to make a habit of all the torture Victoria had put her through.
“I like your country,” she said. “The parts I’ve seen are very beautiful.”
“The city is more modern than many parts of El Deharia. Out in the desert the people still live as they once did.”
“I think I like my modern conveniences too much for that,” she admitted.
“I agree. One of my brothers has chosen to live there permanently, but not me. I, too, want my conveniences.”
They moved together in time with the music, swaying and sliding and turning together. She stumbled once, but he caught her against him. Then they were touching from shoulder to knee, pressed intimately as they moved.
She raised her gaze to his, not sure if this was allowed or appropriate. He was a prince, after all. But he didn’t seem to mind and she found herself enjoying the contact, maybe more than she should.
It was the dance, she told herself. The night, not the man. But the faint tingles in the pit of her stomach warned her that maybe it was the man. Just a little.
“Are you homesick?” he asked.
“Not tonight.”
“But other days?”
“A little. I think being here has been good for me.”
“New adventures?”
She nodded. Tonight was certainly that.
The song ended. Maggie felt a jolt of disappointment as Qadir released her, followed by a distinct coolness. As if all the warmth had faded away.
She found herself wanting him to pull her close again. She’d liked being in his arms.
Victoria’s words of warning flashed into her brain. While Maggie didn’t agree that she led with her heart, she was smart enough to realize that regardless of how good Qadir looked in a tux and how much she’d liked dancing with him, he was light-years out of her league. All tingles aside, nothing was going to happen.
She started to excuse herself when they were interrupted by a tall, older man who looked oddly familiar.
“There you are,” the man said. “I’ve been looking for you.” “Father, may I introduce Maggie Collins. Maggie, my father, King Mukhtar of El Deharia.”
Chapter Four
K-king? As in king?
Maggie stood frozen, not sure if she should curtsy—not that she knew how—or bolt. Worse, she was barefoot. She couldn’t meet the king when she wasn’t wearing shoes.
“Lovely to meet you,” the king said, not even looking at her. “Qadir, I want you to meet Sabrina and her sister Natalie. Their uncle is a duke. British, of course. Well-educated.” The king moved closer to Qadir and lowered his voice. “Pretty enough, they seem to have decent heads on their shoulders. Their older sister already has two children, so we know they’re breeders.”
Maggie still couldn’t move but the shock had been replaced by humor. She was terrified that if she did anything at all, she would break out into hysterical laughter.
It wasn’t just the king’s matter-of-fact description of the two potential brides that made her want to giggle—it was the look of long-suffering on Qadir’s face.
Apparently being a prince had more than its share of stresses.
When she was sure she could control herself, she eased back, pausing only to look at the two young women hovering just out of earshot. They were pretty, she thought humorously, and hey, known breeders. When one had to worry about the continuation of the royal line, that was probably important.
She was about to turn away when Qadir glanced at her. “You’re not leaving.” It sounded a whole lot more like a command than a question.
“Um, surely you want to dance with one of the duke’s nieces,” she murmured. “Sabrina is especially lovely.”
“Exactly,” the king said, smiling at her. “That’s what I thought.”
Qadir stepped closer to her and spoke quietly. “You have no idea which one is Sabrina.”
“They’re both very pretty. And reasonably intelligent. What more could you ask for?”
He started to say something else, but his father pulled him away.
Maggie took another step back as she watched the introductions. She was willing to admit to a slight twinge of envy, but this was for the best. Better to remember who Qadir was and where he was going than to allow a single dance to mess with her head.
Still, it had been a very nice dance, she thought wistfully. It had reminded her she was still alive and capable of tingles. Which probably meant she was nearly over Jon. A good thing, if a little sad.
She watched as Qadir spoke with both women, then led one off to dance.
“Good luck,” she murmured. “It’s not going to work.”
Unfortunately as she spoke, the music faded and one of the sisters—Natalie, she would guess—flounced away.
“What is not going to work?” the king asked Maggie.
“I, ah—” She looked around frantically for a way to escape. “Ah, nothing.”
“It is not nothing. It is important that all my sons marry. As they seem to be in no hurry to find a bride on their own, I am forced to interfere.”
Maggie remembered what Victoria had said about the beheading and hoped the other woman had been kidding.
“You can’t lead a woman to him like that,” she said cautiously. “Not that your choices aren’t lovely, lovely young women.”
The king glared at her. “I assume you have a reason for saying that.”
“Because men like the chase.” Jon had told her all about it several times. They’d laughed about his friends and their disastrous love lives, secure in the comfort of their own relationship. “Did you see the movie Jurassic Park?”
“No.”
“You should rent it. Or have it delivered or something. Men are like the T-Rex. They don’t want their next meal handed to them. They want to hunt it down. By meal I mean—”
“Women. Yes, I understand the analogy.” He looked out at the couples dancing then turned back to her. “You’re sure of this?”
“Sort of.” At the moment she wasn’t sure of anything except she really wanted to be done talking to the king.
“Who is he hunting now? You?”
“What? No. No. Not at all. I work for him.”
The king frowned. “Doing what?”
“Restoring
