Desert Sheikh vs American Princess (8 page)

Now all she had to do was ditch Faridah and get to the U.S. embassy. Which was conveniently located just outside Deira's
souk
, the outdoor market that had grown up around a watering hole for camel trains trading goods for spices along the Silk Road. Now it was a kind of mall. The twisting corridors were covered by wooden panels carved with geometric holes that let in enough light to see by, but kept most of the heat out. On either side, business owners had set up stalls four or five feet wide, maybe ten feet deep. The stalls didn't have doors, she noticed, but metal garage-style doors that rolled up at the beginning of the day and could be rolled down and locked at night. As far as she could tell, anything you wanted to buy, someone was selling it here. Electronic gadgets, spices, clothes, purses, carpets... Whatever.

"Oh, I don't know." She tried for a breezy tone of voice. Covered by the burqa, she didn't even have to fake a smile. This was so easy. "Some kind of thank you gift for his hospitality. What do you get the man who has everything? Even his own country. Ha ha."

Faridah wrapped her arm around Noelle's waist and lowered her voice. "I know just the thing. I guarantee you that he does not have anything like this." The younger woman's salacious wink sent a warm blush rushing up Noelle's throat.

Um, what had she just gotten herself into?

As they entered the darkened corridors of the
souk
, she tried to shrug off her trepidation. Whatever Faridah had planned did not matter--Noelle could fake some leisurely shopping for a bit, but she was out of here at the first chance.

She got some sidelong looks, some frowns, at her covering. Hmm, in the crowds of people elbowing their way past the spice shops and stalls full of knockoff Coach purses, there were only a few others wearing the modest clothing here. Not popular in Askar, she guessed.

"You can take that off," Faridah suggested, offering Noelle a shopping bag to put her burqa in.

She wore a toe-length woven cotton skirt underneath--plenty modest from what she'd seen of the women around her. "I'm good."

She'd told Faridah that Walid was just being overprotective by not letting her out of the palace. That he was afraid something would happen to her if she went into Deira without him. Faridah had said Deira was completely safe, and asked why Walid didn't just send a guard with her if it was such a big problem.

That was a great question, but before Noelle had come up with an answer, Faridah had dismissed it--maybe realizing that she was questioning her way out of an adventure with the descendant of Inaya Al Hurra.

In the tiny stalls, beautiful artisan crafts caught Noelle's eye. A gorgeous coffee-colored blown-glass vase. A lovely box inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Of course she didn't actually have any cash with her. Not that she wanted to be carrying anything when she made a run for it.
 

What was funny, she thought as they maneuvered their way past a guy riding an electric scooter and leading a donkey laden with sacks of grain, was that in Muslim society, the burqa was the symbol of a righteous woman. In the West, when you saw someone with a covered face, it meant they were up to no good.

She was definitely up to no good. Well, good from her point of view. Maybe not from the sheikh's.

Or from your friend's,
Bonnie said.

Shut up
, recommended Noelle.

Pirate princesses have a sense of honor. A real pirate princess would never do lie to her friend.

We can have a sense of honor when we're back in the States
, she told Bonnie, trying to ignore the guilt that nearly made her seize up and turn back.

She snuck a look at Faridah, but it wasn't the sparkle in the younger woman's eyes that caught her attention. It was the sparkle in the tiny shop behind her friend.

And a matching tingle under her ribcage. Jewelry. Elise's jewelry.

Noelle grabbed Faridah's arm and dragged her through the pungent crush of bodies blocking their way to the shiny objects. When they elbowed their way through and stood in front of the puny store--barely more than two feet wide--Noelle gasped.

Not to be a total
girl
... but everything was just so damn
pretty
. The entire shop was made of the most amazing shades of yellow. A deep, voluptuous cadmium that you just wanted to lick like candy. A pearly lemon, nearly white, so pale you had to squint to see the yellow in its depths. An amber so dark it was almost black.

Not jewelry. It was all scarves. Just scarves. But the scarves looked like they'd been woven out of jewels. Hung from the ceiling, they shimmered like flags of a nation of Barbie dolls. Scarves draped over the walls, curtains you'd rather look at than out the window. She touched the nearest one, a glowing fantasy shot through with shining gold, expecting it to scratch.

Instead, it caressed her skin right back.

Holy crap.

The person behind the counter approached.

"These are amazing," she said. When she ripped her eyes away from the silky confection, she saw a startled man looking back at her. He was tall and thin, olive-skinned, with elegant hands. He also had shimmery pink lips that had clearly been glossed, and wore more mascara than she ever had. He was
fabulous
.

His kohl-outlined eyes were wide as dinner plates and it took her a second to figure out why. Hmmm, a woman in a burqa speaking to a man who wasn't a member of her family, and doing it in English with an American accent. Nothing strange about that at all...

"I do not think that your friend would want one of these," offered Faridah, looking at Noelle skeptically.

What was Faridah talking about? Noelle had to disagree. "I think she would."

If Elise, back in San Francisco, had a shop full of these scarves, well, it wouldn't be full--she wouldn't be able to keep them on the shelf. Especially if she displayed them like this guy had, just papering the whole place with them. She could see it all now. Every one of her rich fashionista acquaintances would want a closetful. If they had the right branding. The tingle in her stomach intensified, like a bottle of Mountain Dew shaken to the point of busting out.

"I think
he
would not."

He? Oh, right. She'd convinced Faridah she wanted to buy Walid a surprise thank you present. That was why Faridah had agreed to accompany her to the market in the first place.

She laughed. "Sorry. I was thinking of someone else."

"Mr. Lodhi-Rajput sells the loveliest scarves," Faridah said. "Everyone has one."

"Do they come in any other colors?" Noelle asked the man, who looked horrified. Or maybe terrified to actually answer the question of a woman in a burqa.

"You should get rid of that thing," Faridah hissed to her. "Inaya Al Hurra would not wear one, and as the heir to her legacy, you should not either."

Ugh. Bad things happened to her every time Faridah said that name. Or called her "princess." Or even looked at her with that admiring light in her eye. Like she expected Noelle to
do
something. Each time she did any of those things, a numbness crept up her finger, a prickling paralysis that made her arms into iron weights she didn't have a hope of moving.

How could she tell Faridah that anyone who'd ever trusted her had been disappointed? That believing in Noelle would just get her heart and her hopes ground into little glass pieces.
 

Mr. Lodhi-Rajput cleared his throat and answered in a polished Indian accent, "Many other colors, ma'am."

"You never know what color his store is going to be from one day to the next," Faridah said happily. As she said most things.

Noelle could make it happen. Elise had asked for jewelry, but this was so much better. Anyone could do jewelry. These scarves... they would take San Fran by whirlwind. Elise's shop would become--pardon the phrase--a fashion mecca. Mr. Lodhi-Rajput would become a rich man. At the center of it all would be Noelle, doing something right.

For once.

But as she stroked the scarf, reality crashed back into her brain. It would never work. Another great idea poisoned by her terrible luck. Or maybe just her own bad... whatever.

Elise and Mr. Lodhi-Rajput would never learn about each other because she could never, never come back to Askar after she got out. Sheikh Walid would make sure of that.

She didn't even have the money to buy a single scarf now. Something she hadn't mentioned to Faridah, of course.

"These are amazing," she told Mr. Lodhi-Rajput, recycling the same words in her sudden depression. "Thank you."

What she was thanking him for, she didn't know. All she knew was that she didn't stop thinking about Mr. Lodhi-Rajput's beautiful scarves when she and Faridah left and her tingle faded.

*****

"This is exactly what your friend would want," Faridah told her proudly.

Noelle blushed so hard she felt like a match. White body, red head.

I don't get it,
Bonnie said.
Why would anyone wear a bathing suit this small? Your butt cheeks would hang out.

When Faridah led her to this discreet, unmarked, double-wide stall, Noelle had been thrilled. Northeast corner. The U.S. embassy was only two blocks away. She could make it. She just needed an excuse.

She had never suspected that the black curtain that covered the entrance hid...
this
.

It wasn't exactly
La Perla
lingerie.
La Perla
would run screaming from the neon bright colors on display here. Every shade of the rainbow, every style of lace you could imagine. This place took "lift and separate" to a whole new level.

She was frozen in mortification in the middle of the shop as ladies around her oohed and aahed over a sexy garment--if you even call three ribbons tied together a garment.

With a flourish, Faridah whipped off Noelle's head covering, removing the only thing coming between her and the full-on force of this shop.

Noelle grabbed for the cover instinctively.

"The burqa is not required when no men are present," Faridah told her.

Noelle swallowed. Right now, men weren't what she wanted protection from.

"You are blushing," Faridah pointed out, so loud that other shoppers stopped their giggling at the sexy underwear and turned to look. "Your friend will love this. I can think of no better present."

Any man would love this stuff
, Noelle thought.
Well, maybe not Mr. Lodhi-Rajput. But Walid...

Right. She was supposed to be pretending that she was in love with him. Or something.

She screwed up her courage and approached a wall where a black lace corset with stiff boning hung. That only thing it lacked was a whip. That was okay; the shop sold them separately.

"Hmm, I do not think that one is good for your"--the shop woman who had sidled up eyed Noelle's grossly blushing face sidelong--"complexion. May I suggest another?"

Faridah jumped in. "Perhaps pink."

"I'm not sure--" Noelle was not sure about a lot of things at this point.

I kinda like pink,
said the pirate princess.

"He will love it," insisted Faridah.

Would Walid love something like this? Yeah. He probably would. Noelle imagined herself wearing lingerie under her street clothes. Imagined Walid undoing the buttons of her blouse... finding the secret wisps of lace barely covering her breasts. Would he make a low note of approval? Would his amber-ringed eyes darken?

She'd thought for a moment, when they sat on the window ledge in the tower, that he was about to kiss her. Would he have tried? Would she have let him?

The shop woman interrupted her thoughts. "What about this one, madam?"

Holy crap, had she just been daydreaming about kissing Walid? The guy who kidnapped her? The guy she was trying to escape from
right now
?

She grabbed the hanger from the startled woman. "I'll take it."

"Would you not like to try it on?" Faridah asked.

"Try it on," Noelle instantly agreed. "Yep. I'd love to try it on."

She followed the shop woman to a row of curtained-off changing rooms at the back of the store, and entered the closest one, the lingerie in one hand, her burqa in the other.

She'd barely shut the curtains and assured Faridah she'd be a few minutes when she saw a pair of eyes looking up at her from under the stall. A little boy, lying on the floor? As soon as she spotted him, those eyes went wide with terror and he shot off. She nearly called out for the kid's mother when she realized a) that she'd just narrowly avoided being gawked at by a pint-sized pervert and b) he shouldn't have been able to look at her--wasn't this the wall of the shop?

She lifted the back curtain of the change room.

Light flooded into the room and hope into her heart.

The hole in the wall was a little more than a foot wide. Just big enough to escape through.

Yarrgh
! said the pirate princess.

Yarrgh
, agreed Noelle.

*****

Across the road, the U.S. embassy shone like a beige brick, four-story beacon. The only thing standing between her and true freedom was a hugely busy street stuffed with cars whooshing past. She hesitated on the curb.