A broad smile spread across Chynna’s face. “There’s my girl. Go get your man!”
Rylee had precious little time to pack. She threw what she could into her suitcase as Amar had, including shoes, purses, toiletries and her makeup, all the while using her Bluetooth to speak to Sharif to find out where she could find Amar. He’d been shocked to hear from her since their last meeting had been far from pleasant, but he agreed to help her.
Noah on the other hand hadn’t been too happy to drive her at a breakneck pace to the airport. As much as he’d begrudgingly begun to warm up to Amar, he wasn’t on board with her decision. “I don’t like this, sis. I don’t like this one bit. You’re going off to some strange country we know nothing about. What if something happens to you over there? Mom and Dad would never forgive me.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” Rylee replied. “Amar will take care of me.”
“Are you sure about that? He just up and left the ranch without you.”
“Wouldn’t you drop everything if something happened to Mom and Dad?”
“Of course I would, but I would take Chynna with me.”
“Even during the early stages, when you’d just found out she’d lied to you about who she was?” Rylee’s brow rose as she invoked the memory of Chynna pretending to be her twin and lying to Noah about her real name. “I know you’re worried, but I got this.”
“Alright, sis,” Noah said as he slid the pickup truck into a nearby parking space at the departure terminal and turned off the engine. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
“I will.” Rylee leaned over and planted a wallop of a kiss on his cheek. Seconds later, her passenger door flung open, and she’d grabbed her suitcase from the back compartment and ran for the terminal.
Amar paced the small floor of the Learjet as he waited for clearance so they could take off. The pilot had informed him there had been a delay from air traffic control. Amar couldn’t afford delays; he had to get to Dubai. The trip would already take him nearly a day, and he wasn’t sure that his father had that much time. There was so much left unsaid between them. Would he get the chance to say his peace? Or would fate intervene and take his father as it had tragically taken his mother?
He was sure his family would think him heartless for having left in the first place. They would say his place was by the Sheikh’s side, but Amar didn’t, couldn’t, regret his decision to come back to the States and be with Rylee. If he hadn’t, he would have never known that Rylee could be the one. The one woman he was meant to spend the rest of his life with.
He knew some believed him to be unfeeling and heartless, but they were wrong. Deep down he was a romantic and believed in soulmates. How else to explain that a few weeks ago he’d been going about his everyday life seeing the world in black and white. Then he met Rylee. Suddenly the world was in Technicolor. There was a kick in his step, and a current shot through him every time he was around her.
And it wasn’t just lust either. Lust he could explain away. What they had was chemistry … and something more. He’d gotten to know her, and she had every quality he could want: She was sexy. Beautiful. Smart. Funny. Caring. Giving. And he’d enjoyed every minute with her on her family ranch and would have continued had it not been for Tariq’s call. Only one question remained: Can this be love?
He got his answer when the door to the plane swung open and Rylee came rushing into the cabin.
Chapter 15
“Amar!” Rylee threw herself into his muscled arms. He caught her, nearly falling backward onto the seat, but he righted himself. His shocked expression was priceless.
“Rylee? What are you doing here?”
Rylee smiled as he slowly released her and looked at him. “I’m going with you.”
“You are?”
Rylee nodded. “I know it might seem presumptuous of me as you didn’t ask me to come, but I felt like you needed me just as I needed to be here.” She wasn’t sure he’d heard her because he’d stared at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted a horn on top of her head. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” Amar said, nodding, “and I couldn’t be happier.”
“Really?”
“Of course. The moment I learned about my father, all I could think about was getting to Nasir. It never occurred to me that you would be willing to leave your family to come with me.”
Rylee reached for his hands and stared into his dark eyes. “Then you still have a lot to learn about me,” she replied, “because I’m loyal, and I will be there when someone I—” She caught herself from nearly saying love because she wasn’t quite ready to say that word. So she rephrased it: “I will be there for someone I care about.”
“And you consider me on that list?”
Rylee answered him: She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a slow, lingering kiss.
“You have no idea what this means to me,” Amar whispered, pulling her closer.
On the plane ride from Tucson to New York’s JFK airport, Rylee and Amar talked nonstop about anything other than how he was truly feeling about the fact he could lose his father. She figured it was a coping mechanism, and she wouldn’t push him until he was ready to face the facts.
She would, however, remember the nearly thirteen-hour flight from JFK to Dubai and subsequent hour flight to Nasir as she’d only slept off and on. The accommodations on the private liner were comfortable, including a king-sized bed in the back of the cabin, but she’d tossed and turned worrying about what to expect in the country and how Amar’s family would treat her. If he felt like an outcast, how would she fit in?
She managed a shower in the tiny stall provided in the miniscule restroom, and it perked her up somewhat before landing. When she emerged, Amar had a pot of coffee waiting for her. Rylee sat beside him on the couch and buckled herself in.
“I’m sorry it’s not much,” Amar said as he poured her a cup, “but it was all I could manage with the limited facilities.”
Rylee half-smiled. “It’s fine.” She accepted the steaming mug and took a generous sip.
“You normally don’t drink it black,” Amar commented.
Rylee’s brow crinkled. She hadn’t realized he’d been paying such close attention to her habits. “I, uh, need something a little stronger this morning.”
“You did not sleep well,” Amar stated.
“Neither did you.”
“There is much to think about.”
Rylee nodded. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Actually, there is.” Amar reached toward a box that Rylee hadn’t noticed sitting on the table in front of them. He sat it on his lap and opened it, lifting out a hijab. The veil was a colorful pink print made of silk. “I will need you to wear this. It is custom in Nasir for women.”
Rylee accepted the veil. She’d anticipated that she might need to dress differently and had packed some modest slacks, tops and a few loose-fitting shift dresses. She didn’t want to embarrass Amar or have people looking down at her as a Western woman. “Thank you. I’ll put it on.”
This time, Amar half-smiled. “Thank you,” he said, stroking her cheek. “I need you to understand that Nasir is not like Dubai. It’s still knee deep in old traditions, and women are not permitted the same luxuries as in America. You must stay close to me at all times.”
“And should I be seen and not heard too?” Rylee scoffed. As soon as she said the words, she wished she could take them back because Amar seemed mortally offended by her comment and glared at her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was trying to lighten the mood.”
“This is serious, Rylee. And you need to hear me. You must realize that you’re in a different country now. You can’t say things like that, even in jest. It would be considered disrespectful and frowned upon. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He reached for her h
and and squeezed it gently. “Then follow my lead.”
The plane landed thirty minutes later, pretty much in the middle of a desert, and Rylee knew that Amar had been right. As they’d flown from Dubai and she looked through the window, she could see them moving farther and farther away from Western civilization. Eventually, an old city had materialized in the middle of the desert, straight out of a movie.
Rylee had never seen anything like it. She must have had a wide-eyed look on her face because Amar asked, “Overwhelming?” He took her hand as he helped her down the staircase to the tarmac.
“A little,” Rylee said.
By this point, Amar was wearing a dishdāshah, a traditional ankle-length garment with long sleeves, much like a robe Rylee had seen Arab men wear. But she’d never seen Amar in this vein, and it was unsettling.
She was wearing the hijab as requested and was glad of it. Amar had been right when he’d said she’d be out of her element. A dark SUV was waiting for them along with what appeared to be two bodyguards surveying the landscape. Rylee wondered whether they were in danger as the driver got out of the car and began loading their suitcases into the back of the SUV under the watchful eyes of the guards.
“It’s just a precaution.” Amar must have read her thoughts when he saw her eyeing the guards suspiciously.
“Against what?” she asked.
“With father on his deathbed, some might see me as a threat.”
“But you’re not in the line of succession.”
“Very true, which is why it’s just a precaution. Come.” Amar opened the passenger door. “It’s a short ride to the palace.”
Palace? Rylee thought. She felt like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. She was a long way from Kansas.
Rylee slid inside the SUV, and Amar joined her.
When the driver was finished loading their bags, he and the bodyguards jumped inside the vehicle and they all took off toward the palace.
As they drove through the city, Amar pointed out several places of interest, but nothing he said could squash the butterflies flying around in Rylee’s stomach. She was about to meet Amar’s family, and the thought terrified her.
When they arrived to the estate, large wooden doors opened and Rylee nearly lost her breath as the palace came into view. Nothing could have prepared her for the sheer luxury of it all. The SUV stopped, her passenger door swung open, and the bodyguard who’d been sitting in the front seat helped her out.
“Thank you,” she said. He didn’t speak. He merely nodded.
Before Amar could come around for her, a tall dishdāshah-clad olive-toned man with straight jet-black hair opened the palace doors and came rushing toward them. “Amar, I’m so glad you’re here.”
He greeted Amar with a warm hug, and Rylee instantly knew he had to be his brother Tariq. They shared the same facial features though not the same hair. Amar pulled away and grabbed Tariq’s shoulders, which were just as broad as his. “Father?”
“He’s still holding on,” Tariq answered. “I think long enough so you could get here.”
“How sentimental of you, Tariq,” another man said from behind. He wasn’t quite as tall as Tariq and Amar, but he had the same dark hair and olive complexion as Tariq, yet unlike Tariq’s warm brown eyes, his were cold and distant. Rylee was sure he had to be Khalid, the middle brother and next in line to be King.
“Don’t start, Khalid,” Tariq warned.
“I’m not starting anything,” Khalid replied. “Father’s favorite is here, and he can die in peace.”
“Of course you would think so,” Amar replied, rolling his eyes. “I need to go to him, but first, I’d like you both to meet Rylee.” Amar turned and reached for Rylee’s hand.
She tentatively accepted and moved toward the tense group.
“This is Rylee Hart.”
“You brought your mistress here to the palace when Father’s on his deathbed? You can’t be without her for a few days?” Khalid asked. “I should have known that you wouldn’t show common decency.”
Amar let go of Rylee’s hand and stepped toward his brother. Rylee didn’t like the dangerous look in his eyes. He looked ready to murder Khalid on the spot. “Rylee is not my mistress. She’s my girlfriend.”
“Your girlfriend?” Khalid and Tariq said aloud as if the thought was utterly ridiculous. Has Amar never introduced a woman to his family before? Rylee wondered.
“Yes,” Amar stated, “my girlfriend. And you would do well to remember that and treat her with the same courtesies as I extend to your wife, you got that?” He poked his index finger into Khalid’s chest.
Khalid rolled his eyes. “As you wish. I doubt she’ll last long anyway, as you’re known for not keeping the same bed partner for more than a second.” He turned on his heel and walked back inside the palace.
Rylee blanched. Khalid’s words cut her to the quick as he’d intended, and Amar quickly turned around to face her.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said, taking her hands and brushing his lips across them. “Khalid and I don’t get along.”
“Th-that’s an understatement,” Rylee said, finding her voice. She refused to show just how hurt she’d been by Khalid’s words.
“Let’s go inside,” Tariq interrupted them, “so you can freshen up and go see Father.”
Tariq led them through the marble hallway filled with what Rylee could only imagine were priceless artifacts and works of art. The palace was like something out of a movie or fairytale, and she marveled at the crown mouldings made of gold and the two-story columns. Tariq led them up a marble staircase to the second floor of the palace and then down a long corridor before stopping at a door.
He swung it open, and Rylee’s mouth dropped at the lush décor. It housed a large canopy bed swathed with lavish silks. Fine draperies hung from the windows. “This is your suite,” Tariq said. “I will send up one of the ladies to assist you with your unpacking while Amar and I go see Father.”
“Thank you.” Rylee half-smiled.
“I’ll be back soon,” Amar said from the door as Tariq closed it behind them, leaving Rylee alone with her thoughts.
Rylee was unsure of what to do first. Should she unpack, or should she look around? She chose the latter and used her time alone to peruse the suite of rooms, because that’s exactly what it was. The suite included their sleeping quarters, a study, and a large bathroom with a rainfall shower and sunken tub that could easily fit half a dozen people and a living area with a balcony the size of her bedroom back at Golden Oaks. She stepped out into the warm, muggy air and took a deep breath to steady her shaky nerves as she surveyed the desert.
She glanced toward the door and thought of Amar. He was no doubt about to say goodbye to his father, a man with whom he shared a complicated history. He would need someone to lean on during this emotional time, but Khalid’s earlier comment had her wondering if she’d made the right decision to come here.
The fact that Amar had called her his girlfriend, even though they’d never discussed exactly what they were to each other, was promising. But the flip side of the coin was that he needed a soft place to land and once it was over, he’d be on to his next conquest. Rylee wasn’t sure she could take that. Amar had come to mean something to her, and she had strong feelings for him that she wasn’t ready to say out loud — feelings that began with the letter “L”.
“You brought a woman with you?” Tariq commented as he and Amar walked swiftly down the palace corridors. “I must admit I’m shocked by this, Amar.”
“I didn’t invite her,” Amar replied as they turned the corner and began walking toward the Sheikh’s wing of the palace. “She came to the airport and met me, but I have to tell you, when she came through the jet’s doors, I wished I had because I’d never been happier to see anyone in my entire life.”
“Sounds like you really like this woman.”
Amar walked inside the partially darkened room and saw Saffron sitting in a chair by his father’s bedside. His once-vibrant, commanding father lay still on a custom-built bed.
Saffron rose when they approached.
“How is he?” Amar asked.
When he got closer, he could see she’d been crying and held a handkerchief in her hand.
“He’s been anxious and restless,” she murmured. “I think he’s been waiting for you, Amar. He couldn’t go without seeing you one final time.” She began to sob and then rushed out of the room.
“Is that you, son?” his father’s voice weakly called.
Amar rushed over to the bed and looked down. The Sheikh had aged two times over since Amar’s previous trip to see him in the hospital. “Yes, it’s me,” Amar said. “I’m here.”
“I’ll give you two some time alone,” Tariq whispered.
Amar glanced up and nodded his thanks before glancing back down at his father. “Are you in any pain? Do you need anything?”
“N-no,” the Sheikh replied. “Just you.”
“Why me?” Amar didn’t understand. They’d never shared a strong father-son connection.
“There’s so much to say …,” his father responded, and Amar could only nod in quiet agreement. “I-I’ve never been a good father to you. Wasn’t the father I should have been.”
“We don’t have to rehash this,” Amar said. “You should save your strength.”
“I saved it for this moment,” his father eked out and reached for Amar’s hand, “to tell you that I did you a great disservice. To tell you I’m sorry for how I treated you and your mother. I loved her. I always did and always will.”
Harts of Arizona Series Page 52