His Arranged Marriage Read online

  “In love…with me?” Serena echoed in disbelief.

  “Why else would he care whether you know your own mind or not? Women are not supposed to know their minds.”

  “Oh, Sharif,” Serena said on a moan. “You have had the luxury of a harem too long.”

  “Actually, I have not visited the harem in a great while. I tell you I am restless, and it is true. This is why I think I sympathize with your prince. It would be far more satisfying to find a woman with whom I wanted more than simply a night of pleasure—although I will admit that the nights of pleasure here are satisfying. It’s just that I find myself longing for something more.” Sharif paused a moment. “Anyway, you are a beautiful, talented woman. Of course he wants his wife to be happy with him. What has he got to compare to a palace?”

  “I wondered that at first, but there is so much here that you would find it every bit as beautiful as the Balahar jewels.”

  “Will you want to stay there forever, then?”

  “Well, we have not discussed that,” Serena said carefully. “Prince Kadar has no interest in succession to the throne, so…I think I would have to stay here forever.”

  “You see why he wants you to know your own mind, then,” Sharif said softly. “It is bad to have an unhappy wife. He wants you to choose him and his palace of your own accord.” A chuckle filled Serena’s ear. “I admit that I wasn’t sure I liked your prince when he came here.”

  “Strange. He doesn’t want to talk about you much, so you two somehow started off on the wrong path.”

  “It is near impossible to have two stallions in the same corral,” Prince Sharif said, and Serena could hear the smirk in his voice. “I was none too pleased to discover that your husband was not the prince he claimed to be, either. However, Layla has had her spy turning the palace upside down trying to discover your whereabouts, so I decided that Prince Kadar had done the right thing, even if it did end up costing him an Arabian foal. We have certainly gotten the better end of this transaction. And people say it is a pain to deal with Americans! I say it has been very lucrative, and since you seem to be in his eternal favor, satisfying as well.”

  “What are you talking about? What foal did marrying me cost him?”

  “Oh, not marrying you. His mother, the former Queen Rose, has paid a tribute of a Desert Rose Arabian foal to our father to make up for the dishonor of her son’s kidnapping of you from our home.”

  “It was not kidnapping!”

  “To make up for his stealthy departure, then,” Prince Sharif amended, though his tone clearly indicated that the former verb stated his opinion better. “Actually, the foal was really to soothe Father into allowing you to stay in Texas for fourteen days, in order for your prince to decide whether you would stay.”

  “Stay! Fourteen days! How do you know this?”

  “Our father has told me this. He is well pleased with his end of the bargain.”

  “I am not a prize to be bargained,” Serena said hotly. “I will not be returned in fourteen days if my husband decides he doesn’t want me. I am not a defective purchase to be returned!”

  Sharif laughed. “I think you will not return, unless it is by your choice. What you have told me about Prince Kadar shows that he is willing to pay a foal in order to give his wife time to know her own mind, even if she shouldn’t know it—” he began in a teasing tone. “No, that’s not right. It’s your heart he wants you to know, Serena. He is trying to be gentle with you, like a mare who has never worn the saddle before. Perhaps you should give his method some thought, sister. After all, you admit that you will miss the palace, and that he does not wish to rule. These are not small things you are giving up.”

  “I do not think he is in love with me,” Serena demurred. “I think he is not attracted to me, or else he would wish to do what he could to keep me here, such as showing me his favor.”

  “He is trying. It’s just different from what you have known here.”

  “I do not think I like a horse being exchanged for fourteen days with me,” Serena said warily. “I feel bartered. Is that what love is supposed to feel like?”

  “Rose offered the foal to make up for the behavior of her son. Prince Kadar had no knowledge of the offer. I only know because Father said this. It is not so unusual, Serena, and Father was well pleased by her gesture. To be honest, I think her knowledge of royal manners and protocol has caught Father’s attention in some mysterious way. Anyway, you called for my advice, and I am ready to give it to you now.”

  He hesitated, and Serena impatiently blurted, “I am listening!” She heard another chuckle.

  “Try to become as much a part of his life as you can. What he loves, you must love.”

  “That would be his family,” she said thoughtfully. “And his horses.”

  “Then you see that the task in front of you is minor. You know how to honor family, and you know much about horses. As you are camping out there disguised as a peasant, you should be able to spend much time in the barns.”

  “Cowgirl, not peasant,” she murmured. “I’m wearing jeans and boots during the day.”

  “And at night?”

  “We sleep in different rooms.”

  “Then that is something you must seek to change. I do not say make him do that which he seems unwilling to do at this time. However, there is much comfort in a woman who knows how to lie upon a man’s chest quietly, as a soul mate, without demanding or asking for attention all the time. I would like a soul mate,” he said wistfully.

  “My brother, are you all right?” Serena asked. “I am beginning to worry about you.”

  “Do not. Make your fourteen days count carefully,” the prince instructed. “The time will pass swiftly, so be certain that you take advantage of this peace the prince has paid for with a prize foal, and utilize it to your advantage.”

  “Thank you, my brother,” she said softly. “Your words have brought me courage and insight, as I knew they would.”

  “Of course,” Prince Sharif agreed cheerfully. “Have I not been trained to be a wise and fit ruler?”

  Serena laughed at her brother’s ego, already snapped back into place and all discussion of soul mates forgotten by him. “You are wise and fit,” she agreed, “if not humble.”

  “Remember,” he said, his voice full of good humor, “a time of quiet is when two people can do the most communicating, even without saying a word. I must go now, my sister. Goodbye.”

  He rang imperiously off the line without waiting for her to thank him and to tell him that she loved him, but that was so like Sharif to avoid as much sentiment as possible. What he felt for her was something she knew in his care of her, which was what he was telling her to understand about Kadar. They really were so much alike, she thought to herself, quietly turning off the phone.

  In the palace in Balahar, a third phone was replaced in its cradle, silently and unnoticed.

  Chapter Ten

  “I tell you that the marriage has not been consummated!” Queen Layla explained to her husband as he sat eating grapes from the fingers of a female concubine. Already Layla was put out by her husband’s indolent pose, when he should have been in his office tending to his duties. “And furthermore, I now know exactly where Princess Serena is hiding.”

  “While I understand that you wish thanks for your diligence on my behalf,” King Azzam said, not even glancing at his overexcited wife, “I can only repeat what I have said to you before—the fire of passion to reign over Balahar is long gone from me. I have a good life. I lack nothing. Why should I put my life and lifestyle at risk by angering King Zak?”

  “Because it should be you,” she insisted between clenched teeth. “I should be queen of both countries.” Enraged by her husband’s continued inattention, she snapped her fingers sharply to dismiss the concubine, who dropped the grapes and flew from the room on quiet, bare feet.

  “Be careful, wife,” Azzam stated none too gently. “I am not interested in one of your shrewish moods. You frighte
ned that girl, and she is young and inexperienced at receiving the razor’s edge of your tongue. I would not care to have her sweetness tempered by your cutting.”

  Layla sucked in her breath before lowering her eyes in a submissive gesture. It was only a gesture, however, as she fell to her knees in front of her husband, determined not to give in on the subject that concerned her most. “Forgive me, husband, but it pains me that you are not in your rightful position.”

  “I am where I want to be,” he insisted, his tone impatient.

  You could be even fatter and lazier with a hundred more concubines to feed you at the grander palace, she wanted to lash out, but wisely kept her words to herself. “As you wish, my husband. I only seek to do your will.”

  He got up from the velvet cushion where he’d lain, and Layla could feel his scorn radiate through the hairs on her lowered head.

  “Then do my will and do not disturb me further with wild gossip and tales from the palace. We are as Allah has wished, and if you cannot live in this palace with me in peace rather than disharmony, I shall have you put out and your place taken by one who will please me.”

  She raised her eyes only when she heard his footsteps in the hallway and knew his destination to be his room, where he would call back the young and lovely concubine to join with him.

  Rage erupted inside Layla, not that her husband preferred his harem to her but that he was so insulated by the fruits of palace life that he had no wish to bestir himself to greatness. While she, she languished in a silk prison.

  It was supposed to have been Rose who languished in a silk prison. Allah only knew that Layla had done her best to remove every vestige of Rose from her world. It ate at her bitterly that Rose was ever closer to securing the line of succession, while Layla was further away.

  She wanted to scream.

  But the loudness would bring servants, who would remark upon her manic state. A shriek would also further aggravate her husband, who was likely enjoying a quiet solitude in his room with the tender addition to the harem.

  She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep her scream of frustration quiet—and remembered what the spy had heard Prince Sharif say to his sister. Make your fourteen days count carefully. The time will pass swiftly, so be certain that you take advantage of this peace.

  If anyone knew how to destroy peace, it was she. If Prince Kadar wished tranquility for his princess in order to nurture their marriage, then her wedding present to him would be chaos.

  No longer feeling the scream choke her, Princess Layla called in her adviser, Abdul-Rahim.

  “Get People magazine on the phone, as well as any other American media that may be interested in a princess living on their soil disguised as a ordinary country cowgirl,” she instructed.

  “There are dozens of newspapers and magazines,” the adviser told her. “As well as TV stations, no doubt.”

  “Then call them all,” she rejoined. “After all, a princess should have all the attention her exalted position demands. Send any pictures and belongings of the princess we have in the palace if they wish them. And do it today. I want to see Serena celebrated around the world by tomorrow night.”

  And the marriage destroyed before it could blossom.

  A blackhearted thought hit her with a pleasantly evil twist: Since Prince Kadar had married Serena in Balahar with Prince Makin’s name, the marriage wasn’t legal anyway—even if the two did utilize their “quiet” time to best purpose.

  She smiled. In Balahar, consorting with a princess out of wedlock was an offense punishable by the strictest of measures—the most stringent, hanging; the least, castration. In these modern times those measures possibly would not apply, but surely a prison term was a fitting place for a misguided prince who’d wandered into the royal fold by mistake…she’d be satisfied with a silk-lined prison for the son of King Ibrahim’s beloved Rose.

  “Abdul-Rahim,” she called, regally rising to cross into the outer-office chamber. “Please make certain when you make the calls that the media realize the princess’s marriage is a fake meant to fool the world, and most particularly the countries of Balahar and its neighbor, Sorajhee, which have direly prayed for a reason to believe this king has every subjects’ best interests at heart.” She shook her head, clucking her tongue. “Too bad for the country whose king is weak and unwilling to rule his people with the strength and leadership for which they pray.”

  SERENA COULD NOT bring herself to sneak into her husband’s bed last night as Sharif had advised. She had needed time to think over what Sharif had told her, and had lain in her bed restless and tossing, considering every word he had said to her.

  However, today was a new day, and she rose determined. If she wanted her prince, she was going to have to win him without negotiations, and without the alluring devices of the harem.

  She would begin with the basics. The way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, according to an American talk show she’d listened to as she’d undressed last night. It was an odd way to get to a man’s heart, and certainly no one in the palace would have thought to undertake the rite to passion that way, but she could do as the Americans while in America. Through his stomach it was.

  That called for serving him breakfast in bed, and since Sharif instructed that Cade’s bed was where she should be anyway, perhaps at least approaching his bedchamber would be the best way to start. This would be no small feat as she had always been the servee, and never the server. However, she did know what a breakfast tray should look like.

  As a rule, her husband had said he started work early, not usually content to let overseers feed his famous horses. She slipped from her bed at three that morning to fix the meal.

  After this attempt at pleasing him, she would put plan B into effect, to bring home the effect of plan A. Then plan C, which should combine nicely for a triple potion even her stalwart husband could not withstand.

  CADE WAS AWAKENED by something moving in the dark in his bedroom. Whatever it was, it was none too stealthy—and it smelled horrible.

  He flipped on the lamp beside his bed and startled Serena so badly she nearly dropped the tray she carried.

  “Serena! What are you doing?” He squinted at the alarm clock. “Especially at this hour of the morning?” He’d fantasized more than once in the past couple of days about her being in his bedroom—but this was not how he’d wanted her to come to his bed.

  She smiled, nervously putting forth a tray for his inspection. He held back an urge to leap from the bed to open a window. “What is it, honey?”

  “Your breakfast,” she answered with a proud smile.

  “How thoughtful of you.” This has to be a bad dream, Cade thought. He sat up against the pillows she considerately fluffed up for him, and she arranged the tray over his lap. Eggs lay blackened at the edges, more than fried; bacon, which was underdone, curled like fatty snakes around the plate’s edge. He held back an involuntary shudder.

  “You are pleased?”

  He smiled at the eagerness in her tone. “I am pleased. Thank you.” Without hesitating further, he laid the tray on the floor beside the bed and jerked the tie of the apron that Serena wore. The apron slid to the floor. Then he pulled her into bed beside him and flipped off the bedside table lamp. The room fell to darkness and he sighed into his princess’s hair as she lay spoon-style and stiff against him. “Relax, Princess,” he said softly. “Your gift has pleased me enormously. Now go to sleep.”

  Serena blinked with surprise in the dark, trying to gauge the success of her mission as Cade’s breathing became regular behind her.

  She’d gotten into his bed, as Sharif had suggested—and as she’d wanted. Her prince said he was pleased. Sharif’s wistful voice came to her, speaking about his wish for a woman who knew how to quietly lay her head upon his chest and be content.

  She hadn’t planned for this, but Cade’s strong arm tucked tightly around her waist as he lightly breathed into her hair felt more secure than anything she’d ever known
in her life.

  She relaxed, and just before she fell asleep, she thought that maybe she should bring her husband an early breakfast every day.

  “YE GODS, WHAT WAS THAT?” Mac exclaimed, watching as his brother rinsed the plate containing Serena’s breakfast preparations down the disposal.

  “It was chiefly none of your business,” Cade growled, “but since you are nosy, it was a consideration to me from Serena. She was trying to be thoughtful, and I’d appreciate any smart-aleck comments you may think to offer left unsaid.”

  Mac backed away from the sink warily. “No problem. Just thought you’d decided to cook for yourself this morning, bro.”

  Cade didn’t reply to that. He had been touched by Serena’s attempt to please him. If anyone had told him how much excitement a woman could bring into his life, he would have taken it as a negative statement. Women, he’d pretty much decided, took up as much time as training Arabians did.

  Serena brought excitement rushing into his world, but he found himself liking it very much.

  “What are you doing now?” Mac asked, as Cade took down a skillet and picked up some eggs.

  “Returning the favor to my princess.”

  Mac shook his head. “I think you’ve got it bad, bro.”

  Cade didn’t reply for a moment. “I’ve actually got it better than I ever thought it could be,” he said, quickly fixing up gently fried eggs, crispy hash browns and just-right bacon on a plate. He put that on the tray with a rose from the garden from the table. “To be honest, I’m hoping it stays this good,” he said as he left the room.

  WHEN SERENA AWAKENED, Cade was gone and so was the breakfast tray. She was wearing the jeans she’d warn to cook breakfast, and decided maybe some of the silkier purchases from Victoria’s Secret would be better for tomorrow’s foray into Cade’s bedroom. Her blouse was wrinkled from being slept in so she pulled it off, admiring the new brassiere Jessica had talked her into. She’d never seen anything quite like it, and she was positive neither had her husband.