Desert Kings Boxed Set: The Complete Series Books 1-6 Read online

  But something in her gut told her that wouldn’t be possible. She needed to be polite, listen to his plans and ideas, make some suggestions, then get out of here like a bat out of hell!

  When she tried it on, the dress fit beautifully and was something she could have easily bought for herself. She wore it with black ballet flats and some simple pearl earrings she found among the luggage. She needed to find out the name of the personal shopper he’d used, because she’d gladly pay for their time and expertise.

  She was putting some gloss on her lips when a deafening crash rang out in the air and she almost jumped out of her skin. Less than five seconds later, a knock on the door made her spin, heart pounding. “Come in?” Her voice shook, and she waited with her breath lodged at the bottom of her lungs.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The door opened to reveal Zadir in a long, pearl-gray robe, with a small curved dagger tucked into a dark red sash. Although a lot of men would look ridiculous in such a getup, he looked regal and breathtaking. “Did the noise startle you?”

  “Yes! Is there some danger?” She looked around for something to hide under. “Do we need to take cover?”

  He smiled, which didn’t entirely put her at ease. “No. It’s an old tradition that the king’s personal guards draw swords and form an arch with them—as loudly as possible—so the king can walk under them. Osman has been carrying on the tradition.

  “It’s hard on the nerves.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I guess the sound reverberates off the stone walls.”

  “It’s easier to take when you know it happens at eight o’clock every evening.” This time he did hold out his arm for her to take. It would probably be rude not to, and he’d been a perfect gentleman so far, so she slipped her arm into his. His robe was soft and she could feel the hard muscle of his arm through it. A tiny shiver of pleasure crept through her and she tried to draw her attention to the ornate detail of the mosaic walls and floor as they stepped out into the hallway.

  She could hear music, stringed instruments similar to a lute, which grew louder as they walked. “Do you have musicians play at dinner every night?”

  “It’s a new thing. Ubar is a very musical country, and people grow up learning music from their families. Osman discovered that some of the staff members are talented players so he’s encouraging them to perform as part of their job. They love it.”

  “This music creates a wonderful mood.” The notes were light and bubbling, almost like the water in the fountain outside. She found herself smiling as she walked arm in arm with this handsome man through the halls of a beautiful palace. This really was a better way of spending the weekend than hunched over the engineering drawings of her library design.

  Not that she wouldn’t have to deal with those when she got back, but still.

  She expected them to turn into the dining room where they’d eaten lunch, but Zadir turned in the other direction and led her into a larger chamber with a high ceiling. Flaming torches blazed on the walls, lighting up gold mosaics that filled the room with warm light. A knot of people were gathered on the far side of the room, looking up at a mosaic that resembled a stylized garden, almost like the ones she’d seen on Persian rugs. She recognized Osman, Sam and Ahmad, but there were two women in their midst. A tall younger woman dressed in a fitted, Western style dress and a tiny much older woman swathed in floral fabric from the top of her head to her totally-hidden feet.

  Osman must have said something because both women turned toward her and Zadir with big smiles on their faces, which faded instantly when they saw her.

  Veronica recoiled inwardly but managed to keep the smile on her face. What was their problem with her? If it was snobbery tinged with racism she had plenty of experience with that at her WASPy boarding school, and could ignore it like an unpleasant smell. They were obviously surprised by the sight of her.

  Part of her wanted to cling to Zadir just to annoy them more, but she let her arm slip from his as they drew close.

  “Zadir, you remember Barbit.” It wasn’t a question, and Zadir didn’t answer it. He bowed low and kissed the older woman’s hand. She looked incredibly ancient, though that could be the effect of relentless desert sun on unprotected skin. “And cousin Zahaina.”

  Zahaina extended an elegant hand with a French manicure. Her dark hair had been skillfully highlighted with blonde and her face was carefully made up with heavy eyeliner and plum lipstick. Ronnie would have liked to dismiss her as tacky, but unfortunately the overall effect was stunning beauty.

  Zadir kissed Zahaina’s hand, too, and Ronnie felt a wave of annoyance. Which was silly. Why shouldn’t he greet his cousin? He introduced Ronnie to Zahaina, and she managed to shake her hand and murmur a greeting.

  Sam ushered them to the table, where Zahaina and Barbit were to be seated on either side of Osman. The table was oval, and Ronnie was seated up the opposite end, in between Sam and Amahd. Zadir was right next to Zahaina.

  Big dishes of food filled the center of the table, and servants started to bring them around. Music played in the background and the whole scene should have felt luxurious and inviting, but for some reason there was now tension in the air. Maybe she imagined it, but the three brothers, and even Sam, seemed a little on edge around their guests.

  “How are you all related to each other?” Ronnie couldn’t resist asking Barbit.

  Barbit looked at her as if a statue had uttered words. Most likely because she didn’t speak a word of English.

  Osman replied, “Barbit is my father’s sister’s aunt’s daughter. Or something like that. I don’t have our family tree figured out in my brain as well as I should have.”

  “We’re very distant cousins,” chimed in Zahaina, in excellent English. “Barely related by blood, though we are all descended from the ancient kings of Ubar. We came to pay our respects to our new king.”

  “We’re delighted to welcome family.” Osman filled Zahaina’s glass with something that looked like wine.

  “We would have been here for the coronation.” Zahaina lifted her glass and sipped it between her perfect lips. “But we weren’t invited.” Her expression was teasing but with an edge to it.

  “The event was proclaimed publicly to all the citizens of the land.”

  “But unless we were standing in the market square in Nabattur at first cock crow we could never have heard it.”

  “Pretty much.” Osman smiled. “We’d experienced some violence and wanted to handle the transition as quickly and cleanly as possible.”

  “Is that why you didn’t have a proper royal wedding?” Barbit voice, croaky and booming, almost made Ronnie jump. Apparently she did speak English.

  “As you know, the tradition in Ubar is to take one’s wife on the third day of our annual marriage festival. I myself did just that.” He and Sam shot a warm glance at each other.

  “Though here was the slight hiccup of him falling off his horse in the middle of the afternoon, so we had to improvise the last part.”

  Zahaina’s eyes narrowed slightly, displaying her thick lashes. “I’d have expected something grander, to draw the eyes of the world to Ubar.”

  “What makes you think we seek the eyes of the world?” Osman looked curious.

  “You’re a successful businessman. Surely you don’t wish to hide away behind a mountain range after all you’ve accomplished.” Zahaina pursed her shapely mouth.

  “I’m not hiding anywhere. We have a lot of work to do here. Amahd is hard at work developing the infrastructure to extract our oil and use it to improve our economy. I’ve been meeting with local businesspeople to discuss how we can support each other and improve our nation. The eyes of the world are the least of my concerns.”

  “Still, ousiders are watching. Especially our neighboring countries.” Unlike Zahaina’s English, Barbit’s was so heavily accented that she was hard to understand. Her gnarled hands ripped at the steaming flatbread. “It’s important that you show them you intend to continue the traditions of
your forefathers.”

  “Osman doesn’t intend to continue all the traditions of his forefathers.” Sam’s clear voice rang out across the table. “The edict against divorce will be overturned next week. And he plans to make education compulsory through age sixteen for boys and girls.”

  Barbit waved a piece of bread in the air. “That explains the protests we saw as we passed through Nabattur today.”

  “Protests?” Osman frowned. “I didn’t hear about any unrest.”

  “Perhaps your men don’t want to alarm you. There were people gathered in the market square calling for a return to the old ways.”

  “Oh, those old traditionalists. They like to rattle their sabers, but they don’t mean any harm. I’ve told them I support and celebrate the core values of our culture and intend to make sure we embrace them as we move into the future. Some people can’t handle change of any kind and there isn’t much I can do about them.”

  “And you allow them to gather in the market square and foment unrest?” Zahaina looked scandalized. “Surely you should do something to silence them.”

  “I have no desire to become a dictator.” Osman’s tone was quiet but serious. “I welcome free speech and discussion. Let them air their views so we can better discuss and address them.”

  Barbit muttered something in their native tongue, shaking her head. Then she looked steadily at Sam for a moment before turning her attention back to Osman. “Of course you are king so you can marry who you want.”

  Her words hung in the air. They hadn’t been discussing his marriage, or his choice of bride, so Barbit’s statement—thrust into a discussion about unrest and discontent—suggested that she thought it was a problem.

  “Have people expressed opinions about Osman marrying me?” Sam’s fork hovered in midair. “I can’t imagine that they wouldn’t. It might be the first time in Ubarite history that the king has married a foreigner.”

  “Not so,” said Osman. “One of our forbears married a sister of Genghis Khan. Or at least that’s the story I grew up with.”

  “Well, in the last eight hundred years, then,” said Sam with a smile. “I’m sure people are talking. They were certainly pretty curious when you courted me at the marriage festival.”

  “Let them talk.” Osman raised his cup. “I wish only the best for all of them.”

  Ronnie watched Zahaina during this conversation. She ate like a bird and kept sneaking glances at Zadir, who sat next to her.

  “I think it’s wonderful that Osman chose an American bride,” said Zahaina. Her voice had a singsong quality to it that grated on Ronnie’s nerves. “Since I’m sure his brothers will marry Ubarite girls. It would be odd if more than one of you married a foreigner.”

  “I agree.” Amahd spoke for the first time. If still waters ran deep, then Amahd must be like the Grand Canyon on the inside. “Osman fell in love and followed his heart by pursuing his wife at the festival, which is to be commended as the behavior of a true Ubarite. For myself, I intend to pursue an Ubarite bride.”

  “Surely you’re not going to wait until the marriage festival next year?” Zahaina peered at him over her glass. “Don’t you have to marry before you can take the throne?”

  “Indeed. It would be inconvenient to wait. If the right bride arrives, I shall seize the opportunity with both hands.” Amahd’s words, coupled with his serious expression, made Ronnie want to laugh. Almost any woman on earth would want to seize Amahd with both hands.

  Zahaina gave him a simpering smile. “That sounds like a marvelous plan.”

  Ronnie stared at her. Did she come here with the hope of snaring a royal husband? If they were distant cousins, that could be her goal.

  Zahaina swiveled in her chair and turned her full attention to Zadir. “What about you? You’re the second son so you have to marry next. You’re not going to devastate the women of Ubar by choosing a foreigner as your bride, are you?” Her tone was joking, but it still made Ronnie uncomfortable.

  Which was ridiculous! She didn’t want to marry Zadir. She didn’t even want to date him. Surely it would suit her perfectly to have Zadir get swept away by another woman so she could enjoy her weekend here, then go back to the U.S. without any further commitments to Ubar or its seductive prince.

  “My plans are between me and my maker.” Zadir kept his expression serious, but he shot a playful glance at Ronnie. She pretended not to notice. “As you know, we Ubarites embrace the role of destiny in choosing our life partner.”

  “Then perhaps it is fortuitous that I bring your beautiful cousin to visit at such a time,” croaked Barbit.

  Osman glanced at Sam. Ronnie congratulated herself on spotting their motives in advance. “Tell us about yourself, Zahaina,” said Zadir, with a bold smile. “You speak excellent English. Something tells me you’ve enjoyed the same foreign education as me and my brothers.”

  “Our country lacks quality education for girls—” She peered at him.

  “Something we intend to fix,” broke in Osman.

  “So my parents sent me to England, where I attended Cheltenham Ladies’ College. I then studied international relations at Cornell University in New York.”

  “Cool,” said Zadir. “Did you know John Claymore? He’s a good buddy of mine who lives in Paris now. He went to Cornell.”

  “Perhaps he’s a little older than me.” Her syrupy smile turned Ronnie’s stomach. “I only graduated last year.”

  “Ah.” Zadir looked amused. “And what career are you pursuing?”

  “Public relations.” She smiled. “I’m good with people.”

  “Veronica is an architect. I’m honored that she’s here to discuss designing some buildings for me.” Zadir beamed at her. She tried to beam back but somehow it disturbed her that he’d introduced her as someone that he had a professional relationship with. Was he trying to let Zahaina know that he was available to sample her skills in public—and private—relations?

  What did it matter? He wasn’t hers to be jealous about. “I can see why you all love your country so much. It’s beautiful and unique.”

  “You’ve hardly seen any of it.” Zadir shone his blue gaze on her. “Wait until we drive across the mountains tomorrow. You’ll have seen the roof of the world.”

  “I thought that was in Tibet. Or Nepal.” It was hard not to grin when he looked at her like that.

  He snorted. “Mere hilltops.” Amusement danced in his gaze. He looked at Zahaina. “It was very difficult to convince Veronica to come here. I almost had to kidnap her.”

  Zahaina raised a shapely brow. “Indeed.”

  “My schedule has been so busy lately.” Veronica sipped some rose-tinted lemonade. “I can only design so many buildings in each year.”

  “She’s one of the most in-demand young architects in the U.S.,” he said proudly. “We’re lucky to be in a position to benefit from her expertise.”

  Zahaina grazed Veronica with a bored glance. Her mother, Barbit, was ripping into a chicken wing with her hands and teeth “I don’t imagine you’ll have the time to fly back and forth between the U.S. and Ubar.”

  “No, probably not.” Ronnie lifted her chin. It was the truth after all.

  “Nonsense!” Zadir jumped in. “The flight is simply a comfortable night’s rest. And Washington, D.C., has an airport in the heart of the city. It couldn’t be more convenient.”

  Ronnie had to fight a smile. Zadir really was adorable. She felt lucky to be sitting across the table from him where he couldn’t accidentally brush her elbow with his and send her into paroxysms of excitement. Not that it was easy to maintain a critical distance while looking at that artfully chiseled face.

  “Ubar’s builders know how to create something that lasts,” growled Barbit, through her chicken leg.

  “I’m not sure Ubar has any professional builders.” Osman poured her some more of a milky drink. “From what I can tell, most people build their own houses with their bare hands and don’t expect them to last a single lifetime.
The men who built this palace and the city of Nabattur are long gone, and for all we know they were imported for the task. This region has always been a commercial hub on the Silk Road, attracting people from across Asia, Africa, and Europe.”

  “I notice how diverse the population is.” Veronica looked at Zadir. Everyone around the table looked somewhat different, even the three brothers, and Barbit had rather Asian features. Maybe that was the Genghis Khan influence?

  “We were once a crossroads of the world, and I intend to build on that legacy. I don’t imagine we’ll attract quite the influx of people as the old Silk Road did, but hopefully we can encourage some tourists to come enjoy our country.”

  “Sounds like you need a public relations expert to work on that.” Zahaina lifted a manicured hand and placed it on Zadir’s forearm. Ronnie froze.

  “Perhaps Zahaina can help you craft the image of the monarchy as you see it,” said Sam to Osman. “Reassure the traditionalists that we have their best interests at heart.”

  “Indeed I could.” Zahaina beamed directly at Zadir. “And I think the best way to start would be…a wedding.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “That’s a great idea.” Sam clapped her hands together. “I think you should plan a big celebration of my wedding to Osman. We’ve kept it all low key so far because of the danger, but if we aim to have it around—say—Christmastime, then it would give us months to plan and invite all our friends from the States.”

  Osman nodded. “I feel bad that we haven’t done anything special yet to bring your family over. We can charter flights from L.A. and New York and possibly London, too. We’ll have a party that lasts a whole week.”