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“I can see I’ve shocked you.”
She pulled her fingers from beneath his, turning to pace away several steps before facing him again. “That’s an understatement.” She thrust her fingers through her hair, thoroughly unsettled. “It’s noble of you to want to move heaven and earth to make your father happy, but marriage seems like a drastic step.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, his face inscrutable. “The marriage can be annulled, after—” He stopped speaking.
Emily’s heart hurt at the unspoken acknowledgment that his father’s time with the family was limited. In the short week she’d been in Daniz and observed Lazhar with his father, she’d realized that the father-son bond between them was undeniably powerful. And even though her acquaintance with the king was of short duration, she, too, felt a deep affection for him.
“How long…” She paused as her voice wavered, tears clogging her throat. “How long do the doctors think he has?”
Lazhar’s answer shocked her.
Should she do this? Could she do this—marry a man for a few weeks in name only?
Emily had a quick mental image of King Abbar smiling at her as they played chess, heard again his words of praise and gentle pride in her when Lazhar told him about the child in the street, remembered the love on Caroline’s and Jenna’s faces when they spoke of him.
The slight headache she’d woke with that morning grew a little stronger and she rubbed her aching temples with her fingertips.
“Isn’t there someone else that can be your pretend-bride?” She gave up trying to ease the headache. “I’m sure I read somewhere that royal families pick out fiancées for their children the day they’re born. Don’t you have one of those?”
“No, I don’t.” He shook his head, a bemused smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Where did you read that?”
“Probably somewhere on the Internet,” Emily said, refusing to be distracted.
“And even if I did have a childhood fiancée,” Lazhar continued. “It wouldn’t change the fact that you’re the one my father wants. You’re the only person that can do this, Emily.”
“You’re sure? You’re absolutely positive that there’s no alternative solution?”
“I’m sure.”
“I’d have to talk to Jane about the schedule at the office.” She frowned at the swift satisfaction that flashed in his eyes and was just as quickly banked. “I’m not promising that I’ll do this,” she warned him. “But I want to help. I’ve grown attached to your father in the time I’ve been here and if it’s at all possible for me to be away from the office for a couple more weeks, I’ll go along with your scheme. But I can’t destroy my business in the process.”
“Understood.” He nodded. “And thank you, Emily, you won’t be sorry.”
She thrust her fingers through her hair again, ruffling it even more. “I hope not.” She wasn’t convinced, but was willing to try to work out a solution.
“Your firm won’t be hurt financially,” he assured her. “And it’s probable that the cachet of planning a royal wedding will enhance your business portfolio, so in the long run, Creative Weddings may be a stronger company.”
“True.” Emily agreed. She looked away from him, considering the possible complications her agreement to pose as his fiancée might cause. “What about the publicity factor?”
“What about it?”
“I’m assuming that the reporters will find out about our pretend engagement, whether you tell them or not. How will you explain a marriage that only lasts for a few weeks?”
“I’ll deal with that when the time comes. Since that won’t happen until my father is gone, I’ll have bigger issues to cope with and the gossip about my short marriage probably won’t seem that important.”
“No. I suppose it won’t.” Suddenly the details of how a pseudoengagement and marriage would work didn’t seem important to Emily, either. They were small indeed, compared to the loss of a man who was a beloved father, husband and ruler over a country whose residents adored him and would deeply mourn his passing. “All right,” she said with sudden decision. “I’ll do it.”
“Excellent.” The fine tension that held him dissipated, his voice filled with relief.
“We have to tell your mother and Jenna the truth.”
“No.” Lazhar was adamant. “My mother can’t keep a secret from my father. He’ll know she’s hiding something and when he asks, she’ll spill everything. And Jenna’s the same with my mother. Neither of them can lie to each other or to my father.”
“Which means that I have to lie to them.” Emily narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t lie.”
The corners of his mouth quirked, his eyes amused. “You never lie?”
“Not purposely.” She lifted an eyebrow at his patent disbelief. “Lies create only losing situations and they can destroy lives.”
“True.” He eyed her consideringly for a moment. “I agree with you, Emily, but in this instance, telling my mother or Jenna is tantamount to telling my father. And if he knows our marriage isn’t real, then none of this will work.”
She wasn’t happy. And when she wasn’t happy, her bottom lip plumped out in a very un-Emily-like—and sexy—pout. Lazhar badly wanted to haul her into his arms and kiss her senseless but he kept a tight rein on the urge. He’d been struggling to control the instinct to claim her ever since she’d agreed to their marriage and elation had roared through him.
He knew she was attracted to him. He also knew she was fighting it. She was skittish around him, holding him at arm’s length with polite conversation, but when they were body to body, his mouth on hers, she melted like hot wax.
He’d crossed his fingers inside his pockets when he’d told her that their marriage could be annulled. He was gambling that before they reached that point, she’d admit that the marriage worked. It was true he wanted her to marry him because his father had quickly become attached to her, but with each day that he spent with her, he increasingly wanted her for himself.
He didn’t just want her, he craved her.
And that had never happened with any other woman.
Lazhar refused to think about what that might mean beyond the fact that the sexual attraction between them was hotter, more compelling, than anything he’d ever felt before.
“There has to be a way to do this without lying to everybody,” she insisted.
“Not that I can think of.” He shook his head. “My father is still the king and the ruler of Daniz, despite his poor health. He has contacts and sources that even I’m unaware of—if we tell anyone that our engagement and wedding aren’t real, he’ll find out.”
Clearly unhappy, Emily frowned and gave in. “All right,” she said reluctantly. “But I still think it’s wrong.”
“So do I,” he agreed. “But I can’t come up with an alternative. We can’t tell anyone, and we have to go through the traditional courtship phases, otherwise, Father will never believe us.”
“Traditional courtship? What does that entail…exactly?”
Lazhar managed not to smile. Despite his casual words, she had immediately honed in on the courtship reference and she was eyeing him with suspicion. “Probably pretty much what makes up an American courtship—spending time together, meeting the parents, receiving an engagement ring, a presentation ball, instruction by the protocol officer as to the duties of a princess and future queen.” He shrugged. “Just the usual stuff.”
“Just the usual stuff,” she repeated. “Protocol lessons on how to act when the bride is a princess and future queen, and a presentation ball? Trust me, Lazhar, those are not part of an everyday, normal American courtship.”
“Perhaps not, but the rest is perfectly ordinary. Given your background as the daughter of wealthy parents and your business experience in navigating society weddings, you’re uniquely prepared to cope with the palace rules that govern my family’s public life.”
“I hope you’re right,” she muttered. “Okay.” She drew a deep breath. “We’ll tell them tonight?”
“Yes—unless you’d like to tell Jenna and Mother now. The sooner the better as far as I’m concerned, but the timing is up to you.”
Emily glanced down at herself, her lashes lowering and shielding her eyes from him. His gaze followed hers, skimming the curves beneath the simple rose-pink sundress she wore. Strappy leather sandals left her feet nearly bare, her toenails painted with a rose enamel that matched the dress.
“I’m not dressed for an important occasion—and telling your mother that I’m going to be your wife is very important.”
Lazhar thought she looked good enough to eat, but if she felt the need for a less casual outfit, he was amenable. “Then let’s go to the bazaar as we originally planned, and while we’re out, we’ll stop at a jeweler’s and pick out a ring.”
A flash of panic moved over her face, quickly replaced by resolution. She visibly straightened and tilted her chin slightly.
“That sounds like a good plan. Perhaps we can tell your parents and Jenna at dinner tonight?”
“If that’s what you’d like to do.”
“I would.”
The trip to the bazaar, followed by a visit to an exclusive jewelry store near the Jewel Market, marked the beginning of a whirlwind day for Emily. She worried all afternoon about the prospect of telling Lazhar’s family that she would be his bride, but after the initial surprise, both Caroline and Jenna were elated. King Abbar was equally pleased, though he believed that they were merely formally telling him something he already knew.
Now that they knew that Emily was to be the bride, Caroline and Jenna threw themselves wholeheartedly into the preparations for the wedding. They agreed with Lazhar that the ceremony should take place as soon as possible and together, they decided to set the date for a Saturday, two weeks away.
Given the army of assistants available to the royal family, Emily thought pulling off a wedding this big in two weeks might be possible, but just barely. She’d organized several hundred weddings over the last few years, but this time, she knew she would not only have to coordinate all the details of the gala event, but she would also have to handle all of the things that only a bride could do—like standing perfectly still for an hour while the designer bridal gown was fitted.
She desperately needed Jane.
Before Lazhar left the family gathering to escort his father back to his room, Emily told him her plan to enlist Jane’s help. Then she pleaded exhaustion from the eventful day and returned to her suite. She kicked off her shoes, grabbed the phone and dialed Jane’s home number in San Francisco.
Jane picked up on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Jane, thank goodness I caught you in.”
“Emily? Is that you? Where are you?”
“I’m in Daniz, and yes, it’s me. I think.” Emily padded into the bedroom and sank onto the comfortable bed. The linens were turned back invitingly, the lemon-yellow silk sheets subtly rich against the leaf-green of the coverlet.
“You think?” Jane’s voice sharpened with concern. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes and no.” Emily tucked her feet under her to sit cross-legged, her apricot skirt a pool of lush color against the bed covering. “The good news is, Creative Weddings is definitely going to plan the Daniz royal family wedding…”
Jane’s crow of delight interrupted her.
“…the bad news,” Emily continued when Jane calmed. “Is that I’m the bride.”
“What?”
“I know,” Emily acknowledged, easily picturing the disbelief and confusion that must be visible on her friend’s pixie face. “It’s a long story, Jane, and I’ll explain everything, I promise. But first, I need to know how quickly you can get here. What’s the schedule like at the office?”
“Actually it’s not too bad. Once the clients knew that you were in Daniz to consult with the prince about his wedding, they were so delighted that they might be sharing their wedding consultant with a royal family that they’ve all been amazingly cooperative. Also, the staff from the Daniz Embassy has been incredible. One of the women, Trina, is a natural and Katherine Powell adores her. In fact, I think she’s trying to talk her into going back to Hollywood to work as her personal assistant.”
“Really?” Emily laughed. “I hope Trina has a lot of patience.”
“That’s what I told her. Katherine is definitely high maintenance—which of course, is probably one of the issues that you’re concerned about in the office. But you can stop worrying, all is well.”
“That’s a huge relief,” Emily admitted. “Do you think you’ll be able to clear your calendar and fly to Daniz? I can’t do this without you.”
“I think so.” Jane’s voice turned serious. “Emily, are you happy? I have to tell you, when you left here with the prince, it never occurred to me that you were the bride he was searching for.”
“It never occurred to me, either,” Emily assured her. “But, now I am. It’s complicated, Jane, and not something I can explain over the phone. But I’ll tell you everything when you get here, I promise.”
Jane’s sigh came clearly over the phone line. “All right, Emily, but curiosity is killing me. Be prepared to be grilled the moment I get there.”
“I’ll explain it all, I promise, as soon as possible. Now, tell me about the Benedict wedding, did you find the Irish lace that Mrs. Benedict wanted for the gown?”
By the time Jane rang off, after bringing Emily up-to-date on the details of her clients’ plans, Emily was confident that Creative Weddings was functioning smoothly despite her absence.
She returned the portable phone to its base and realized, as a wave of weariness washed over her, that the long day had sapped her energy. She was exhausted. Within a half hour, she’d stripped off the peach-tinted silk gown and hung it away in the closet, showered, pulled on a thigh-length white chemise nightgown, and slipped into bed.
The following morning, Emily had breakfast from a tray in her room while she used her laptop to make lists for the many details of the wedding. At nine-thirty, a servant knocked on her door to deliver an invitation to join the queen for earlymorning tea. It wasn’t until she entered Caroline’s sitting room, however, that she realized that she was the queen’s only guest, neither Jenna, Lazhar, nor the king were present. The queen sat alone at the round, linen-covered table tucked into an alcove looking out on her beloved garden. Filmy draperies let the light in through the floor-to-ceiling windows but kept out the sun’s glare. A delicate English bone china tea service sat in front of her and the table held only two place settings.
Uh-oh. Emily took one look at Caroline’s face and nearly panicked. She knows we lied to her.
“Good morning, Emily.” Caroline’s grave expression lightened with a fleeting smile. “Won’t you join me.”
“Thank you.” Emily sat in one of the dainty, silk-covered rose chairs, shaking out and smoothing her napkin over her lap.
“That will be all, Theresa, I’ll ring if I need you.”
The serving girl nodded, bowed and quit the room.
With the ease of long practice, Caroline poured tea into two fragile teacups, passing one to Emily. “Do try the almond cookies,” she commented as she followed the steaming tea with a small serving plate loaded with pastries and cakes. “They’re one of my favorites and the chef always includes them with my morning and afternoon tea. Although,” she added wryly as she stirred honey into her cup, “I’m sure they’re responsible for that last stubborn five pounds that I just can’t seem to budge, no matter how much I diet.”
“I think we all struggle with ‘the last five pounds,’” Emily said.
“Some of us more than others.” Caroline’s smile faded. “I wanted to talk with you privately about the wedding, Emily.”
Emily managed not to wince, but just barely.
“I know my son can be very persuasive and difficult to refuse when he wants something,” Caroline continued, “but if he’s pressured you, in any way, to convince you to marry quickly, you must tell me and I’ll talk to him. A woman’s wedding day is very important and you should have the day you’ve always dreamed of—you shouldn’t be so rushed that your big moment is spoiled.”
Emily had braced herself to hear the queen demand an explanation of the lies she and Lazhar had told her about their pretend engagement and marriage. She was so surprised by the queen’s offer to intercede on her behalf, that she was at a loss for words. “I don’t know what to say,” she managed finally.
“Just tell me what’s in your heart,” Caroline said encouragingly.
Emily remained silent, frantically trying to think of a way to explain without telling further lies.
When she didn’t speak, Caroline lifted her cup and sipped, eyeing Emily over the rim. “Marrying into the royal family can be an overwhelming prospect. Believe me, I had concerns before I said yes to Abbar, and they didn’t all go away before the wedding, nor even immediately after,” she added, returning the delicate cup to its saucer. “Let me be frank, Emily. I know my son well and I have no concerns about his desire for this marriage. However, I have the feeling that you may be having second thoughts about the wedding.”
“No.” Emily didn’t have to lie about this—all of the reasons she’d agreed to marry Lazhar were still valid. She understood his driving need to grant what may well turn out to be his father’s last wish.
“Then you do love my son?” Caroline asked gently.
She should immediately say “yes.” She knew she should. Not only was it what Caroline needed to hear, but it was also the first truth in all the lies she’d been mouthing since she’d agreed to cooperate with Lazhar’s plan.
But for her heart’s sake, Emily knew she should say no. She should deny loving Lazhar, both to Caroline, and to the prince himself.
He’s going to break my heart, she thought, acknowledging the fear that had subconsciously tormented her ever since she’d agreed to marry him.
