Born Royal

Dear Reader,

Happy (almost) New Year! The year is indeed ending, but here at Intimate Moments it’s going out with just the kind of bang you’d expect from a line where excitement is the order of the day. Maggie Shayne continues her newest miniseries, THE OKLAHOMA ALL-GIRL BRANDS, with Brand-New Heartache. This is prodigal daughter Edie’s story. She’s home from L.A. with a stalker on her trail, and only local one-time bad boy Wade Armstrong can keep her safe. Except for her heart, which is definitely at risk in his presence.

Our wonderful FIRSTBORN SONS continuity concludes with Born Royal. This is a sheik story from Alexandra Sellers, who’s made quite a name for herself writing about desert heroes, and this book will show you why. It’s a terrific marriage-of-convenience story, and it’s also a springboard for our twelve-book ROMANCING THE CROWN continuity, which starts next month. Kylie Brant’s Hard To Resist is the next in her CHARMED AND DANGEROUS miniseries, and this steamy writer never disappoints with her tales of irresistible attraction. Honky-Tonk Cinderella is the second in Karen Templeton’s HOW TO MARRY A MONARCH miniseries, and it’s enough to make any woman want to run away and be a waitress, seeing as this waitress gets to serve a real live prince. Finish the month with Mary McBride’s newest, Baby, Baby, Baby, a “No way am I letting my ex-wife go to a sperm bank” book, and reader favorite Lorna Michaels’s first Intimate Moments novel, The Truth About Elyssa.

See you again next year!

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

Born Royal

Alexandra Sellers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Michael Hunter Lewis Sellers Fairweather my incomparable, much-loved nephew and godson who is also a firstborn son

U donad, U donad, U donad—U!

(He knows, He knows, He knows—He!)

—from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

Bound by the legacy of their fathers, six Firstborn Sons are about to discover the stuff true heroes—and true love—are made of….

Sheik Rashid Kamal: To bring peace and prosperity to Montebello and Tamir, Prince Rashid must unite the Kamal and Sebastiani kingdoms. First order of business—pull out all the stops to claim the pregnant Princess Julia as his enamored bride. Let the games begin!

Princess Julia Sebastiani: Sheik Rashid Kamal is a dangerously attractive enemy for whom she has already proven she has a fatal weakness. Now the high-handed prince has gone too far by making a public marriage declaration without her consent! This willful princess will wed for love—or not at all….

Sheik Ahmed Kamal: As he rejoices in his heroic son’s triumphant return home, he realizes it won’t be long before Rashid receives the throne. But for now, a peaceful trade treaty between Montebello and Tamir must be forged. And to further that agenda, the mysterious origin of their bitter animosity needs to be unraveled.

The Noble Men: Over the years, they have taken calculated risks and sacrificed their own personal happiness to achieve their global pursuits. Has the time finally come to pass their legacy on to their firstborn sons?

A note from beloved author Alexandra Sellers:

Dear Reader,

I was delighted to be invited to write the final book in the Intimate Moments FIRSTBORN SONS series. It’s the first continuity I’ve taken part in, and I found it both difficult and exciting. I have really enjoyed collaborating with the other writers in the series, especially Virginia Kantra. Virginia and I co-wrote scenes in each of our books between the two princess sisters, Julia and Christina. That was good fun.

Born Royal is my thirtieth novel for Harlequin/Silhouette, and my eleventh sheikh fantasy. Readers familiar with me know that my passion for all things Middle Eastern dates back to my early childhood, when, in the tiny prairie town where I spent a very difficult two years, I discovered a book called The Arabian Nights. I began to dream of flying carpets, handsome princes and genies in magic lamps. I’ve never stopped.

Since then I have traveled to some of those places I dreamed of, and have been privileged to explore, a little, their languages and religion, history and wisdom. It is a world as deep, as rich and as many-layered as that magical book—which I still treasure—promised me it would be. I hope that in my own stories I am able to communicate to you some part of the fascination and wonder of the East that has enchanted me and enriched my life for so long.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Epilogue

Prologue

Prince Rashid ibn Ahmed Kamal stood on the broad balcony of the palace smiling and waving as the love-roar of the crowd swelled almost to pain level and broke over his head.

Below the balcony, the huge, leafy square writhed ecstatically in the burning sunshine as the people cheered, shouted, laughed, sang, danced and kissed each other.

He was home. Their handsome Crown Prince, whom they had mourned as lost forever, had returned. And better still, he had returned a hero. As the man who had organized and masterminded the downfall of that band of murderous terrorists, the one so fearful no one liked to say its full name, but only called them Al Ikhwan. The Brothers.

Now the people need not live in fear of the threatened chemical attack. It was said he had found the actual laboratory where the filthy poisons were being made, and that the entire store of the evil virus had been destroyed.

No one needed to be told where the first attack would have occurred. But a country storyteller, who had a sizable group entranced with his version of the prince’s great exploit, told them anyway.

“Of course they would have attacked here in the islands of Tamir first,” he asserted in a terrible voice, and his audience gasped and nodded. “Such monsters as these are drawn to destroy truth and nobility, for they know instinctively there is no co-existence between evil and good.

“And for a certainty they would have come here, to the big island—and to this city, Medina Tamir. Perhaps even in this very square they would have released their foul poison, hoping to destroy the Kamal family and put their own puppet in Ahmed’s place!”

His audience of mostly city dwellers shuddered in horrified delight. The country people had a point—this was much more entertaining than the dry facts in newspapers or on television.

“And only when we died would the world have been alerted and begun to take action,” the turbaned, white-bearded ancient said, conveniently omitting the fact that the mission Prince Rashid had headed had been a joint one involving many nations. “Too late for Tamir. But what need have we of the world, when we have a prince such as Rashid? Brave, intrepid…”

The cheers redoubled as Prince Rashid was joined on the balcony by the rest of his family. The silver-haired King Ahmed, lovely Queen Alima, handsome Prince Hassan and his sisters, the beautiful and headstrong Princess Nadia, gentle, smiling Samira, and Leila—the youngest and, some argued, the loveliest.

It was Nadia who stood closest to Rashid as the family took their places, smiling and waving to the delirious citizenry. She glanced down at the crowd around the storyteller in the square, and pointed him out to her brother.

“By the end of the week you’ll have done the deed single-handed,” she remarked in an ironic aside. “Flying on the back of a giant bird, the Natobird, no doubt, and with the sword of your ancestors—I suppose they’ll call it the Kalashnikov sword—raised high, you dispatched the monsters after a fight to the death and won your way to the coffers wherein lay the terrible poison. You threw magical powder on the poison to render it harmless.”

Rashid laughed, not because she wasn’t right in her analysis. Nadia had an instinctive understanding of people and events, and it was a pity his father didn’t consult her more often in matters of state.

“Well, and if my mythical powers win the people to my side when I’m proposing a shift in foreign policy, among other things, I won’t object.”

Nadia flicked him a look. He should have known she would be quick to pick up on that hint. “Other things? As for example?”

Rashid shook his head, turning to lift his hand again and smile. The sun was high in the blue sky, burnishing the thick black curls, enhancing the glint in his dark eyes and the white, even teeth. The crowd swayed with reaction.

There was no one, Nadia reflected, whom he did not, one way or another, seduce. He had much more charisma than their rather severe father. It was no wonder that the people had been brokenhearted when Rashid went missing.

As for her, it had been like losing a limb. The miracle of having her brother back from the dead had not worn off yet. Maybe it never would.

“‘Among other things,’” Nadia repeated musingly, sliding an arm through her brother’s. “Now, what else would you be proposing besides a shift in foreign policy?” He was silent. “So the baby really is yours? I wondered.”

His gaze turning inward, Prince Rashid absently waved and smiled. The crowd cheered. He thought of Julia’s soft cry when his hands were on her, when what was going to happen was inevitable. Rashid, I’m—I’m a virgin….

He had not believed her. Other women had said it to him at such a moment; he had never understood why. Hoping to make his passion hotter, perhaps.

But it was true. When he realized it, too late, it had struck him a blow like nothing else he had experienced. A virgin. After all this time, she was a virgin.

“Yes, it’s mine,” he said.

He thought of the way she had melted at his touch, saw her face in his mind’s eye, those full lips stretched with desire. He had lost control.

“It will put an end to the feud, won’t it?” Nadia commented. “If marriage is what’s in your mind.”

Had it been his unconscious mind understanding that the one unanswerable way to bind them together was a child? Was that the reason such powerful desire had swept him, blinding him to every other consideration? His one chance offered, and he had taken it.

“The question is, what’s the best way of getting Father over the hump?” Rashid murmured. “He’s not going to like it, is he?”

Nadia laughed outright at the understatement. “The feud is what keeps him going, you know that.”

There was another round of cheers from below as their father and mother turned back inside the palace.

“I don’t want a war with him. But I have to do what I know to be right. If I could find a way to make him accept it—” He shrugged and waved to the crowds again as his sisters and brother left.

“Want some advice, big brother?”

Now there were only Nadia and Rashid. They waved a last farewell as the crowds went crazy with cheering.

“Yes, I want advice.”

“Play it the same way you played your last enterprise.” Nadia smiled and flicked her raised hand at him. “Surprise him.”

Chapter 1

Princess Julia Sebastiani twitched awake, her heart pounding, sweat on her forehead. She lay without moving, wondering where she was, as the memory of pleasure subsided in her blood. After a moment she sighed. She was in her bedroom at the palace. Alone.

The clock across the room read 6:30. Well, that was more sleep than she usually got when she dreamt of Rashid Kamal. She struggled to a sitting position and dropped her face in her hands. It was no use to try to get back to sleep; she had learned that through experience.

She slipped off the bed, crossed the room to the windows that looked southeast, and stood there, gazing out at the sun rising in splendour out of the Mediterranean Sea. It was a view she had loved all her life, but even in childhood her pleasure had been coloured by the knowledge that in that direction, over the horizon, out of sight, lay Tamir.

He was home. He was alive. Her child had a father—who was the son of her own father’s sworn enemy.

She had never known whether to think him alive or dead. Sometimes she had wondered if it had all been a plot to cast doubt on the Sebastianis—if Rashid Kamal had set it all up, the unexpected meeting, the surprised passion, and then his disappearance, so that the Sebastianis would be suspected in his disappearance just as the Kamals were suspected in the loss of her brother, Lucas. Other times she had despaired, sure that he was dead and that her son would all his life bear the stigma of belonging to a family suspected of killing his father.

He must know by now that she was pregnant. She wondered if he accepted that he was the father of her child. There was so much accusation and counter-accusation between the Kamals and the Sebastianis that it would hardly be surprising if he did not.

Julia and Prince Rashid to Marry!

A Montebello Messenger World Exclusive!

Crown Prince Rashid of Tamir and Princess Julia will marry “as soon as it can be arranged,” the Montebello Messenger has learned. In an exclusive interview with this reporter, the heir to the throne of Tamir, whose family has maintained a long-standing and well-publicized feud with Montebello’s own royal family, said that he felt the ill feeling between the two families was “a thing of the past” which should be forgotten.

“A man and woman cannot carry on an ancient feud when they are about to have a child together,” he said. “My interest is not in the past, but in the future. It is time to look ahead, to a time of peace between our two countries.”

The prince confirmed unequivocally that he is the father of Princess Julia’s child, a question about which there has been intense media speculation since his unexpected return from the dead early this week.

The palace here in Montebello has not so far responded to Rashid’s claims that a wedding between the Crown Prince and Princess Julia is in the offing.

“Damn you! Damn you!” Julia flung the Montebello Messenger to the floor with a cry of disbelief.

“Ma—madame?” a voice trembled behind her.

In the mirror her hairdresser’s face looked startled and wary.

“Oh—Micheline! Not you! Sorry!” she said, forcing a smile. She had never felt less like smiling in her life.

The paper landed with the front page up, and Rashid’s beard-shadowed face grinned at her, black grease smudged on his cheekbone and forehead. His eyes seemed to mock her even from a distance of ten feet. Behind him was a military helicopter. In one hand he held an assault rifle.

The hairdresser’s eyes followed hers. “’E is veree ’andsome, madame,” she said shyly.

Until this moment, none of her staff had had the nerve to mention in her presence the one subject that was on everyone’s mind, though Julia knew it was about all they discussed behind her back.

“Who is?” the princess snapped, in her mother’s best we-are-not-amused tone.

But Micheline was just too thrilled by this latest turn of events in the months-long drama the world had been following with such excitement. Who could have kept silent now?

“But the prince, madame!” she supplied breathlessly. “Et quel héros! Si brave!” She slipped into her native French, English being insufficient for her feelings. “To conquer those terrorists, madame! To risk his life to save us from the anthrax…” She sighed luxuriously. “I am sure you are very happy, madame. Who would not be, with such a man to love her?”

Julia pressed her lips together and made no reply. She might almost have been fooled by the romance of it herself, if she hadn’t known better. She couldn’t understand what game he was playing. But that it was a game was certain.

“Everyone is so happy, madame, to know that you will be happy at last!”

Julia’s jaw clenched. Whatever this latest move meant, it boded no happiness for her. Happy? With a man whose family was still manipulating a painful, century-old tragedy into a totally unjustified claim on Sebastiani land?

“So, madame, what do you think?” Micheline prompted, unabashed. It was a moment before Julia realized that she was being urged to admire her own hair.

Julia no longer wore the smooth pleat that had once almost been her trademark. This morning her long, dark hair had been loosely caught back, with soft curling tendrils escaping all around her head.

The style emphasized the fine bones of her face, very prominent now because of the weight she had lost over the past year, the porcelain skin, the wide blue eyes. She was starting to gain the weight back now, with the pregnancy, but she was still much thinner than she had been in those days when her marriage had seemed storybook perfect from the outside.

“Perfect, Micheline, thank you,” the princess said, her smile reflected in the deep blue eyes in a way that ensured that most of her staff would walk across burning coals if she asked them to. She got to her feet just as her chief private secretary came through the door, a sheaf of papers in one arm, an extremely odd look on her face.

“Valerie,” said Julia, as Micheline brushed her down, “have you seen that?” She indicated the newspaper on the floor, and Valerie stopped short and bent to pick it up.

A stupid question at nearly 9:00 am. The entire island had read or heard the story by now.

“Uh—yes,” Valerie replied blankly.

“Will you tell Bertrand I want to talk to him? Immediately, please, if he can make it.”

“I’m sure he’s waiting to talk to you,” Valerie said, pulling out her phone.

Micheline handed Julia into her jacket. The soft dusty rose suit had a pencil skirt—she could still wear those—but the boxy jacket hung low over her hips, disguising the first signs of her pregnancy. Underneath she wore a neat white bodysuit with a low scooped neck. She slipped on gold medallion earrings as Micheline passed them to her. On her wrist she wore the bracelet of gold and diamonds she called her lucky bracelet.

“Thanks, Micheline,” Julia said, with another smile.

Valerie meanwhile was talking to Bertrand, passing on her message. She disconnected as Julia took the newspaper from her hand.

“He’ll meet us,” Valerie said, and the two women left the room to stride down the hall together.

Although obviously consumed with curiosity, Valerie calmly began her usual briefing. “You’ve got the Arts Council representatives due at nine-thirty. I’ll put them in the Blue Room. They’ll be asking…”

Julia tried to concentrate, but the world seemed to be behind a veil. It was happening more and more lately—no doubt it was pregnancy hormones. She just didn’t seem to have the attack, or the cool nerves, she was known for.

Or maybe it was because she was preoccupied with what Rashid Kamal had said to the media. What game was he playing? Everyone knew a Sebastiani could never marry a Kamal, baby on the way or not. Even if she wanted to.

Which Julia certainly did not. Marry a Kamal? Not if he was the last man standing.

Bertrand, in a smart blue suit and collarless shirt, was waiting in the anteroom of Julia’s private offices, one hand in his pocket, looking rather irritated. They all moved through to the inner office.

Julia tossed the newspaper down on a low table in the centre of a cluster of chairs and sofas before seating herself and waving at them to do the same.

“You’ve read it, Bertrand?”

Of course he had. As her press secretary he made it his business to see everything printed about her, usually before Julia did. He and Valerie slipped into seats facing hers on either side and he leaned forward and picked up the Montebello Messenger, looked at it, then at her.

“Yes, I got my own copy, as usual. May I say—”

“He’s got one hell of a nerve! I wonder what he’s playing at?”

Bertrand, his head bent, elbows on knees, lifted his gaze and looked at her under his brows in silent astonishment.

“I’d like to issue a statement as soon as possible, please.”

The press secretary paused, as if waiting for more. Then he prompted, “What do you want me to say, Princess?”

“A categorical denial that there’s any engagement or any possibility of a marriage, of course!”

“It’s not true?”

“I wish these—what?” She jumped as if her seat were suddenly electrified. “True? No, of course it’s not true! Are you crazy, Bertrand?”

His mouth relaxed imperceptibly. “Forgive me, Princess. I assumed the two of you had—”

“Had what?” Julia stared at him, and realized belatedly that Bertrand thought she had gone behind his back to make this announcement with Rashid. He had probably been mentally drafting up his letter of resignation, which was just one more sin to lay at Rashid Kamal’s door.

“Rashid Kamal is a Kamal. He is a long-standing enemy of the Sebastiani family, and that includes myself. I haven’t spoken to him since his return.”

Bertrand nodded, one eyebrow raised.

“Has Papa seen it? Has he called?” Her father and mother, thank God, were abroad this week. “He must be raving.”

“I understand that he has called. He did not speak to me,” her press secretary said carefully.

Julia almost laughed. “Well, and you’re grateful for that! Why didn’t he ask to speak to me?”

“I understand he has left a number and hopes that you will call when you have a moment.”

“That bad, huh?” Julia smiled, but inwardly she quailed a little. Her father would be in a towering rage until she could explain.

“I can’t believe the Messenger ran the story without calling us for a reaction! Why didn’t they check with us first?” she demanded furiously.

“Because what the prince said will sell papers,” Bertrand told her dryly. “Our reaction, which they hope to run in the later editions, will sell more copies. Prince Rashid has timed it very nicely. The Messenger is probably going to break all previous sales records today. And given the last few months, that’s saying something.”

“Well, make getting the statement out your first priority this morning. And I suppose I’d better make Papa mine.”

“Princess, if I may make a suggestion…”

She looked an inquiry.

“I’d like to suggest that we refuse to comment for the moment.”

Julia stared. “You want me to refuse to comment on a story that says I’m going to marry Rashid Kamal?” she repeated with slow precision. “Are you out of your mind?”

She felt the baby’s whisper of protest as adrenaline pumped into her blood. Julia paused, her hand automatically moving to her abdomen. She stroked for a moment and took a deep calming breath.

“Okay, Bertrand.” Julia’s other hand lifted gracefully, the palm pressing outward, as if to hold back the wave she felt coming towards her. Julia glanced at Valerie. “What’s your point?”

“Princess, all hell has broken loose this morning, which is no surprise. My private line alone has already logged over a hundred calls from journalists. We’ve had to call in half a dozen relief staff for the palace switchboard to cope with calls from citizens. And this is only a trickle compared with what’s to come,” Bertrand told her.

“Then the sooner we issue a statement, the better, surely?”

“We’re even getting calls from Tamiri citizens.”

“Screaming how appalled they are, I’m sure!”