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“We can get away for a few days.” He reached out, ran a hand over her tousled hair. “I’ll have Manar pack you a bag, okay?”
Rou clasped her cup and nodded, smiling. “Yes. Yes, please.”
Two hours later they were in his helicopter, leaving the capital city of Isi for the beach resort of Cala. Another woman might have felt dazed by the speed with which Zayed accomplished things, but Rou was accustomed to multitasking and she appreciated his efficiency, although she was still rather awed by the number of people who worked for him as well as the number of toys he owned. Apparently there were jets and yachts, helicopters and luxury automobiles, penthouses, apartments, palaces.
Sixty minutes into the flight, Zayed pointed to the deep blue water below. “The sea,” he said, and then another fifteen minutes later he pointed to a sprawling white complex. “My palace.”
His palace. She shot him a sidelong glance, repeating his words. She’d married a man with palaces. She’d married a man who’d become king. She’d married.
So strange. So not the way life was going to be.
As the helicopter slowly descended onto a helipad on one of the palace wings, she got a better glimpse of the palace’s fanciful architecture. Turrets and towers, arched windows, extensive latticework, thick stone walls all painted a dazzling white.
Date palms and coconut palms grew along the corners of the house, tall, slim trunks in stark contrast to the white walls. Just before the helicopter set down, Rou caught a glimpse of a pool inside a walled garden that overlooked the ocean, and Rou couldn’t resist reaching for Zayed’s hand as excitement bubbled up inside her. This was going to be fun.
Fun.
When was the last time she had fun?
And, turning her head, she caught Zayed’s eye, and she smiled at him. He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissed the inside of her wrist, giving her hope that yes, maybe one day, he would love her. Maybe it wasn’t such an impossible dream.
The next four days were spent making love, sleeping in, sunning by the pool, swimming in the sea and consuming more food and drink than Rou could remember in years.
Zayed was perfectly attentive and perfectly wonderful, telling her stories, making her laugh, and making her fall even more in love with him.
Rou knew on Thursday morning he was scheduled to fly back to Isi for a meeting with his cabinet. The final plans were also being made for Sharif’s funeral, and Zayed wanted to sit with Jesslyn and discuss all the details in person. It’d be a long day in the capital city, but then he’d jump into the helicopter and return that night.
Thursday morning when Zayed left the bed, Rou sat up, too. “Maybe I should go with you,” she suggested. “I could help somehow.”
He was heading into the enormous limestone bathroom and paused naked in the door. “It’s gloomy at the palace in Isi—this place is full of sunshine. Stay. Relax. You’ll have a better time.”
“But what if you can’t wrap up everything in a day? What if you have to stay overnight?”
He shrugged, unconcerned. “Then I’d stay overnight and return first thing in the morning. And don’t you have work to do? I haven’t seen you check your e-mail once since we arrived. Maybe you can use the time to get caught up on your work, too.”
He was right. Her clients were probably in a panic because she had never been so out of touch or unresponsive before, but working here in Cala wasn’t like working in San Francisco. San Francisco was often filled with fog and chilly mists, which made sitting at a desk, concentrating at a computer far easier than here on the sunny dry coast where olive and orange trees studded the lawn, and a huge aquamarine pool shimmered, beckoning whenever one looked out the window.
“All right. I’ll work while you work. But do come back tonight if you can. It won’t be the same without you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
HE DIDN’T return that night.
Or the next.
Or call, or send word to say when he’d return.
It hurt her feelings, but she wasn’t going to let him upset her this time. She knew he had many responsibilities and worries, knew that his entire family was under pressure and looking to him for strength and support, which made her vow not to add to the pressure.
She’d help him by making things easier, and keeping things calm, so she focused on staying busy those first few days he was gone, knowing that the more she got done now, the more free time she’d have to spend with Zayed once he returned. And she wanted that time with him, she craved time with him, having become quite attached to him and his company already.
He was smart and funny and interesting and entertaining. When he was there with her, she couldn’t imagine anyone more attentive, but when he was gone…
She sighed and shook her head as she walked along the private beach in front of the palace, gentle waves lapping at her feet. The water was cool and the damp, firm sand mushed between her toes. She loved it here, loved the sun and sea and tang of salt in the air, but she felt very alone, too.
Because when Zayed was gone, he wasn’t merely absent, he was completely gone. So completely that it stirred up old memories, childhood memories of being scuttled away, shoved off, abandoned. When her father drank, he’d forget to come for her. When her mother went into a depression, she couldn’t care for her. When the courts finally gave custody of her to her grandmother in England, her mother took her life.
Even though she was an adult now, even though she was successful and polished and accomplished, she didn’t know if people would be there for her when she needed them, didn’t trust that those she loved would be available, accessible, when she reached out to them.
But fear and doubt only beget fear and doubt, she reminded herself, leaving the creamy crescent cove for the palace gardens. Climbing the old stone stairs toward the pool level she vowed not to give in to fear or insecurity, not this time. Zayed was working, that was all. She had work to do, too, and when she tired of working, she’d find fun things to do to help the time pass more quickly.
For the rest of the morning Rou sat out by the pool in a swimsuit and worked in the shade of a giant umbrella on her computer, writing an essay for a women’s magazine, and preparing a speech she was to give in Chicago in two months’ time. And then, at noon, when there was no more work to do, she returned to her room, showered and changed into a turquoise-and-ivory-embroidered silk tunic, ivory capris and fun wedge sandals with turquoise stones. Dressed, she sent for the palace butler and asked if he could make arrangements with one of the palace drivers to take her into town so she could shop in the colorful, old city market bazaar.
The butler was appalled that she’d want to go someplace so loud and crowded, never mind dirty. “It’s Saturday and it’ll be filled with shoppers and tourists. You won’t enjoy yourself. There are only little stalls selling copper and pots, died yarn and foodstuffs, nothing you’d like.”
“But that’s exactly what I want to see. The palace isn’t Sarq, and Cala has such a fascinating history, I’d love the chance to explore.”
“I should ask His Highness.”
“No,” she said clearly, firmly, “you do not need to ask His Highness if I can leave the palace. I am just heading into town, and I’m certain you will send a few bodyguards with me, so there’s no reason for alarm.”
The butler did send a complete security detail with her, which meant four bodyguards, but even their close watch couldn’t upset her as they drove the three miles into town.
Rou watched the passing scenery with great interest, excited by the prospect of seeing the historic seaport and then exploring the famous bazaar. She’d brought along her wallet, hoping she might find something she could give to Zayed as a belated wedding gift. He’d given her jewels and a new wardrobe, but so far she’d given him nothing, not having had the opportunity to shop. Today she might find something with which to surprise him.
The market was as crowded as the butler had said it’d be, with hundreds of robed men and veiled women jamm
ing between the narrow stalls to haggle over prices and make purchases for the coming week.
Rou wandered for nearly two hours, stopping once midafter-noon for a cup of mint tea at a corner shop. The store owner was delighted she’d chosen his shop and sent over a plate of almond cookies along with the tea. The bodyguards circled her as she munched on the cookies and sipped the strong tea. She appreciated their zealousness but did find it hard to relax and soak up the atmosphere when all she could see were their dark jackets and the bulge of guns beneath.
Late afternoon she concluded her shopping by buying bread and cheese, chocolate and fruit, along with some bottles of a lemony, fizzy drink. She’d ask the kitchen staff to save everything for her until Zayed returned, and then she’d surprise him with a picnic on the beach.
Tired, but pleased with her afternoon, she returned to the palace only to discover that Zayed had called while she was gone. He wouldn’t be back for days.
Still clutching the paper-wrapped bread and bags of fruit and cheese, Rou stared unhappily at the butler who’d just given her the news. “Did he say when he’d return?”
“No, Your Highness. He just said ‘days.’”
Days. Days could be a few days, or a week. Maybe even longer.
She swallowed her disappointment, handed over her purchases and headed for her room with its view of the sea. Rou stood at the narrow arched window for long minutes, watching the waves roll toward shore and then break in white foamy crests against the sand.
