The Desert Sheikh's Innocent Queen: King of the Desert, Captive Bride

“Then send me home,” she answered, her voice breaking.

His jaw jutted. She wasn’t the only one who couldn’t go home yet. He couldn’t, either, and he wasn’t much happier about it than she was.

Anytime he took these human rights cases on, he moved swiftly, moved a person in and out in a day. These rescues always took place within twenty-four hours and then he was home again, back in his quiet world of sky and sand. Back in anonymity.

Today was different. Everything about today’s rescue was different. And that didn’t bode well for any of them.

CHAPTER THREE

A HALF hour later they reached the famous Mena House Hotel, a historic hotel on the outskirts of Cairo.

Liv leaned forward to get a glimpse of the historic property but saw little of the hotel’s entrance with the dozen black cars lining the drive and virtually blocking the front door.

“It looks like the President of the United States has arrived,” she said, staring at all the cars and security detail. “I wonder who it’s for?”

“Us,” he answered cryptically, as security moved toward their car, flanking the front and back.

She jerked around to look at him. “Why?”

He shrugged as the door opened.

“Your Highness,” one of the men said, bowing deeply. “Welcome. The hotel is secure.”

Liv didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her body had gone nerveless. “Who are you?”

“I’m Sheikh Khalid Fehr. Prince of the Great Sarq Desert.”

And then it came together, all the missing pieces, all the little things that hadn’t added up. Sarq. Fehr. The family name, Fehr. “Your brother is King Fehr,” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“You’re … royalty.”

His broad shoulders shifted. “I didn’t ask for the job. I inherited it.” And then he climbed out of the car.

They were escorted through the opulent, gilded lobby to a private elevator that glided soundlessly up to the royal suite, which occupied the entire penthouse floor.

Their suite consisted of two enormous bedrooms and ensuite baths opening off a central living area. The suite was dark, the windows curtained, but then the butler drew the curtains back and the suite was flooded with late-afternoon sunlight, and the most astonishing view of the Great Pyramid.

“Incredible,” Liv murmured, standing at the window, hands pressed to the glass.

“There’s a balcony in each of the bedrooms,” the butler offered. “Very nice for a morning coffee or evening nightcap.”

She could only nod. She didn’t want to move, or be distracted. She just wanted to stand here and feast on the most amazing thing she’d ever seen.

The golden stone pyramid soared … gigantic, mythic, spectacular.

This is why she’d traveled so far from home. This is what she’d wanted to see. Ancient wonders. Relics of a glorious past.

But then Khalid Fehr spoke. “The doctor is here, Olivia.”

Her insides did a quick freeze and she slowly, reluctantly turned from the window. A woman in a dark slack suit and wearing a dark scarf around her shoulders stood next to Khalid.

“I’m Dr. Nenet Hassan,” the woman said briskly. “I’m a friend of Sheikh Fehr’s from university. The exam won’t hurt, and it won’t take long, either. We’ll just step into your room and get it over, shall we?”

Liv wouldn’t even look at Khalid as she headed for her bedroom with Dr. Hassan close behind. She didn’t want the exam, didn’t need a checkup, but no one seemed to be listening.

Fortunately, the exam was as quick as Dr. Hassan had said and in less than ten minutes the physician was putting her instruments away. “You’re healthy,” Dr. Hassan said. “And I know you’re dying for a bath so go ahead, enjoy. I’ll have a word with Sheikh Fehr and see myself out.”

Khalid was waiting for Nenet as she emerged from Liv’s room. “Well?” he demanded.

“She has some bruises but they’re not specific to any injury.”

“She hasn’t been beaten?” Khalid asked bluntly.

“She does have marks and the odd bruise or cut, but that’s to be expected. It’s a well-known fact that the female guards are far harder on the female prisoners than the male guards are on the men. They’re just more aggressive, although the abuse leans toward the mental instead of the physical.”

“What about drug use?” he asked.

Nenet lifted her head, and her somber brown gaze searched his. “You suspect her of using?”

“No. But you never know.”

The doctor’s expression remained speculative. “I didn’t see needle marks, or anything else indicative of drug abuse.”

“Good,” he answered, turning away to look out the same window that had so completely captured Liv’s imagination earlier.

“Do you really intend to marry her?” Nenet asked, catching Khalid off guard. “Or is it just another baseless rumor?”

His forehead creased and he turned from the window to look at the doctor over his shoulder. “How did you hear?”

“How did I hear? Khalid, it’s all over the news! A highranking Jabal official announced that you’d visited his country today to bring your betrothed home.” Nenet swallowed hard. “And this … this … American … she’s your betrothed?”

None of this was supposed to be happening, Khalid thought. He was supposed to have freed Olivia from prison, zipped to Baraka in his jet, had her cleared by a doctor and then hurried onto a waiting jet provided by Kalen Nuri, and then she’d fly home and he’d fly back to the Sarq desert in his jet and it’d be finished. No naming of names, no police chases, no publicity.

“I don’t know that this is an appropriate conversation for us to be having,” he said flatly.

He’d once dated Nenet Hassan during his second year of graduate school, but the pressures on both of them had been intense, and then when his sisters had died, he’d broken the relationship off. Nenet had written long letters to him, saying she’d wait for him, promising he could take all the time he needed to heal, but Khalid hadn’t wanted time to heal. He hadn’t wanted to heal. He just wanted out. Away. Gone from the life he’d lived and the people he’d known.

“Forgive me, Khalid. Please don’t be angry. I know it’s not my place,” Nenet added quickly, trying to ease the tension and awkward silence, “but I can’t ignore what you’re doing. It wouldn’t be right.”

“And what am I doing?” he asked even more gruffly.

“You know what you’re doing. I know what you’re doing. But stop. Don’t. Don’t sacrifice yourself for her.” Grief darkened her eyes. “You aren’t merely a good man, Khalid, you are a great man, and a man that has suffered enough. You owe her nothing, especially not your future, or your freedom.”

In the bathroom, Liv stood in the middle of the marble tiled floor for what seemed like forever.

The bathroom was beyond decadent. The decor was reminiscent of the Great Pyramid outside, with pale ivory and gold limestone pavers on the floor and more buttery-colored limestone surrounding the deep bathtub.