The Sheik and the Virgin Princess (21 page)

His words didn’t make her feel any better. While she appreciated his concern for her, she had a bad feeling he was telling the truth about all the changes she would have to endure. As for not going back to her old life—she couldn’t think about that now.

“I miss Cleo,” she said as they walked toward her rooms. “I wish she was still in Bahania.”

Rafe didn’t answer, and she didn’t expect him to. After all this was her problem. She’d created it, and now that it existed, she didn’t have anyone else to blame.

Zara had never thought about what went into shooting a magazine cover. Maybe the model would try on a few different dresses and use different poses. The photographer would snap a few dozen pictures and it would be done.

She couldn’t have been more wrong.

It was nearly four in the afternoon, and the shoot had started shortly after eight. Zara hadn’t realized that changing clothes, getting her hair styled and standing, sitting and reclining in different positions would be so tiring. Plus she felt like a fraud. She was hardly model material. All the makeovers in the world weren’t going to make her into a beauty. She supposed the only thing she had in common with those who usually graced magazine covers was that she was naturally thin. Somehow she thought the world might be expecting more.

She glanced over and saw Rafe talking on his cell phone. He accompanied her to the shoot. Although he’d stayed in the background, she’d been aware of his presence, and it made her feel better. Of course, this was the easy part. In a week or so she was going to have a one-on-one interview with a writer for the story in the magazine. Sabrina had offered to sit in to guide Zara.

A stylist adjusted the collar of Zara’s shirt, then moved one lock of hair. The photographer—invisible behind bright lights—called out for her to “smile pretty.”

Zara obliged. She heard the rapid clicking of the camera. She tilted her head when told, raised her chin, thought of something fun she liked to do and prayed for it all to end soon. She was hungry, thirsty and wishing she’d stayed back in the States.

An hour later she was free to go.

“I saw an open-air market,” Zara said as she slid into the sleek sports car Rafe had driven them in that morning. “Would it be all right for us to stop there on our way back?”

He hesitated only a moment. “Sure. It’s late enough that it shouldn’t be crowded.”

He eased the car into the afternoon traffic. Zara sank back into the soft leather seat.

“I feel as if I spent the entire day working out in the fields, which is crazy. All I did was pose for a few pictures.”

“It looked like hard work.”

She flashed him a smile. “I suspect you’re just being nice, but I really appreciate the gesture.”

“Ready to trade in your day job for a life as a fashion model?”

“Not exactly. I love teaching.”

“Tell me about some of your classes.”

She laughed. “Rafe, I teach women’s studies. You’d hate it. The only guys who attend my classes either think it’s an easy way to get a good grade or they’re there to pick up girls.”

“Maybe I’m a closet feminist.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I do think women are just as capable as men.”

“We all genuflect in thanks.”

“Hey, I’m trying to be a sensitive guy, here. You should encourage me.”

He pulled into a side street and parked. Zara climbed out of the car and breathed in the scent of the city. She could smell a hint of the sea and several exotic spices. Overlaying everything was the intense heat of the summer afternoon. The air seemed to scorch her lungs with each breath. Yet she didn’t want to head back to the palace—not just yet. A few minutes in the marketplace would help her forget the feeling of being trapped.

Rafe moved next to her and pointed to the corner. “We turn left there. The souk stretches about three blocks. Don’t try anything fancy. You don’t want to get lost here.”

She linked her arm with his as they walked. “I don’t even want to get lost anywhere. Am I expected to bargain?”

“Usually. They’ll go easy on you because you’re American.”

She started to tell him that she didn’t need any special favors, but then reminded herself that she’d never bargained in a market place in her life.

Anticipation filled her as they approached the open-air bazaar. Dozens of people clustered around rows of stalls, moved in groups or stood talking. The stone street looked smooth, as if generations had walked here before. Behind the individual displays, old buildings cast shadows in the late afternoon.

Zara glanced through an open archway and saw two young children playing in a fountain. A small dog danced around, barking. Laughter drifted to her, making her smile.

Up ahead she saw a great pile of rugs. They hung over lengths of rope and chairs. Several stood rolled up in a plastic trash can. To her left was a man selling all kinds of fruit. Everything from dates to bananas to small melons. A display of brass pots caught her attention. She picked up one shaped like Aladdin’s lamp.

“Going to give it a good rub?” Rafe asked.

She laughed. “First I’d have to figure out what I was going to wish for.”

The shopkeeper moved closer. “It is a fine ornament,” he said. “If you’re looking for something more functional, I have lanterns that work. If the lady would be so kind as to step around here?”

He motioned to the side of his stall. Zara started to move, but as she did she bumped into someone. She glanced at the teenager and smiled.

“Excuse me.”

The girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen with beautiful long dark hair and wearing shorts and a T-shirt, squinted at her.

“It’s all right. I wasn’t looking—” The teenager gasped. “Oh, my God! It’s you.” She shrieked. “Princess Zara.”

Rafe swore under his breath. Zara didn’t understand the problem. She turned to ask him, only to find herself suddenly swept away by a crowd that had formed from thin air.

People surrounded her, tugging on her sleeves, touched her hair, yelling out questions. It was far worse than the press conference, because she felt herself being pushed and jostled. Then someone actually pulled several strands of hair free. Hands turned into claws. She was bumped from behind and nearly went down, all the while trapped in the center of a screeching cacophony.

“Princess Zara, come to my house for dinner.”

“Princess Zara, you have to meet my son.”

“Princess Zara, are you really from America?”

“Isn’t she pretty?”

“I thought she looked better on television.”

Words and phrases swirled around her. Zara tried to fight her way free, but she didn’t know which direction to go. She couldn’t breathe and she had a bad feeling that if she lost her footing, she would be trampled. Tears burned in her eyes.

Suddenly a strong arm encircled her waist. She instantly recognized the heat and scent of the man she couldn’t see, and she relaxed as Rafe half carried her away. He pushed and shoved as necessary. One second she’d feared for her life, and the next he was easing her into the car and they were racing away.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She tried to answer. It was only when the words stuck in her throat that she realized she was sobbing. She covered her face with her hands.

“I can’t do this,” she breathed. “You have to get me out of here. Get me away from Bahania.”

Zara woke in a room on the edge of the world. Sunlight spilled over a pale tile floor. Large French doors stood open, allowing a soft sea breeze to sweep over her, beckoning her. She rose and crossed to the stone patio, then leaned against the iron railing. From there she could see down into the deep, dark ocean, which lapped up against the rocks of the island.

Except for the call of a few birds, the ocean and the breeze, there was only silence. Blissful silence. No servants, no members of the press, not even a relative of the Bahanian royal family.

Zara returned to her room where she showered and dressed, ignoring her contacts in favor of her familiar glasses, then went to explore the house Rafe had brought her to the previous evening. As she’d barely been able to stop crying, she hadn’t seen much when their helicopter had landed. She’d been too caught up in trying to get herself together. In the past she’d never considered herself prone to hysterics, but she’d sure been close to falling apart.

Her bedroom emptied into a hallway. Three more bedrooms stood at this end of the house. Rafe’s room was next to hers, and a quick glance in the open door showed that he’d awakened before her. Down the hall she found a large living area, with views of the open ocean. To her left was a kitchen with an eating area, to her right a large patio. She saw Rafe sitting at a table in the shade, reading the paper and drinking coffee. Barefoot, she walked out to join him.

“Morning,” he said, putting down the paper as she approached. “How are you feeling?”

She sank into the chair next to his and sighed. “Don’t sound worried. I have no intention of losing it again anytime soon.”

“I’m not worried.”

She smiled. “You’re lying and I thank you for it.” Her smile faded. “I can’t begin to tell you what happened at the souk.”

“You were attacked by a mob and you didn’t like it. That’s hardly a surprise.”

He made it sound so reasonable.

“Thanks for rescuing me,” she said.

“I’m sorry things got out of hand in the first place. I should have been paying closer attention. Or not have let you even go shopping. I didn’t think people would figure out who you were so fast.”

“Neither did I.”

A small, dark-haired woman appeared with a tray. She set a fresh coffee carafe on the table, along with two bowls of fruit and a platter of hot scones and muffins.

“Enjoy,” she said with a slight bow and left. Zara poured herself some coffee and took a grateful sip. “So where exactly are we?”

“On an island in the Indian Ocean. It’s the private property of the king of El Bahar.”

She frowned. “El Bahar is next to Bahania, right?”

“Yes. I know King Givon from his frequent visits to the City of Thieves. When you needed to get away, I called and asked if we could borrow his island. Actually we’re in one of the smaller houses. There are a couple of larger residences on the other side of the island.”

She forced her mouth to stay closed. “Of course. How clever of you to think to call the king of El Bahar. I’m sure if I hadn’t been so upset, I would have thought of it, too.”

He looked at her. “What?”

She sighed. “My life has changed so much that I have a bodyguard who is friendly enough with a ruling monarch to ask him personal favors. I don’t think I want to know where you got the helicopter.”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s a princess, so I don’t think you have reason to be picking on me.”

“You have a point.”

She bit into one of the scones and moaned softly. The flaky treat actually melted on her tongue. While Rafe ate his breakfast, she stared out at the water. She was really on an island in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Six weeks ago she’d been grading final exams in her small two-story town house. A big outing for her was a movie in the neighboring town. Every couple of weeks she headed up to Spokane to spend the weekend with her sister. What on earth was she doing here?

She set down her scone. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“Do you want to be more specific?”

“I mean all of it. Adjust, be happy, live in Bahania.”

“You’d be giving up a lot if you just walked away.”

She didn’t want to think about that. “Why couldn’t my father have been a regular guy?” she asked sadly. “A banker, maybe, or an electrician. Someone normal.”

“Sorry. Your dad’s the king.”

Panic threatened. “When do we have to go back?”

“Not until you’re ready. I spoke to Hassan this morning. He would like you to call him when you feel up to it. Just to make sure you’re all right. While he doesn’t understand, I convinced him that you need a few days to get used to all that’s happened. He’s willing to give you time to adjust to the situation.”

“Thank you.”

She found herself wanting to reach out and take Rafe’s hand. Not only in gratitude, but because he was her anchor in her rapidly drifting world. As long as he was around, she knew she would be safe.

“So it’s really okay for us to stay here for a while?” she asked.

“I think you need at least two weeks to relax and sort things out.”

That sounded heavenly. “But what about your other job? Aren’t you due back in the City of Thieves?” She didn’t want to think about being without him, but she had to be practical.

“Kardal can do without me for a little longer. We’ll just hang out while you figure out what you want to do.”

Zara shifted on her lounge chair and sipped her icy drink. A girl could get used to this kind of life, she thought as she gazed at the man swimming the length of the pool.

As usual, Rafe was an expert at everything he did. His smooth, clean stokes barely ruffled the surface of the water, while his long, hard, nearly naked body had her hormones doing the hula. He flipped underwater when he reached the far end of the pool and started back.