not anyone, you’re very free with your opinions. Come with me.”
He started walking without once glancing back to see if she was keeping up with him. Maggie entertained a brief thought at ducking away, then she reminded herself she lived at the palace. Total escape was impossible and she really did want to keep her job.
The king stopped and motioned her forward.
“Do you know any of these people?” he asked.
She looked at the unfamiliar faces, then shook her head.
What followed was a rapid set of introductions to people she’d only read about in the newspaper, including two American senators, a impossibly thin starlet and the Russian ambassador to El Deharia.
Maggie murmured greetings and tried to ignore the fact that she was barefoot. Thank God her gown trailed onto the floor and no one could see. Still, she couldn’t help covering one foot with the other, as if to hide the truth.
Conversation flowed for a few minutes, ranging from a recent Grand Prix time trial to the continuing rise in oil prices. Maggie kept her mouth firmly closed and wished for someone to rescue her. Unfortunately she was on her own.
Then the Russian ambassador, a handsome older man, smiled at her. “May I have this dance, Miss Collins?”
Everyone looked at her. Maggie did her best not to blush. “Thank you, sir. It would be a pleasure.”
At least she hoped it would be. If he danced as well as Qadir, she wouldn’t have a problem.
He took her hand and led her to the dance floor. The music began and they were moving together. It wasn’t as easy as it had been with Qadir, and not nearly as exciting, but she didn’t step on him or stumble.
“You are friends with the king?” he asked.
“We’ve just met.”
“So you are not his mistress?”
Maggie did stumble over that. She steadied herself. “No.” The next word should have been ick but that wasn’t appropriate. “I work here, at the palace, Mr. Ambassador.”
“I see. You may call me Vlad.”
Did she have to?
“I am a powerful man, Maggie. We could be good for each other.”
Her shock must have showed because he chuckled. “You are surprised by my honesty?”
Not exactly, she thought. Was it just her or was the whole thing really tacky?
“Mr. Ambassador—”
“Vlad.”
She ignored that. “Mr. Ambassador, I’m afraid you have the wrong idea about me.”
She had plenty more she wanted to say, but just then Qadir appeared at her side. “Maggie. There you are. Our dance is next.” He smiled at the Russian. “Do you mind if I cut in?”
Vlad stepped back. “Of course not.”
Qadir drew her against him. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
He waited. She sighed. “I think he was coming on to me. I’m not sure.”
“He was.”
“Yuck.”
Qadir laughed. “He would not be flattered by your reaction.”
“I barely know the man.”
“He is powerful. For many women that is enough.”
Then those women needed to get a life, she thought. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“You can start with no. That usually works.”
“I’ll remember that.” Not that she was likely to run into any more ambassadors. “How was your dance with Sabrina?”
Qadir’s gaze narrowed. “Are you mocking me?”
“Maybe a little. But she is a known breeder.”
He moved them off the dance floor and out onto a balcony. The stone floor was cool on her bare feet.
“For you this situation is amusing,” he grumbled. “For me it is anything but. I do not want an arranged marriage to a sensible young woman from a good family.”
“Then what do you want?”
Qadir didn’t answer. Was it that he didn’t know or was he simply not prepared to share his private thoughts with her?
“Can the king force you into marriage?” she asked instead.
“No. But he can be difficult.”
“He cares about you and it’s not totally crazy that he wants his sons married. I’m sure he’s more than ready for grandchildren.”
“You’re taking his side?” Qadir asked.
“No. I’m pointing out that while his tactics are a little obvious, he means well. He cares, which should be worth something.”
“If he were to turn his considerable interest on getting you married, I suspect you would change your mind.”
“Maybe,” she murmured thinking she wouldn’t mind a little meddling from her own father. It would mean he was still around to bug her. Right now that sounded lovely.
“So he wants a good breeder,” she said, “and you want to fall in love?”
“Love is not required. I would settle for mutual respect and shared interests.”
Neither sounded very romantic, Maggie thought, but then she wasn’t royal. She wanted a lot more than that. Passion, excitement. She wanted to be swept away. She wanted a deep love that would last forever.
Qadir walked around the edge of the dance floor, both watching Maggie dance with his cousin and avoiding Sabrina, Natalie and any other woman of whom his father would approve.
Nadim danced with Maggie as he did everything in his life—with great competence and little real interest.
Nadim was sensible. In truth he lacked personality. Even as a child, Nadim had been boring.
Qadir, As’ad and Kateb had been close, always getting into trouble together, playing tricks on unsuspecting palace staff and causing their father to constantly threaten them with banishment. Nadim had always followed the rules.
Even now, as the song ended, Nadim bowed politely to Maggie, then turned away, never once noticing her bare feet or the way she adjusted her dress to make sure no one caught sight of her toes.
His gaze shifted to the left where he saw Natalie—or was it Sabrina?—glancing
