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Even after becoming a licensed physician she hadn’t had the strength to venture further than two hours away from where she’d grown up. It had been a major event to move to Chicago by herself and she’d only managed it because of her burning desire to continue her search for a cure for hemophilia. She’d attended only those medical conferences that were close to home. Even though she’d made the flight to Zentar she wasn’t so sure it had as much to do with courage as it did with how badly she wished to have access to a lab. Her research was what drove her. Aware she had a number of admirable traits, bravery wasn’t one of them.
Seconds later the tires touching the tarmac with a screech of brakes made her tense again. Tariq placed a hand over hers. His look held hers as heat shot through her.
Soon the plane was rolling slowly and smoothly to a stop. She was safe on the ground. Tariq removed his hand. Laurel watched him nonchalantly release his seat belt and stand. Without a word he walked toward the back of the plane.
Through the window Laurel observed the heat haze just above the tarmac and the low tan-colored building that was the airport terminal. It looked simple yet modern. A flag flew above it that held the same emblem adorning the seats of the plane. Beyond the airport were buildings after buildings. None were over two stories high. In the distance stood the sprawling, gleaming pearl—the palace. The place she would call home, at least temporarily. She was out of her league. Fitting in here would be harder than it had been when she’d been a child.
The whoosh of air when the steward opened the door brought her back to the present. She hurriedly unlatched her seat belt.
Tariq reappeared. He’d placed a white headdress with gold braid on his head, and it flowed around his shoulders.
Laurel stared. As striking as he was in Western wear, this island Prince’s attire made him more appealing.
“I am expected to look the part of the royal family when I arrive home after official trips. It is the King’s way of reminding the people that we honor our traditions. As Minister of Health I have a position to uphold.”
Why did he feel he must explain his choice of clothing to her? In the last few days he hadn’t seemed to take any notice of her feelings or concerns. When did what she thought of him start to matter?
“I understand. I just didn’t expect...” She shut her mouth and waved at him in frustration. Laurel wasn’t about to tell Tariq she hadn’t planned on him taking her breath away with his Arabian Nights good looks, charm and impressive lifestyle.
“Expect?” He watched her too keenly for comfort.
“I, uh...don’t know. I guess I just assumed you always wore Western clothes.”
“Most of the time I do, but the reporters will be here. I must look the part.”
“I get that.” For him this attire was like when she’d pulled on her lab coat to meet him. It was the uniform that specified status.
He stepped near and took her elbow. “It is time to go. We have a schedule to keep.”
She was too aware of that. Getting married to him was at the top of the list. The mere idea made her middle flutter like a flock of birds taking off. Laurel suddenly wished she hadn’t eaten so much breakfast.
Tariq’s hand remained on her elbow as they walked down the stairs that had been precisely placed at the open cabin door. The Prince greeted the group of people waiting at the bottom with a wave.
Laurel had never dreamed the press would be interested in her. She was so out of her element. A couple of cameras flashed. She closed her eyes and turned her head.
Tariq raised a hand and everyone quieted. “This is Dr. Laurel Martin. She will be heading our new research lab as well as becoming my wife. We will be having a small family ceremony this afternoon at the palace. A celebration will be planned for a later date.”
The crowd gasped. Cameras flashed.
He didn’t let that deter him. “Please be kind enough to give her a warm Zentaran welcome. Also hold all questions for later. We’ve had a long flight and have much to do today.”
Laurel had never identified more with Dorothy arriving in Oz than she did at that moment. What had she gotten herself into?
CHAPTER THREE
TARIQ ESCORTED LAUREL to the limousine waiting nearby. He had had to nudge her arm twice before she moved. Her body trembled. She was terrified. In hindsight he should have told her about the press. When he had seen how much she hated flying he had worried she would not get off once they landed if she knew the media would be there to greet them.
Had he made a mistake by bringing her so far from home? Insisting that she marry him? One was stressful enough but both might be too much for Laurel. Never in his wildest imaginings had he believed a woman of her intelligence and reputation would be such a novice where the world was concerned. Yet it was refreshing to see each new experience replace her fear with excited amazement. It made him see life in a different light.
Pride swelled his chest at her reaction to her first sight of Zentar. Her appreciation of its beauty was the same as his own each time he returned home. Sharing it with someone was nice. He never had before.
With Laurel settled in the backseat of the car, he instructed Nasser to take them to the palace. Normally he would be busy on his phone but Laurel enthralled him. He turned to her. Seeing her fascination with the city he loved had become more important than some email about an issue he needed to resolve.
She was busy looking out the windows of the car from one side to the other, as if trying to take it all in on one drive. He had no idea if she was aware of his presence until she said in reproach, “You should’ve told me that the press would be waiting, instead of ambushing me.”
“I was afraid you would not get off the plane.”
Laurel looked over her shoulder at him. “And that statement about us marrying?”
He shrugged. “It must be announced.” He leaned back into the cushions of the seat, enjoying the snap in her eyes. At least they were not panic-filled, as they had been earlier.
She turned to him. “I guess that’s true. Are you still sure it’s necessary?”
“Marrying? Yes.”
Laurel resumed watching the scenery but the air around them now held tension. They said little the rest of the way. He had anticipated her reaction to the onion-domed palace but it was more flattering than he’d expected.
They were pulling in front of the palace when Laurel said with a whispered awe, “You’ve lived here all your life?”
Again wonder filled her face. He had looked at the palace almost every day of his life but thanks to her he was seeing it anew—its white walls, arched entrances, high battlements with shiny tops and flags flying—the grand scale of it. “Well, most of it. I lived abroad when I was at university and a few years after that.”
“I can’t imagine growing up in a place like this. My family had a three-bedroom, two-bath home. My sister and I shared a room until I went off to college.”
They really were from two different worlds. He had learned long ago that was the case with almost everyone when you were a prince. He rather liked the sound of the low-key quality of Laurel’s life. “The size of a house has nothing to do with the closeness of a family.”
The car pulled up in front of the arched doors of the official entrance to the palace.
“I’ll get the door,” he said to Nasser as he stepped out and offered his hand to Laurel. She hesitated a moment, then placed her soft, small, shaking fingers in his. The inescapable comparison to their hand sizes had a peculiar effect on him. There was such a marked difference between them in so many ways.
Laurel quickly pulled her hand away and raised her chin
to look at the massive ornamental exteriors of the palace state rooms. “We’re getting married here?”
“Yes.”
She gave him a worried look. “In an office?”
“No. The Grand State Room.”
“This isn’t right,” she hissed, looking around as if she feared someone was listening.
“I am a member of the royal family, and we do not have a lot of time. So it is the way it must be done.”
Her lips pursed before she burst forth with, “You know I’ve just about had it with you pushing me around about everything. We have no business getting married.” She pointed to the palace. “Much less doing it here and in front of your family.”
“Laurel...” Tariq lowered his voice to the one he used when trying to reassure a skittish filly. “I think you are right.”
She stared at him as if confused. “You do?”
“Yes, but plans have been set in motion that cannot be changed. Come, it will be over soon and then we will go to your lab.” He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over the top. If he was in her position he would not like feeling out of control either.
“I still think this is a bad idea but I’ll go along with it for now.”
He smiled. “I am glad to hear it.”
Tariq placed his hand at her waist and directed her toward the entrance. As they approached, a man in a uniform opened the door and they entered the dim and refreshingly cool stone building.
“Oh, wow.” Laurel’s whisper carried across the worn marble floor. “It’s so beautiful.”
Zara, with Roji in hand, came toward them and drew Laurel’s attention. Her body stiffened beneath his palm. “This is Zara. She is my sister-in-law and is here to help you dress.”
“Dress?” Laurel looked down at herself. “I hadn’t even thought about that.”
Tariq was not surprised. Her mind remained on one track, her work. As important as he believed it was, she still needed to step outside her glass box. It also pricked his ego that Laurel thought so little of their marriage she had no concern for what she wore. Did not all women want to look nice at their wedding? Even if it was a marriage of convenience?
