Читать книгу The Sheik & the Virgin Princess - Susan Mallery, Susan Mallery - Страница 7

I nstead of going directly to the king, Rafe detoured by his own office first. Once there he headed for his computer, prepared to research the possibility of Zara Paxton being King Hassan’s illegitimate daughter.

A part of him had already accepted her story, which made him uneasy. Except for the feeling in his gut, he had no reason to trust her. Was he getting soft? Had he been out of combat too long? Or were his instincts telling him the truth?

Forty minutes later he had a rough idea of the king’s travel schedule from thirty years ago. There weren’t a lot of details, but it was obvious that Hassan had frequently visited New York City. Rafe toyed with the idea of breaking into the financial records to check on jewelry purchases, but figured he would do better to ask the king directly.

Rafe reached for the ring he’d slipped into his pocket and turned it over in his hand. The diamonds glinted in the midafternoon light. They circled the entire band. Again he studied the inscription of the word forever. Had the king meant the sentiment? He’d never been one to keep a mistress or wife around for very long. He had only ever loved one of his three wives. Had Zara’s mother been the only other woman to truly capture the monarch’s heart?

There was only one way to find out.

Rafe called Hassan’s secretary and requested a few minutes for a private meeting. Fortunately, the king was running ahead of schedule. Rafe collected the letters, tucked the ring back into his pocket and headed for the rear of the palace.

His Highness, the king of Bahania, believed in first impressions. His office suite was the size of a football field and overlooked a topiary garden growing around a large white fountain. Four guards in formal dress stood in front of wide double doors overlaid with a gold coat of arms. Once inside the suite, three secretaries protected the king from those who wished to see him. Two-story-high windows overlooked the lush gardens surrounding the palace, while priceless works of art hung on the walls—both paintings and tapestries delighting the eye. And wandering around as if they owned the place were several cats.

Rafe nodded at the guards as he approached. They opened the outer doors for him. As he entered, a white Persian cat slipped out, pausing to rub against him long enough to deposit several white hairs on his trousers. Rafe gritted his teeth. He’d never been much of a cat kind of guy—he was a dog person. But this was not the place to mention that. The king adored his cats.

Two gray cats lay curled up on a sofa by the window. A calico had stretched out on one of the secretaries’ desk, using a stack of files for a pillow. Rafe ignored the felines and approached the center desk.

Akil, an older man who had served the king for many years, smiled in greeting. “Mr. Stryker. His Highness is waiting for you. Please go on in.”

Rafe touched his suit pocket to make sure the ring was still in place, then headed for the half-open door on the left. As he entered the king of Bahania’s private chambers, he bowed.

“Your Highness,” he said, and paused.

King Hassan sat behind an impressive hand carved desk. The king generally wore Western-style suits during his working day and today was no exception. The tailored lightweight wool garment had been made by hand in Italy, the fabric especially woven to resist the ever-present cat hairs shed by the monarch’s beloved felines.

“Rafe, what brings you to see me?” Hassan asked, waving his guest forward.

Rafe had to move a dozing Siamese from a chair before he could sit and was then forced to allow the animal to drape itself across his lap. He couldn’t wait to get back to his regular job. At least his boss didn’t have a thing for cats.

“I have an unusual situation to report,” Rafe began.

Hassan raised his eyebrows. The king was close to sixty, but still a youthful-looking man. A few gray hairs had appeared in his closely trimmed beard but there weren’t many wrinkles on his face. He could be stern and distant. Until the recent decision to form a joint air force between Bahania, neighboring El Bahar and the City of Thieves, Rafe had had little to do with the king. Acting as the security liaison for the City of Thieves had recently put Rafe in close contact with the ruler of Bahania. He had yet to form an opinion of the man, so he couldn’t predict his reaction to Rafe’s news.

Hassan leaned forward. “Situation? With security?”

“No. This is personal. I haven’t discussed this with anyone, sir. If you instruct me to keep this to myself, I will never speak of it again.”

Hassan smiled slightly. “I’m intrigued. Go on.”

Rafe hesitated. He was about to tread over some potentially dangerous waters. “A young woman came to the palace this morning. She was part of the regular public tour. One of the guards noticed her because she bears a striking resemblance to the Princess Sabra.”

Hassan nodded to show he was listening. So far he hadn’t reacted. Rafe continued.

“I spoke with the young woman in question.” He’d already decided not to mention the details of their meeting. “She recently discovered some papers which had belonged to her late mother. Letters, actually. She thinks they may have been written by you.”

Hassan’s face tightened. “Who is this woman? How old is she?”

“Her name is Zara Paxton. She’s twenty-eight.”

Hassan gasped as if he’d been shot. He held out his hands for the letters, and as Rafe passed them over he already had his answer. Hassan looked both elated and stunned. Both the name and the age had been significant to him.

While the king was distracted with the pages, he took the opportunity to set the cat on the ground and brush the hair from his lap.

Hassan opened each letter slowly and read it, then put it back in the envelope. Color drained from his face. When he’d finished, Rafe gave him the diamond ring. The king took it and closed his fingers around the stones.

“Fiona,” he breathed, then looked at Rafe. “The daughter. Where is she?”

“Zara is staying at a hotel in the city. Her mother died some years ago. Apparently, she had kept these letters with a lawyer. Zara only found out about them a few months ago. She thinks you could be her father.”

Hassan rose, with Rafe quickly doing the same. “Of course she is my daughter. Fiona and I were together for over two years. After all this time her daughter is here. My daughter.” He shook his head. “You say she looks like Sabrina?”

“They have the same coloring, the same general build. Zara is taller and thinner. She wears glasses.”

Hassan smiled sadly, obviously caught up in a memory. “My sweet Fiona was as blind as a bat, but vain. She would never wear her glasses. I used to have to lead her everywhere.” He headed for the door. “Come. I must meet Zara at once.”

Rafe grabbed the letters—Hassan still had the ring. “Your Highness, we need to talk about this first.”

The king turned to face him. “Why?”

“For one thing, you can’t know if she’s really your daughter.”

“True enough, although I suspect she is.”

He wanted her to be. Rafe read that truth in the longing in Hassan’s dark eyes. Rafe felt oddly protective of the woman he’d left back in the hotel.

“Zara is a little nervous about the situation. She’s not prepared to have her long-lost father be the king of a sizable country. There’s also the problem of the media. Until we know who she is, it’s best if we keep this information private.”

“I see your point.” Hassan nodded slowly. “What do you suggest?”

“A meeting in a neutral location. One of the big hotels, maybe. We can use one of the suites. Your security people can get you into the building quietly. I’ll bring Zara.”

Hassan glanced at his watch. “Have this arranged by four o’clock. I won’t wait any longer.”

Which gave Rafe less than two hours. Great. “Yes, Your Highness. I’ll take care of everything.”

“I’m going to throw up,” Zara announced as she stood in the center of the massive living room of the presidential suite at the Bahanian Resort Hotel.

To her left were floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the incredible Arabian Ocean. She’d already tried concentrating on the view as a way to calm herself, but the height made her head swim…and not in a good way.

The furniture in the suite was enough to make her uneasy. The living room held five sofas—five!—and a baby grand piano. There were also coffee tables and sofa tables. All this furniture, and there was still enough floor space to hold an aerobics class.

She and Cleo had yet to find their way through the entire suite. They’d gotten lost twice then had given up exploring, fearing that the king would arrive and find them trapped in a bedroom closet or bathroom.

“Don’t throw up,” Cleo advised. “It never makes a good first impression.”

“Thanks for the share.” Zara tried for a smile, but her face felt frozen and tight. Like she’d had too much Novocain at the dentist. “What are we doing here? Are we crazy?”

Cleo rubbed her hand along the back of one of the sofas. “I don’t know, Zara. I mean, I didn’t really connect this whole king-father thing before. But now it’s real and it’s scary.”

“Tell me about it.” Zara forced herself to sit. She chose a sofa that faced away from the windows. “At least Rafe arranged for us to meet the king here rather than at our hotel.”

Cleo managed a brief smile. “I’ll bet he’s never been in a two-star place before. Do you want to know that you’re the color of a sheet?”

“Not really.” Her stomach tightened. “What was I thinking?”

“That it would be nice to meet the family.” Cleo sank into a sofa opposite hers.

“You’re my family,” Zara reminded her. “Whatever happens here, I want you to know that. Anything else is just gravy.”

Cleo rolled her eyes. “If your father turns out to be the king, then I would say that at least rates him being an entrée. Oh, and if you are a real princess, I want you to promise to send your jewelry castoffs my way.”

Zara chuckled. “Deal. When my tiaras get old and dusty, I’ll toss them your way.”

“Cool. I could wear them to work.”

The thought of Cleo wearing a diamond tiara while working at the copy shop she managed eased a lot of Zara’s tension. She’d nearly relaxed enough to sit back in the sofa when the main door of the suite opened. Instantly her heart beelined for her throat and her entire body began to quiver.

“I can’t,” she breathed.

Cleo was at her side in a second, putting her arm around her and hugging her. “You can. If you have to throw up, rush for that plant and I’ll distract him with a knock-knock joke.”

Cleo’s outrageous instructions allowed Zara to suck in a breath and get to her feet. Rafe entered the room, followed by a man she recognized from the research she’d done. A man who was staring at her as if she were the most amazing creature on the planet.

The dark intensity of his gaze made her uncomfortable. Was this really happening? Was the handsome, older man really King Hassan of Bahania?

“Your Highness, may I present Miss Zara Paxton,” Rafe said, gesturing toward her.

Zara felt, more than saw, Cleo move away. She was vaguely aware of two more men entering the room. Security, she thought hazily, all of her attention focusing on the man who might be her father.

He was a few inches shorter than Rafe, but a couple of inches taller than her. He wore a suit and looked fit. His eyes were the same rich brown as her own, and when he smiled she thought she recognized the shape of his mouth.

“My long-lost daughter,” he intoned, stepping toward her and holding out his arms. “The child of my beloved Fiona. Welcome. Welcome home.”

Before she knew what was happening, she found herself caught up in the king’s arms, pulled against him and held tight. Zara tried to hug him back, but she couldn’t move. For the second time in one day, a strange man held her immobile.

She needed to escape, she thought frantically, and glanced around the room. Only Rafe seemed to notice her distress. He eased forward and gently disentangled the king.

“Perhaps we should all have a seat and discuss what has happened,” he said, urging Hassan toward a sofa.

“Yes, yes.” The king took hold of Zara’s hand and sat down.

Zara perched next to him feeling both uneasy and awkward. He was royalty. Was she supposed to bow or sit lower or what? She looked to Rafe for an answer, but he was busy settling Cleo across from them, then he picked up the phone and announced that it was time to serve the refreshments.

Zara returned her attention to the king only to find him staring at her. His attention made her feel even more nervous. She pulled her fingers free of his and carefully laced her hands together.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. “This is very strange. I’m sure Rafe explained about the letters. I don’t mean to be presumptuous or to get in the way. I’m simply trying to find out some information.”

Hassan sighed. “I see your mother in you. She was a true beauty. The most glorious rose in the garden of womanhood.”

Zara blinked and pushed up her glasses. While Fiona had always been lovely, Zara had inherited lit tle of her physical attributes and none of her charm. “Yes, well, I am tall like her.” She glanced at Cleo. “Oh, you haven’t met my sister. This is Cleo.”

Cleo grinned. “Foster sister,” she corrected. “Although I wouldn’t mind being able to say my daddy is a king, I won’t be able to claim that relationship.”

Hassan chuckled. “I welcome you to my country. Is this your first visit?”

“For both of us. It’s great. A little hot, but hey, that’s why they invented air-conditioning.” Cleo leaned forward. “I confess, you’re the first royal person I’ve ever met. How exactly am I supposed to address you?”

“Your Highness is the accepted form,” Rafe said hastily as someone knocked on the door.

The security guys went on instant alert. One of them headed for the door while the second one covered him. They stepped into the hallway for a minute, then reappeared pushing a tray of drinks and snacks.

“Now that’s just what happens when I go through a fast-food drive through,” Cleo murmured.

Hassan raised his eyebrows. “What is that?”

“You know. When you desperately want a burger and fries, but you don’t want to get out of your car? You can place the order and pay, then get your food, never once putting out more effort than rolling down the window. You have to try it.”

Hassan asked Cleo a few more questions. Zara admired her ability to be almost normal, despite the situation, then remembered that Cleo had a whole lot less on the line.

Rafe and the security men put the drinks and trays of snacks on the coffee table between the two sofas. Zara reached for a cola bottle, but her hands were shaking too much for her to unscrew the top. Rafe took the plastic bottle from her and unfastened it, then poured the fizzing liquid over a glass of ice.

“You’re doing great,” he said as he handed her the drink.

She hoped he was telling the truth. The urge to throw up hadn’t gone away.

Hassan removed Fiona’s diamond ring from his coat pocket and held it out. “I gave this to your mother on our one-year anniversary. I wanted to make sure she would never forget me.”

“I don’t think that was a problem,” Zara said, then cleared her throat. “Your Highness, this is all very strange to me. I think, before we go too far, we should find out if I’m really your daughter.”

“I already know. You look very much like Sabrina.”

“Who?”

“Princess Sabra. She prefers the American version of her name.”

Zara remembered the guard at the palace. “Okay, so I look like her. That doesn’t prove anything.”

“You have this.” He placed the ring in her hand and closed her fingers over it. “I know, Zara. Here.” He touched his chest. “That is all that matters.”

Rafe sat next to Cleo and took a soda for himself.

Hassan touched Zara’s cheek. “Your mother was younger than you are now when we met. I was young, as well. Very proud and certain of myself. I was visiting New York and wanted to see a Broadway show. Afterward, at a party, I met the cast. Your mother had captured my attention from the first moment she stepped onstage. I arranged for us to have a private introduction. She was as charming as she was beautiful. I believe I fell in love with her that first night.”

Zara had tried to be sensible and stay in control of her emotions, but hearing about her mother’s past tested her resolve. Fiona had rarely talked about that time in her life and never said anything about the man who had fathered her child.

“I’ve seen a few pictures from when she was a showgirl,” she admitted. “She was lovely.”

“More than that. She had dozens of admirers, but from the first there was something special between us. We only wanted each other. We were together whenever I could get away.” He smiled sadly. “I asked her to marry me, but she refused.”

“Are you kidding?” Cleo blurted, then covered her mouth. “Sorry.”

Hassan shrugged. “I was stunned, as well. However, I already had a wife. I offered to divorce her, but Fiona refused. She said she didn’t want to make trouble and she doubted that she would have been content to live in one place, even one as amazing as Bahania.”

“My mother did like to wander,” Zara said, a little dazed by all she was hearing. A king had offered to marry Fiona and she had said no?

Hassan studied her. “Was there…” He cleared his throat. “I often wondered who Fiona had married.”

“She didn’t,” Zara said quickly. “We moved around constantly and while Fiona always had dozens of friends, there was never a special man in her life. She used to tell me that she’d already fallen in love once and didn’t plan to do it again.”

Hassan closed his eyes briefly. “Yes. I gave her my heart, and when she left, she took it with her. I like to think she experienced the same with me. Perhaps not. We’ll never know.” He turned his attention back to Zara. “At the time I could not understand why she disappeared from my world, but now I know. She must have left as soon as she found out she was pregnant. She knew that I would have insisted we marry. Even if we had not, she feared for her child.”

Too much was happening too fast. Zara felt as if her head was already too full of information. “Why would she fear that anything would happen to me?”

“Bahanian law requires that a royal child be raised in the palace. I suspect Fiona feared that if I knew about you, I would insist you be raised here. If she didn’t marry me, she would lose you.” He sighed. “I like to think I would not have insisted, but I don’t know that it’s true. After I lost her, I would have given anything to have a part of her with me.” He touched her hand. “And now you are here.”

Zara smiled tightly as she held on to her glass of cola. “Yes, well, it’s all very strange.”

“How did you find me now?”

Zara explained about the papers the lawyer had sent. “Once I read the letters, I started to consider the impossible.”

“Zara insisted we take the tour,” Cleo announced cheerfully. “I wanted to walk up to the front door and knock. She said the guards wouldn’t have let us in.”

The king smiled. “Even one as charming as you, Cleo, might have had a little trouble getting past the royal guard. Although I suspect you have a way with men. I’ll have to warn my sons about you.”

Cleo flicked her wrist. “I’ve sworn off princes, Your Highness. They’re just all the same. Rich, powerful…it gets boring after a while.”

Zara rose from her seat and crossed to the French doors leading to the balcony. Rafe came up behind her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Would you be, under the circumstances?”

“Probably not.”

“Everything is so confusing.”

“There’s nothing to be confused about,” Hassan announced as he stood. “After twenty-eight years, my daughter has returned to me.”

“You make it sound so simple and I can barely catch my breath.”

Her father—she couldn’t believe that was possible—nodded. “This is unfamiliar to us both. Perhaps we should take the time to acquaint ourselves with the situation. I wish to show you my world. Bahania is a country blessed with great resources and people. You must see the beauty of it. We will start with you and Cleo moving into the palace.”

“All right!” Cleo clapped her hands together. “I think I’m going to like having you in the family,” she told the king.

Zara wasn’t so sure. “Our hotel is very comfortable,” she said. Both Hassan and Cleo looked at her as if she were crazy.

“You are my daughter,” Hassan reminded her. “As such, the palace is your home. You will be made to feel welcome. We will have time together.”

“Your Highness, you need to think this through,” Zara said. “I mean I know I look like your daughter and Fiona is my mother and you did have a relationship with her, but you have to be sure about this. Shouldn’t we take blood tests?”

“I know what is right and I know who you are.” He walked over to hug her. “After so very many years, you are where you belong. That is all that matters. Come, you will collect your things and move into the palace right now.”

Zara glanced around, searching for an escape. Her gaze settled on Rafe. For some reason he seemed the only sane person in the room.

“Are you going to be there?” she asked before she could stop herself. “At the palace? Do you live there?”

Rafe nodded. “For the next few weeks.”

Hassan stared at him. “That’s right. You will be at the palace. You have found my most beloved treasure and brought her to me. Therefore, I will entrust her to you.”

Zara slipped free of Hassan’s embrace. “I don’t understand.”

Rafe looked as if he’d just sucked a lemon. “Your Highness I don’t—”

Hassan cut him off with a shake of his head. “My mind is made up. I will only trust you with her safety. It will be a temporary matter, until you return to your regular duties.”

“Trust him for what?” Zara asked.

“Rafe will be your bodyguard. He will protect you with his life.”