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Chapter Six
Brenda’s eyes widened as the Land Rover pulled up in front of the turrets and the spires of the massive palace. It was like something she’d only seen on TV. There were football stadiums that were smaller than Jamsheed’s home. Her jaw dropped and she had to force it back to its proper positions.
“That’s… wow,” she said, frustrated that words escaped her.
Jamsheed laughed, a rich, throaty noise that made wetness pool over the cotton of her panties and heat flare through her belly. She knew that tone. It was the same unbridled joy he’d had on the London Eye and in his limo during their first date. It was a tone rife with mischief, which she longed to get into with him all over again.
“That’s the reaction many people have.” He shrugged and held his chin higher. “It’s where I grew up until Mother died, and I was sent to boarding school outside of London as a teenager. I know how impressive it is, what a source of pride it is for my people. My forefathers have ruled from its hallowed halls for over six centuries.”
She whistled. That was a kind of history that blew her mind. The United States wasn’t even three hundred years old. Her family wasn’t exactly the type to have antiques lying around, unless a fruitcake from her Aunt Bertie, still in the can from twenty years ago, counted. To grow up in six hundred years of history and tradition? How that must weigh on a child.
“It sounds lovely still.”
“Yes, but I know my responsibilities too, what I owe not only my great grandfathers but my father and mother. This is a palace, yes, but it’s a governmental estate too. What I’m trying to say is that it’s a trapping of my position, but it’s not all that I am. I hope this doesn’t change our relationship already.”
Brenda relaxed and squeezed his hand. “I’ve scrubbed your toilets in a penthouse most of London’s high society would kill for. I know you’re rich, but I know you’re here because you’re a good son and a noble ruler.”
“Then you definitely don’t read tabloids.”
She snorted. “They can get stuffed. I know who you are, and I’m sure your father is glad you’re home. I know he can’t be completely aware of it, but some part of him, somehow, he’ll feel you. It’s one of the best things that can help with his health right now. So,” she said opening her door and easing herself to the runners, being careful not to slip off into the swirling sands below. “Let’s get settled, shall we?”
Jamsheed nodded and followed out after her. “I think that’s one thing I’ve always loved about Americans. You all are so much more outspoken than anyone else. The English girls and even the Europeans… they hold their tongues, hide their real feelings. When I’m with you, I know that I’m not going to hear stories or be led around.”
“Not all Americans are alike, but I don’t want you to feel like you’re less than you are. We all know what Prince Harry has been up to in his life, and his dad before that, for example. You ‘dating’ a lot...” she blushed then, since it wasn’t just all about the dating, “...is far from a scandal.”
“I love that spirit even so,” he said, stroking his goatee and then groaning.
Confused, Brenda thought for a moment that the groan was about her until she looked out across the expanse of the drive way and up toward the main entrance to the palace. A man in the long, traditional robes of Zomelia and with a long, grey-streaked beard, strode toward both of them. The scowl on his face marred what might have been an otherwise attractive man, even with the beard, and left him seeming ugly and cold.
When he got to them. The stranger bowed as little as possible toward Jamsheed and completely ignored her presence. “Cousin, you’ve taken your time coming home for Uncle.”
Jamsheed stood up straighter, allowing him to loom over the newcomer, who, to be fair, was still very broad, built like a heavyweight boxer. “I got here as soon as I could. I had affairs that I had to close out in London, and I needed to make sure the petrol company we all profit from and that makes up the majority of our country’s GDP was in good hands. I wasn’t just fooling around and you know that.”
Finally, the other man eyed her and then chuckled. “I still have to wonder how much fooling around was actually involved. I didn’t expect you to bring back a girlfriend. How convenient. The rumor among the staff is that she was one of your maids. Really, Cousin, how desperate are you?”
Brenda’s heart fluttered against her chest and she had to remind herself to keep breathing. She wasn’t a kid anymore, and she wasn’t naïve. In her life, she’d had more than her share of tragedies and ups and downs. That came along with being insulted, too. If Jamsheed’s cousin wanted to imply that she shouldn’t be here because she was merely the maid, then he should hold his tongue. The ass didn’t know the first thing about her.
“Excuse me. Who are you?” she asked and then clutched Jamsheed’s hand tightly. “I know who the next sheikh is around here, but I don’t know who you are or why you matter.”
Jamsheed laughed. “See, now you can see why I’m dating her, Cousin. Abir, this is Brenda Mckann. Brenda, this is my cousin, Abir. He’s also in line for succession for the throne but behind me, and he picks a horrible time to even dig at these things. After all, I’m here to help my father improve in any way I can.”
Abir sneered and stroked his beard. “Yes, but you’re also here as I am, anticipating the day that the old man goes so there will be a new heir on the throne. Admit that I’m outclassed with you. I have my wife and my legitimate heirs. All you have is some American servant brought back here like the faithful pet she is.”
Jamsheed surged forward, his hands balled into fists at his side. “You say one more thing about Brenda and I’ll end you.”
“Then I’m surprised you brought home a bitch to whelp anything.”
The blow was fast, and she jumped back quickly as blood poured from Abir’s nose. Brenda couldn’t say she was sorry for the sight. In fact, she wished to God she’d been the one to slug that bastard. Still, as much as she was trying to stay strong and show Jamsheed that she belonged in his world, those words did cut her. It wasn’t about the out-of-place-American barbs she expected. No. It was about her right as a person at all. She’d felt the same vindictive spirit lace people’s words when Haley was young and she’d been an eyesore for her parents. Oh, not that her mother ever said that, but the town had been more than happy to gossip about it.
She wasn’t a bitch and she didn’t ‘whelp’ anything, or whatever nonsense Abir claimed.
But she was disgusted and overwhelmed in that moment, felt the dizziness spinning through her mind and the goosebumps spreading over her limbs. The vertigo of shame was back, and she needed a minute.
As the staff separated Abir and Jamsheed, she turned to the sheikh and worked hard to keep her voice steady as she spoke. “I think I need to lie down after such a crappy arrival. Where is my room?”
Jamsheed spun around to her and placed gentle hands on her shoulders. “My phoenix, I apologize. My cousin speaks out of turn, and I’ll be happy to beat him to a pulp even more.”
From across the driveway and while being looked over by a few men in dark suits—security, she realized—Abir shook his head. “I have a right to be here. You know the laws. Now you do. I’m the rightful heir until something changes, so you can’t throw me in jail or escort me out.”
