platters of crepelike bread, mounds of glistening rice and fragrant lamb, smoked chicken, stuffed grape leaves, marrow and squash and salads were served. Simone heard almost no conversation not related to the magnificence of the feast, but she didn’t find this unusual. To the end of his days her father had never become comfortable with the Western habit of conversing over a meal. He’d preferred small talk to take place over coffee and tea before and after a meal.
“You are hardly eating,” Markaz observed. “If you don’t wish to offend our hosts, you should taste a little of everything.”
Natalie’s ring was burning a hole in her pocket, but she followed the sheikh’s lead and paid attention to the feast. Knowing that Fayed was searching for Natalie had eased Simone’s mind enough so she could absorb her surroundings. Unfortunately the royal guards hadn’t accompanied the guests into the marquee and would most likely be eating elsewhere. So she couldn’t use the opportunity to look for Yusef al Hasa.
However bizarre the circumstances, she was a guest of Sheikh Markaz bin Kemal al Nazaari, she reminded herself, picturing her mother’s response when she heard. Would it be enough to pierce Sara’s depression? Simone hoped so, because unless she located Yusef among the sheikh’s escort after the meal, she doubted she’d get a chance like this again.
Moving lightly for such a big man, Fayed appeared at his boss’s shoulder. Simone didn’t need to hear what was said to know the news wasn’t encouraging. Fayed’s expression was grim. He didn’t like disappointing the sheikh, she concluded. She doubted it was because Markaz was a demanding boss. He would be tough but fair, she assessed, having noted his courteous treatment of those assigned to serve him.
How had he come to marry an American, she wondered. Not that his personal life was any of her business. She was naturally curious. And why did his ex-wife want him to watch his back? The antiroyal forces in Nazaar were far less of a problem than in her parents’ time, or Simone would never have chosen to visit. Were they on the rise again as Markaz steered the country closer to full democracy?
He leaned toward her. “A short time ago the guards at the entrance to Al-Qasr observed a dark blue rental car speeding away with a man at the wheel and a woman apparently asleep in the passenger seat.”
Simone’s tension notched higher. “Natalie and Business Suit.”
He inclined his head. “Evidently.”
She pulled out the ring and pressed it into his hand beneath the table. “She wanted me to give you this.”
Recognition came swiftly. “It’s our class ring from Harvard. To alumni, the beaver is known as the brass rat.” He showed her a matching ring on his right hand.
Her disappointment showed. “Then the ring isn’t a message?”
He hesitated long enough to suggest that there was more to the ring than he was prepared to share with her. After being chased through the ruins with the item in her possession, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“The design is modified to reflect each class’s spirit and experiences. By sending our class ring, Natalie made sure her identity is in no doubt,” he said.
“Business Suit appeared before she could tell me any more, other than that your life is in danger.”
“As yours may well be now.”
Her startled gaze lifted to his. “But Fayed said the man left.”
“His people will want to know how much Natalie told you, and what you have shared with me. You should not return to your hotel tonight.”
This was more than she’d bargained for. “My bags are there and my passport’s in the hotel safe. Could you arrange their return, if I check in to another hotel?”
He looked amused and she had to remind herself of who and what he was. In Nazaar, he could do anything he wished. “One hotel is as risky as another.”
“Then where—”
He didn’t wait for her to finish. “Ideally I would have you placed on a flight home to Australia for your safety. But the airport is closed due to a bomb scare. Flights won’t be back to normal until tomorrow.”
She lifted her head. “In any case, I can’t leave yet. I have…business appointments,” she finished, knowing the explanation sounded lame. Instinct told her not to mention Yusef to the sheikh. He might not be so kindly disposed toward her if he knew she hoped to contact a former rebel. And she hadn’t come all this way to be packed off home without achieving her goal.
“No business appointment is worth your life.”
“You’re not leaving,” she pointed out, adding belatedly, “Your Highness.”
His wry smile acknowledged the title. “In my position, danger is a part of life. However, the influence of the rebels is waning. They are the ones fighting for their lives now.”
“Desperate people have been known to do desperate things.”
“True, and you have attracted their attention.”
She spread her hands wide. “What can I do?”
“Return with my party to the palace at Raisa where you will be under royal protection until it is safe for you to leave the country.”
Excitement bubbled through her, warring with an awareness of danger. She told herself she was excited because her chances of finding Yusef among the royal guard had greatly improved. Not because she would be spending more time around Markaz. “I appreciate the offer,” she said.
Again that maddening half smile played around his sensuous mouth, as if she were a child he was indulging. “You may consider it an offer if you wish.”
As long as she did as he commanded, she read between the lines, her hackles rising. She disliked being ordered around. But if the rebels had Natalie, Simone didn’t plan on being their next victim. There was only one possible response. “Thank you. I accept your offer.”
Chapter 3
Markaz kept her at his side as they made their way back to the waiting fleet of cars. If the situation hadn’t been so nerve-racking, she would have enjoyed the ripples her appearance with the sheikh caused among the onlookers.
There were advantages to being under royal protection, she decided. Not only did she feel less vulnerable having Markaz’s guards around her, she felt like a celebrity. Unlike back home, there’d be no tabloid headlines speculating about the sheikh’s mystery woman tomorrow. Nazaar might be edging toward democracy, but the media still treated the royal family with deference.
She had expected to ride in one of the following cars with members of the sheikh’s entourage, but Markaz indicated she was to ride with him in the vehicle flying the royal standard. As they approached, a driver opened the door for them and Markaz gestured for her to get in. She hesitated. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Are you worried about your image or mine?” he asked dryly. Before she could answer, he added, “It’s a little late to trouble yourself about either one. The gossip mills will already be working overtime.”
So Nazaar had its version of the tabloids,
