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“That’s true,” Lazhar confirmed as they walked out of the shaded alleyway between the stalls, redolent with the scent of hay, saddle leather and horses. The cobbled courtyard beyond was surrounded by stone buildings and the narrow alleys between them led to grassy pastures. They passed grooms leading mares, Arabians with proud small heads and dainty ears, lush tails that nearly brushed the ground behind their back heels, and glossy coats. Several of them were heavily pregnant, their bellies round with foals. “The son of the first king of Daniz married a Saudi princess and part of her dowry was a stallion and mare from her father’s herd. That pair was the beginning of the Daniz Stud.”
“You have quite a family history,” Emily remarked as they strolled across a cobbled forecourt, through a stone archway, and reached a low building with Office printed on a small brass sign beside the heavy door.
“A great deal of tradition is tied to that history,” Lazhar agreed. “But unlike my ancestors, I can waive the dowry for my wife. She doesn’t need to be rich—my family has all the money it needs. I can marry where I want—and if I choose, I can wed her even if all she has in the world are the clothes on her back.”
Before Emily could react to his flat statement, he pulled open the door and motioned her inside. The office, cool after the heat outside, was empty.
“Jenna?” Lazhar crossed the room and disappeared down a short hallway. In seconds he was back. “She must be out in the stables somewhere.” He glanced at his watch. “We don’t have time to hunt for her if we’re going to visit the Jewel Market this morning.”
They left the office and retraced their steps to the palace, Lazhar leaving Emily at her door. A half hour later, after freshening her makeup and collecting her purse, she sat beside him in a gleaming silver Porsche as he negotiated the curving road leading into the city.
“This is St. Catherine’s.” Lazhar gestured to their right as they slowed for a turn.
“It looks a bit different in the daylight,” she said, gazing at the soaring arches and towers of the church. She and Lazhar had climbed the stairs and entered the quiet church after leaving the casino the night before in order to drop her winnings in the poorbox. The tower lights had glowed against the night sky and the interior had been softly lit with minimal lighting. Today, the soft rose-colored stone had a patina of age, the graceful church an elegant grande dame of buildings among her century-old neighbors. “I believe your mother said that, according to tradition, royal weddings are held at St. Catherine’s?”
He nodded, glancing at her as he downshifted to climb a hill. “St. Catherine’s for the wedding ceremony and the palace for the reception.” The breeze ruffled his hair, his eyes concealed behind sunglasses. “Remind me to introduce you to Antoine Escobar—he’s the chief of protocol for the family and can give you all the details about which wedding traditions are set in stone and what you can change if you wish.”
“Perhaps I can talk to him this afternoon?”
“If we return to the palace early enough, certainly.”
Emily made a mental note to remember the protocol chief’s name as Lazhar swung the car to the curb and turned off the engine. “We’ll leave the car here.” He leaned toward her to point out her window and down the side street. “The Jewel Market is just down the street, the large building with the pillars and dome. I thought you might want to walk from here and browse in some of the shops on our way.”
“I’d love to, thank you.”
Emily stepped out onto the sidewalk just as Lazhar’s bodyguards, parked in a dark sedan behind them, exited the car, exchanging nods with Lazhar.
“I didn’t realize the guards were following us,” she commented.
“They go everywhere with us since the paparazzi invaded Daniz,” Lazhar confirmed. “After the wedding, I’m sure life will settle down once again and the reporters will get bored and leave us to chase another story. In the meantime, I’ve doubled the guards for family members. Jenna and I can no longer move about as freely as we once did.”
“Does it bother you, being the focus of so much attention?” Emily asked.
He shrugged. “No, I can’t say it bothers me, exactly, but it does make life a bit more inconvenient.”
They paused outside a spice shop. Narrow wooden carts edged the wall on each side of the doorway and held small bins filled with a display of spices. Emily closed her eyes, breathing deeply to draw in the heady scents of coriander, cinnamon, nutmeg, lemons and so many other intriguing flavors that she couldn’t identify them all.
“Want to go inside?”
She opened her eyes to find Lazhar watching her, his face amused. “It smells heavenly.” She gestured at the bright colors on the carts. “And it looks gorgeous.”
They stepped over the stone doorsill and entered the small shop, Lazhar loitering at her side as Emily browsed the scented shop, fascinated. She paused to watch the shop owner scoop nutmeg into a paper cone, then twist the top closed. He repeated the action with several other spices before the woman handed over her coins, tucked her purchases into her shopping bag, already bulging with fruit, and left the store.
They followed her outside and moved on down the street, pausing to gaze into shops. Emily purchased a cut-crystal glass vase for Brenda at a china shop and a bottle of Spanish wine at a vintner’s for her brother, Cade. Lazhar handed her packages to one of the bodyguards to carry and they strolled on. They reached the end of the street that led to the Jewel Market and paused, waiting for traffic on the busy main street to slow before they crossed. The small crowd waiting on the curb allowed them privacy, although they smiled and nodded, some bowing with respectful deference. Emily assumed they were native Danizians and perhaps accustomed to seeing members of the royal family on the streets.
Lazhar turned to speak to one of the bodyguards, his attention distracted, and in that brief moment, a small child, no more than two or three years old, wiggled free of her mother’s grasp and darted into the street.
Emily didn’t pause to consider her actions. Without a thought for her own safety, she ran after the little girl, sweeping her up into her arms just as a car bore down on them. Horns blared and the driver slammed on his brakes, the tires squealing in protest. The edge of the car’s bumper grazed her skirt as she leapt to safety on the curb and was grabbed by Lazhar, held safe in his arms.
“What the hell are you doing?” he roared, his arms tight bands around both Emily and the little girl.
Shaking from the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, Emily lifted her head to answer him but was silenced by his grim expression. Behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, she thought she glimpsed fear in his eyes, but couldn’t be sure.
The child, silent until now, whimpered. Emily looked down at her and managed a smile. “Hey, sweetie,” she crooned softly. “It’s all right. Don’t be scared. You’re fine.”
The crowd around them, shocked into silence by the speed with which the life-and-death rescue had occurred, began to stir.
Emily wiggled, trying to loosen Lazhar’s bruising grip. At first, he just stared at her, but then he seemed to realize that she wanted to be set free and his arms abruptly released her. But his hands settled possessively on her waist, his heavier male body a solid wall behind her.
She looked around for the child’s parent just as a woman, sobbing hysterically, pushed her way through the crowd to reach them.
“Mama!” The tiny girl held out her arms and Emily let her go, surrendering the sturdy little body to her frantic mother.
She was instantly aware that her legs were wobbly, her hands trembling in the aftermath. Lazhar’s hands tightened on her waist, easing her back slightly until she rested against him, his much broader bulk supporting her smaller frame.
“How can I thank you, miss?” the mother said, her daughter clutched tightly in her arms. “One moment she was next to me, the next moment she was gone. If you hadn’t been so quick to run after her…” Fresh tears trembled on the young woman’s eyelids, spilling over to trickle down her cheeks.
Impulsively Emily reached out to comfort the distraught mother, her hand closing with sympathy on the woman’s bare forearm. “But she’s safe now.” She smiled warmly at the woman, clad in a clean but faded dress and the black-haired, darkeyed little girl in a worn, too-small red jumper. “And I bet you won’t let go of your mother’s hand again, will you? Streets can be very dangerous.”
The little girl nodded solemnly, her gaze fixed on Emily’s face, before she turned to pat her mother’s cheek. “Streets are dane-ja-rus, Mama. I have to hold your hand.”
“Yes, baby.” The woman smiled through her tears, exchanging a look of female amusement with Emily. Her gaze moved past Emily and her eyes rounded, evidently unaware until then of the identity of Emily’s companion. “Your Highness.” She bowed, executing a graceful semicurtsy.
Around them, the crowd followed her example as the women curtsied, the men bowed.
Lazhar exchanged greetings with them, taking time to speak quietly to mother and child. Emily was instantly reminded of his position as the prince of Daniz and the respect and affection the residents felt for him. What she didn’t realize was that those same Danizians were smiling approvingly at her, nodding knowingly at each other as she and Lazhar said goodbye and crossed the street to reach the Jewel Market.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Lazhar asked as they entered the stone building. His hand cupped her elbow as they walked through the metal detector and then halted, waiting for the bodyguards to circle the detectors, flash their badges, and be waved on by the inspectors. Lazhar drew her into the relative privacy of an alcove, his back to the entryway, sheltering her from the view of passersby.
“What? Visit the Market?”
“Yes. We can leave it till another day.”
His voice was clipped, his big body tense.
“Would you like to skip our tour today and come back later?” she asked, uncertain why he was so edgy.
“Not if you feel up to touring the Market. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to go back to the palace and rest?”
“Why would I need to rest?” She was having difficulty defining what his problem was, did he think the car’s bumper had hit her when it had actually only grazed her skirt?
“You could have been killed back there. Don’t you feel the need to recover?” His voice was carefully even, a direct contrast to the tension that gripped him.
“No. My legs were a little rubbery after it was over and we were back on the curb, safe and sound. And my hands were shaking. But I’m over that now.” The muscle ticking in Lazhar’s jaw didn’t ease. Emily tried again. “I’m fine, Lazhar, just fine. But I’d be happy to go back to my room and rest, if you’re still concerned. Would you like to return to the palace?”
“What I’d like is for you to stop jumping in front of moving cars,” he ground out.
“I don’t make a habit of jumping into traffic. In fact, I’ve never done so before.” She tilted her chin and faced him, narrowing her eyes at his stormy features. “What is your problem?”
“My ‘problem’ is that you seem to take your safety too lightly,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I do not,” she said promptly. “I’m normally very cautious. Although,” she admitted reluctantly, “I usually think carefully before I act and I confess I didn’t think just now. When I saw the little girl running into traffic, I didn’t consider what might happen. I just ran to catch her—it was purely instinct, no planning.”
Lazhar’s hot black gaze scorched her for a long moment. Then the tension in his big body eased, his eyes softening. “You have the instincts of a lioness with her cubs, Emily.” His face solemn, he brushed the backs of his fingers down her cheek in a slow caress. “Will you protect your own children so fiercely?”
The stroke of his warm fingers against her suddenly hot cheek mesmerized Emily. What was it about him, she wondered, that made all her resolve to keep her distance fly out the window?
By the end of a very busy week, filled with tours of Daniz in which Lazhar showed her the best of his beloved country, comfortable breakfasts and luncheons with Caroline and Jenna while they went over lists for the wedding-with-no-bride, and long afternoons visiting with King Abbar, Emily felt as if she’d known the family forever. She’d long since fallen completely in love with Daniz’s flowerscented nights, friendly people, narrow winding streets, and golden sandy beaches lapped by the Mediterranean.
Unfortunately she was afraid that she was equally in danger of falling head-over-heels in love with Lazhar. Each hour spent in his company made her admire him more. She knew it was unwise to risk her heart, but found it impossible to avoid him entirely. Not that she tried very hard, she thought, as she sat across a low game table from King Abbar, her elbow propped on the table, her chin resting on her palm while she contemplated her next chess move.
“Is the board that sad?”
King Abbar’s mild voice interrupted her thoughts and Emily looked up to find him watching her with a half smile. “What? Sad?”
“Yes, sad—you sighed. And you’re frowning rather fiercely at your rook and my knight,” he pointed out, nodding at the carved jade chess pieces.
“Oh.” Emily sat up straighter, folding her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry, I was thinking of something else when I should have been focused on the game.”
Abbar waved a thin hand in dismissal. “No need to be sorry. The game will wait until this afternoon. Where is my son taking you this morning?”
“I think he mentioned shopping at the bazaar.”
“Ah.” The king’s smile widened. “You’ll enjoy that, I’m sure. Caroline loved to visit the bazaar to buy little trinkets and household goods when we first married. The palace storage rooms were filled with every conceivable thing she may have wanted, but she said we should have our own, bought just for us and our family.” His voice lowered and he leaned forward to whisper. “I suspect the underlying reason was that my wife simply loves to shop.”
Emily laughed. “Many women do,” she whispered back. “I know I do.”
“You do what?”
Lazhar’s lazy inquiry startled Emily. She hadn’t heard him enter his father’s sitting room. She glanced over her shoulder, her heart doing its accustomed little skip as he walked toward the table where she sat with Abbar.
“Love to shop.” She was pleased that her voice was calm and didn’t betray her increased heart rate and faster breathing. “Your father was just telling me that the queen enjoyed shopping in the bazaar as a young bride.”
“She still enjoys the bazaar,” Lazhar said dryly. “She and Jenna can spend hours picking out fresh fruit and vegetables for dinner. And even more hours if the linen maker has a new shipment of lace from Italy.”
The king chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he nodded his agreement. “That’s my Caroline. She barely notices fine diamonds and rubies, but mention handmade lace and she can’t reach the shop quickly enough.”
Emily’s interest was piqued. “Will we visit the shop that carries handmade Italian lace this afternoon?”
“If you’d like.”
“I’d like,” she answered promptly. She moved her knight to a new square, removing one of Abbar’s pawns from the board. “Can we continue our game this afternoon, Your Highness?”
“Mmm-hmm,” he murmured, pondering her move and analyzing his possible answering moves. “Take her to the bazaar, Lazhar, and when you return, Emily, we’ll finish our game.”
“Excellent.”
Lazhar held her chair and Emily rose. King Abbar leaned back in his chair, weariness in every line of his thin body but a smile of genuine pleasure on his face as he looked at the two of them standing together. “Enjoy yourselves.”
They crossed the room and were on the threshold when Abbar spoke. “I’m delighted with your choice of a bride, Lazhar. You have my blessing.”
Emily froze, her startled, disbelieving gaze flying to Lazhar, but he was looking at his father and she couldn’t see his eyes.
“Thank you, Father.”
Before Emily could speak, Lazhar’s grip tightened on her arm and he hustled her through the door, past the guards and down the hallway. He threw open the first door across the hall from the suite they’d just left and urged Emily inside, releasing her to close the door and lock it behind them.
Emily spun to face him. “What did he mean by that? He approves of me as a bride? We have his blessing?”
“My father believes that you’re the woman I’m marrying.”
The blunt statement stunned Emily. She stared at him blankly, trying to assimilate what he’d just told her.
“How did that happen? What made him think we’re getting married?”
“He likes you. You heard him, we have his blessing,” he said obliquely.
“I’m the wedding planner, not the bride.” She thrust her fingers through her hair in agitation. “How could this have happened?” She took three quick steps away from him and spun to stalk back. “You have to tell him. Now.”
“I can’t.”
“Of course you can! You have to.”
“I can’t. He liked you the first time he met you and every day since you arrived, he’s grown more attached to you and to the idea that you’ll be part of his family. I don’t have the heart to tell him you’re not the one.”
“But you’ll have to tell him sooner or later,” she argued, nonplussed at the situation. “He’s going to notice when you say ‘I do’ and the woman standing beside you isn’t me!”
“Yes, he would,” Lazhar said grimly. “If he lives long enough to attend the wedding.”
Emily was shocked into silence. “I had no idea he was…” She paused, a lump in her throat. She swallowed thickly. The lump moved lower, settling under her breastbone. In the short week she’d been in Daniz, she’d developed a genuine fondness for the king. “How long?”
“The doctors can’t, or won’t, give us a date. But not long.” He voice was bleak.
“I’m so sorry, Lazhar.” Needing to comfort him and be consoled in return, Emily stepped closer and laid her hand on his arm.
He instantly covered her fingers with his own, his warm hand trapping hers against his hairroughened, muscled forearm. “I don’t want to disappoint him, Emily. He’s grown very attached to you this week and it would devastate him if he learned that you’re not going to be his daughter-in-law.” His fingers tightened over hers. “Which is why I have to ask for your help.”
“My help? With what?”
“My father’s greatest wish, perhaps his dying wish, is that I marry. I can’t wait six months to find a bride. I need one now. He already loves you, Emily, and wants you as part of our family.” Lazhar paused, then looked into her eyes. “Marry me.”
Chapter Seven
His blunt words struck Emily speechless. She stared at him, thinking for a moment that she’d misheard him. But his face was set, his expression grim and determined; she couldn’t doubt he meant what he said.
Marry me. Under different circumstances, she would have been overjoyed if he’d said those two words. But he wanted to marry for his father’s sake. He didn’t love her. How could she want to say “yes” and “no” all at the same time? she thought wildly.
Her usual cool composure was destroyed and her panic must have shown on her face because his gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing.
