Читать книгу The Sheik & the Bride Who Said No - Susan Mallery, Susan Mallery - Страница 7

D aphne stood in front of her open suitcase and stared down at the contents. While a part of her wanted to ignore Murat’s demand that she “dress appropriately” for their dinner, another part of her liked the idea of looking so fabulous that she would leave him speechless. It was a battle between principles and beauty and she already knew which would win.

After sorting through the contents of her luggage, she withdrew a simple sleeveless dress and carried it into the bathroom. She would let it hang in the steam while she showered. She plugged in the electric curlers she’d already unpacked, then pinned up her hair and stepped into the shower.

Fifteen minutes later she emerged all cleaned and buffed and smoothed. The bath towels provided were big enough to carpet an entire room. An array of cosmetics and skin-care products filled the cabinets by the huge mirror and vanity.

Everywhere she looked she saw marble, gold, carved wood or beveled glass. How many women had stood in front of this mirror and prepared to meet a member of the royal family? What kind of stories had these walls witnessed? How much laughter? How many tears? Under other circumstances she could enjoy her stay in this historical part of the palace.

“Who am I kidding?” she murmured as she unpinned her hair and brushed it out. “I’m enjoying it now.”

She’d always loved Bahania and the palace. Murat had been the problem.

He hadn’t been that way in the beginning. He’d been charming and intriguing and exactly the kind of man she’d always wanted to meet. As she reached for the first hot curler, she remembered that party she’d attended in Spain where they had first met.

Traveling through Europe the summer between her sophomore and junior year of college had meant doing her best to avoid all her parents’ upper-class and political friends. But in Barcelona, Daphne had finally caved to her mother’s insistence that she accept an invitation to a cocktail party for some ambassador or prime minister or something. She’d been bored and ready to leave after ten minutes. But then, on a stone balcony with a perfect view of the sunset, she’d met a man.

He’d been tall, handsome and he’d made her laugh when he’d confessed that he needed her help—that he was hiding from the far-too-amorous youngest daughter of their host.

“When she comes upstairs looking for me, I’ll hide under the table and you will send her away,” he said. “Will you do that for me?”

He stared at her with eyes as dark as midnight. At that second her stomach had flipped over, her cheeks had flushed and she would have followed him to the ends of the earth.

He’d spent the entire evening with her, escorting her to dinner and then dancing with her under the stars. They’d talked of books and movies, of childhood fantasies and grown-up dreams. And when he’d walked her back to her hotel and kissed her, she’d known that she was in danger of falling for him.

He hadn’t told her who he was until their third date. At first she’d been nervous—after all, even she had never met a prince—but then she realized that for once being a Snowden was a good thing. She’d been raised to be the wife of a president, or even a prince.

“Come back with me,” he’d pleaded when he had to return to Bahania. “Come see my country, meet my people. Let them discover how delightful you are, as I have.”

It wasn’t a declaration of love—she saw that now. But at twenty, it had been enough. She’d abandoned the rest of her tour and had flown with him to Bahania, where she’d stayed at the fabled Pink Palace and had fallen deeply in love with both Murat and every part of his world.

Daphne finished applying her makeup, then unwrapped the towel and stepped into her lingerie. Next she took out the curlers and carefully finger-combed her hair before bending over and spraying the underside. She flipped her hair back and applied more hairspray before finally stepping into her dress.

The silk skimmed over her body to fall just above her knees. She stepped into high-heeled sandals, then stared at her reflection.

Daphne knew she looked tired. No doubt her mother could find several items to criticize. But what would Murat think? How was the woman different from the girl? Ten years ago she’d loved him with a devotion that had bordered on mindlessness. The only thing that could have forced her to leave was the one thing that had—the realization that he didn’t love her back.

“Don’t go there,” she told herself as she turned away from the mirror and made her way out of the bathroom.

Maybe if she arrived at the main rooms early, she could see where the secret door was as the staff arrived with dinner. She had a feeling that Murat would not be letting her out of the harem anytime soon—certainly not for meals. Which meant meals would have to come to her.

But as she stepped into the large salon overlooking the gardens, she saw she was too late. A small cart with drinks stood in the center of the room, but even more interesting than that was the man waiting by the French doors.

She’d been thinking about him while getting ready, so seeing him now made her feel as if she’d stepped into an alternative universe—one where she could summon handsome princes at will.

He turned toward her and smiled.

“You are early,” he said.

“I’d hoped to catch the staff delivering dinner.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “I fail to see the excitement of watching them come in and out of the door.”

“You’re right. If they’re using the door, it’s not exciting at all. But if they were to use the secret passage…”

His smile widened. “Ah. You seek to escape. But it will not be so easy. You forget we have a tradition of holding beautiful women captive. If they were able to find their way from the palace, we would be thought of as fools.”

“Is that your way of saying you’ll make sure I don’t find the secret passage?”

He walked toward the drinks cart. “No. It is my way of saying that it is impossible to open the door from this side. Only someone outside the harem can work the latch.”

He held up a bottle of champagne and she nodded.

“I suppose that information shouldn’t surprise me,” she told him. “So there really is no escape?”

“Why would you want there to be?”

He popped the bottle expertly, then poured two glasses.

“I don’t take well to being someone’s prisoner,” she said as she took the glass he offered.

“But this is paradise.”

“Want to trade?”

Amusement brightened his eyes. “I see you have not changed. Ten years ago you spoke your mind and you still do today.”

“You mean I haven’t learned my place?”

“Exactly.”

“I like to think my place is wherever I want it to be.”

“How like a woman.” He held up his glass. “A toast to our mutual past, and what the future will bring.”

She thought about Brittany, who would be landing in New York shortly. “How about to our separate lives?”

“Not so very separate. We could be family soon.”

“I don’t think so. You’re not marrying—”

“To the beauty of the Snowden women,” he said, cutting her off. “Come, Daphne. Drink with me. We will leave our discussion of less pleasant matters to another day.”

“Fine.” The longer they talked about other things, the more time her niece had to get safely home. “To Bahania.”

“At last something we can agree upon.”

They touched glasses, then sipped their champagne. Murat motioned to one of the large sofas and waited until she was seated before joining her on the overstuffed furniture.

“You are comfortable here?” he asked.

“Aside from the whole idea of being kept against my will, pretty much.” She set down the glass and sighed. “Okay. Honestly, the harem is beautiful. I plan to do some serious exploring while I’m here.”

“My sister, Sabrina, is an expert on antiquities and our history. Would you like me to have her visit?”

Daphne laughed. “My own private lecture circuit? I’m sure your sister has better things to do with her life.”

“Than serve me?”

He spoke teasingly, but she knew there was truth behind the humor. Murat had been raised to believe he was the center of the universe. She supposed that came with being the future king.

He sat angled toward her, his hand-tailored suit emphasizing the strength in his powerful body. Ten years ago he’d been the most handsome man she’d ever met. And now…She sighed. Not that much had changed.

“Did you get a chance to see much of the city as you drove in?” he asked.

“Just the view from the highway. I was pretty intent on getting to the palace.”

“Ah, yes. So you could defy me at every turn. There are many new buildings in our financial district.”

“I noticed those. The city is growing.”

He nodded. “We seek success in the future without losing what is precious to us from our past. It is an act of balance.”

She picked up her glass of champagne and took a sip. The cool, bubbly liquid tickled her tongue. “There have been other changes since I was last here,” she said. “Your brothers have married.”

“That is true. All to American women. There have been many editorials in the papers about why that is, although the consensus among the people is new blood will improve the lineage of the royal family.”

“That must make the women in question feel really special.”

He leaned back against the sofa. “Why would they not be pleased to improve the gene pool of such a noble family?”

“Few women fantasize about being a good brood mare.”

He shook his head. “Why do you always want to twist things around to make me look bad? All my sisters-in-law are delightful women who are blissfully happy with their chosen mates. Cleo and Emma have given birth in the past year. Billie is newly pregnant. They are catered to by devoted husbands and do not want for anything.”

He painted a picture that made her feel funny inside. Not sad, exactly. Just…envious. She’d always wanted a guy who would love her with his whole heart, but somehow she’d never seemed to find him.

“You’re right,” she said. “Everyone seems perfectly happy. You remain the last single prince.”

He grimaced. “A point pressed home to me on a daily basis.”

“Getting a little pressure to marry and produce heirs?”

“You have no idea.”

“Then we should talk about Brittany and why that would never work.”

His gaze lingered on her face. “You are a difficult and stubborn woman.”

“So you keep saying.”

“We will discuss your niece when I decide it is time.”

“You don’t get to choose,” she told him.

“Of course I do. And you do not wish to speak of her right now. You wish to tell me all about yourself. What you have been doing since we last met. You want to impress me.”

“I do not.”

He raised one eyebrow and waited. She shifted in her seat. Okay, yes, maybe she wouldn’t mind knocking his socks off with her accomplishments, but she didn’t like that he’d guessed.

“Come, Daphne,” he said, moving closer and focusing all of his considerable attention on her. “Tell me everything. Did you finish college? What have you been doing?” He picked up her left hand and examined the bare fingers. “I see you have not given your heart to anyone.”

She didn’t like the assessment, nor did she appreciate the tingles that rippled up from her hand to her arm. He’d always been able to do that—reduce her to pudding with a single touch. Why couldn’t that have changed? Why couldn’t time away have made her immune?

“I’m not engaged, if that’s what you mean,” she said. “I’m not willing to discuss the state of my heart with you. It’s none of your business.”

“As you wish. Tell me about college.”

She clutched her champagne in her right hand and thought about swallowing the whole thing in one big gulp. It might provide her with a false sense of courage, which was better than no courage at all.

“I completed my degree as planned, then went on to become a veterinarian.”

He looked two parts delighted, one part surprised. “Good for you. You enjoy the work?”

“Very much. Until recently I’ve been with a large practice in Chicago. My first two years with them I spent summers in Indiana, working on a dairy farm.”

She couldn’t remember ever really shocking Murat before, so now she allowed herself to enjoy his expression of astonishment. “Delivering calves?”

“Pretty much.”

“It is not seemly.”

She laughed. “It was my job. I loved it. But lately I’ve been working with small animals. Dogs, cats, birds. The usual.” She took another sip and smiled. “If your father needs any help with the cats he should let me know.”

“I will be sure to pass along your offer. Chicago is very different from Bahania.”

“I agree. For one thing, there aren’t any words to describe how cold that wind can be in the winter.”

“We have no such discomfort here.”

That was true. The weather in paradise was pretty darned good.

“You’re not very close to your family,” he said.

Daphne nearly spilled her champagne. Okay, so it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that she didn’t fit in with the “real” Snowdens, but she was surprised Murat would say something like that so blatantly. After all…

The light went on in her head. “You mean I live far away,” she said.

“Yes. They are all on the East Coast. Is that the reason you chose to settle in Chicago?”

“Part of it,” she admitted. “I handle the constant disapproval better from a distance.”

“Aren’t your parents proud of what you have accomplished?”

“Not really. They keep waiting for me to wake up and get engaged to a senator. I’m resisting the impulse.”

She spoke with a casualness, as if her family’s expectations didn’t matter, but Murat saw the truth in her blue eyes.

Pain, he thought. Pain from disappointing them, pain from not being accepted for who and what she was. Daphne had always been stubborn and determined and proud. From what he could see, little had changed about that.

Her appearance had been altered, though. Her face was thinner, her features more defined. Whereas at twenty she had held the promise of great beauty, now she fulfilled it. There was an air of confidence about her he liked.

She leaned forward. “I’ve spent the past couple of years studying pet psychology.”

“I have not heard of that.”

She smiled again, her full lips curving upward as if she were about to share a delicious private joke. “You’d appreciate it. The field is growing rapidly. We’re interested in why animals act the way they do. What set of circumstances combine with their personality to make them act aggressively or chew furniture or not accept a new baby. That sort of thing.”

He couldn’t believe such information existed. “This is what you are doing now?”

“I’m getting into it. I’ve learned some interesting things about dealing with alpha males.” She tilted her head. “Maybe I could use the techniques to tame you.”

“Neither of us is interested in me being tame.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“I do.”

“You’re certainly sure of yourself.”

“The privilege of being the alpha male.”

She continued to study him. Awareness crackled between them. He could smell the faint scent of the soap she’d used and some other subtle fragrance he associated only with her.

Wanting coiled low in his gut, surprising him with both its presence and its intensity. After all this time? He’d always wondered what he would feel if he saw her again, but somehow he’d never expected to have a strong need to touch her, explore her, take her.

He wanted to lead her into one of the many harem bedrooms and make her shudder beneath him. Funny how so much time had passed and the desire hadn’t gone away.

“You’re looking very predatory,” she said. “What are you thinking?”

“I was wondering about your art. Do you still make time to do your sculptures?”

She hesitated, as if she didn’t quite believe that was what he’d been thinking, then she answered.

“I still love it, but time is always an issue.”

“Perhaps I should provide you with clay while you are here. You can indulge your passion.”

“How long do you intend to keep me in the harem?”

“I have not yet decided.”

“So we really do need to talk about Brittany.”

Just then the large golden doors opened and several servants walked in pushing carts.

“Dinner,” he said, rising to his feet.

“If I didn’t know better, I would say you did that on purpose.”

He smiled. “Even I can’t command my staff with just a thought.”

“Why do I know you’re working on it?”

“I have no idea.”

Murat had left the menu up to his head chef, and he was not disappointed with the meal. Neither was Daphne, he thought as she ran her fork across the remaining crumbs of chocolate from the torte served for dessert.

“Amazing,” she breathed. “I could blow up like a beached whale if I lived here for too long.”

“Not every meal is so very formal,” he said, enjoying her pleasure in the food.

“Good thing. I’ll have to do about fifty laps in the garden tomorrow.” She picked up her wine and eyed him over the glass. “Unless you plan on cutting me loose sometime soon.”

“Are we back to that?”

“We are. Murat, I’m serious. You can’t keep me here forever.”

“Perhaps I wish to resume the traditional use of these rooms.”

He held in a smile as her eyes widened. “You are so kidding,” she said, although she didn’t sound quite sure of herself. “I’m not going to volunteer.”

“Few women did at first, even though it was a great honor. But in time they came to enjoy their lives. Luxury, pleasure. What more could you want?”

“How about freedom and autonomy?”

“There is power in being desired. The smart women learned that and used it to their advantage. They ruled the ruler.”

“I’ve never been good at subterfuge,” she told him. “Besides, I’m not interested in working behind the scenes. I want to be up front and in the thick of things. I want to be an equal.”

“That will never be. I am to be king of Bahania, with all the advantages and disadvantages that go with the position.”

Daphne sipped her dessert wine. Disadvantages? She hadn’t thought there could be any. Even if there weren’t, it was a much safer topic than what life would be like in the harem.

“What’s so bad about being the king?” she asked.

“Nothing bad, as you say. Just restrictions. Rules. Responsibilities.”

“Always being in the spotlight,” she said. “Always having to do the right thing.”

“Exactly.”

“Marrying a teenager you’ve never met can’t be right, Murat, can it?”

His gaze narrowed. “You are persistent.”

“And determined. I love her. I would do anything for her.”

“Even displease me?”

“Apparently,” she said with a shrug. “Are you going to behead me for it?”

“Your casual question tells me you are not in the least bit worried. I will have to do something to convince you of my power.”

“I’m very clear on your power. I just want you to use it for good.” She set down her glass and leaned toward him. “Come on. It’s just the two of us, and I promise never to tell. You can’t have been serious about her. A young girl you’ve never met?”

“Perhaps I wanted a brainless young woman to do my bidding.”

Daphne stiffened. “She’s not brainless. And she wouldn’t have done your bidding. You’re trying to annoy me on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Is it working?”

“Pretty much.” She sagged back in her chair. “I don’t want you to be like that. I don’t want you to be the kind of man who would marry Brittany.”

“Do you think I am?”

“I hope not. But even if you are, I won’t let you.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“I’ll do whatever is necessary to stop you.”

His dark eyes twinkled with amusement. “I am Crown Prince Murat of Bahania. Who are you to threaten me?”

Good question. Maybe it was the night and the man, or just the alcohol, but her head was a little fuzzy. There had been a different wine with each course. She’d only taken a sip of each, but those sips added up and muddled her thinking. It was the only explanation for what she said next.

“You’re just some alpha-male dog peeing on every tree to mark his territory. That’s all Brittany is to you. A tree or a bush.”

As soon as the words were out, she wanted to call them back. Murat stunned her by tossing back his head and roaring with laughter.

Still chuckling, he stood. “Come, we will go for a walk to clear your head. You can tell me all your theories about domesticating men such as me.”

He walked around the table and pulled back her chair. She rose and faced him.

“It’s not a joke. You’re acting like a territorial German shepherd. You could use a little obedience training to keep you in line.”

“I am not the one who needs to stay in line.”

“Are you threatening me?”

As she spoke, she took a step toward him. Unfortunately her feet weren’t getting the right signals from her brain, and she stumbled. He caught her and pulled her against him.

“You speak of domestication, but is that what you want?” he asked. “A trained man would not do this.”

The “this” turned out to be nothing more than his mouth pressing against hers. A kiss. No biggie.

Except the second his lips brushed against hers, every part of her body seemed to go up in flames. Desperate hot need pulsed through her, forcing her to cling to him or collapse at his feet.

They kissed before, she remembered hazily. A lifetime ago. He’d held her tenderly and delighted her with gentle embraces.

But not this time. Now he claimed her with a passion that left her breathless and hungry for more. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her up against his hard body.

She melted into him, savoring the heat and the strength. When he tilted his head, she did the same and parted her lips before he even asked. He plunged inside, stroking, circling, teasing, making her breath catch and her body weep with desire.

More, she thought as she kissed him back. There had to be more.

But there wasn’t. He straightened, forcing her to consider standing on her own. She pushed back and found her balance, then struggled to catch her breath.

“Brittany will be in New York by now,” he said.

The sudden change in topic caught her off guard. Weren’t they going to discuss the kiss? Weren’t they going to do it again?

Apparently not. She ordered herself to focus on Brittany. Murat. The wedding that could never be.

“I meant what I said,” he told her. “There will be a Snowden bride.”

“You’ll need to rethink your plan,” she said. “Brittany isn’t going to marry you.”

He stared at her, his dark eyes unreadable. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

She braced herself for an argument or at least a pronouncement that he was the crown prince, blah, blah, blah. Instead he simply nodded.

“As you wish,” he said. And then he left.

Daphne didn’t fall asleep until sometime after two in the morning. She’d felt too out of sorts to relax. While she told herself she should be happy that Murat was finally seeing reason about Brittany, she didn’t trust the man. Certainly not his last cryptic agreement. As she wished what? Was he really giving up on Brittany so easily? Somehow that didn’t seem right.

So when she woke early the next morning, she felt more tired than when she’d gone to bed.

After slipping into her robe, she hurried toward the smell of fresh coffee wafting through the harem. A cart stood by the sofa.

Daphne ignored the fresh fruit and croissants and dove for the coffee. The steaming liquid perked her up with the first sip.

“Better,” she said, when she’d swallowed half a cup.

She sat down in front of the cart and picked up the folded newspapers. The first was a copy of USA TODAY. Underneath was the local Bahanian paper. She flipped it open, then screamed.

On the front page was a color picture of her under a headline announcing her engagement to Murat.