by Dees, Cindy
They’d found him.
It hadn’t been nearly as dramatic or violent as he’d anticipated. The door of his cell had opened and an Army general he’d never seen before had stepped inside.
“My name is George Nagheb,” the man had said quietly.
Nick had recognized the name as belonging to the Army’s chief of intelligence. He’d never gotten a chance to meet the man in the short time he’d been back in Baraq. He’d heard that Nagheb was brilliant and highly educated. A shame he’d never gotten to work with the man, maybe forge an alliance, maybe share a goal of restoring Baraq to its former glory.
The general had bowed briefly and said simply, “Your Highness, if you would please come with me?”
And that was that. There’d been no questions, no need for denials, no decision of whether or not to confess and be done with it or to try to buy a little more time.
Actually, he was relieved. He’d worried that when the moment came, he wouldn’t pull off his surrender with the dignity required of a king. Whatever else happened, Nick was grateful to Nagheb for that.
So far they hadn’t questioned him at all. They’d just put him in his father’s bedroom with several silent, watchful guards outside the door. At first he’d been confused about why they’d brought him here. And then he’d realized that these were the king’s quarters. His quarters now.
Except he’d been too busy to move into them before the coup happened. Not to mention the idea of moving into his father’s rooms felt weird. During the one week he’d been king, he’d resided in the chambers he’d grown up in.
He looked around his father’s private sitting room. Oddly enough, the place hadn’t been looted. Priceless paintings still hung on the walls, and fabulously expensive knickknacks still sat on the tables.
He turned back to the window and his thoughts. He could just imagine the chaos that news of his discovery was causing at Army headquarters. It brought a sardonic smile to Nick’s lips. He might have lost the war, but he savored the small victory of surprising them.
It was all he had left.
Katy had known this moment would come. She’d tried to steel herself to face it, but nothing could’ve prepared her for the shock of the actual event.
Larry stuttered, “He isn’t? Then who is he?”
Katy looked away hastily as Larry’s gaze swung questioningly toward her. He would see the lie in her eyes. He’d see that she’d known all along who Nick was.
The general’s voice came as from a great distance. “Miss McMann, why don’t you tell your partner who Prisoner 1806 actually is.”
She looked up at the general in shock. They knew about her relationship with Nick, too? Good Lord. Then she was sunk, as well. If they executed her, too, then any chance for the Ramsey line to continue would be lost. She had to stay alive, for Nick’s sake.
Her voice steadier than she’d have believed possible, she looked General Nagheb directly in the eye. “I have no idea who Prisoner 1806 is. I knew him only as Akbar Mulwami. I recall he showed me his passport when I first spoke to him.”
Even to her ears, the lie sounded convincing. Funny how desperation gave her the strength to say that. She prayed Nagheb bought it. The general stared at her for several long seconds, her words hanging in the air between them. Finally he looked away, apparently accepting her answer. Katy let out the breath she’d been holding. Light-headedness washed over her.
General Nagheb glanced at his office door and then said quietly, “Prisoner 1806 is His Royal Highness, King Nikolas Ramsey of Baraq.”
Larry jolted beside Katy, and belatedly she remembered to act surprised, as well. Yet again she was grateful for the abaya and veil that hid her ineptitude as an actress.
“You’re kidding!” Larry exclaimed.
The general walked behind his desk and sat. He pushed several photos toward Larry. “Do you recognize this man?”
Katy looked over her partner’s shoulder at several glossy official photographs of Nick decked out in a gaudy military uniform, a crown on his head. His face was in one piece in these photos, but there was no mistaking him. Lord, he was gorgeous.
“Is this the same man you know as Prisoner 1806?”
Larry frowned and picked up a picture to stare at it more closely. “I’ve only seen Prisoner 1806 once. He had a broken nose and a lot of facial bruising and swelling. I couldn’t tell you if they’re the same man or not.”
He turned to Katy. “You see him all the time. Are they the same guy?”
She stared at the picture Larry shoved into her hands. Her belly twisted in a knot at the idea of identifying Nick. For so long she’d worked not to reveal the truth, there was no way she could bring herself to do it now.
She answered reluctantly, “If Prisoner 1806’s face were fully healed, they would definitely look a lot alike. But I couldn’t say for sure that they’re the same man.”
The general leaned back in his chair and stared speculatively at her.
Finally he remarked, “Your identification of the king is not necessary. He has admitted his identity already.”
Katy’s stomach dropped to her feet. She couldn’t have drawn in a breath at that moment if her life depended on it.
It was over.
Nick had turned himself in after all.
Tears surged into her eyes, and she fought them off furiously. Her life might very well depend on not falling apart for the next several minutes. Finally fear conquered her grief. She stood ramrod-stiff, praying that the general would let them go so she could go back to her hotel room and die.
The general was speaking again. “And as you know, the Geneva Conventions require certain standards of treatment for heads of state and other dignitaries. These have been provided to His Highness.”
Larry’s voice replied, barely audible through her agony, “Of course, you understand that we will need to verify this.”
“Of course.”
What were they talking about? Why wouldn’t they just shut up so she could get out of here? Her muscles ached from the strain of holding her body upright.
“You won’t mind, then, if we visit King Nikolas? Now, perhaps?”
Katy’s attention snapped to Larry. See Nick? Now? Her heart began beating once more.
The general’s piercing, far-too-intelligent gaze turned on her. “That can be arranged. A moment, please.”
Katy quivered in anticipation, while circulation returned to her limbs and her fingers regained feeling. She watched the general closely as he spoke quickly into a phone, wishing desperately that she spoke better Arabic.
General Nagheb hung up. “You may send one InterAid representative to see the prisoner. One only.”
Larry nodded his thanks. “Since Miss McMann has been this prisoner’s case worker all along, I’d prefer that she see him. It gives our records better continuity if the same person makes all the entries.”
Katy couldn’t believe her luck, nor that Larry had stepped aside this time. A second door to the room opened and a guard stepped in. General Nagheb instructed the soldier in French to take Katy to see the king. She squeezed Larry’s hand briefly as she passed by him, the gesture buried in a fold of her abaya as she swept past. His eyes smiled in return. If only he knew just what a gift he’d given both her and Nick. Maybe someday she could tell him.
“I’ll wait for you and escort you back to the hotel,” Larry called after her as she rushed out of the room and toward Nick.
The soldier led her down a maze of long hallways, each more gorgeous than the last. The architecture of the palace was stunning, especially given how old a structure it was. Despite the heavy exterior walls, the place felt light and airy inside, uncluttered. Breathtaking frescoes covered the ceilings, and light poured through banks of well-placed windows facing the interior courtyards of the palace.
And then the guard stopped at an ornate set of double doors guarded by several heavily armed soldiers. There was a brief exchange in Arabic, and then each of the soldiers grabbed a door and push
ed it open. The splendor of the room in front of her made everything she’d seen so far in this elegant palace pale by comparison.
“You may go in,” her escort said.
He made as if to follow her, and she stopped. “It is customary that InterAid interviews prisoners without guards present. That way the prisoners feel comfortable speaking candidly. I will knock on these doors when I am finished with my interview and am ready to leave.”
She’d tried to imbue her voice with the same authority Larry had used earlier.
Apparently it had worked, because her escort bowed his head briefly. “As you wish.”
“This may take some time,” Katy warned. “This prisoner’s change in status requires a great deal of detailed paperwork and new reporting. You know how bureaucracies are.” She rolled her eyes as if dreading the job, hoping to take the sting out of her pushiness.
The guard rolled his eyes in return.
Katy turned and stepped into the room. She stopped on the threshold, taking in the spectacular chamber as the doors closed silently behind her. And then she caught sight of Nick standing by a window at the far side of the spacious room, looking pensively out a window. Everything else disappeared but him.
Her gaze locked on his back as she moved toward him. The regal strength of his bearing, even when he thought he was alone, made her want to cry. The senseless tragedy of killing this noble man struck her anew, and finally the tears she’d been holding back so desperately came.
Nick looked out the window at the ruined gardens and thought about his mother. Thank goodness she would never see her rose beds in such condition, particularly at the hands of a country she’d despised. Will she mourn my death? He’d barely seen her since she’d taken him to England at the age of nine, deposited him in a posh boarding school and never looked back. She’d left everything and everyone that had to do with Baraq in her past.
He’d gotten beyond his anger and hurt long ago. Although the professionals told him it was probably why he’d had so much trouble committing to a woman. Something to do with fear of abandonment. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.
A swish of fabric sounded behind him, and he turned, startled.
Katy!
He stepped forward rapidly, looking over her shoulder for guards. She was alone. Merciful God, he’d expected never to see her again.
Nick wrapped her in a crushing embrace. Relief flooded through him, and he offered up a prayer of thanks.
“You found me,” he whispered. “How?”
“Long story,” she mumbled against his chest, her voice wobbly.
He felt wetness begin to soak through his shirt. He lifted her chin to look into her watery eyes, to lend her some of his resolve. Now wasn’t the time to grieve. Not yet. He needed her to be strong for him for just a little while longer.
“Why the tears? I’m still alive. You promised not to cry until after I’m gone,” he teased gently.
She sniffed and tried to smile. “I thought you were gone when I got to your cell and you weren’t there.”
He led her over to a soft leather sofa and sat, pulling her onto his lap. “Tell me about it.”
She relayed quickly the events that had brought her to his side.
“So the guards aren’t going to interrupt us until you tell them to?” Nick asked at the end of her recitation.
“That’s right,” she answered.
A slow smile filled him and spilled over onto his face. “Then I have an idea.”
She smiled gamely as he pulled them both up to stand and lifted the black fabric of the abaya away from her. Today she wore his favorite dress, a nearly ankle-length sleeveless sheath of bright yellow that brought out the roses in her cheeks and the golden highlights in her hair. It was odd to see her in the bright light of the room’s chandelier, with its hundreds of tiny bulbs. He was used to squinting in near-total darkness to make out her features. Now even the slightest nuance of her expression was visible. He drank in the shifting of her thoughts as they danced across her expressive face.
“You need to eat, my love,” he murmured. “You’re losing weight.”
Seen in good light, her face had slimmed down, losing its baby softness and leaving behind a grown woman with stunning features. Her cheekbones were high and classic, her nose narrow and refined. Yup, her great bones had come through as he’d thought they would.
He reached out slowly and tugged the rubber band from the bottom of her braid. Gently he teased her hair free of the plait, running his fingers through it until it flowed in a shimmering wave down her back. “I love your hair,” he murmured.
“You just like blondes.”
He smiled back at her. “I love your blond hair. You should always wear it down like this. I can’t keep my hands off it.”
She reached awkwardly behind her back for the zipper of her dress.
He stepped forward. “Let me.” He turned her around and eased the zipper downward. Her back was slender and creamy and disappeared into tantalizing shadows within the dress. He couldn’t resist. He bent down and kissed her shoulder, savoring the taste of her skin.
“You steal my breath away,” he murmured against her satin flesh.
His mouth drifted downward, following the feminine indentation of her spine. He pushed the soft cotton off her skin, revealing her slowly as he went. When it became an obstacle to his explorations, he hooked his fingers in her bikini underwear and eased it down, as well.
And then she was nude before him, more beautiful than the Venus de Milo herself as she gazed at him, her eyes swimming with desire and adoration. What man could resist a woman who looked at him like that?
He gazed back at her solemnly. “I love you,” he breathed.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
He blinked. Exultation shot through him. “You’re not just saying that because the end is near?”
A slight frown marred the smoothness of her brow. “Not at all. I’m saying it because I do love you. With all my heart. Can’t you tell?”
He smiled, actually a little embarrassed. “Well, I hoped. But I wasn’t sure. I thought I might be imagining it because I wanted you to return my feelings.”
She laughed up at him. “Silly man. How could I not love you? You’re perfect in every way. Except for being stubborn, of course.”
He laughed. “I’m far from perfect, my love.”
“You’re perfect to me,” she murmured.
He gathered her close against him, relishing the feel of her body against his. “Your opinion is all that matters,” he whispered back.
They stood there for a moment, enjoying the quiet of their embrace.
“So, madam, how are this prisoner’s new living conditions? Are they safe, sanitary and secure according to Geneva Convention standards?”
Katy leaned back and grinned up at him. “I’d say these quarters meet the minimum Geneva standards. Barely.”
“Glad to hear it. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of you doing your job.”
As much as they were both trying to keep the mood light and enjoy the moment, the passage of time weighed upon him. Desperation hovered just below the surface of Nick’s mind. He didn’t want to die, dammit! But he had no choice. He might not have lived his life like a king, but by God he’d die like one. Regret stabbed through him. He’d have loved to be with Katy for the next seventy years or so.
“There’s food on the table, darling. Are you hungry?”
“I am, but I’m not wasting my time with you eating.”
Nonetheless, he headed for the buffet that had been laid out for him. Sharaf wasn’t missing a trick when it came to rubbing in all that Nick had lost. “Let’s make a picnic of it. I’ll bring a platter over to the bed.”
She glanced down in dismay at the gorgeous brocade bedspread with the Ramsey lions embroidered on it in gold thread. “But—”
He set the platter on the bed, flopped down beside it and laughed aloud. “What will they do to me
if we make a mess? Kill me?” His laughter grew and he couldn’t help it. He laughed harder and harder until even he could hear the note of hysteria within it.
And then Katy was there, kneeling over him, holding his face in both her hands. “Look at me, Nick,” she ordered. “Stop it!”
He stared up at her, slowly regaining his senses, his laughter dying away.
“I can’t imagine what this must be like for you.” Then she said more strongly, “But you’ve got to pull yourself together.”
“Why?” he asked fatalistically. “What does it matter? Did you know my execution’s set for tomorrow?”
Katy reared back at that, horror painted on her face.
He continued mercilessly. “High noon. Death by hanging. Just like one of your cowboy movies.”
Her face crumpled slowly as realization hit her that this was the last time they would ever be together. Her features dissolved into tears. And that was what finally snapped Nick back to his senses. The sight of her shoulders shaking in silent agony was too much for him.
He sat up, pulling her against his chest. “God, I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Her hands snaked around his ribs, squeezing him painfully tight. “Nick, I can’t bear it,” she sobbed. “What am I going to do without you?”
He stroked her tangled hair. “You’ll go on with grace and dignity as you must. With time, you’ll get over me and you’ll move on with your life. I only hope you remember me fondly when you think back on me.”
She burrowed even closer against him.
He whispered into her hair, “Don’t forget me, Katy,”
She pulled back far enough to look up at him. “Never!” she declared fiercely. “I won’t let anybody forget you!”
They stared at each other for a long time. And then they sealed the promise with a kiss. He kissed her with all the desperation and fury within his soul, and she met his emotions with her own, equally desperate, equally passionate.
The heavily embroidered coverlets landed on the floor in a heap. The satin sheets were cool on Nick’s skin as he pulled Katy down to him. Her hair formed a curtain around their faces, and he ran his fingers through its softness before he kissed her again, losing himself in the fathomless blue ocean of her gaze.