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  She blow-dried her hair and had just swallowed an aspirin when she heard a knock on the door.

  She looked around with some trepidation. It was either Allan or Osman, and she didn’t especially want to see either of them. “Come in.” Her gut clenched when Allan appeared in the door, wet hair falling to his eyes, dressed in clean clothing.

  “Didn’t it feel great to have a shower?” She wanted to counter his sullen expression.

  “Yeah. Whatever. I just wanted to let you know that the camera is fine and all the footage survived our roll in the car.”

  “That’s a relief. I chose that camera partly because it was advertised as indestructible. I didn’t know what this trip would bring, but I knew it would have to at least survive the crude equipment at the local airport on the return voyage.”

  She scrambled mentally, trying to appear calm when inside thoughts flew across her brain thick and fast. I think we should get unengaged. I don’t think we should date any more. Can we turn this into a work-only relationship?

  Not accustomed to secrecy and subterfuge she would have much preferred to just tackle their relationship issues head on. But she owed it to their funders and to Allan, who needed to remain focused on the shoot, to wait until they wrapped before she blew everything out of the water.

  And really, one explosion a day was quite enough.

  “So whose bedroom should we sleep in?” Allan looked sheepish and awkward.

  Sam swallowed. “We don’t have to. Both our nerves are in shreds.”

  “That’s probably all the more reason why we need each other for comfort.” He shoved his hand awkwardly into his hair, and she felt a tug of tenderness for him.

  “Let’s just wait and see what the night brings.” She tried to smile. “We still have to make it through another dinner.” She frowned as a nasty thought occurred to her. “I hope Osman is safe while he’s out delivering the bad news.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine. For all we know, he staged the whole thing to make himself seem important.”

  “You don’t really believe that.”

  Allan shrugged, and a tiny smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “No. I admit I’m a little jealous when he’s around. The way he looks at you, it’s…”

  “Intense. He’s just a very intense guy. I’m sure he looks at everyone like that.” She realized she was speaking too fast. “I’ll be glad to get out of here. Only one more day!” What would Allan think if he knew that Osman had announced that afternoon that he intended to marry her?

  Obviously sheikh Osman was a little too accustomed to getting what he wanted.

  Unsettled by the prospect of sharing a bed with Allan, she didn’t really want to hang around the bedroom now. “Let’s go explore the palace. I’m sure no one would mind, and how often do you get to set foot in a royal residence? This might be our only chance.”

  “I’m game. Let me get the camera.” Allan went back to his room to retrieve it. She was surprised he let it out of his sight even for a moment. He must trust Osman and his staff more than he let on.

  Excitement pricked her nerves as they set off along the corridor. A palace with antiaircraft capabilities? There was more to this Thousand and One Nights fantasy than met the eye. And she wouldn’t mind getting a glimpse of the unauthorized version before Osman returned.

  “I don’t dare open any of these closed doors,” she whispered. Heavy wood doors stood in each arched doorway. Likely they were bedrooms similar to the ones they’d been given, built to house the king’s large household. The hallway ended with a doubt-height arched doorway decorated with multicolored mosaic tile in intricate patterns.

  Through it they could see a garden, laid out on formal lines, with a round fountain in the middle. A long rill—a trickle of water in a narrow stone trough—carried water across the garden to where it filled another round pool. Lush plantings filled rectangular beds, and blooms of pink, yellow and crimson brightened the space below majestic palms.

  Allan filmed it silently. The garden was lovely but not exactly unexpected. She led the way alongside the rill and around the second pool of water, which had turned gold in the sunset. The garden continued through another ornamented archway, and in the distance Sam caught a glimpse of a beautiful woman leading a…

  “What the heck does that woman have on a leash, Allan?”

  He frowned, no doubt hating to get unexpected voice-over while filming. When he looked up, though, she heard him suck through his teeth. “Looks like some kind of big cat.”

  “A puma?” The cat was black and huge. The woman hadn’t noticed them and seemed to be lost in thought. Her clothing was very rich—rose-petal pink with gold embroidery—and a blue-and-gold scarf covered her hair.

  Sam immediately wondered if she was the king’s recently widowed wife. She looked to be no older than Sam’s age. Curious, Sam stepped through the archway and into the garden. At the sight of her, the young woman startled and hurried away, with her dangerous-looking pet.

  “Rats. I’d have loved to talk with her.”

  “Careful. She might set Fluffy on you.” Allan shot her a crooked smile. It was nice to see him relax a bit.

  “Let’s follow her. I want to see where she goes. I think it’s weird they never talk about her.”

  “Maybe they’re just mad because their dad dumped their mom for her.”

  She decided not to mention that the three brothers all had different mothers, who had died in order for their father to marry again. It was hardly surprising that they’d harbor resentment, especially since this woman was younger than all of them.

  If she was indeed the widow. She might be a cousin or even a sister who no one had bothered to mention.

  “Where you going?” A heavily accented male voice made her spin around. She recognized one of the men who’d accompanied them all day. He looked worn and stressed. She was surprised he spoke English, because he’d certainly showed no sign of it until now.

  “We thought we’d just stretch our legs before dinner. I hope we’re not causing any trouble.”

  “It’s better if you stay in room. Danger is everywhere.” His dark brows lowered. “I take you back.”

  Considering that he had a semiautomatic weapon held across his chest, she was in no position to argue.

  “I guess this is the protective custody your boyfriend mentioned,” muttered Allan as they walked in front of him.

  Sam glared at him. Was he trying to get them into trouble? If this guy spoke idiomatic English he’d be deeply offended by now. With any luck he was limited to basic phrases. “One more day. You can handle it.” She wanted to tell him to be on his best behavior, but decided that might have the opposite effect.

  Allan went into his room and closed the door. Probably so he could push some furniture against it. Sam retreated to her room and stretched out on the bed, where she tried to empty her mind of thoughts and meditate. She had very limited success, as thoughts shoved their way in like an unruly Black Friday crowd, but she did eventually fall asleep and was woken from a fitful dream when a knock on the door made her jump.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Osman. May I come in?”

  “Hold on.” Sam climbed off the bed, pulse rate already accelerating. She opened the door and sucked in a breath at the sight of his imposing presence, grief written across his handsome face. His eyes lit up at the sight of her, and she had to admit that affected her.

  “Did you meet with the dead men’s relatives?” She’d never had to break terrible news like that, and couldn’t imagine how hard it could be.

  He nodded slowly. “One was married, with six children. His widow is inconsolable. The other was a widower himself and his mother bore the news bravely, but I know her sorrow will increase when the reality sinks in.”

  She wanted to take him in her arms and give him a hug. But she didn’t. “I’m so sorry that happened. Do you have any leads on the perpetrators?”

  “Unfortunately the site where the grenade w
as launched was so remote my men still haven’t found it. When they do, hopefully they’ll find evidence that will lead us to the perpetrators. I’d be lying if said I didn’t want their blood on my hands.”

  He gestured with his powerful hands, then shook his head again. “I’m sorry you should see me so angry. This situation brings out the less civilized man in me. I’d hoped to show you around the palace.”

  She wondered if he knew about her impromptu excursion. “Actually Allan and I tried walking through a garden and one of your men sent us back here.”

  He frowned. “Really? Who?”

  “I think his name is Salman. I assumed it was on your orders.”

  “Not at all. Mi casa es su casa, as the Spanish say. I want you to feel completely at home here.” He rubbed his expressive hands through his closely cropped hair. “Would you like to accompany me to the gardens? I need to clear my head.”

  “Okay.” It would be cruel to say no when he was under such stress. And she was curious about the mysterious cat lady. She slipped on her sandals and followed him into the hallway.

  “I’m sorry you had to witness that terrible scene earlier.” He seemed earnestly shaken. “This kind of violence is so out of character for my country.”

  “Maybe you should stay safely here in the palace until they catch the culprits.”

  “Hide behind these walls like a coward?” She saw a flash of indignation in his eyes. “I’d rather be dead. We’ll find them and bring them to justice, and until them I will walk about my own land a free man, like any Ubarite should.”

  She saw his chest rise with pride and felt an answering swell of sympathy. Osman didn’t seem like a man to back down to threats or bullying, and she admired that.

  They reached the grand arch at the end of the hallway and stepped out again into the garden. The sun had almost completely set and flaming torches lit the night like beacons. A thick, rich scent—honeysuckle, maybe?—filled the air, and she inhaled deeply, letting it soothe her.

  “These gardens were created a thousand years ago. I wonder how many men have meditated to the cool trickle of this water.”

  “It’s so lovely. What’s on the other side of the garden?” She pointed to the distant arch they’d never reached before.

  “That’s the secret garden.” He smiled mysteriously. “Would you like to see it?”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Sam nodded eagerly and they walked through the arch together into a neat orchard. She didn’t recognize all the fruits hanging from many of the trees, but she did see figs and dates, and some tiny limes. The soil in between the trees was silvery raked sand, not the grass she’d expect back home. It seemed to grow darker with every step they took and the rising moon dusted the branches with milky light.

  “Why is it secret?”

  “It was planted by a great sultan for his third wife. He knew that if the first two wives visited it, they’d be so jealous that they’d try to steal the fruit or poison the trees, so it was kept locked and barricaded to all but the sultan and his new bride.”

  “I thought men couldn’t marry more than once in Ubar.”

  “Now they can’t. Polygamy was banned about five hundred years ago, though many people—my father included—would certainly have enjoyed it.”

  “How would you feel if your father had simply taken another wife when he wanted to?”

  His face hardened. “That’s exactly what he did.” He looked at her, and she saw the day’s fresh pain in his eyes. “But if the old ways persisted my mother might still be alive to see me take my own bride.”

  Sam gulped. Surely he wasn’t still thinking that she’d be his bride? She suspected the afternoon’s dramatic events had probably pushed thoughts of matrimony from his head.

  “I suppose being king gives men the right to do almost anything they want. It must make them hard to manage.”

  “Is that so different than a man being CEO of a major corporation? Owning an international conglomerate? All power corrupts.”

  “Do you think you’re immune from that?”

  “I can look myself in the mirror every morning and be proud of the man I’ve become. If all I cared about was wielding authority and bending the world to my will, I’d be happy to choose one of the women who flock around me with flattering words, hoping for the title of queen. Such toadying doesn’t please me at all. In fact, I despise it.”

  They walked past a row of night-blooming bushes that released a rich scent into the air. It was hard not to be intoxicated by the setting, as well as its charismatic owner. Osman was clearly a man of principle, who put considerable thought and care into everything he did.

  Except for choosing her as his future wife. That still made no sense.

  A purring sound nearby made her jump. “What’s that?”

  “The cats.” Osman kept walking. In the moonlight she could make out the bars of an elaborate cage. She turned toward them, too curious not to investigate. As she drew closer, she saw bright green eyes piercing the darkness, but she couldn’t make out the bodies of the creatures at all.

  “Are they panthers?”

  Osman had followed her over to the cage. “Black leopards. They were my father’s. They’re the traditional pet of kings here in Ubar.”

  “How cool. I guess you should get cozy with them now you’re going to be king.”

  “I haven’t had time to make an acquaintance with them, and I have no intention of rushing into a relationship with a beast that could rip my throat out as soon as look at me.” She could make out his wry smile in the moonlight.

  “I think they’re lovely. I think I saw a woman walking one of them when I was out here earlier. Who was she?”

  He hesitated and frowned. “That would be Aliyah, my father’s fifth wife.”

  “How come none of you talk about her?”

  “The truth is we don’t know her. We were all gone overseas to school or otherwise occupied by the time my father married her. We’ve tried to make friends with her since we’ve been back, but she’s painfully shy. She’s far younger than any of us. Even now I don’t think she’s much over twenty.”

  “And she still lives in the palace?”

  “Of course. Where else would she live?”

  “Perhaps she’d like to have her own house.” Sam wondered if the girl was intimidated by all these tall, imposing men.

  “Alone?” Osman looked scandalized. “Ubarite women are far more comfortable in the heart of their family. In time I’m sure we’ll all become close.”

  “Did she love your father?”

  “I doubt it. He was an old man when they wed. He spent decades sowing his wild oats even before his first marriage to my mother. I’d assume Aliyah was railroaded into marriage by a greedy family. She’s very beautiful.”

  “Wouldn’t it make some sense for you to marry her?”

  Osman snorted. “That might be the most traditional approach, but as I said she’s almost a child and has no education or experience of the world. I feel sorry for her, but I have no desire to add to her misery by claiming her for my bed.”

  “Perhaps you should make more of an effort to welcome her into the family.”

  “You display admirable compassion, Samantha, but the situation is complicated. Emotions still run high in the wake of my father’s death. All of us were surprised by the odd terms of the will that split the country among the three of us, to rule as equals. The last thing we need is to worry about the feelings—and possibly even the ambitions—of yet another person. She has children. She may wish for them to rule Ubar one day. One must be very careful in a situation like this.”

  Sam frowned. “Why would you inherit the kingdom and not her children, when you all share the same father?”

  “Hers are girls.” He said it as if the result should be obvious. That irked her.

  “And girls don’t have the right to rule?”

  “Not by default. The standing rule is that the oldest male heir inherits all, but there h
ave been queens in Ubar and no doubt there will be again. Since my father has already defied the old order, the applecart is tilting and could be further upset.”

  “You see that young girl as a threat because her children won’t inherit the throne and she might want revenge?” It was hard to believe.

  He stopped and took her hands in his. “In my position, Sam, anyone is a potential threat.” His tone, serious and a touch mournful, dragged her back to the tragedy of the explosion and the sudden deaths. Osman was meant to be among the dead. A prospect that filled her with horror. She could understand his wariness of anyone who might be his silent and secret enemy.

  “You think she could have allies who will seek to overthrow you.” She spoke softly, glancing over her shoulder. Anyone could be listening in the dark, with all the trees to hide behind.

  “Time will tell. My experience in business urges caution.” His eyes reflected the moon. “I’m a naturally cautious man, though you might not believe it.” His mouth twitched slightly, his full lips unbearably sensual. “But my caution evaporates when I’m near you.”

  This time he didn’t plunge in for a bold kiss. His lips hovered just a few inches from hers, heat and tension building in the space between them. Her lips twitched, wanting to press themselves against his. Her nipples thickened and her belly tightened, anticipation building in her most private places. Even the tiny hairs on her arms stood pricked with awareness, waiting.

  Then she kissed him.

  She couldn’t help it. Her lips moved toward his like a magnet to its polar opposite, and sweet relief flooded her as his mouth met hers and kissed her back. Their arms flew to embrace each other. Her fingers clutched at him, and the aching tension of the day mutated into passion that fueled a fiery kiss.

  Her knees trembled, and a tiny sigh escaped her throat without permission. She had to kiss him. She’d wanted to so badly that she had no choice. Thank goodness he was alive, no thanks to his mysterious assailant. The events of the day made her admire and appreciate this kind, brave man who’d done nothing but try to please her for two solid days.