gather my painting materials and have Mahir bring the car around. It's time we were on our way."

  Tahani brought her palms together at breast height and bowed over them before hurrying away to do Nadia's bidding.

  Nadia sat for a few moments, barely aware of her reflection in the mirror in front of her. What was going on here? She had believed herself resigned to marrying Butrus. Yet one word from Tahani, suggesting that a different fate might lie in store for her, had set Nadia's hopes soaring.

  She quashed them with a determined shake of her head. Nothing was going to change, so she might as well accept it. She would be Butrus's wife and that was that.

  Still, she was aware of the hope flickering persistently inside her like a flame that refused to be extinguished as she made her way out to the courtyard where her driver, Mahir, would be waiting with Tahani and the car.

  The courtyard was deserted.

  She schooled herself to patience. Something was probably amiss with the car, and they were changing to another. She gave a start when a hand dropped on to her shoulder. "I told Tahani to tell Mahir you won't need him until later today."

  She swung around to find Butrus looming over her, and she felt her heart beating ridiculously fast. "Butrus. I didn't expect to see you this morning."

  "I rearranged my schedule so we could talk."

  She glanced around the courtyard as if doing so would conjure up her car. "Now?"

  Butrus frowned. "From your maid, I understood you were only going out painting. What difference can it make if you go in the afternoon, instead?"

  She let her hands flutter at her sides. "The morning light is better."

  He frowned. "The light is the light. I have appointments this afternoon."

  His message was clear. He wanted her attention now, and her own plans would just have to wait. Thinking of Gage waiting for her, she debated whether to argue, but knew she would only arouse Butrus's suspicion. "You're right, I can paint this afternoon," she conceded. She would have to send a message to Gage, telling him she had been detained.

  Butrus let his hand trail down her arm. "You'll have little time for hobbies after we're married, little one."

  She drew herself straighter. They were almost of a height and his use of the endearment rankled almost as much as his dismissal of her work. "My art is hardly a hobby."

  He smiled indulgently. "Your passion, then. As your husband I shall provide more womanly outlets for your passion, so you'll have no need of art." The gleam in his gaze told her what kind of outlet he had in mind.

  She would always need her art. It was as natural to her as breathing, but she could see that Butrus would never agree. Her heart ached. How could she commit her life to a man who refused to understand the simplest thing about her? "Surely there's room in life for more than one kind of passion?" she asked.

  He took her hand, leading her back inside to where servants had set out tea and exquisite pastries for them.

  After they were served and the servants withdrew to a discreet distance, Butrus said, "Your experience of the world of men has necessarily been limited. But I promise, when you are awakened to the passion that can exist between a man and a woman, you will desire no other."

  His conceit almost made her laugh out loud. She might have been raised in the cloistered environment of the royal palace, but she had known true love. She doubted that Butrus could transport her to more-earthly delights than she had known with Gordon while they were together.

  "I'm not a child," she insisted, stirring against the bank of cushions at her back. "My education was quite thorough."

  He chuckled softly. "I don't doubt it, but theory and experience are very different things, my princess, as you will discover in time."

  She restrained a heavy sigh. He was determined to regard her as a hothouse flower, virginal and innocent of the ways of the world. "I'm sure I will, with you to guide me."

  Her reply gratified him, she saw as his expression softened. Butrus was right. Theory and experience were very different. From her mother and attendants, Nadia had learned what to say and do to please a man. She hadn't expected the words to stick in her throat like insufficiently cooked meat.

  How did her mother endure such a proscribed existence? Why couldn't she say what she meant and have her opinions respected? Nadia despised the idea of getting her own way through flattery and manipulation, however effective.

  She set her cup down, shaking the empty cup to signal to the servant rushing to refill it that she had had enough. Facing Butrus, she said. "There's something you need to know about me."

  Leaning closer, he silenced her with a finger pressed to her lips. "I know all that I need to know, little one. You are beautiful, innocent, a little headstrong perhaps, but marriage and motherhood will soon tame your wilder instincts."

  She reared away from his touch. "I'm not a horse in need of taming."

  He frowned as if unaware he'd said anything wrong. "Gentling, then. I will be gentle with you, Nadia, even as you submit to my dominion."

  She had to struggle not to raise her voice. "Taming, dominion, can you hear yourself? I understand marriage to be a partnership."

  "It is a partnership," he agreed somberly, then ruined the effect by adding, "In every partnership, there can be only one leader."

  "You, I suppose," she said.

 
Butrus looked pleased. "See? We are close to an understanding already."

  This understanding was keeping her from her meeting with Gage, she thought, striving to conceal her restlessness. She stood up. "I'm glad we had this talk. Now I really must go."

  Snagging her wrist, he pulled her down beside him, his fingers tracing a line along her arm before he pulled away with obvious reluctance. "I can see I've upset you by talking of the passion within marriage. Forgive me, Nadia. Your beauty fills my mind with little else, but I am a man and men's needs are different. Let me make amends by speaking, instead, of our wedding date."

  She felt color flood her cheeks and was guiltily glad Butrus blamed it on embarrassment at his choice of subject matter. "Father told me you'd petitioned him to set the date," she said, hoping to end this quickly.

  He nodded. "Three months will seem like an eternity."

  She wished she could say, "For me, too," but couldn't bring herself to lie. She settled for, "I'm sure my father knows what's best."

  "No doubt. He has offered us the royal yacht for our honeymoon cruise."

  Her heart sank at the prospect of being confined to the yacht, playing the part of the dutiful wife. "Can you spare the time from your business?" she asked.

  "I thought of combining the two. A few meetings aboard ship won't get in the way of our truly getting to know one another," he promised.

  "Sounds wonderful," she said weakly, aware that the heirloom clock on the wall was ticking away the minutes. Gage must be wondering where she was. Butrus hadn't given her the chance to send a message.

  "Then it's settled. Now all we need to discuss are a few formalities. As his wedding gift to us, your father intends to build a private apartment for us within the palace grounds, so your family can provide company for you when I have to go away." She almost groaned out loud. Living within the palace was the last thing she wanted. "I understood we would live at your estate at Zabara."

  "You flatter me, but my home is hardly suitable for a princess and her consort. As his son-in-law, I'll be more useful to your father if I am nearby."

  And more privy to the workings of the court, she thought. "You've thought of everything," she said, knowing the irony would be lost on Butrus.

  "I'm pleased you agree," he said, unwittingly proving her point. He held out his hand to help her to her feet. "I wish we could spend more of the morning together, but I'm afraid I have business I must attend to."

  "Of course." She kept her expression bland, but inwardly, she despaired. More than an hour had passed. By now Gage would know she wasn't coming, and it was too late to get a message to him. She shivered, wondering what he would do now.

  Chapter 5

  Gage had half expected the princess to stand him up, but still, he felt disappointed. Not because he wanted to see her again, he assured himself, but because he needed answers.

  In his line of work it was prudent to suspect everyone's motives, even women as beautiful and apparently innocent as Nadia Kamal. Especially women as beautiful as Nadia.

  When he'd decided he'd waited long enough, he set about investigating the orphanage on his own. Probably better that way. He could look where he wasn't supposed to, go where she wouldn't have taken him.

  It was late morning by the time he'd investigated the buildings and immediate surroundings, careful not to be seen by the children or their caregivers. The noise level of the children playing in the courtyard provided a welcome cover for his movements.

  When the doctor, Warren, emerged from his dispensary, Gage ducked under a stairwell that was cloaked in shadow. Waiting there, he was startled to feel a tug at his sleeve. He looked down to find Sammy crouching farther back in the same space.

  "Sammy hiding, too," the child whispered solemnly, his large dark eyes luminous.

  Steadying his unsettled nerves, Gage smiled. "I won't tell on you, if you won't tell on me."

  Sammy nodded and patted his ear. Gage took a minute to work out what he wanted, then remembered. Keeping a wary eye on the doctor talking to some of the other children in the courtyard, he pulled a coin out of his pocket, showed it to Sammy, then made it disappear, only to reappear magically behind the little boy's ear.

  The child's giggles caught the doctor's attention. He squinted toward the shadows. "Sammy, are you under there?"

  Gage gave the boy a gentle push and whispered, "Sorry, son, you've been found. Off you go."

  Sammy tried to tug his new friend out with him, but Gage shook his head. "They haven't found me yet." With any luck they wouldn't. He was relieved when the little boy trotted out into the sunlight and soon became absorbed in a new game.

  Deliveries of what looked like groceries and other supplies were made, but as far as Gage could tell, nothing untoward took place. Of course, nighttime might tell a different story, and he resolved to return under cover of darkness to test that theory.

  Until then, he felt safe taking the orphanage at face value.

  He wasn't so confident about the princess's involvement. The orphanage itself might be clean, but could still be a drop for information or a meeting place for the Brothers of Darkness. With only his own finely honed suspicion that Butrus Dabir was involved with the Brothers, speculation was all Gage had for the moment. As Dabir's fiancee, Nadia could well be part of the organization, too, which meant there was probably a connection with the orphanage somewhere along the line.

  Gage decided it was time to pay the lady a visit. He waited until the children were shepherded inside out of the sun, then made his way safely back to where he had hidden his car.

  Getting into the palace without an invitation was more of a challenge than infiltrating the orphanage. He was used to slipping in and out of places uninvited, but most of them didn't have watchful guards at every entrance and hordes of twittering females between Gage and his target.

  It took him an hour of careful reconnaissance before he found a way in. A private stretch of beach had been reserved for use by the women of the royal family and their attendants. The pristine sands held a number of bathing pavilions, where the women could change or rest out of the hot sun. Substantial grilles at both ends deterred strangers from wandering onto the sand. The beach was, at present, unguarded, although Gage presumed that a guard would be posted when the beach was in use.

  When he tested the grilles, he found them strongly embedded into rock; they wouldn't give at all. From their appearance, they had been in place for a long while, allowing time for the tides to alter their pattern. At low tide, he was able to slip around one of the grilles, soaking only his shoes and the cuffs of his pants.

  Sticking to the rocky areas to avoid leaving footprints, he crossed the beach swiftly, clambering up a cliff path that led, as he had hoped, straight to the women's quarters. Locating the princess among the rabbit warren of rooms was almost as big a challenge as avoiding the twittering hordes. Twice he was nearly caught.

  Slipping into a side room to avoid yet another pair of chattering females, he got his break when a familiar voice said from behind him, "What on earth are you doing here?"

  His heart pounded with shock, awareness following a split second later. He turned and sketched a mocking salaam. "Princess Nadia. I'm merely keeping our appointment."

  "How did you get in? You shouldn't be here."

  He grinned. "As I recall, neither should you."

  She blushed. "I was prevented from keeping our appointment by my fiance."

  "Did he know you were supposed to be meeting me?"

  She looked startled. "Of course not. And I wasn't meeting you, as you put it. I was merely going to guide you around the orphanage."

  "I managed to guide myself," he said, not enlightening her as to his method or reasons.

  "The children—were they all right?"

  "Judging by the noise level, having a great time," he said. She subsided against her cushioned banquet with a look of relief. "I'm glad."

  He paused long enough to lock the door, then moved closer to her. In o
ne hand she held a sketchbook and in the other a stick of charcoal. Her fingertips were smudged, he noticed. He looked over her shoulder. She had captured one of the little orphans in a cheeky pose that was so lifelike, Gage half expected the drawing to speak. "You have a lot of talent."

  "I believe you already own one of my paintings, Mr. Weston."

  "I told you to call me Gage. And yes, I do. A study of a sea eagle on a clifftop somewhere near here. You captured the bird in the split second before takeoff, so you can practically see the muscles bunching under the feathers. Impressive stuff."

  Nadia felt color seep into her cheeks. The sea-eagle series was among her favorites. She was inordinately pleased to hear that one of the pictures was in the hands of someone who appreciated it, not for the pedigree of the artist, but for its own sake. "I'm glad you like it," she said.

  Irritation darkened his eyes. "'Like' is too tame a word for what the painting makes me feel. There's a sense of freedom about to be regained, as if the artist knows a thing or two about breaking free from limitations."

  She looked away. "All worthwhile art contains an element of the personal, Gage."

  He studied the sketch of the child. "You really care about the orphans, don't you."

  "Why do you think I go to such lengths to spend time with them?"

  "In your position, writing a substantial check would be easier."

  She tightened her grip on the charcoal. "You think it's that simple?"

  His gesture encompassed the opulence of the room around them, and by implication, the palace beyond. "Why not? You're obviously not poor."

  "My father isn't poor."

  She saw a shadow flit across Gage's strong features and wondered at the reason for it. Did he doubt that she had access to her family's fortune only through her father? If so, he was no different from the other men she'd known, who were more interested in her position than in the woman who occupied it. Gordon had been the single exception and had assured her he would love her if she had only the clothes she stood up in, as long as they could be together.