Susan Mallery - Desert Rogues Part 1

“Are we late?” Fatima asked, ignoring the king’s expression of displeasure. “I was just telling Dora that tonight there would be a family dinner where we’ll discuss how to handle the crisis. The timing is unfortunate. After all, this is her first night in El Bahar. However, I thought that having her here with us all was certainly better than leaving her alone in her room.”

Khalil nearly grinned as his grandmother’s frosty glare caught the king’s gaze and held it. Givon Khan might be one of the five or six most wealthy men in the world, and a beloved and powerful monarch, but he was still a man who had to deal with a formidable mother. Fatima was in her seventies, but she wasn’t someone to be taken lightly.

Khalil waited for his father to draw his battle lines. Not unexpectedly, the king decided this wasn’t the time or place for a confrontation. He nodded toward one of the servants waiting patiently at the rear of the room. Two more place settings appeared.

“Mother, your willingness to think of others is what has made you the woman you are,” Givon said, rising and holding open his arms. “As always, you are wise beyond your years.”

Fatima walked toward him and let herself be folded into his embrace. She touched his cheek. “I’m seventy-three, Givon. It’s time to stop saying I’m wise beyond my years, don’t you think?” She turned her attention toward the table. “Dora, sit next to your husband. Jamal, move over. I’ll sit between you and your brother.”

In a matter of seconds Fatima had the table arranged to her liking. She settled between her two oldest grandsons, but shot Khalil a look that warned him he would have much to answer for later. Khalil found himself looking forward to the exchange. He’d avoided marrying Amber. Nothing else mattered.

He glanced at his bride. Dora tried to give him a smile, but it quivered at the corners, then failed completely. He knew that his father had settled her in a suite on the far side of the palace. More proof that the monarch did not approve. Khalil braced himself for the next round of tirades against his thoughtless, irresponsible behavior. He told himself it didn’t matter what his father said; the marriage was binding.

“I am still not sure what I’m supposed to tell Aleser,” Givon said as a servant served a salad of fresh greens and goat cheese. “He has been my most loyal adviser for more than thirty years. We grew up together. We always agreed that his oldest daughter would marry one of the princes from Bahania, cementing the relationship between our two countries.”

“Whose fault is that?” Fatima asked blandly. “You’re the one who didn’t have any daughters. Besides, his oldest daughter did marry one of the princes.”

Givon ignored his mother and continued to focus his attention on Khalil. “In return, his youngest daughter would marry into our royal family. She was engaged to you, Khalil. We had all agreed.”

“Apparently not all of us,” Fatima said. She speared a piece of arugula. “I quite like Dora, and I think she’ll be a far better match than Amber. The girl’s smart, and she’s got backbone. My grandsons are too stubborn. They need women with backbone.”

Khalil forced himself not to laugh or look at his father, although he could imagine the older man’s outrage at his mother’s comments. But there was little Givon could do. He couldn’t force Khalil to divorce his wife. Fatima’s approval was not easily given and not something the king could ignore.

Khalil glanced at his grandmother. Why had the old woman sided with him on this matter? Did she know something of Amber’s antics?

He noticed that Dora hadn’t touched her food. He wanted to tell her to relax, that everything was going to work out, but he didn’t want to speak in front of his family. Instead he slipped his hand under the table and found hers, then squeezed her fingers. She gave him a grateful smile.

“The problem is easily solved,” Fatima said. “In two weeks, we’ll have a traditional ceremony. That will appease the people.”

“What about Aleser?” the king asked. “How are we to appease him?”

“The man has children of his own. I suspect he understands they can be difficult at times.” Fatima took another bite of salad. Her sharp, brown eyes glittered with amusement. “In the meantime, Dora can come live with me in the harem. I will teach her all she needs to know to be a good wife to a prince.”

Khalil frowned. He’d known that his father had moved Dora into her own suite as an expression of his displeasure, but Khalil had planned to change that arrangement this very evening. She might not be the woman of his dreams, but he’d married her, and he had every intention of bedding her. For one thing, he wanted sons. For another, he’d enjoyed their lovemaking, and he wanted to experience it again. But if she was in the harem, she was out of reach to him.

“That’s not possible,” Khalil said curtly. “Dora and I are married. We will share quarters.”

Fatima raised her eyebrows. “You weren’t in a hurry to correct the situation this afternoon.”

“I was with my father.” Having his hide taken off, he thought grimly.

“No matter. It won’t hurt you to wait two weeks to share time with your bride.”

“As I said, that’s not possible. If nothing else, Dora works for me.”

“Not anymore, Khalil,” Fatima informed him with a triumphant smile. “She’s a princess now, not a secretary. You’re just going to have to do without her.”

When they’d finished dinner, Khalil walked a quiet Dora to the door of the harem. He’d brought up their living arrangements twice more, but Fatima had been adamant. Dora was to spend the next two weeks with her, learning how to be a proper wife. Khalil wasn’t sure what those lessons would entail, but he doubted Dora would take well to them. She was a very Western woman.

“I’m sorry about this,” he said when they stopped in front of an ornate gold door. A design of an exquisite garden had been etched into the precious metal. “I thought we’d be together, but it’s only for a couple of weeks.”

He was speaking as much to himself as to her. For reasons he didn’t understand, a need had built inside of him and made him ache. He wanted her more than he’d wanted anyone in a long time.

She turned on him. “Our living arrangements are the least of our problems, Khalil. Why didn’t you tell me you were engaged?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, well, perhaps I should have mentioned that.”

“Perhaps? That’s the best you can do? How do you think I felt when I found out that you were supposed to marry someone else?”

“Why does it matter? I married you.”

“Which leads to a couple of dozen other questions.” She turned away from him and pressed her fingers against the door.

“Is this real gold?”

Her question made no sense to him. “Of course.”

Her laugh sounded strangled. “Golden doors and broken engagements. So why did you marry me instead of her? What’s her name? Amber?”

He hadn’t expected to answer questions about his exfiancée, so he wasn’t prepared. The truth was unacceptable. Dora would never understand. He wanted to pound his fist against the wall and scream out his frustration. What had seemed like a sensible plan when he’d been in New York had quickly turned into a disaster. Why couldn’t everyone leave him alone? He was married—his wife was, if not suitable, then someone who could be made suitable.

“I didn’t love her,” he said at last.

Dora stared at him expectantly, but he didn’t have any more to say. He wondered briefly how strange all this must seem to her. A new country, in-laws, a palace.

“You won’t have to stay here two weeks,” he promised. “I’ll speak to my father and have your things moved into my room.” As he studied her, he remembered how it had been between them. The feel of her soft skin and her body, so hesitant, yet yielding. Hot blood coursed through him, arousing him. He moved closer.