The Desert Sheikh's Innocent Queen: King of the Desert, Captive Bride

CHAPTER FOUR

HAVING finished her tea, Liv studied herself in her bedroom mirror. The wheat-colored linen dress and matching coat hung on her slim frame, but the fabric was gorgeous, as was the warm color that reminded her of the pyramid outside.

She’d lost a lot of weight in the past month, her body more angular than attractive. She frowned and combed the brush through her hair, leaving the unruly white-gold strands tumbling loose past her shoulders.

Downstairs in front of the hotel, one of Sheikh Fehr’s black Mercedes sedans waited for them. Soon they were driving across Cairo to the First Residence Complex, which is where the luxury shopping mall was also located.

Khalid told her that the First Residence Complex, which included the First Residence Shopping Mall and the Four Seasons Hotel, was the most coveted real estate in Cairo and the place all the stars and sheikhs and heads of state hit when they visit the city.

“But you don’t stay there?” she asked, catching glimpses of handsome palm trees lining the broad cornice as the last glints of dying sunlight warmed the creamy paint on the building facades.

“I usually do when I’m here, but on the plane you mentioned your love of history and geography and I thought the Mena House would appeal to you.”

“You chose it for me?”

“Yes.”

Liv felt that painful tightness in her chest again, and, flustered, she dipped her head, surprised, flattered, but also confused. “Thank you.”

The car slowed before an elegant domed building. “We’re here,” Khalid said, as his driver came around to open the back door. “And I believe your personal shopper is here waiting for us, too.”

Indeed, a smart-looking woman in a dark suit stepped toward the car as the driver opened the door. She’d obviously been waiting for them and she bowed deeply to Sheikh Fehr, and gave a smaller bow to Olivia. “I’m Val Bakr,” she said, her long dark hair braided and pinned up. “I’m a personal shopper and I’m here to make wardrobing you as quick and efficient as possible.”

She led Liv through the shopping center to a selection of designer shops where she’d already selected dozens of outfits for Liv to try on. Khalid accompanied her in each shop, but he sat off to one side and silently observed the fittings.

By the end of the hour Liv had tried on a staggering array of dresses, skirts, slacks, jackets, blouses, gowns, shoes and coats. Raffia totes were added to the pile of clothes, along with small clutches, swimsuits, belts, hats, scarves, and even robes and nightgowns.

The clothes were stunning. Cotton and silk white trousers, off-white patent pumps, a jade-green crocodile belt, a cotton cardigan with real pearl buttons. The rainbow-hued Louis Vuitton bag got its color from pretty leather buttons adhered with a tiny gold ball. The green Valentino heels had a rhinestone bow. The sea-foam green silk chiffon dress had sweet ruffles at the neck and then a high-waisted belt covered in semiprecious stones.

Khalid didn’t even hand a credit card. He just nodded at the pile and asked for everything to be sent to him at the Mena Hotel and then he took Olivia’s arm and walked her back to his car.

“You can’t possibly really buy all that,” she said in protest as they exited the elegant shopping mall.

Khalid didn’t answer. He just gestured to the car’s open door, but Liv hesitated. She could still remember how Val had stood elbow-high in tissue and boxes and garment bags. “Sheikh Fehr, I saw the price on the bag—which alone was seventy-five hundred dollars. I don’t even own a car worth seventy-five hundred dollars.”

Khalid sighed and glanced at his watch. “Miss Bakr has impeccable taste and everything she selected is perfect for our needs.”

“But all those clothes! They must cost thousands and thousands of dollars.”

“You need a proper wardrobe.”

“But this is too much. A couple skirts, a few blouses, a pair of sandals. But certainly not all the designer labels, and those extravagant accessories … and you must admit a seven-thousand-dollar purse—”

“Please get in the car,” he interrupted quietly, but in such a no-nonsense tone that Liv gulped a breath and complied.

Inside the car he added, “We do not argue with our women on the city streets, and our women do not disagree with us in front of family, friends or strangers.”

Flushing with embarrassment, Liv went hot and then cold and hot again. She was just trying to save him money. She’d only been trying to make things easier. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful. I just didn’t want you spending so much on me. There was no need.”

“But there is,” he corrected. “It’s what people will expect of you. You now represent me. You are my fiancée, and here in the Arab world, I am very well-known.”

“But you must understand I can’t pay you back for these things,” she protested huskily. “My mom certainly can’t. She’s nearing retirement, and Jake can’t, either. He’s a carpenter. He builds houses for a living.”

Khalid sighed. “I don’t expect to be paid back. But I do expect your respect, and cooperation. I have put my name and reputation on the line for you. I am risking my personal and family honor, and honor is everything here. Honor is the difference between life and death.”

It was dark now and the streetlights and building lights illuminated the city blocks.

“My job is to protect you, but you must allow me to protect you. You must trust me when I say we are in a difficult, and dangerous, situation.”

Khalid’s warning sent a shiver through her. How many times had Jake virtually said the same thing? How many times had he told her the world wasn’t a nice place, the world wasn’t a safe place, especially for a girl from a small Southern town?

But she hadn’t believed him. She’d thought Jake was a pessimist. Now she knew differently.

“Are you listening?” Khalid asked.

“Yes,” she answered hoarsely. The things Khalid was telling her terrified her. It wasn’t the life she knew. It wasn’t how she’d been raised.

“I do not mean to frighten you,” he added after a moment, “but I need to impress upon you the importance of appearances. We must be discrete. Everything we do will be observed by others. Everything we do—individually, or together—will be documented, analyzed and discussed. The only time you are truly free, or truly safe, is when you are alone with me.”

She gave a short nod to show him she understood.

Khalid fell silent, his forehead creasing, his expression turning brooding. “One more thing. I phoned your brother earlier, while you were finishing your tea. I told him you were safe. I told him you were with me. And I told him you would personally phone later tonight and he said he’d look forward to speaking with you, but in the meantime, he sends love and extends to us his heartiest congratulations.”

Liv’s blood froze. “Congratulations?” she whispered, through impossibly cold, stiff lips.

“On our engagement.”

“You told him?”

“I had to. He’s going to read it in the paper soon. I thought he’d rather hear the news from us.”

“But we’re not really going to get married,” Liv choked, fingers balling into fists in her lap. “It’s just a ruse, a facade to buy us time.”

When Khalid didn’t answer she felt downright hysterical. He couldn’t be serious about marriage. There was just no way. No way. And how was it possible that she’d left prison only to be forced into marriage? Apparently it was just one jail in exchange for another. “I can’t do it,” she said fiercely, “and I won’t.”

“Then tell that to the Jabal officials who are coming to see us in an hour or two,” he said, doing little to hide his annoyance. “Tell them you’re not really my fiancée, tell them it was all a mistake and you’ll see what will happen when you get me out of the way. Olivia, I am the only one keeping you from that prison. I am the only one who can, and the only way I can is by offering you my name, my life and my family’s reputation.”

She hung her head, closed her eyes and dragged in a breath, and then another. “Why does it have to be jail or marriage? Why?”

“Because this isn’t Europe, or America, and you were charged with a very serious crime. A crime which can carry the death penalty.”

“But why did you have to tell Jake that I was getting married? He didn’t have to know. It hasn’t happened, and it might not happen—”

“He was going to read it in the papers tomorrow or the next day. I thought he’d want to know first. I thought he’d want to be prepared.”

Jake wasn’t going to understand, though. Jake knew her. He knew she’d only dated a little and had never had a proper boy-friend. When it came to men she was still ridiculously sheltered and the last thing she’d do, ever, was jump into a relationship with a man she didn’t know, much less a man from a culture so very different from hers.

“Jake’s just going to be more worried,” she said. “It’s only going to make things worse.”

“It can’t be much worse for him that it already is,” Khalid answered shortly. “He’s had his hands full these past few weeks and the truth is, you are safer with me than you were in Ozr.”

“What do you mean, things can’t be much worse for him than they already are? What’s happened back home?”

Khalid abruptly turned the interior light on, flooding the car with yellow light. “Your mother took the news of your disappearance badly—”

“What do you mean ‘badly'? How badly?” she interrupted.

“She had a heart attack—”

“No!” Liv pressed a hand to her mouth. “No,” she repeated, voice muffled. “It can’t be.”

“I understand she’s better. She’s stable, and resting, but she’s still not strong and your brother has been caring for her. Otherwise he’d be here now.”

Liv shook her head, her thoughts wild and chaotic. Her entire world had been upended and she couldn’t get her bearings. “When did she have the heart attack?”

“A week ago.”

With an unsteady finger she reached up to dash away tears before they could fall. “Are you sure she’s okay?”

“She’s back home. She’s sleeping a lot right now.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to call home earlier.”

“Yes.”

Exhaling slowly, she drew another painful breath. “I’m not ready to lose my mom. I just lost my dad a couple years ago.”

“You must be strong now. You must believe that everything will work out. Everything will be fine.”

“Do you really think everything really be fine?”

He gazed down at her for a long, level moment. There was a fierce intelligence in his eyes that reminded her of a hawk or falcon circling before making its kill. “Yes.” His long black lashes dropped, concealing his fierce, dark eyes. “It may take time, but things always do work out. One way, or another.”

Returning to the hotel, Liv discovered their suite had been transformed. Fresh flower arrangements covered the living room tables while the dining room table had been turned into an elaborate dinner buffet with another huge white-and-purple floral arrangement at the centerpiece.

Soft music played from hidden speakers and a uniformed waiter finished prepping the beverage table, while another moved around the room, fluffing pillows, dimming table lamps and lighting floating candles.

Liv stood in the hall, awed and more than a little bit intimidated by the transformation. In the shimmering candlelight, the faded tapestries on the wall, the dark wood furniture and the rich exotic fabrics covering the couch and chairs seemed almost otherworldly, and Liv realized all over again how far from home she was. How far from anything she knew or understood.

The butler appeared and bowed. “Your attendants are here,” he said to Olivia. “They are waiting to help you dress.”

Liv shot Khalid a perplexed glance. “My attendants?”

“Miss Bakr thought you might feel more confident tonight if you had help preparing for the party. She sent her favorite stylists. One to do your hair, and the other to … to …” His voice faded and for a moment he looked nearly as perplexed as Liv. “I actually don’t know what she’s for, but Miss Bakr insisted you have her.”

Not entirely reassured, Liv slowly entered her bedroom, not sure what she’d find. Two Egyptian women waited for her. They’d been deep in conversation when Liv arrived but they broke off abruptly to greet her.

“We don’t have much time,” the hairdresser said briskly, steering Liv straight into the bathroom, where she’d already laid out hair appliances on the marble counter. The curling iron, flat iron and hot rollers were all plugged in, heating, while the blow dryer lay close by, along with a half-dozen bottles of lotion, pomade and hair spray.

“Simple,” the other woman said, taking one of Liv’s hands in her own to examine her nails. “Tonight it is all about you. Simple. Beautiful. Elegant.”

“A goddess,” the hairdresser added. “Tonight, you shall be a goddess.”

The hairdresser urged Liv to sit down on the chair they’d pulled into the bathroom and while she turned her attention to Liv’s clean but tousled blond hair, the other one started in on a pampering manicure.

While they worked she snacked on fruit and cheese and crackers Khalid had sent to her. A glass of champagne also arrived but she didn’t dare touch it. She hadn’t eaten much in days and feared the alcohol would go straight to her head. However, the assorted cheeses, sweet apricots, grapes and savory flatbreads were delicious and Liv ate virtually everything on her plate.

By the time her hair and nails were finished, Liv felt unusually relaxed and ridiculously spoiled. To have not one, but two, women fuss over her while she snacked on cheese and crackers struck her as incredibly decadent, but she wasn’t in a position to argue. Tonight was important. Khalid had made that very clear and she was going to do everything in her power to make a good impression on the visiting officials.

“And your clothes have now arrived,” the manicurist said. “We’ll just get you into your dress, make sure everything fits exactly so and then leave you to your party.”

Her party.

The suggestion was laughable but Liv didn’t laugh. She shivered, suffering from a sudden fit of nerves.

She was scared. Nothing could go wrong tonight. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—go back to Ozr.

Fortunately her attention was drawn to getting dressed. She was to wear a beautiful ivory-pleated gown, the ivory shimmering with threads of gold. A gold collar encircled her throat, the collar the width of her hand and heavy with gold and jewels. The dress was long, touching the tips of her champagne-colored high heels.

The hairstylist had curled her hair in loose waves, and then pinned strategic pieces up so that her hair looked like a golden waterfall with loose tendrils around her face. The manicurist wasn’t to be outdone. She swiftly applied a deft application of makeup, including sooty eyeliner, a swirl of black mascara and a soft golden blush on Liv’s cheeks, and a touch of golden gloss on her lips.

“You look perfect,” the manicurist said, stepping back to examine her handiwork. “So fresh and young and charming, just the way a princess should.”

Liv smiled gratefully even as she heard the door open and close. From the sound of voices she knew that the guests had arrived and her smile disappeared as her stomach flipped … a maddening somersault that had her clutching the sink.

“It’s going to be fine,” the hairstylist said, patting Liv on the back even as Liv leaned over the sink, trying to catch her breath and calm her queasy stomach. “Everything is fine, and you are going to make His Highness very proud. Now go. Enjoy your party.”

Her party. A party where she had to pretend she was engaged to Prince Khalid Fehr, Sheikh of the Great Sarq Desert. How could she do it? She was just a girl from Pierceville, a girl who’d never had more than twelve dates in her entire life.

Her stomach rose up again in protest. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t go out there, not if the Jabal secretary of security was here….

But then she thought of her mother, and Jake, and the sheikh himself. They were all counting on her, depending on her to be strong.

And she could be strong. She would be.

Khalid watched Olivia enter the room, the long, loose pleated ivory and gold gown emphasizing her slender frame and delicate beauty. With her head up, her shimmery blond hair slid along her bare shoulders, the curls long and loose like the pleats in her dress.

She’d been pretty in her passport photo and troubling in prison, but entering the room she was simply stunning and Khalid watched her, by turns surprised, proud, hungry, possessive.

The gold arm rings on her slim biceps hid the bruises on her upper arms. Her fair hair, curled and twisted back from her face, revealed her elegant features, her pale, flawless complexion and her astonishing goddesslike composure.

He knew she didn’t want to be here tonight, knew she’d been terrified to face the secretary of security from Jabal, but one wouldn’t know it looking at her. Her expression was serene, her blue gaze focused, intelligent, poised.

Beautiful, he thought, she was beautiful and so small and fragile and not of this world.

And she was his.

His.

Khalid’s body grew hot, tight, his chest constricting with emotions he didn’t know he could feel.

He wanted her, and he’d protect her. Forever.

“She doesn’t wear a head-covering or robe,” the Jabal official said under his breath, turning an accusing eye to Khalid.

“She doesn’t have to,” Khalid answered evenly. “She’s here with me.”

“But you parade her like a—”

“Careful,” Khalid interrupted. “She is my future bride, and I have vowed to protect her with my life. I will not allow anyone to insult her.”

The secretary of security clamped his jaw together, his nostrils flaring, and for a moment he couldn’t speak and then he choked, “If she really is your betrothed, when is this wedding going to take place? Because it is unlawful for an unmarried man and woman to be together like this, unchaperoned—”

“But she is chaperoned. Her attendants are in her room now.” The corner of Khalid’s mouth lifted sardonically. “Perhaps you’d like to meet her attendants personally, Mr. Al-Awar?”

One of the Egyptian dignitaries interjected. “That is not necessary, Your Highness, your word is good enough for us, and may I extend our warmest congratulations on your coming nuptials?”

“Thank you,” Khalid answered, keeping an eye on Olivia as she stood at the far end of the living room. She looked very small and vulnerable standing on her own and he found himself wishing his brother Sharif was here tonight with his American wife, Jesslyn. Although Jesslyn was now the Queen of Sarq, she was a former schoolteacher and one of the kindest, most genuine women Khalid had ever met. Jesslyn was just the sort of woman Olivia needed in her corner right now.

“When are these nuptials?” the Jabal official pressed. “I haven’t heard a date mentioned, which troubles me, and my government. If your engagement is just a hoax—”

“If you’ve come to insult me, then perhaps it’s best if you go now before I take personal offense.” Khalid fixed his attention completely on the secretary of security.

“The paperwork stated she was a family member.”

“And she is.” Khalid’s upper lip curled.

“So there will be a wedding.”

“Royal weddings take time and my family is scattered at the moment. Once we can bring us all together on a mutually agreeable date, the ceremony will take place.”

The Jabal official was silent a long moment before awkwardly nodding his head. “Very good. And congratulations again.”

“Thank you.” Khalid smiled, showing a hint of his teeth. “And now I shall join my fiancée, but I do hope you’ll stay and enjoy our hospitality. The hotel chef has outdone himself and there is much to sample.” With a nod he left the men and headed to Olivia.

Olivia watched Khalid walk toward her. While she’d dressed, he’d also changed, donning the traditional Arab robeing.

“Enjoying the party?” he asked on reaching her side.

She nearly smiled at his ironic tone. “It’s not much of a party.”

His warm gaze slowly swept over her, resting indulgently on her upturned face, lingering even longer on her lips. “I promise that one day we’ll throw you a proper party, one with lots of interesting people.”

“As long as there’s no one from the Jabal government there, I’ll be happy.”

He glanced toward the dignitaries now crowding around the buffet, piling their plates with food. “I’d tend to agree with you there.”

Before she could respond he turned back to look at her. “You look beautiful tonight. Like a goddess.” His dark gaze met hers and held. “And I don’t give compliments often. I also never say what I don’t mean.”

Liv’s insides felt funny, and her chest grew tight as though she’d swallowed an air bubble, but she knew it was nerves, and this odd emotion he stirred in her. This morning she’d thought it was fear. Now she wasn’t so sure. “Thank you. I’m glad you approve.”

By the time Liv went to bed an hour and a half later, she was so exhausted she was asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.

In his room, Khalid didn’t find it so easy to fall asleep. Usually when he closed his eyes he found absolute silence, and darkness, a stillness that wrapped him completely, blanketing thought, emotions, need. But tonight when he closed his eyes he saw eyes, blue eyes, eyes with long sooty lashes, eyes that were too big in a face that was too small and pale.

But he didn’t want to be thinking of Olivia, didn’t want to become emotionally involved—or attached—in any way.

He hadn’t left his desert and isolation to become entangled in a relationship. He liked being a bachelor, enjoyed his life as a loner, and yet suddenly marriage seemed like a very real, and very constraining, possibility.