by Leslie North
It would be dangerous.
He should be keeping distance between them. And yet here he was, getting ready for Ryan’s first instruction session. He gazed out the window of the small sitting room they’d chosen for the classes, but he only half saw the play of the fountain in the garden below. His mind’s eye saw Hannah, front and center.
She’d looked up at him with those big green eyes, her chin raised and her jaw set, and asked him to be with her son. How could Chakir say no?
It hadn’t been the plan for Chakir to handle this. His mission had only been to get the two of them back to Hamari. Then a team of experts from the palace would take over.
That hadn’t happened.
Chakir had given Hannah and Ryan a few days to settle into their suite at the palace. He’d sent Hannah a packet of information about royal customs and decorum, but he wasn’t expecting much this morning. It had been enough of a fight getting her onto the plane in the first place.
“Good morning, Sheikh Chakir.”
Ms. Shadha’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, and he turned from the window to greet her. “Good morning.”
The older woman swept into the room in a patterned caftan that skimmed the floor. She’d been Chakir’s mother’s lady-in-waiting and knew everything there was to know about royal customs. She’d be sitting with Hannah and consulting with Mr. Mehdi, who had instructed Chakir and Kishon when they were boys. The now-elderly man followed her in, and the men shook hands.
“It’s been a while since we had a young person like Ryan in the palace,” Mr. Mehdi said to Chakir. “I always thought my next pupil would be King Kishon’s son, or yours.”
“Funny, isn’t it, how life works out?” Chakir put a smile on his face, but something deep in his chest twisted at the words. He hadn’t thought much about children—not until he’d met Hannah and Ryan. Now, the idea of being a father tugged at his mind at the oddest times.
“What do you think, Sheikh Chakir?” Ms. Shadha’s eyes lingered on his. “Will we have to start at the very beginning?”
Hannah had been the one to get defensive on the first day. Now it was Chakir’s turn to resist his instinctive reaction. “I’ve given Miss Fisher basic information. We’ll see if she’s had time; I’m sure she’s been busy getting settled.” But deep in his heart, Chakir knew it would be a long shot. Hannah would bristle at all the rules, the way she had bristled at the prospect of leaving the States and at Kishon’s words in the sitting room. She would not submit easily.
That thought beat in his mind like a drum, a tension tightening through his core. What would it take to get her to submit? Not just to the rules…to him?
Chakir’s mouth went dry, and he swallowed the urge to call off the morning’s session and ask—no, tell—Hannah to meet him somewhere private. He wanted her for himself. He wanted her on her knees.
He wanted—
A gentle knock sounded at the door, and all three of them turned. Chakir shoved his runaway want for her deep down.
Surprise replaced it.
Hannah and Ryan stood framed in the doorway, but they were…different versions of themselves. Hannah wore a navy-blue dress with sleeves that covered her elbows and a hemline that dropped just below her knees. Its square neckline was both classy and beautiful. She’d styled her hair in a neat twist at the back of her head. Even her shoes matched. She looked…almost royal. Nothing like the woman in jeans and a T-shirt who’d invited him into her house last week.
Ryan’s pants were neatly pressed. He wore a white button-down with a tiny navy blazer over the top.
“Go ahead,” Hannah prompted him softly.
Ryan approached Chakir. “Good morning, Sheikh Chakir,” he said, then reached for Chakir’s hands for the traditional two-handed greeting.
“Good morning, Prince Ryan,” Chakir said, pride blooming in his chest. Ryan went to greet Ms. Shadha and Mr. Mehdi, too.
She’d taught him the greeting. They’d both dressed according to the guidelines. They were five minutes early.
He’d underestimated Hannah.
He wouldn’t do it again.
The session lasted an hour, with the man named Mr. Medhi and Chakir guiding Ryan through the correct way to sit at a table and greet other guests.
Hannah spent all sixty minutes feeling utterly useless.
At first, she hovered nearby, even sitting at the table. But this felt oppressive, somehow, and she moved to a seat farther out. When she did that, Ms. Shadha sat next to her and complimented her on her outfit.
“Thank you.” Hannah’s cheeks went hot. It was like being evaluated at work, only more awkward, somehow. But she kept her chin up. Chakir had basically challenged her to be excellent at this part of her new life, and she wasn’t going to back down from a challenge.
Not now.
Not ever.
Still, as Ms. Shadha went over some of the finer points of royal decorum, Hannah felt her iron resolve quaking a bit. It wasn’t that she found this intimidating. That wasn’t the right word. It was just so different from her shabby, comfortable life in Chicago that it made her feel like a spinning top.
Not to mention Chakir. Chakir’s voice, his low laughter, carrying to where she sat with Ms. Shadha. Chakir’s arms, folded over his chest, stretching his shirt over his shoulders…
It was a complicating factor for sure. Hannah wanted to be closer to him. She could feel the pull on her center of gravity. But she had to sit still, learn, pay attention…
It wasn’t easy.
“How about a snack, Prince Ryan?” Mr. Mehdi asked in a booming voice. The session was over.
“Yes!” cried Ryan, thrusting a fist in the air. “Please,” he added in the nick of time.
The older man laughed, ruffling his hair. “Go with the nanny, and she’ll get you something.”
The nanny appeared as if by magic, like most other things in the palace. Ryan ran to her without hesitation and took her hand. Hannah was on her feet before she realized he didn’t need her.
She turned around, pretending to look for the purse she hadn’t brought with her.
“Would you like to walk in the gardens?” Chakir’s smooth voice, coming from somewhere over her shoulder, brought her back to herself in a rush of warmth and relief.
“Yes,” she answered. “I really would.”
The palace gardens were lush and gorgeous, and Hannah felt better by the end of the first row of green and crimson plants.
“You should have told me you loved gardens,” Chakir said lightly. “I’d have brought you out for a walk before now.”
“I was too busy sending out for a dress and teaching Ryan how to greet people,” she teased, relishing the sun on her face. “But I would like to see more of the gardens. If we have time.”
“We have time if I say so,” said Chakir, and the shift in his tone called to something at the pit of her gut. Something a little dark, a little edgy. “Ryan did well today.”
She let her eyes trace the cut lines of his face, drinking in the perfection of him against the backdrop of the flowers and greenery. “I’m very proud of how hard he’s worked.”
A sly smile spread across Chakir’s face. “I have to admit—I didn’t expect it to play out quite that way. I wasn’t sure you’d want to dive in.”
“Well, you lit a fire under me.” It was the truth, and Hannah wasn’t afraid to admit it. “I’ve never been a victim of circumstance before, and I’m not going to become one now. I memorized all the rules.”
Chakir raised his eyebrows.
“Seriously,” she insisted. “I did. This is our new life now, and I’m going to live it the best I can. Even if a few of those rules are…silly.”
“Silly?” He stopped and faced her, his eyes hot on hers. “What about them was silly?”
There was something more to this disagreement, an undertone that had Hannah’s spine straight and her soul arching toward Chakir. “For one thing,” she shot back, as if her tone could disguise her inne
r yearning, “Ryan needs normal friends. He can’t spend all his time with members of the royal family, like it says in that handbook. How can he lead his people if he doesn’t know them?”
“Ah. So you’re already counting on Ryan skipping the line of succession and ruling Hamari?”
“Who’s to say?” countered Hannah. “If he could suddenly become a prince, he could suddenly become a king. And he’s been raised in the States until now, as an ordinary kid. He can’t know anything about the tribe or your traditions, if he can’t really leave the palace.”
“I turned out all right, didn’t I?” Chakir joked.
“You turned out…” She couldn’t help it. She looked down the length of him, in his slacks and the shirt that fit him like a glove she wanted to peel off to reveal the skin underneath. Why was she suddenly breathless? “You turned out,” she finished lamely.
Chakir’s eyes lingered on hers. “It’s not so much a law as a tradition,” he said after a long pause. “I’m willing to consider your point. We can work to find friends for Ryan, if you think it’s important.”
“I can do it,” she said quickly. “I’ll make it my special project.”
“But you’ll need guidance.” Chakir stepped closer. “You’re in a new land, with new people.”
The air had thinned, and what was left was tinged with an electric pulse. “I don’t need anything,” Hannah said.
“Not true. You need me.”
He was so close, and Hannah found herself leaning into Chakir’s orbit. Then his hand was on the back of her neck, his lips were on hers, and the taste of him was so forbidden and fraught she thought she’d break into a million pieces, right there in his hands. More. She wanted more of him. And right now—
“Oh, I’m—Sheikh Chakir, I’m sorry.”
A gardener.
Hannah broke away from Chakir. Surely there was some rule about making out with the prince in the garden. Faintly, she heard him say something to the gardener, but Hannah was too consumed with the kiss lingering on her lips to hear.
7
Unbelievable. Chakir had been intent on praising Hannah for her willingness to conform to royal rules and traditions. Sharing a hot kiss in the royal gardens was the precise opposite of conforming to royal customs. At least, it was the opposite of conforming to royal ideals. Chakir was certain he wasn’t the first member of the family to get caught by the gardener with a woman who wasn’t his girlfriend. Or his fiancée. Or his wife. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was he hadn’t actually broken a cut-and-dried rule.
It was more his own personal outlook about rule breakers, he supposed. Chakir had spent time with a few women, especially during his university days, but it had never seemed right to bring them back to the palace. He’d never have even considered a woman like Hannah.
And now he couldn’t stop considering her.
He’d been aware of her in Ryan’s tutoring sessions all week. His awareness intensifying each day until it was like sitting in a room with a space heater. He was constantly aware of every little movement she made—every tilt of her head, every low laugh, every shift in her seat. He’d caught himself staring three separate times during the last session. He couldn’t stop searching for an excuse to ask her to walk in the garden again.
Only all his excuses seemed like transparent attempts to kiss her again, which, he had to admit, they were.
But he couldn’t do that.
They couldn’t do that. It would be crossing a line. He hadn’t brought Hannah and Ryan here to seduce her.
But he couldn’t think about that now. It was time for their first test as part of the royal family. Chakir’s head belonged at the holiday celebration, not lingering on Hannah Fisher. It was a minor holiday in Hamari, celebrating the country’s national flower, so Ryan didn’t need to be crowned to participate. Ryan did need to be able to hold it together, because it was also his birthday.
Chakir rounded the corner into the palace banquet hall with high hopes tinged with a bright worry. He knew enough about American birthday parties to know that a luncheon like this one wouldn’t count in Ryan’s mind.
Guests were already circulating, the women in bright dresses and the men in slacks and button-downs. The children who’d been invited—mostly those of the dignitaries and upper crust of Hamari society—stood by their parents in miniature versions of their parents’ outfits.
It all looked lovely.
Hannah and Ryan stood next to the low stage at the side of the hall. This was where they’d address the people who’d gathered for the celebration. He made a beeline for them. Hannah wore a flowing dress in deep plum that reminded him of some of his favorite flowers in the garden, and Ryan stood close by, eyes fixed on the crowd. Hannah’s eyes lit up when she saw him, and Chakir felt an answering flare at the center of his chest.
Not something he could indulge at this moment.
“You look beautiful,” he said, though he’d meant to start with, All set for the ceremony?
Hannah gave him a quizzical smile. “Thanks. Why do I sense a but at the end of that sentence?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Even the sound of her voice made him feel lighter—almost like he’d suddenly gained the ability to take flight. “You do look beautiful. And I wanted to know if you’re set for the ceremony.”
“We’re all set.” She raised one eyebrow. “We’ve been over this, Chakir. You don’t have to worry.”
“The birthday will come later,” he said in a low tone that he hoped wouldn’t carry over to Ryan. “No cake at the luncheon.”
“I know.” Hannah matched his tone. “No cake at the luncheon. Just be on your guard, Chakir. Once the last plate has been cleared, all bets are off.”
“Hannah—”
She rolled her eyes and nudged him with her elbow, something that felt both too familiar and not nearly familiar enough. “Don’t be a killjoy. Honestly, I understand.” But her eyes sparkled with enough excitement to make Chakir wonder if she really did.
There was a flourish at the entrance to the room, and a uniformed member of the palace staff announced King Kishon. Chakir’s brother entered with a genial wave, Matek a few steps behind. “My cousin,” Chakir said to Hannah. “He leads our security team. He’s back from a conference.”
“King Kishon,” Hannah said, inclining her head. “Good afternoon.” She pressed Ryan a step forward.
“Hello, King Kishon,” he said, not taking his eyes from the floor.
Chakir’s shoulders tightened. Ryan had been doing much better than this in his classes. And now, of all times, he was going to slip up?
Kishon didn’t seem to notice. He simply introduced Matek.
Hannah extended her hand and Matek, eyes twinkling, swept it up and brushed his lips across her knuckles. She stifled a laugh that turned into a snort, and Chakir’s mild anxiety crumbled to dust under the hot roar of jealousy. Matek straightened up, cutting a pointed glance at Chakir.
He folded his arms over his chest, refusing to give in to Matek’s taunts.
“Lovely to meet you, Miss Fisher,” said Matek.
Kishon laughed. “Are we all ready?”
“Yes.” Chakir led the way to the steps at the side of the stage.
“She’s very pretty,” Matek murmured in his ear. Chakir wanted to bat him away but resisted. They were in front of guests. “Good to see you again, cousin.”
“I might have missed you if you were gone longer,” Chakir shot back, keeping a careful smile in place on his face.
Matek said something else, but Chakir didn’t hear. He’d turned around to look for Hannah, but she was still standing a few feet off. Kishon stepped onto the stage. It was time to begin the luncheon. What was happening?
Hannah bent down, saying something urgently into Ryan’s ear. Heart pounding, Chakir strode over to the two of them. Ryan stood in the same spot, eyes on the floor and a pout on his face. “What’s going on?”
“He’s�
��” Hannah glanced over Chakir’s shoulder toward the stage. “He wants to celebrate his birthday. That’s all.”
“We discussed this.” Chakir lowered his voice and angled his body away from the crowd. “He can’t—”
“Take it easy,” Hannah said, her own voice smooth and her face unbothered. “He’s five years old.”
“I don’t want to stand on the stage,” Ryan grumbled in the direction of his feet.
Chakir got down on one knee so he was at eye-level with Ryan. “Look at me, Ryan.” The boy looked into his eyes, mouth still twisted into a frown. “This is unacceptable. As a prince, your duty always comes before your personal wishes. You must learn this now.” He extended a hand. “It’s time to stand on the stage with the king, our cousin, and me.” His pulse seemed like it might explode out of his temples. One moment passed, then another. He could feel Hannah hovering nearby, radiating tension.
Then Hannah was down by Chakir’s side, too. “We know it’s all new to you, honey,” she said softly. “Going up on the stage isn’t happening instead of your birthday. We just have to do both things today.”
Ryan leaned into his mother, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. Hannah wrapped him in her arms, and something at the center of Chakir’s chest tugged toward that hug.
It wasn’t long before Ryan stood up straight. Chakir’s arm ached from holding his hand out so long, but now Ryan took it. “I’m ready,” he said.
They both stood up, and Chakir walked Ryan to the stage, trying to ignore the emptiness the hug had left in his chest.
Kishon and Matek had gone, and the very last dignitary was making his way to the door.
Still, some of the children had stayed behind with their parents. Chakir narrowed his eyes and scanned the banquet hall. Why were they taking so long to leave? Nervousness pricked at the back of his neck. Ryan stood near a table at the head of the hall, but where was Hannah?