on his mother’s face if he were found out. Prince Sharif stared at him with an enigmatic smile on his face, one dark eyebrow raised, his lips curled as if he owned the world. And as if he could read Cade’s discomfort with the trap he’d gotten himself jammed in.
Cade’s gaze shifted to the golden trap named Serena. He was stuck with this lovely woman. From the frantic, frightened look on her face, he figured they were both roped into a corral neither of them wanted to share.
Maybe it was the oh-no-he’s-going-to-eat-me look on Serena’s face that drove him to do what he sensed she didn’t want him to do. But he was a prince, and that meant he could kiss his bride if he wanted to, and somehow he’d gotten himself tangled up in this rope, and by jimmy, she could just share his misery.
Cade put his lips against the startled princess’s. Like beating butterfly wings spreading apart, her mouth opened under his.
All Cade could think of when he felt her compliant surrender was that after all the years his mother had dragged him to church, he finally understood what King Solomon had been so excited about when he’d written his famous Song of Solomon.
As impossible as it seemed, as wrong as it should have been to touch the princess intended for his brother, kissing Serena Al Farid made Cade feel like a powerful and wealthy-beyond-measure king.
Serena Wilson-Al Farid was a treasure.
Chapter Four
“My spies tell me that the marriage is done,” Layla informed Azzam, “and the fact that we were not invited is insulting.”
“None were invited,” Azzam consoled her. “Put it from your mind.”
“I can’t.” Layla was festering inside. Azzam’s lack of concern for the situation distressed her to the point of pressing him. “Azzam, you trust Zak too much!”
Azzam shrugged. “I truly don’t have the thirst for intrigue that I once did.”
“I do,” she replied, her voice bitter. “The throne of Sorajhee is the only prize left to me in my old age and I would see the jewel polished more brightly.”
“You speak like a foolish old woman.”
Pride mixed with impatience stirred up a vicious cocktail inside Layla. “You would not speak so if you knew everything I have done to protect what is rightfully yours! How can you even speak of allowing Zakariyya to take it from you?”
Azzam’s eyes narrowed on her. “I doubt the wisdom in not exacting a punishment for your previous schemes. What have you done for me, besides be a choking bone in my throat with your constant demands for more power? More of everything? You wear me out, woman. No wonder I spend more time than ever in the comparative peace of my harem.”
Layla cloaked herself inside her robe, drawing the cloth tight against her body, a shield against his scorn. The beginning of hatred for her husband ate into her soul. What a blow to her pride that, after all the years she’d worked to make certain no Coleman-El Jeveds made a claim to the throne, one had apparently appeared like a bad dream from the past to do just that. She should have done more than convince Azzam to put Rose into a sanitarium and steal Rose’s one son away from her. She should have demanded to see the bodies of the three other Coleman-El Jeved princes when they were rumored to have died. But she’d been so certain that having Rose shut away would end any future threat to Azzam ascending to the throne. “I will take my leave of you now,” she said frostily as she bowed to Azzam. “If you will grant me so.”
He shrugged, losing interest in his petulant wife.
With that cool dismissal, Layla swept from the room. Fool not to see the danger under your very nose, Azzam!
But she did. And it was up to her to make certain that nothing stood in between her and the prize she coveted above all.
Balahar.
Fortunately, she had a few moves left to her. If the marriage was not consummated tonight, it would not be a legal and biding union. She had learned that the American was on his way to a neighboring country.
Between now and the time he departed, Serena’s new husband would find it very difficult to consummate the royal marriage.
She smiled to herself, and thanked Allah for inhibiting potions and loyal spies.
SERENA AND CADE sat beside each other at a table draped with a lavish cloth and more food than they could eat. A robed servant stood behind them, anticipating their dining needs. Cade ignored the tea the servant moved closer to his plate. He didn’t need tea, or food for that matter.
What he needed was to talk to Serena, and she hadn’t uttered more than two words to him so far. Did she plan to ignore him?
“Guess you’re not too crazy about being married to me,” he stated mildly.
“I am positive I could say the same about you.” She gave him a frank look that plainly said she was being restrained.
“I have to say you’re a relief,” Cade began, thinking to compliment the princess. “I was afraid you’d be…”
“Ugly?” Serena supplied.
He grinned. “Maybe on the unattractive side.”
“I am glad you do not find me so. I, on the other hand, thought you’d be a white and pasty American. I, too, find you a relief.”
Cade straightened. “You had to have known my family history. My father was Arab.”
“You are still darker than I expected.” Her eyes followed a trail of bare skin at his neck, and then skipped the covering of the robe to examine his hands. “And not the spoiled good-for-nothing playboy I was expecting. You have the hands of a man who works hard.”
“You watch too many American TV shows,” Cade said with a smile. The servant had moved the tea glass yet closer to his plate, and Cade pushed it away. “What other misconception can I clear up for you?”
“I have to be honest with you, Prince Makin,” Serena said, startling Cade with the subject of honesty and reminding him that he had a little truth he needed to share with her as well. “I dreamed of choosing a prince of my own, an Arabian of royal birth. I love it here in Balahar and would not wish to leave. I am far more Arab than I am American.”
“I’m far more American than I am Arab.” He thought about that. There was no way Mac was going to live in Balahar: he wouldn’t be happy here at all. Cade thought palace life would try his patience after more than a few days. “I think you’re going to end up living in America again, Princess.”
“I do not wish to leave my people.”
“You married me,” he said bluntly. “What did you expect?”
“Frankly, I expected you were marrying me to be in line for the throne.”
“Nope.” He pushed the goblet away for a final time, looking up at the servant. “Take the tea away. I do not want it.”
The servant jumped to remove the glass, his expression concerned. Cade couldn’t explain it, but something about the servant
