Midnight in the Desert: Jewel in His Crown / Not Fit for a King? / Her Desert Prince

‘There’s no room for titles and such things in my life,’ she said gently, reluctant to cause offence by being any more blunt. ‘I’m a very ordinary girl.’

‘But that is exactly what our people would like most about you. We are a country of ordinary hard-working people,’ Wajid declared with ringing pride. ‘You are the only heir to the throne of Ashur and you must take your rightful place.’

Ruby’s soft pink lips parted in astonishment. ‘Let me get this straight—you are asking me to come out to Ashur and live there as a princess?’

‘Yes. That is why we are here, to make you aware of your position and to bring you home.’ Wajid spread his arms expansively to emphasise his enthusiasm for the venture.

A good deal less expressive, Ruby tensed and shook her fair head in a quiet negative motion. ‘Ashur is not my home. Nobody in the royal family has even seen me since I left the country as a baby. There has been no contact and no interest.’

The older man looked grave. ‘That is true, but the tragedies that have almost wiped out the Shakarian family have ensured that everything has changed. You are now a very important person in Ashur, a princess, the daughter of a recent king and the niece of another, with a strong legal claim to the throne—’

‘But I don’t want to claim the throne, and in any case I do know enough about Ashur to know that women don’t rule there,’ Ruby cut in, her impatience growing, for she felt she was being fed a rather hypocritical official line that was a whitewash of the less palatable truth. ‘I’m quite sure there is some man hovering in the wings ready to do the ruling in Ashur.’

The court advisor would have squirmed with dismay had he not possessed the carriage of a man with an iron bar welded to his short spine. Visibly, however, he stiffened even more. ‘You are, of course, correct when you say that women do not rule in Ashur. Our country has long practised male preference primogeniture—’

‘So I am really not quite as important as you would like to make out?’ Ruby marvelled that he could ever have believed she might be so ignorant of the hereditary male role of kingship in Ashur. After all, hadn’t her poor mother’s marriage ended in tears and divorce thanks to those strict rules? Her father had taken another wife in a desperate attempt to have a son.

Placed in an awkward spot when he had least expected it, Wajid reddened and revised up his assumptions about the level of the princess’s intelligence. ‘I am sorry to contradict you but you are unquestionably a very important young woman in the eyes of our people. Without you there can be no King,’ he admitted baldly.

‘Excuse me?’ Her fine brows were pleating. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.’

Wajid hesitated. ‘Ashur and Najar are to be united and jointly ruled by a marriage between the two royal families. That was integral to the peace terms that were agreed to at the end of the war.’

Ruby froze at that grudging explanation and resisted the urge to release an incredulous laugh, for she suddenly grasped what her true value was to this stern little man. They needed a princess to marry off, a princess who could claim to be in line to the throne of Ashur. And here she was young and single. Nothing personal or even complimentary as such in her selection, she reflected with a stab of resentment and regret. It did, however, make more sense to her that she was only finally being acknowledged in Ashur as a member of the royal family because there was nobody else more suitable available.

‘I didn’t know that arranged marriages still took place in Ashur.’

‘Mainly within the royal family,’ Wajid conceded grudgingly. ‘Sometimes parents know their children better than their children know themselves.’

‘Well, I no longer have parents to make that decision for me. In any case, my father never took the time to get to know me at all. I’m afraid you’re wasting your time here, Mr Sulieman. I don’t want to be a princess and I don’t want to marry a stranger, either. I’m quite content with my life as it is.’ Rising to her feet to indicate that she felt it was time that her visitors took their leave, Ruby felt sorry enough for the older man in his ignorance of contemporary Western values to offer him a look of sympathy. ‘These days few young women would be attracted by an arrangement of that nature.’

Long after the limousine had disappeared from view Ruby and Stella sat discussing the visit.

‘A princess?’ Stella kept on repeating, studying the girl she had known from primary school with growing fascination. ‘And you honestly didn’t know?’

‘I don’t think they can have wanted Mum to know,’ Ruby offered evenly. ‘After the divorce my father and his family were happy for her to leave Ashur and from then on they preferred to pretend that she and I didn’t exist.’

‘I wonder what the guy they want you to marry is like,’ Stella remarked, twirling her dark fringe with dreamy eyes, her imagination clearly caught.

‘If he’s anything like as callous as my father I’m not missing anything. My father was willing to break Mum’s heart to have a son and no doubt the man they want me to marry would do anything to become King of Ashur—’

‘The guy has to be from the other country, right?’

‘Najar? Must be. Probably some ambitious poor relation of their royal family looking for a leg up the ladder,’ Ruby contended with rich cynicism, her scorn unconcealed.

‘I’m not sure I would have been so quick to send your visitors packing. I mean, if you leave the husband out of it, being a princess might have been very exciting.’

‘There was nothing exciting about Ashur,’ Ruby assured her friend with a guilty wince at still being bitter about the country that had rejected her, for she had recognised Wajid Sulieman’s sincere love for his country and the news of that awful trail of family deaths had been sobering and had left her feeling sad.

After a normal weekend during which her impressions of that astounding visit from the court advisor faded a little, Ruby went back to work. She had met up with Steve briefly on the Saturday afternoon and had told him that their relationship was over. He had taken it badly and had texted her repeatedly since then, alternately asking for another chance and then truculently criticising her and demanding to know what was wrong with him. She began ignoring the texts, wishing she had never gone out with him in the first place. He was acting a bit obsessive for a man she had only dated for a few weeks.

‘Men always go mad over you,’ Stella had sighed enviously when the texts started coming through again at breakfast, which the girls snatched standing up in the tiny kitchen. ‘I know Steve’s being a nuisance but I wouldn’t mind the attention.’

‘That kind of attention you’d be welcome to,’ Ruby declared without hesitation and she felt the same at work when her phone began buzzing before lunchtime with more messages, for she had nothing left to say to Steve.

A tall guy with luxuriant black hair strode through the door. There was something about him that immediately grabbed attention and Ruby found herself helplessly staring. Maybe it was his clothes, which stood out in a town where decent suits were only seen at weddings and then usually hired. He wore a strikingly elegant dark business suit that would have looked right at home in a designer advertisement in an exclusive magazine. It was perfectly modelled on his tall, well-built frame and long powerful legs. His razor-edged cheekbones were perfectly chiselled too, and as for those eyes, deep set, dark as sloes and brooding. Wow, Ruby thought for the very first time in her life as she looked at a man….

CHAPTER TWO

WHEN Prince Raja walked into the solicitor’s office, Ruby was the first person he saw and indeed, in spite of the number of other people milling about the busy reception area, pretty much the only person he saw. The pretty schoolgirl in the holiday snap had grown into a strikingly beautiful woman with a tumbling mane of blonde hair, sparkling eyes and a soft, full mouth that put him in mind of a succulent peach.

‘You are Ruby Shakarian?’ the prince asked as a tall, even more powerfully built man came through the door behind him to station himself several feet away.

‘I don’t use that surname.’ Ruby frowned, wondering how many more royal dignitaries she would have to deflect before they got the hint and dropped this ridiculous idea that she was a princess. ‘Where did you get it from?’

‘Wajid Sulieman gave it to me and asked me to speak to you on his behalf. Shakarian is your family name,’ Raja pointed out with an irrefutable logic that set her small white teeth on edge.

‘I’m at work right now and not in a position to speak to you.’ But Ruby continued to study him covertly, absorbing the lush black lashes semi-screening those mesmerising eyes, the twin slashes of his well-marked ebony brows, the smooth olive-toned skin moulding his strong cheekbones and the faint dark shadow of stubble accentuating his strong jaw and wide, sensual lips. Her prolonged scrutiny only served to confirm her original assessment that he was a stunningly beautiful man. Her heart was hammering so hard inside her chest that she felt seriously short of breath. It was a reaction that thoroughly infuriated her, for Ruby had always prided herself on her armour-plated indifference around men and the role of admirer was new to her.

‘Aren’t you going for lunch yet?’ one of her co-workers enquired, walking past her desk.

‘We could have lunch,’ Raja pronounced, pouncing on the idea with relief.

Since his private jet had wafted him to Yorkshire and the cool spring temperature that morning, Prince Raja had felt rather like an alien set down on a strange planet. He was not used to small towns and checking into a third-rate local hotel had not improved his mood. He was cold, he was on edge and he did not relish the task foisted on him.

‘If you’re connected to that Wajid guy, no thanks to lunch,’ Ruby pronounced as she got to her feet and reached for her bag regardless because she always went home at lunchtime.

The impression created by her seemingly long legs in that photo had been deceptive, for she was much smaller than Raja had expected and the top of her head barely reached halfway up his chest. Startled by that difference and bemused by that hitch in his concentration, Raja frowned. ‘Connected?’ he queried, confused by her use of the word.

‘If you want to talk about the same thing that Wajid did, I’ve already heard all I need to hear on that subject,’ Ruby extended ruefully. ‘I mean …’ she leant purposefully closer, not wishing to be overheard, and her intonation was gently mocking ‘… do I look like a princess to you?’

‘You look like a goddess,’ the prince heard himself say, speaking his thoughts out loud in a manner that was most unusual for him. His jaw tensed, for he would have preferred not to admit that her dazzling oval face had reminded him of a poster of a film star he recalled from his time serving with the Najari armed forces.

‘A goddess?’ Equally taken aback, Ruby suddenly grinned, dimples adorning her rounded cheeks. ‘Well, that’s a new one. Not something any of the men I know would come up with anyway.’

In the face of that glorious smile, Raja’s fluent English vocabulary seized up entirely. ‘Lunch,’ he pronounced again stiltedly.

On the brink of saying no, Ruby recognised Steve waiting outside the door and almost groaned out loud. She knew the one infallible way of shaking a man off was generally to let him see her in the company of another. ‘Lunch,’ Ruby agreed abruptly, and she planted a determined hand on Raja’s sleeve as if to take control of the situation. ‘But first I have to go home and take my dog out.’

Raja was taken aback by that sudden physical contact, for people were never so familiar in the presence of royalty, and his breath rasped between his lips. ‘That is acceptable.’

‘Who is that guy over there watching us?’ Ruby asked in a suspicious whisper, long blonde hair brushing his shoulder and releasing a tide of perfume as fragrant as summer flowers into the air.

‘One of my bodyguards.’ Raja advanced with the relaxed attitude of a male who took a constant security presence entirely for granted. ‘My car is waiting outside.’

The bodyguard went out first, looked to either side, almost bumping into Steve, and then spread the door wide again for their exit.

‘Ruby?’ Steve questioned, frowning at the tall dark male by her side as she emerged. ‘Who is this guy? Where are you going with him?’

‘I don’t have anything more to say to you, Steve,’ Ruby stated firmly.

‘I have a right to ask who this guy is!’ Steve snapped argumentatively, his face turning an angry red below his fair, floppy fringe.

‘You have no rights over me at all,’ Ruby told him in exasperation.

As Steve moved forward the prince made an almost infinitesimal signal with one hand and suddenly a big bodyguard was blocking the younger man’s attempt to get closer to Ruby. At the same time the other bodyguard had whipped open the passenger door to a long sleek limousine.

‘I can’t possibly get into a car with a stranger,’ Ruby objected, trying not to stare at the sheer size and opulence of the car and its interior.

Raja was unaccustomed to meeting with such suspicious treatment and it off-balanced him for it was not what he had expected from her. In truth he had expected her to scramble eagerly into the limo and gush about the built-in bar while helping herself to his champagne like the usual women he dated. But if the angry lovelorn young man shouting Ruby’s name was typical of the men she met perhaps she was sensible to be mistrustful of his sex.

‘I live close by. I’ll walk back home first and meet you there.’ Ruby gave him her address and sped across the street at a smart pace, deliberately not turning her head or looking back when Steve called her name.

The prince watched her walk away briskly. The breeze blew back her hair in a glorious fan of golden strands and whipped pink into her pale cheeks. She had big eyes the colour of milk chocolate and the sort of lashes that graced cartoon characters in the films that Raja’s youngest relatives loved to watch. A conspicuously feminine woman, she had a small waist and fine curves above and below it. Great legs, delicate at ankle and knee. He wondered if Steve had lain between those legs and the shock of that startlingly intimate thought sliced through Raja as the limo wafted him past and he got a last look at her. A woman with a face and body like that would make an arranged marriage tempting to any hot-blooded male, he told himself impatiently. And just at that moment Raja’s blood was running very hot indeed and there was a heavy tightness at his groin that signified a rare loss of control for him.

Ruby took Hermione out on her lead and by the time she unlocked the front door again, with the little black and white dog trotting at her heels, the limousine was parked outside waiting for her. This time she noticed that as well as the bodyguard in the front passenger seat there was also a separate car evidently packed with bodyguards parked behind it. Why was so much security necessary? Who was this guy? For the first time it occurred to Ruby that this particular visitor had to be someone more important than Wajid Sulieman and his wife. Certainly he travelled in much greater style. Checking her watch then, she frowned. There really wasn’t time for her to have lunch with anyone and she dug out her phone to ring work and ask if she could take an extended lunch hour. The office manager advanced grudging agreement only after she promised to catch up with her work by staying later that evening.

As she stood in the doorway, Hermione having retreated to her furry basket in the living room, the passenger door of the limo was opened by one of the bodyguards. Biting her full lower lip in confusion, Ruby finally pulled the door of her home closed behind her and crossed the pavement.

‘I really do need to know who you are,’ she spelt out tautly.

For the first time in more years than he cared to recall, Raja had the challenge of introducing himself.

‘Raja and you’re a prince?’ she repeated blankly, his complex surname leaving her head as soon as she heard the unfamiliar syllables. ‘But who are you?’

His wide, sensual mouth quirked and he surrendered to the inevitable. ‘I’m the man Wajid Sulieman wants you to marry.’

And so great was the surprise of that admission that Ruby got into the car and sat back without further comment. This gorgeous guy was the man they wanted her to marry? He bore no resemblance whatsoever to her vague imaginings.

‘Obviously you’re from the other country, Najar,’ she specified, recovering her ready tongue. ‘A member of their royal family?’

‘I am acting Regent of Najar. My father, King Ahmed, suffered a serious stroke some years ago and is now an invalid. I carry out his role in public because he is no longer able to do so.’

Ruby grasped the fine distinction he was making. Although his father suffered from ill health the older man remained the power behind the throne, doubtless restricting his son’s ability to make his own decisions. Was that why Raja was willing to marry a stranger? Was he eager to assume power in Ashur where he could rule without his father’s interference? Ruby hated being so ignorant. But what did she know about the politics of power and influence within the two countries?

One thing was for sure, however, Raja was very far from being the poor and accommodating royal hangeron she had envisaged. Entrapped by her growing curiosity, she stole a long sidewise glance at him, noting the curling density of his lush black lashes, the high sculpted cheekbones that gave his profile such definition, the stubborn set of his masculine jaw line. Young, no more than thirty years of age at most, she estimated. Young, extremely good-looking and rich if the car and the security presence were anything to go by, she reasoned, all of which made it even harder for her to understand why he would be willing to even consider an arranged marriage.

‘Someone digs up a total stranger, who just happens to be a long-lost relative of the Shakarian family, and you’re immediately willing to marry her?’ she jibed.

‘I have very good reasons for my compliance and that is why I was willing to fly here to speak to you personally,’ Raja fielded with more than a hint of quelling ice in his deep, dark drawl and he waved a hand in a fluid gesture of emphasis that caught her attention. His movements were very graceful and yet amazingly masculine at the same time. He commanded her attention in a way she had never experienced before.

An involuntary flush at that reflection warmed Ruby’s cheeks, for in general aggressively male men irritated her. Her stepfather had been just such a man, full of sports repartee, beer and sexist comments while he perved on her behind closed doors. ‘Nothing you could say is likely to change my mind,’ she warned Raja ruefully.

Unsettled by the effect he had on her and feeling inordinately like an insecure teenager, Ruby lowered her eyes defensively and her gaze fell on the male leg positioned nearest to hers. The fine, expensive material of his tailored trousers outlined the lean, muscular power of his thigh while the snug fit over the bulge at his crotch defined his male attributes. As soon as she realised where her attention had lodged she glanced hurriedly away, her face hot enough to fry eggs on and shock reverberating through her, for it was the very first time she had looked at a man as if he were solely a sex object. When she thought of how she hated men checking her out she could only feel embarrassed.

The prince took her to the town’s only decent hotel for lunch. He attracted a good deal of attention there, particularly from women, Ruby registered with growing irritation. It didn’t help that he walked across the busy dining room like the royal prince that he was, emanating a positive force field of sleek sophistication and assurance that set him apart from more ordinary mortals. Beside him she felt seriously underdressed in her plain skirt and raincoat. She just knew the other female diners were looking at her and wondering what such a magnificent male specimen was doing with her. The head waiter seated them in a quiet alcove where, mercifully, Ruby felt less on show and more at ease.

While they ate, and the food was excellent, Raja began to tell her about the war between Najar and Ashur and the current state of recovery in her birth country. The whole time he talked her attention was locked on him. It was as if they were the only two people left on the planet. He shifted a shapely hand and she wondered what it would feel like to have that hand touching her body. The surprise of the thought made her face flame. She absorbed the velvet nuances of his accented drawl and recognised that he had a beautiful speaking voice.

But worst of all when she met the steady glitter of his dark, reflective, midnight gaze she felt positively light-headed and her mouth ran dry.

‘Ashur’s entire infrastructure was ruined and unemployment and poverty are rising,’ Raja spelt out. ‘Ashur needs massive investment to rebuild the roads, hospitals and schools that have been destroyed. Najar will make that investment but only if you and I marry. Peace was agreed solely on the basis of a marriage that would eventually unite our two countries as one.’

Gulping down some water in an attempt to ground herself to planet earth again, Ruby was surprised by the will power she had to muster simply to drag her gaze from his darkly handsome features and she said in an almost defiant tone, ‘That’s completely crazy.’

The prince angled his proud dark head in a position that signified unapologetic disagreement. ‘Far from it. It is at present the only effective route to reconciliation which can be undertaken without either country losing face.’ As he made that statement his classic cheekbones were taut with tension, accentuating the smooth planes of the olive-tinted skin stretched over his superb bone structure.

‘Obviously I can see that nobody with a brain would want the war to kick off again,’ Ruby cut in ruefully, more shaken than she was prepared to admit by the serious nature of Ashur’s plight. She had not appreciated how grave the problems might be and even though the ruling family of her birth country had refused to acknowledge her existence, she was ashamed of the level of her ignorance.

‘Precisely, and that is where our role comes in,’ Raja imparted smoothly. ‘Ashur can only accept my country’s economic intervention if it comes wrapped in the reassurance of a traditional royal marriage.’

Ruby nodded in comprehension, her expression carefully blank as she asked what was for her the obvious question. ‘So what’s going to happen when this marriage fails to take place?’

In the dragging silence that fell in receipt of that leading query, his brilliant dark eyes narrowed and his lean, strong face took on a forbidding aspect. ‘As the marriage was an established element of the peace accord, many will argue that if no marriage takes place the agreement has broken down and hostilities could easily break out again. Our families are well respected. Given the right approach, we could act as a unifying force and our people would support us in that endeavour for the sake of a lasting peace.’

‘And you’re willing to sacrifice your own freedom for the sake of that peace?’ Ruby asked, wearing a dubious expression.

‘It is not a choice. It is a duty,’ Raja pronounced with a fluid shift of his beautifully shaped fingers. He said more with his hands than with his tongue, Ruby decided, for that eloquent gesture encompassed his complete acceptance of a sacrifice he clearly saw as unavoidable.

Ruby surveyed him steadily before saying without hesitation, ‘I think that’s a load of nonsense. How can you be so accepting of your duty?’

Raja breathed in deep and slow before responding to her challenge. ‘As a member of the royal family I have led a privileged life and I was brought up to appreciate that what is best for my country should be my prime motivation.’