told me about the hidden room.”
“I always loved that story. I wanted Falah to build me a room, but he told me it had already been done.”
“Not so romantic, then.” But then a king had to have a practical streak, just like a prince.
“Well...actually...”
“Oh, tell me.”
The melecha smiled with obviously fond reminiscence. “He took me to a European castle for our honeymoon.”
“You live in a palace.”
“He bought me the castle and a title to go with it.”
“Being queen wasn’t enough?” Liyah teased.
“It was something that was just for me, not Zeena Sahra.” Queen Durrah smiled softly. “That castle became our refuge after Umar’s death, a place we could take Sayed and simply be a family.”
“A place he could still be a boy and play freely,” Liyah said softly.
The queen nodded. “And in safety.”
* * *
Liyah was still thinking about her visit with Queen Durrah when Hasiba arrived to tell her the driver was waiting with the car.
“Where is Sayed?” Liyah asked Hasiba with some trepidation, worried the older woman would have decided Liyah took advantage again.
“I believe it is supposed to come as a surprise,” Hasiba said with a conspiratorial smile.
“Okay.”
Hasiba reached for Liyah before she left the suite. “I am truly sorry about before. My emir has never been so happy as since meeting you. Even back in London, though none of us understood his dreamy preoccupation was not with his coming nuptials but the woman that would steal his heart.”
If only that were true. “Thank you, Hasiba. Your support means so much.”
The older woman pulled Liyah into a tight hug. “You will be a wonderful emira.”
Liyah would do her best.
The limo ride into the city only took about twenty minutes, but it was the longest twenty minutes of her life. It ended when they pulled up in front of an elegant hotel.
A man dressed in a dark kameez rushed forward to lead Liyah inside and to an old-fashioned cage elevator.
Sayed was waiting beside a table set on a dais in the center of the large and very full dining room of the hotel’s rooftop restaurant.
He wore a men’s dishdasha in the same crimson shade as Liyah’s. Though with the elaborate gold embroidery on her chiffon outer dress, Liyah’s was a lot fancier.
His black abayah had more moderate masculine embroidery in the same crimson shade. His egal was the ceremonial black shot with gold and his keffiyeh the color of the royal house, as well.
“You look like the emir,” she said in a near-whisper as she took his hand to step up on the dais.
“But you remember always the man underneath the robes,” he said with pure satisfaction.
“Yes.”
His smile was blinding as he helped her into her chair.
Dinner was amazing, Sayed in top form, practically oozing charm.
Though they consumed no alcohol, she felt tipsy on hope by the time dessert arrived. Several photographs had already been taken throughout the evening, everyone at the tables around them smiling and nodding as if they were as much a part of what was to come as Liyah and Sayed.
Maybe they were.
Sayed would always serve his people with his whole heart.
Sayed waited until the dessert dishes had been taken away before he rose from his chair only to drop to one knee beside hers.
Even knowing he was prompted by the need to prevent more scandal, and maybe save some face in the wake of Tahira’s defection, Liyah was overwhelmed with emotion.
“Aaliyah Amari, will you do me the very great honor of agreeing to become my emira and lead the people of Zeena Sahra by my side?”
His words put the weight of reality on this fantasy moment. Sayed was putting more trust in her than she could imagine. He wasn’t just asking because it was expedient.
He had to believe in Liyah as a person to trust her with the position of his emira, much less his wife.
“Liyah?” he prompted softly, typically not sounding worried, but patient.
She smiled, feeling the hot track of tears on her cheeks. She hadn’t even known she was crying. “Yes, oh, yes, Sayed. I want that more than anything.”
“I am so pleased.” Then showing the influence of many years spent living in the States, he leaned forward and sealed the deal with a kiss.
The restaurant erupted into applause, camera flashes going from phones as well as reporters strategically waiting in the wings.
Liyah didn’t care. If sharing her life with Sayed meant sharing it with the rest of the world, too, then so be it.
As he leaned back, she whispered quietly for his ears alone, “I love you. I just thought you should know.”
His dark eyes heated and filled with definite pleasure. “Thank you. I will always treasure that gift.”
She hadn’t expected him to return the words. Liyah knew Sayed didn’t love her, but his genuine appreciation of her feelings gave her hope for the future and certainty that even if he never fell in love with her, she would always have his regard and consideration.
This man would always be faithful―his “three-year drought” proved that―but just as importantly, he valued her affection. He would not take Liyah’s love for granted, even if he never returned it.
* * *
Sayed waited for the video call to connect. He’d sent Yusuf to London the day before with an envelope to deliver to Gene Chatsfield.
The call connected and Gene’s distinguished features filled Sayed’s screen. “Sheikh Sayed, to what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Yusuf has delivered my package.”
“If you mean this...” The older man lifted the heavy-duty envelope sealed with Sayed’s royal family symbol set in crimson wax. “Yes.”
“Inside you will find several papers.”
Gene’s confusion was apparent, but he seemed too preoccupied to be nervous. “Shall I open it, then?”
“Yes.”
Gene’s face paled as he read the
