Desert Rogues Part 2 (58 page)

Billie raised her eyebrows. “What? That doesn't sound right.”

“I agree,” Cleo said. “Murat can be all formal with his ‘I'm the crown prince' but he's never been into silly young women.” She winced. “Sorry. Not that your niece is silly or anything.”

“I know what you mean,” Daphne said. “She's still a kid in so many ways. She's only had a couple of boyfriends and none of them were serious. Murat is nearly twice her age. I was determined to talk her out of it, which I did, just in the nick of time. We were flying here when she suddenly realized she was making a huge mistake. So she went back to the States, and I stayed to tell Murat there wasn't going to be an engagement. The next thing I knew I was locked in the harem and he was announcing
our
engagement in the papers.”

Emma sighed. “That's so romantic.”

Cleo and Billie looked at her. “That's kidnapping,” Cleo said.

“Well, maybe technically, but he must really love her.”

Daphne shook her head. “I hate to burst your bubble, but Murat doesn't love me. It's been ten years. He doesn't even
know
me anymore.”

“So why the sudden engagement?” Billie asked.

“I have no idea,” Daphne told her.

“He has to have a reason,” Cleo said. “Men always do things for a reason. Has he been pining for you all these years?”

“Gee, let's count the number of women he's been out with in that time,” Daphne said humorously. “I'm going to guess it's around a hundred or so.”

“But he wasn't serious about any of them.”

Emma scooted forward in her seat. “If it's not too personal, why did you leave last time?”

Good question. “There were a lot of reasons. Things moved so quickly—I didn't get a chance to figure out if this was the life I wanted before I found myself engaged. When reality set in, I panicked.”

“But you loved him,” Billie said. “Didn't you?”

“As much as I could at the time.” Daphne thought back to how brightly her feelings had burned. “I was pretty innocent, and Murat was the first guy I'd been serious about. I'm not sure I knew what love was. We were so different.”

Although getting over him had taken what felt like a lifetime. She still had scars.

Cleo smiled at her. “Ah, to be that young again. Wouldn't you like to go back in time and talk to that Daphne?”

“I don't know what I would say to her.”

“Would you tell her to stay?” Cleo asked.

“No.”

“Why not?” Emma asked. “Are we getting too personal? Does this feel like an interrogation?”

“I'm okay,” Daphne told her. “And I wouldn't have told her to stay because I know what happened after. Murat didn't love her…me. He didn't bother to come after me. Not a phone call or a letter. He never cared enough to find out why I'd left.”

She expected the three princesses to look shocked. Instead Cleo sighed, Billie shook her head, and Emma's expression turned sad.

“It's pride,” Emma said. “They have too much of it. It's a sheik thing. Or maybe a royal thing.”

“I'm not sure what pride has to do with it.”

Cleo shrugged. “You have to look at it from his point of view. He offered you everything, and you walked away. That had to have tweaked his tail just a little. Tweaked princes don't go running after women.”

“Mere women,” Billie said in a stern voice. “You are a mere woman.”

Emma grinned. “The princes are so cute when they're all imperious.”

Daphne felt as if she'd just sat down with the crazy family. “What are you talking about?”

“That you can't judge Murat's feelings for you solely on whether or not he came running after you when you left,” Cleo said. “He's the crown prince and has that ego thing going on even more than his brothers. It's possible that in that twisted ‘I'm the man' brain of his, he thought it would show too much weakness.”

“But if he'd cared…”

“It's not about caring,” Emma said. “You're looking at the situation logically, and like a woman. Reyhan loved me and yet he ignored me for years. His pride wouldn't let him talk to someone he thought had rejected him, let alone admit his feelings. Murat could be the same way.”

Daphne thought about all the women he'd seen over the past decade. “I don't think he's actually been doing a lot of suffering.”

“Maybe not,” Cleo said. “But it's something to think about. If he matters at all.”

Just then the gold doors opened and several servants entered with carts.

Billie smiled. “Did we mention we'd brought lunch?”

The women gathered around the dining room table and enjoyed the delicious food. Conversation shifted from Daphne and her situation to how each of them had met their husbands, then to shopping and the best place to get really gorgeous, if uncomfortable, shoes. They left a little after three.

Daphne closed the door behind them, then retreated to the sofa in front of the garden window. Despite everything, she'd had a nice day. Had her engagement to Murat been real, she would have been delighted to know that these women would be a part of her life.

But it wasn't real, and their theory that Murat's pride had kept him from holding on to her was nice to think about but was not in any way true.

“Not that it matters now,” she whispered. Somehow she'd managed to get over him. At least she didn't have to worry about that now. Her feelings weren't engaged and her heart was firmly out of reach. She was going to make sure things stayed that way.

 

Daphne planned a quiet remainder of the day. She assumed Murat wouldn't come back to torment her until the morning, and she was partially right. Around four the gold doors opened again, but instead of the crown prince, she saw the king.

“Your Majesty,” she said, coming to her feet before dropping into a low curtsy.

“Daphne.”

Murat's father walked toward her and held out both his hands. He captured hers and kissed her knuckles. “How lovely to have you back in Bahania.” The handsome older man chuckled. “Most young women today don't know the first thing about a good curtsy, but you've always had style.”

“I had several years of training in etiquette. Some of it had to rub off,” she said with a smile. While she might not be excited about what Murat was up to, she couldn't help being pleased at seeing the king. He had always been very kind to her, especially when she'd been young, in love and terrified.

“Come,” King Hassan said as he led her to the cluster of sofas. “Tell me everything. You and your family are well?”

“Everyone is great.” Except for Laurel who was furious about Brittany not marrying Murat. “They send their best.” Or they would have if they'd known she would be speaking with the king.

“I'm sure they're very excited about what has happened.”

Her good mood slipped. “Yes. My parents are delighted.”

King Hassan had to be close to sixty, but he looked much younger. There was an air of strength about him. Authority and determination. No doubt that came from a royal lineage that stretched back over a thousand years. He was considered one of the most forward-thinking leaders in the world. A king who earned his people's respect through his actions and loyalty to his country.

Murat would be equally as excellent a leader, Daphne thought. He'd been born to the position and had never once stumbled. Which made him admirable, but not someone she wanted to marry.

“My son sends you a surprise,” the king said as the gold doors opened again.

Servants appeared with the carts they seemed to favor. But this time instead of food they brought clay and sculpting tools.

Her fingers instantly itched for the feel of clay, while the cynical part of her brain wondered if he thought he could bribe her with her hobby.

“You must thank him for me,” she said as the servants bowed and left.

“You can thank him yourself. He'll be by later.”

Oh, joy, she thought as she smiled politely.

“You are aware of the date,” King Hassan said.

Daphne blinked at him. “Today's date?”

“No. That the wedding date has been set. It is in four months. The challenge will be to get everything done in such a short period of time, but I am sure that with the right staff, we will be successful.”

She stiffened her spine and drew in a breath. “Your Majesty, I mean no disrespect, but the problem isn't finding the right staff. The problem is I am not going to marry Murat, and there is nothing anyone can say to convince me otherwise.”

She'd thought the monarch might be surprised, but he only chuckled. “Ah, two stubborn people. So who will win this battle?”

“I will. It is the old story of the rabbit and the hound. The rabbit gets away because while the hound runs for its supper, the rabbit runs for its life.”

“An interesting point.” The king took her hand again and lightly squeezed her fingers. “I have often wondered how things would have been different if you had stayed and married Murat. Have you?”

“No.” Well, maybe a little, but she wasn't interested in admitting it. “I wasn't ready to be married. I was too young, as was your son. The position of his wife requires much, and I'm not sure I would have been up to the task.”

“Perhaps. There are many responsibilities in being queen, although your questions and self-doubts make me think you would have done well in the position. He never married.”

Daphne drew her hand from his and laced her fingers together on her lap. “Murat? I'm aware of that. Had he married I would not currently be a prisoner in the harem.”

“You know that is not my point,” Hassan said humorously. “You never married, either.”

“I've been busy with my studies and establishing my career.”

“It is not much of an excuse. Perhaps each of you were waiting for the other to make the first move.”

Daphne nearly sprang to her feet. At the last second she remembered that action would be a fairly serious breach of protocol. “I assure you that is not even close to true. Murat has enjoyed the company of so many beautiful women, I doubt he remembers them all, let alone a young woman from a decade ago.”

“And now?” the king asked.

“We barely know each other.”

“An excellent point. Perhaps this is a good time to change that.” The king rose. “Murat wants this wedding, Daphne, as do your parents. As do I. Are you willing to take on the world?”

She stood and tried not to give in to the sudden rush of fear. “If I have to.”

“Perhaps it would be easier to give in graciously. Would marriage to Murat be so horrible?”

“Yes. I think it would be.” She bit her lower lip. “Your Majesty, would you really force me to marry your son against my will?”

His dark eyes never wavered as he spoke. “If I have to.”

 

Murat found Daphne in the garden. The sun had nearly slipped below the horizon, and the first whispers of the cool evening air whispered against his face.

She sat on a stone bench, her shoulders slumped, her chin nearly touching her chest. The only word that came to his mind at that moment was…
broken
.

He hurried forward and pulled her to her feet. She gasped in surprise, but didn't resist until he tried to draw her close.

“What do you think you're doing?” she demanded, twisting free of his embrace.

“Comforting you.”

She glared at him. “You're the source of my troubles, not the relief from them.”

“I'm all you have.”

She took a step back. “What a sorry state of affairs. What on earth does that sentence say about my life?”

“That at least there is one person on your side.”

Little light spilled into the garden, but there was enough for him to see her beautiful features. Her wide eyes had darkened with pain and confusion. Her full lips trembled. It was as if the weight of the world pressed down upon her, and he ached for her.

“Come,” he said, holding out his arms. “You'll feel better.”

“Maybe I don't want to,” she said stubbornly, even as she moved forward and leaned against him.

He wrapped his arms around her. She was slight, so delicate and yet so strong. She smelled of flowers and soap and of herself. That arousing fragrance he had never been able to forget.

Wanting filled him, but something else, as well. Something that made this moment feel right.

He felt her hands on his back, and she rested her forehead against his shoulder.

“No one will help me,” she said. “I've been making phone calls for nearly two hours. Not my family—which isn't a big surprise—nor any of my friends. I even called my congressman. Everyone thinks us getting married is a fine idea. They refused to believe that I'm being held against my will, and they all hinted for an invitation to the wedding.”