asked.
“Yes.” He smiled. “She will be most displeased.”
She would argue and fume and call him names. She would continue to defy him. Despite all that had gone on before—what she had done and what he had yet to forgive—he found himself looking forward to the encounter.
Daphne discovered her luggage in one of the largest bedrooms in the harem. The sleeping quarters consisted of several private rooms, reserved for those in favor with the king, and large dormitory-like rooms with ten or twelve beautiful beds lined up against the thick walls.
She doubted there was any furniture newer than a hundred years old. Handmade rugs covered the tiled floors in the sleeping rooms, while carved and gilded pieces of furniture added to the decor.
She ignored the suitcases and instead walked close to the walls. No one could have come in through the main door to deliver her luggage—she would have seen. Which meant there was a secret passage and door. The getting in didn’t interest her as much as the getting out.
When a careful exploration of the rough walls didn’t reveal any hidden doorway, she moved to the hall. It had to be somewhere. She felt around furniture and baseboards, paying particular attention to the inner walls. Still she found nothing.
“I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to keeping checking,” she said aloud as she paused in front of a French door that led to a massive walled garden.
Daphne stepped out into the late-afternoon sun and breathed in the scent of the lush plant life. There were trees and shrubs, tiny flowers and huge birds of paradise. A narrow path led through the garden, while stone benches offered a place to sit and reflect. Fluttering movement caught her attention, and she glanced up in time to see two parrots fly across the open area.
“Their loud cries cover the sound of women’s voices.”
Daphne spun toward the speaker and saw Murat standing behind her. He still wore his suit and his imperious expression. She hated that he was the most handsome man she’d ever met and that, instead of being furious, she actually felt a little tingle of pleasure at seeing him.
Betrayed by her hormones, she thought in disgust. While leaving him ten years ago had been completely sensible, it had taken her far too long to stop loving him. Even the pain of knowing he hadn’t cared enough to come after her hadn’t made the recovery any shorter.
“Many of the parrots here are quite old,” he continued. “But there is a single breeding pair that has given us a new generation.”
“You no longer have women in the harem. Why do you keep the parrots?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes there is difficulty in letting go of the old ways. But you are not interested in our traditions. You wish to berate me and tell me what I can and cannot do.” He nodded. “You may begin now if you wish.”
Suspicious of his motives, she studied him. But his dark eyes and chiseled features gave nothing away. Still, that didn’t stop her from wanting to know what was going to happen.
“What are you going to do about Brittany?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
Like she believed that. “Are you ordering the jet to turn around?”
“No. Despite what you think of me, I will not force my bride to present herself. She will be here in time.”
Daphne glared at him. “No, she won’t. Brittany isn’t going to marry you.”
He dismissed her with a flick of his hand. “The gardens have grown since you were last here. Do you remember? You were quite enchanted with the idea of the harem and disappointed that we no longer used it for its original purpose.”
“I was not,” she protested. “I think it’s terrible that women were kept locked up for the sole purpose of offering sexual pleasure for the king.”
He smiled. “So you say now. But I distinctly recall how you found the idea exciting. You asked endless questions.”
Daphne felt heat on her cheeks. Okay, maybe she had been a little interested in the workings of the harem. Ten years ago she’d been all of twenty and a virtual innocent in the ways of the world. Everything about the palace had intrigued her. Especially Murat.
“I’m over it now,” she said. “How long do you intend to keep me here?”
“I have not yet decided.”
“My family will come to my rescue. You must know they have substantial political power.”
He didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by the threat.
“What I know,” he said, “is that their ambitions have not changed. They still wish for a Snowden female to marry royalty.”
She couldn’t argue that. First her parents had pushed her at Murat, and now her own sister pushed Brittany.
“I’m not like them,” she said.
“How true.” He glanced at his watch. “Dinner is at seven. Please dress appropriately.”
She laughed. “And if I don’t want to have dinner with you?”
He raised one eyebrow. “The choice has never been yours, Daphne. When will you finally learn that? Besides, you do want to dine with me. You have many questions. I see them in your eyes.”
With that he turned and left.
“Annoying man,” she muttered when she was alone again. Worse, he was right. She had questions—lots of them. And a burning desire to deal with the unfinished business between them.
As for the man himself…time had changed him, but it had not erased her interest in the only man she had ever loved.
Chapter Three
D aphne stood in front of her open suitcase and stared down at the contents. While a part of her wanted to ignore Murat’s demand that she “dress appropriately” for their dinner, another part of her liked the idea of looking so fabulous that she would leave him speechless. It was a battle between principles and beauty and she already knew which would win.
After sorting through the contents of her luggage, she withdrew a simple sleeveless dress and carried it into the bathroom. She would let it hang in the steam while she showered. She plugged in the electric curlers she’d already unpacked, then pinned up her hair and stepped into the shower.
Fifteen minutes later she emerged all cleaned and buffed and smoothed. The bath towels provided were big enough to carpet an entire room. An array of cosmetics and skin-care products filled the cabinets by the huge mirror and vanity.
Everywhere she looked she saw marble, gold, carved wood or beveled glass. How many women had stood in front of this mirror and prepared to meet a member of the royal family? What kind of stories had these walls witnessed? How much laughter? How many tears? Under other circumstances she could enjoy her stay in this historical part of the palace.
“Who am I kidding?” she murmured as she unpinned her hair and
