Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
S arah spent the short helicopter ride back to the city, staring out the window in a state of shock.
Kadar was the king of Sirun? The man she’d just spent nearly twenty-four hours with was the son of the man responsible for the deaths of her parents? The man most hated by her grandfather? She swallowed hard. She’d slept with the enemy and she’d had no idea.
She looked across at him while he spoke into a mouthpiece to some unknown official. His gaze was directed forward into the mid-distance as he concentrated on his phone conversation. It was as if he’d changed before her eyes. She wondered briefly if he knew his father had killed her parents, but dismissed the idea immediately. Why should he? From what her grandfather had said, the late king had been brutal with more people than just her own family.
She leaned back against the headrest, eyes focused firmly ahead—into the future. But what kind of future would it be now?
After they arrived at the palace at the center of the city, Sarah imagined she’d be able to find someone who could sort out her passport so she could make a quick getaway. She had no intention of hanging around because, whatever she’d experienced with Kadar, it had been based on a lie. And no matter how strong her feelings were for him, she had to leave for own safety, sanity and the protection of her heart. She’d made a mistake in coming to Sirun at all. And there was no way she was staying here in this palace. She’d fallen into the exact situation her grandfather had been afraid of—at the mercy of a ruthless and all-powerful king who hated her family. She just thanked God that Kadar didn’t know who her family was. Because how could he, when she didn’t even know?
At first, she was relieved when Kadar made his excuses and went one way and she was escorted another by one of his officials. It would give her time to sort out her affairs. To secure another passport and be on her way—disappear back to England and resume her old life. Because no matter how curious about her family, there was no longer any way she could stay here.
But, with each twist and turn through the palace corridors, the number of people thinned out until they were walking through plushly carpeted rooms on a decidedly domestic scale. Before she realized what was happening, she was ushered into a pretty drawing room—more French inspired than Arabic—and, before she could turn around, the door was closed and she was left there, listening to the lock turning in the door.
Incensed, she rattled the doors, then hammered on them, and then shouted. But all she could hear was distant doors clanging shut behind the retreating official. She leaned back against the locked door, tears of frustration stinging her hot cheeks as she realized the reality of the situation was far worse than she’d imagined. She had been literally locked away by her enemy.
How could she have fallen into such a trap? But she knew. She closed her eyes against the tears as she remembered the way he’d looked at her. She gasped at the thought of how he’d touched her, both physically and emotionally, all during that long night with the piercing shriek of the wind outside the castle and the hot passion inside. She rolled her head from side to side with a soft moan. She had to get away. She’d been a fool. She had to get out of here as soon as she could. But she couldn’t leave until she got herself a new passport. And she couldn’t get that until she’d got herself out of this room.
Steeling herself, she pushed herself away from the door, and picked up the phone and dialled zero. It seemed a good place to start.
It was only after repeated phone calls—all of which were met with polite explanations that the lockdown was protocol until she’d been cleared for security—that she finally found someone who appeared to be more knowledgeable about her situation.
“What I need is a new passport,” she said, trying hard to control her temper. “And I’m sure you can see that I can’t expedite that if I’m LOCKED HERE IN MY ROOM!” The fury escaped into the last few words, reflecting the anger and tension which had been building since the moment she’d discovered Kadar’s identity.
She closed her eyes tightly, exasperated as she listened to yet another official repeating the fact that the king was busy at that moment and yes, they understood, but there really wasn’t anything they could do about it. Not without the vizier’s permission.
“Then put me through to the vizier.”
It seems her demand must have met with sympathetic ears, or else the assistant didn’t want to listen to her anymore, and she heard the phone ring.
“Yes!” said a gruff voice which could only be someone higher up the chain of command.
“This is Sarah Albright, and I demand to be released!”
There was a faint chuckle. “Released? From what Miss Albright?”
“From this locked room,” she said, trying to keep her voice even.
“I’m sorry, I’m sure there has been a mistake. You wouldn’t have been locked up.”
“I can assure you I am.”
“Then we will un lock you,” he said in a conciliatory tone, quite different from the one he’d used when he answered the phone initially. “Don’t concern yourself. I assure you this was an administrative error and you will be released immediately, and free to go, and do whatever you wish.”
“What I wish is to see the British Consul and arrange a new passport.”
“Ah, now that may take a little longer. There will be paperwork we need to do here first.”
“What paperwork?”
“Don’t concern yourself, Miss Albright. Leave it with me.”
“No, I will not. I’ll come and see you as soon as my door is unlocked, so we can get the matter of my passport sorted as soon as possible.” She didn’t wait to hear any more excuses and slammed down the phone. She immediately tried the door, but could hear footsteps approaching. Within seconds, the door was unlocked, and she went in search of the vizier with only one thought on her mind—to get out of this prison she’d found herself in.
Kadar looked out of his office window toward the wing of the palace to which Sarah had been escorted. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to her, even if her suppressed anger and confusion hadn’t created a barrier for the short flight back to the city. It was hardly surprising, and he regretted he had no time alone with her to explain the situation. But what could he have told her? That he’d known her identity when he bedded her? That he’d purposely not told her he was king? It wasn’t exactly playing fair, but since when had life been fair?
He’d been forced to agree to an arranged marriage with a neighboring sheikha he’d met only once years earlier, and he’d inherited a kingdom far more impoverished than his father had led him to believe. He was beset by problems from all sides. It was hardly surprising that he’d allowed himself to indulge in some illicit lovemaking with his enemy. But he still felt bad. He’d used her. And he’d always prided himself that he’d never be like his father. He’d failed at the first hurdle.
He turned to see his vizier talking on the phone. His vizier shot him a quick look before finishing the call.
“Who was that?” Zak asked, guessing immediately by the amused look on his vizier’s face.
“Miss Albright.”
Kadar nodded. “I must go to her.”
“There’s no need. She’s coming here.”
“Good.”
“I haven’t congratulated you yet,” said his vizier admiringly. “ Very well played.”
Kadar raised an eyebrow. “It’s not a game of chess,” he said reprovingly, hating that his vizier and he agreed on something for once.
“And there, Kadar, you are wrong.”
“You seem to forget to whom you speak, Nabil.”
Nabil smiled, almost benignly. It was only Kadar who ever received a benign smile from his vizier. No one else. No doubt the reason he was the most feared man in the country. “I know exactly to whom I speak. You are the king I raised you to be. And so, yes, it is a game, and you’ve played it well.”
“I didn’t think you’d approve of my sleeping with the enemy.”
“I most definitely do approve. You’ve identified the one person who has the power to unite our enemy against us and make them a force to be feared. And you’ve taken the first step to neutralize that threat. I’d call that very well played.”
Kadar grunted, hating to hear his cold-blooded strategy stated so bluntly. “I’m not proud of what I’ve done.”
“You should be. It doesn’t matter whether or not she knew your identity. The girl turned up, you bedded her, and because she is who she is, you’ve turned a seduction into a brilliant strategic political move.”
Kadar sighed. All this talk of strategy made him feel uncomfortable. None of what had happened between him and Sarah had been political—it had all been personal. He felt a twinge of guilt, as if he were betraying what they’d shared together. “But?—”
“No!” said Nabil forcefully. “I know what you’re doing. Do not bring emotion into this. It has no place in this matter.”
Kadar raised his eyebrows in surprise. How did this man read him so well?
“You know your job had nothing to do with emotions,” said Nabil, visibly reining in his temper. “It is to do with duty , to do with responsibility . Look how your feelings about your mother clouded your judgement. You must not make the same mistake again.”
And didn’t Kadar know it.
“But you won’t, I’m sure,” said Nabil in a gentler tone. “So, are you ready for what is to happen next?”
Kadar narrowed his eyes and just stared at his vizier, knowing what he was about to say, and yet not ready to hear it.
Nabil leaned toward him. “You must continue to woo her, of course,” he said, before sitting back and smoothing out his robes.
“I’m not so sure it will be as easy as before. She knows my identity now, and she won’t like that I withheld that from her. For all I know, she’s aware my father ordered the deaths of her parents. I think she’ll want to leave as soon as possible.”
“I doubt it. The girl appears na?ve and will be as ignorant of Sirun’s affairs as any other foreigner. I suggest you continue as before. Seduce her and get her to love you. It shouldn’t be that hard, surely?”
Kadar thought it wouldn’t, but refused to agree with his vizier. “She’ll want to leave,” he repeated. Kadar fingered the envelope in his pocket and knew he had to make a decision.
“But she can’t, can she?” said the vizier. “Not if you did as I suggested.” He paused. “Do you have her passport?”
Kadar nodded and slid Sarah’s passport over the desk to the vizier. He didn’t like it, but when had his vizier ever been wrong?
“Excellent. It should take some time for her to get another one, enough time to make her believe she can’t live without you.”
Kadar scoffed. “You think that will be easy now that she knows what’s going on?”
“You are man, she is a woman.” The vizier shrugged. “You must simply use everything at your disposal to seduce her a second time. Tell me, did you use protection?”
“Nabil! What kind of question is that? It’s private!”
“No, it’s political ,” Nabil said with barely concealed impatience. “ Did you use protection?”
Kadar had a sudden memory of how urgently they’d wanted each other and how nothing had come between them that first time. He gave a tiny shake of the head. “Not the first time.”
Nabil raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Excellent. A child would certainly make our plan easier to accomplish.”
This was getting too much. Kadar struck his fist on the table. “Nabil! This is ridiculous. I will not have the intimate details of my life become part of a political strategy!”
Nabil shook his head, sighed and looked at Kadar as if he was a stupid child. “My dear, Kadar. It already is.” He gripped the desk and leaned over to him, his gray beard and sharp eyes conveying his seriousness. “You know it is.”
And he did. Didn’t the entirety of his family history show that nothing wasn’t political for the royal family? But it didn’t mean he had to like it.
“So, if the first time doesn’t prove enough to produce a child,” Nabil continued, “you must make sure there are more occasions when an heir can be conceived.” The old man grinned. Kadar had seen that wolfish smile before. His vizier knew he was in control and could scent a win ahead. And it was a win that he, Kadar, also needed. Not for himself. But for his country.
He steepled his fingers on the desk and met the old man’s gaze directly. “I will consider the matter,” he said, knowing that his vizier described the best course of action open to him, as king, and the worst as a man.
“Seduction,” Nabil said, “has to be your focus for the foreseeable future. For the next two weeks, in fact. I doubt I can delay the British Consulate any longer than that. You say she doesn’t know who her family is yet, so she has no idea how important she is to them , or to us . But she will soon and before she does, you need to make sure she will marry you. Who knows what could happen if her tribe discovers she’s here? They could rise up and pose a genuine threat to your reign. There’s no getting around it, Kadar. The future peace and prosperity of our country depend on you marrying this girl.”
“What about the arrangements my father made for me to marry Sheikha Soraiya?”
The vizier waved his hand dismissively. “They will be dissolved. Your brother will do for her instead. Her father has no love for the girl and won’t care so long as she marries one or the other of you. Sheikha Soraiya is not an obstacle.”