The Sheik and the Virgin Princess (3 page)

Zara made one attempt to pull free of his grip, but as she’d suspected, he didn’t let her go. No doubt he wanted to scare them into leaving. As soon as they were in private, she would tell him that he didn’t have to worry. She and Cleo would be heading back to the States as soon as possible.

They moved through the lobby toward the elevator. Zara tried not to notice the clean but slightly shabby furniture. Prints added color to the white walls. There were a few plants scattered around, but little else in the way of decorations.

She knew what he was thinking. She could read his thoughts as clearly as if they were her own.

“Just because we’re on a budget doesn’t mean we’re in it for the money,” she said in a low, angry voice when they stopped for the elevator. “You have no right to judge me or find me wanting.”

Those amazing blue eyes turned toward her. She met his gaze, despite the powerful force he exuded. Pride stiffened her spine and made her strong.

The elevator doors opened, breaking the spell.

“So do you know the king?” Cleo asked, oblivious to the tension between them.

“Yes.”

She laughed. “You’re not real chatty, are you? It doesn’t matter how mad you want to be. The truth is Zara is his daughter. She has letters and a ring. I think you should do your darnedest to prove them to be fakes. When you can’t, you’ll have no choice but to accept her for who she says she is.”

For the first time since they were led away from the tour group, Zara felt herself relax. Maybe it was a little too soon to think about running away.

“You have an excellent point,” she told her sister.

“I am more than a pretty face,” Cleo reminded her, as the elevator came to a stop on the fourth floor.

Zara turned to the man who still had a death grip on her arm. “Are you willing to look at the evidence? Despite already reaching a conclusion?”

“Absolutely.”

“And when you find out you’re wrong?”

“Let’s discuss that if it happens.”

Thirty minutes later Rafe was less convinced this was a hoax. He fingered the dozen or so letters Zara had shown him. The subject matter—especially the comments about the cats—made him suspicious. All the information could have been gathered by careful research. However the handwriting looked like Hassan’s, and the syntax was pure royal-speak. But what convinced him the most was the feeling in his gut.

Long years of experience had taught him to listen to his instincts—instincts that had saved his life on more than one occasion. He fingered the yellowing linen paper, then glanced at the stack of letters on the small desk in the hotel room. Despite his assumptions that Zara and her sister were looking to make an easy couple of million, there was a good chance he’d been wrong.

“Anything else?” he asked, turning his attention to the woman sitting on the bed next to the desk.

Zara reached into her carry-on bag and drew out a pad of paper. “Here’s a list of the jewelry I can remember my mother selling. It’s not a complete list because I’m sure she sold some before I was born or while I was too young to know what was happening. There’s also this.”

The “this” turned out to be a diamond band inscribed with the word forever on the inside. The tightening in Rafe’s gut got worse.

Zara sat facing him, her hands carefully folded on her lap. She wore a light cotton, peach sundress and sandals. Her long hair tumbled down her back. With her dark eyes and honeyed complexion, she looked a lot like Princess Sabra—Sabrina—the king’s only daughter.

Yeah, there were differences. Sabrina didn’t wear glasses and she had an air of confidence that Zara lacked. Still, the combination of the physical similarities and the evidence made him fairly sure Zara was exactly who she claimed to be. He couldn’t begin to imagine what was going to happen when the king found out.

“What stories did your mother tell you about your father?” he asked.

“She rarely said anything.” Zara shrugged. “When I would ask questions, she would just say that they couldn’t be together. He didn’t know about me and she wasn’t in a position to tell me about him. I used to ask if he would want me if he found out he had a daughter. She always said he would, but I never knew if that was her interpretation of events or if it was true.”

The information hardly helped. He glanced over at Cleo who had stretched out on the far bed, reading a fashion magazine.

“Do you remember your mother telling any stories about your father?”

Cleo smiled. “I’m not lucky enough to be related to royalty. Sorry.”

“Cleo is my foster sister,” Zara said.

“That’s right. Fiona brought me home when I was ten, just like picking up a puppy in a pound. I was housebroken, so she decided to keep me.”

Cleo spoke cheerfully enough, but there was a hint of darkness in her eyes. Rafe studied her pretty round face, taking in the wide eyes, blond hair and full, pouty mouth. She didn’t look anything like Zara.

Zara glared at her sister. “It wasn’t quite like that. Cleo came to us as a foster child, but quickly became a member of the family.”

This was more information than Rafe had wanted. “So you’re not blood relatives.”

Zara returned her attention to him. “No.” She opened her mouth as if she was about to speak, then shook her head and rose. “I can’t do this,” she said, and headed for the balcony.

Cleo sighed. “Zara’s been like this since we left
Spokane
,” she confided. “It’s one thing to say you want to meet your real father, but it’s another to have it happen. At least, that’s what she says. I think being related to royalty is pretty cool, but then, Zara’s always been the sensitive one.”

Sensitive? Rafe didn’t do sensitive. Why the hell had he been the one standing in the room when the guard had brought in Zara? Couldn’t someone else have attacked her and been responsible for this mess?

Muttering under his breath, he rose and stalked out to the small balcony that overlooked the tourist portion of the city. The late-May heat was a tangible creature, sucking air from his lungs and moisture from his body. Zara didn’t seem to notice as she leaned against the railing and stared off into the distance.

“I don’t want you to say anything to the king,” she said without looking at him.

“I don’t have a choice.”

That got her attention. She spun toward him. “Why? It doesn’t matter. He already has one daughter…he doesn’t need another one. Besides, I don’t think I’d be a very good princess.”

“You’d be fine.”

Rafe shifted uneasily. He didn’t like emotional confrontations with women who looked as if they might start to cry.

She swallowed. “You think maybe he’s really…” Her voice trailed off as she gestured to the letters he still held in his hand.

He knew what she was asking. “Yes, Zara. I think he could be your father.”

She turned her attention back to the city. “I didn’t think it would be like this,” she said quietly. “All my life I’ve wanted to belong to a real family. To have relatives and roots. But not here—with royalty. I wanted some normal, American family. You know the kind with a bunch of kids and maybe one or two eccentric relatives.”

She had a perfect profile. His gaze lingered on the gentle curve of her mouth and the length of her neck. Something flickered inside. Something that had nothing to do with his gut instincts and everything to do with being a man.

A faint breeze stirred, bringing with it the scent of her. A scent he remembered from when he’d attacked her. Even as he’d pulled a gun and prepared to defend the royal house of Bahania, he’d been aware of her feminine fragrance, not to mention her body beneath his.

She looked at him. “What if I can’t do this?”

There were questions in her brown eyes. Questions and pain.

“I could act as intermediary,” he found himself saying. “I could take the letters and the ring to the king privately. You wouldn’t have to be there, and no one else would have to know.”

She bit her lower lip. “Once you begin, there’s no turning back. I don’t like that.”

“You wouldn’t have come here if you hadn’t wanted this,” he reminded her. “You’re the one who started this in motion by going to the palace.”

“But wanting and getting are too different things. Maybe Cleo and I should just disappear.”

“If you do, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what would have happened.”

“Maybe that doesn’t sound so bad.” Zara hesitated, then nodded. “You’re right. I’m here. I want to know the truth. If you wouldn’t mind taking the letters to the king, that would be great. I’m not feeling brave enough to be rejected in person. Not that I could get in to see the king.”

Rafe didn’t know how the king was going to react, but he was fairly certain Hassan was Zara’s father. Which could create many complications.

She headed toward the room. “You should probably take the ring, too.”

She was so damn trusting. “How do you know I’ll return it?”

She stopped to stare at him. “Why would you keep it?”

He groaned. “You have no business traveling on your own.”

“I’m not. I’m with my sister.”

“The blind leading the blind.”

She drew herself up to her full height and glared at him. As he was six foot three, the top of her head barely grazed his chin. He wasn’t impressed by her erect posture or the fire spitting from her eyes.

“Cleo and I have done perfectly well without your help.”

“I can see that. Getting attacked at the palace was part of your plan all along, right?”

“That was your fault, not mine.”

“In a situation like this you have to be prepared for the unexpected.” Although she’d certainly caught him off guard.

Zara’s temper faded. “Do I really look like her?”

“Enough to fool a new guard.”

“But not you.”

“No.” He shifted from foot to foot. “I’m sorry I attacked you.”

“It’s all right. You thought there was a threat.”

Looking at her now he didn’t see how that was possible, but that was what he’d assumed.

She pushed up her glasses. “Do you think there’s really a chance I’m the king’s daughter?”

“What do you know about your name?” he asked instead of answering her question.

“Nothing. I mean I know it’s unusual, but if you’d ever met my mother, you wouldn’t be surprised. She wasn’t exactly the most conventional person on the planet.”

“Zara was King Hassan’s mother’s name.”

Zara shivered, as if she were suddenly cold. Rafe didn’t blame her. She might have come to Bahania looking for her father, but she was about to get a whole lot more than she’d bargained for.

Zara paced restlessly after Rafe left. “He said he’d call as soon as he saw the king,” she said, more to herself than to Cleo, who was still reading her magazine. “He said he could get in to see him this afternoon. What kind of man can just waltz in and see the king?”

“A man with connections,” Cleo said, then grinned at her. “Honey, you’re taking this way too hard. What’s the worst that can happen? You’ll turn out not to be Hassan’s daughter. Then we can enjoy the rest of our vacation and head home.”

Zara supposed it was just that simple, although there was a part of her that hated the idea of being fatherless again. Not that she wanted a king for her father.

“I didn’t think it would be so complicated,” she admitted, more to herself than to Cleo.

“It’s not so complicated. Nothing’s changed.”

Zara sank onto her bed and shook her head. Things had changed the second Rafe Stryker had tossed her to the ground. Not only was she seeing their position from someone else’s point of view, she couldn’t stop thinking about his incredible blue eyes and how her insides quivered when she was close to him.

“Who do you think he is?” she asked. “Rafe was dressed like a sheik, but he’s obviously American.”

“What does it matter, as long as he can do what he says.” Cleo tossed the magazine aside and rolled toward her. “Forget about him. Think about the palace instead. Wouldn’t it be great to live there? It was so beautiful.”

“It was big and scary,” Zara said.

Cleo sighed. “What am I going to do with you? This is a fabulous opportunity and you’re going to blow it by getting cold feet. We’re talking princess, Zara. You could be an honest-to-goodness princess. That doesn’t happen to people like us. It wasn’t that long ago that money was so tight we could only afford day-old bread.”

“I know.”

“You could be rich.”

“I don’t want to be rich—I want to belong. I want roots and relatives and a history.”

“You could have all of that and a tiara, too.”

Zara laughed. “Is that all you can think about?”

Cleo grinned. “Diamonds have a way of getting my attention.”

“You talk big, but in your heart you want what I want. Real family.”

“Maybe, but I’d settle for royalty.”

Zara tucked her legs under her. “Do you think Rafe works for the king?”

Cleo groaned. “Don’t you dare get all dopey about that guy. For one thing, you’re about to find out if the king of a wealthy nation is your father. You don’t have time to be distracted. Second, you have the worst luck on the planet when it comes to men. Don’t even think about it.”