The Lost Prince Page 7

  Katy stripped out of her abaya and veils the second her door closed, grateful for the feel of air directly upon her skin. The black robes became suffocating after a while. She couldn’t imagine a lifetime trapped under them.

  She took a tepid sponge bath in her room in lieu of waiting for the floor’s lone bathtub to become available, and she crawled into bed early.

  She stared at the ceiling for what had to be most of the night. Nick needed an answer right away. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t arrive at a decision. There was no doubt his proposition was for a noble and worthy cause. But the idea of her having the baby of a doomed Arab prince was just too strange to wrap her mind around.

  Nick Ramsey’s baby. The child would undoubtedly be beautiful like its father. Intelligent. Athletic. Kind at heart. If she went to a sperm bank to pick a father for her child, she couldn’t possibly come up with a better candidate than Nick Ramsey.

  Except she wasn’t in the market for a child.

  Was she?

  Her arms abruptly ached for the feel of a small, warm body nestled trustingly against her breast.

  She tossed and turned, caught on the horns of her dilemma. One minute she’d argue herself out of doing it, and the next she’d argue herself right back into the idea.

  For goodness’ sake, she hadn’t had a steady boyfriend since her sophomore year of college. She’d have to make love with Nick—and she’d only met the guy a couple days ago! The idea of getting naked in front of a man like him made her skin crawl with embarrassment. He’d think she was lumpy and ugly after all the supermodels he must have bedded.

  But then her thoughts swung back the other way. Her upbringing might have been conservative, but she wasn’t a complete prude. And it would be for a really good cause. If the women of Baraq could endure public floggings in order to protest their treatment at the hands of General Sharaf, she could endure making love with Nick Ramsey. She’d dreamed about that very thing only the previous night, after all. What was so bad about making the fantasy a reality? It had been a pretty good fantasy.

  When pale light started to seep in her window the next morning, she gave up trying to sleep and got out of bed. She opened the window to catch whatever breeze moved outside.

  A few trucks, mostly carrying fresh produce, began to rumble along the cobblestone streets below. Just as the first narrow slash of sun broke over the horizon, the nasal song of an imam calling the faithful to morning worship floated across the city. The sound was beautiful and mysterious, steeped in an ancient and rich tradition. Again she thought of how Akuba was an intriguing mix of new and old, east and west. So was its king.

  She let the curtain drop and turned to get dressed. No matter how hard she willed it not to, the moment of reckoning was fast approaching.

  Nineteen. Twenty. Nick touched his chin briefly to the bars covering his tiny window in one last pull-up before he dropped to the floor. His arms ached, but he stretched out on his ledge anyway and did push-ups until he could not lift himself another time.

  He collapsed, sweating, against the cold rock. Some romantic bed it was going to make if Katy agreed to his proposition. He briefly pictured his sumptuous chambers several floors above in the palace and then pushed the image out of his mind. He would not experience such luxury again before he died. It did no good to dwell on what he’d lost and depress himself.

  Katy had to agree to have his baby. She had to.

  Not only did he have to get across that hurdle with her somehow, but he also had to get her to agree to marry him. If the child was to be his legitimate heir, it had to be conceived in wedlock.

  He hadn’t broached that part of the plan with her yesterday. One shock at a time. Fortunately she’d reacted much less violently than she might have. At least she hadn’t turned him down outright. He held out hope that her innately kind nature and desire to help those in need would trump her common sense. For surely she’d be insane to accept his proposition.

  Slowly his pulse returned to normal after his vigorous workout. He took a long drink of water from his bucket and then used the last bit of it to sponge himself off. God, he’d pay a fortune for a hot shower.

  Stop it, he ordered himself. No regrets. No longings for things he couldn’t have. Live in the moment. Live for the Baraqi people.

  He jumped as the padlock abruptly rattled. He whirled in anticipation but was disappointed when a robed male figure stepped into the room.

  “Mr. Mulwami?” the man asked.

  Nick started. He knew that voice. Kareem Hadar! He bowed slightly to the religiously garbed man. “Praise Allah, I am Akbar Mulwami,” he said for the benefit of the guard, who was just backing out of the cell.

  “It is my duty to visit the prisoners and see to the welfare of their immortal souls.” Kareem stepped away from the door as it closed. “It is good to see you alive and well, Your Highness.

  “Don’t call me that,” Nick snapped with a quick glance at the door.

  “Sorry. Old habits are hard to break.” Kareem bowed his head in apology. “How do you fare?”

  “Better than might be expected. Tell me—how much access to the palace do you have?”

  “The Army believes I support their cause. And they haven’t found the secret passages yet. With a bit of care, I can go just about anywhere in the palace. Why? What do you need?”

  “Is there any chance at all that we could mount an escape from Il Leone and live?”

  “None. Our people have been working on it ever since you were captured, and Sharaf has this place locked up tighter than a drum. I am sorry. My plan to keep you alive has merely delayed your death, I am afraid.”

  “I’m the one who chose to stay on and take the throne after my father died. Do not blame yourself.”

  The two men were silent for a moment.

  Then Nick murmured, “Can you gain access to the air shaft that leads to this cell?”

  The older man frowned. “I suppose so. It must run past the south receiving hall, which is directly above this. I could get in there and get near the window. Why?”

  “I need you to hear something through the shaft.”

  Kareem looked confused. “Pray tell, what is it you need me to hear?”

  “My wedding vows.”

  The older man jolted. “Your what? Do you expect to marry thin air? Or mayhap a ghost who haunts your cell?”

  Nick grinned. “Not at all. I expect to marry a very much alive and breathing young woman. An American who works for InterAid. Either tomorrow afternoon or the day after. As I recall, all that is required under ancient Islamic tradition for a wedding to be valid is for the bride and groom to repeat their vows to each other three times in front of witnesses.”

  Kareem stared at him as if he’d gone completely mad. Maybe he had. “That is an old custom, but you are essentially correct. Won’t the American woman be Christian, though?”

  Nick nodded. “Probably. She can repeat the Christian marriage vows to me if she likes, and I’ll do the Muslim ones to her.”

  “It’s shaky legally.”

  “Actually, it’s mostly shaky religiously. Baraqi law says the king may recognize any voluntary union between two people as a legal and binding marriage. As far as I know, I’m still technically king of Baraq. No act of parliament has attempted to dethrone me, has it?”

  “No,” Kareem answered bitterly. “Sharaf has taken no action to make this coup of his legal. If he tried, he’d have a hell of a time succeeding. I’ve got most of the avenues he could try completely blocked.” Kareem hesitated for a moment, then asked, “How did you get the American girl to agree to this plan, anyway?”

  Nick shrugged. “It’s a long story. Too long for the time we have. And she hasn’t exactly agreed to it yet. I can only hope she’ll marry me and make an attempt to have an heir before I die. But just in case, I need you to be ready to witness the vows and record them properly. This wedding must be completely legal and binding. If any heirs issue from this union, there
must be no question of our marriage’s validity down the road. Do you understand?”

  The older man nodded solemnly, respect blossoming beside the incredulity in his gaze. “I do. A creative plan, under the circumstances.”

  Nick shrugged. “A crazy plan. But it’s the best I can do for my people under the circumstances.”

  Kareem smiled warmly. “It is good to hear you speak that way. I will do whatever I can to assist you.”

  Nick stepped forward to place an affectionate hand on Kareem’s shoulder. “I cannot tell you how much this means to me, my friend.”

  The two men exchanged candid looks. They both knew Nick was going to die. Soon. But it felt good to have a plan. To have something to do. Even if it was an absurd plan, it was better than just sitting back and waiting for the inevitable.

  Nick spoke again quickly. Time was against him, and this might be his only chance to talk to Kareem before…well, before. “When I am gone, I want you to open my private safe and take everything inside it for yourself. I bequeath it all to you. Consider it payment for this last service to me and my family. You have been a true and loyal supporter of the House of Ramsey. This is the combination to the lock….”

  Nick rattled off a series of numbers and had Kareem repeat them back to him several times.

  Before Nick could give the older man any further instructions, the guard returned to announce that their time was up. As the older man was escorted out, Nick threw a significant look over his shoulder at the tiny air vent, and Kareem nodded back almost imperceptibly.

  The day dragged by slowly, and afternoon came and went with no sign of Katy. Nick was alarmed. Had she decided not to come back? Was this her answer to his question?

  He’d well and truly failed his country, then. Despair settled upon him, a dark, suffocating cloak that snuffed out his last spark of hope. The starkness of his prison cell matched his mood as the sun set and his cell grew dark.

  And then, without warning, the padlock rattled.

  A rush of air filled his lungs. Could it be?

  A whisper of silk announced Katy’s arrival as she swept through the door. She stopped to pass a small bag to the guard, a boy of no more than fourteen or so by the looks of him. And then they were alone.

  Nick held his breath, not daring to hope.

  “I’m sorry I’m so late,” she said in a rush as she stepped into the cell. “I waited until that nasty guard who was on duty this morning left. Riki—he’s the boy who let me in here—is much nicer.” Her voice dropped low. “He agreed to let me have a few extra minutes with you and not tell anyone.”

  Nick frowned. “What does he want in return?”

  “Honey cakes.”

  “Honey cakes?” Nick echoed, surprised.

  “The hotel our team is staying at makes them. They’re too sweet for me, so I put mine in my bag every morning and bring them for Riki. He’s so young. A child, really. He adores them.”

  Nick shook his head. Thank God for small favors and the ingenuity of the young woman standing before him.

  To his surprise, she pulled off her entire veil and shook her head. A cascade of glorious spun gold swirled around her face.

  “I have to admit that I’m tired of the whole veil thing. It’s tolerable for about one day and then it gets old. Really old. I can’t imagine how the women of Baraq are going to stand it for the long-term.”

  Nick frowned. “Under the rule of my family, women weren’t required to wear such garments. The women of Baraq must be furious that the Army drove them back behind the veil.”

  Katy winced. “Actually, the local women I’ve talked to are more frightened than angry. They’re terrified of what other rights the Army regime will take away from them. Sharaf actually had a bunch of women flogged when they refused to wear abayas and veils.”

  Nick slapped his palm against the wall with a loud crack. “Damn! If only I’d had more time.”

  Katy put a sympathetic hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you and your country.”

  He smiled ruefully. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Nick.”

  He snorted and spun away from her comforting touch. “That’s easy for you to say.”

  She sat down on the edge of the stone ledge. “Did you get any sleep last night?” she asked.

  “Not a wink,” he admitted.

  “You need to take care of yourself,” she said, empathetic as always.

  “I’ve got all eternity to sleep,” he replied dryly. “How about you? Did you get any rest?”

  “Not really,” she confessed.

  He sighed. “I apologize for throwing you into such a quandary with my request. It’s not fair of me and you didn’t ask for it.”

  “You didn’t ask for a coup d’état, either,” she replied.

  He moved the few steps to her side and sat on the ledge. He pushed the knuckle-length sleeves of her abaya out of the way and grasped her hands. As he’d expected, they were ice-cold. He noticed they were also elegantly shaped and satin-soft.

  “In a way, I did ask for it. If I had come home more often, taken an interest in Baraq sooner…I’ve made so many mistakes….” He swore under his breath.

  She murmured, “You can’t let regret overwhelm you. We can only learn from our mistakes and move forward.”

  She squeezed his fingers, and her palms molded to his the same way lovers’ bodies might mold to one another. A need to feel her, flesh to flesh, head to toe, nearly overcame him. A faint tremor passed through her fingers.

  “You’re not afraid of me, are you?” he asked, dismayed.

  “No,” she replied candidly. “I’m afraid of myself.”

  “Why?” He released one of her hands and traced the beautiful shape of her cheek. “There’s nothing for you to fear from me.”

  Her breath caught and she bit her lip. He stared at the moistness of her lower lip. “Aah, Katy,” he breathed. “I am a moth to your flame. You bring light into my darkness.”

  She let out a sigh.

  That gentle breath of air fanned a veritable inferno inside him. He’d love nothing more than to sweep her up in his arms and plunder her mouth, to have her unfold beneath him, giving everything he asked and more, her generosity in love as large as her heart in life. He had no right to take any of this from her, but how could he not? She was life itself and he was a dying man.

  The dark walls of his prison faded away, replaced by the wide-open spaces of the desert. Her hair was the golden sand, her eyes the deep blue sky, her laughter the wind that cooled his heated flesh, her gentle spirit the water that slaked his thirst.

  When had he suddenly waxed so poetic? Or was it just hallucinations from lack of sleep and proper nutrition? Or maybe this was what happened to the mind when it faced impending death.

  As much as he wanted to savor this moment, to draw out the pleasure of looking at her and touching her for as long as he could, time was his enemy. The guard would be back soon. He had to break the spell.

  “Katy, I would like to stand here and gaze into your eyes for an eternity. But I am afraid that time marches on. Young Riki will be back any minute, if I don’t miss my guess.”

  Regret shadowed her azure gaze.

  He dropped his eyes in apology before he asked quietly, “Have you thought about my request?”

  She laughed ruefully. “I haven’t thought about anything else.”

  “And have you arrived at a decision?” He looked up at her intently. He had no wish to push her, but the suspense was most certainly going to kill him soon.

  She gazed searchingly at him for a long moment. And then she sighed.

  “Yes, Nick, I’ve made my decision.”

  Chapter 6

  The prison’s darkness swirled around Katy in a stormy vortex, Nick’s golden gaze burning bright in the center of it. The moment imprinted itself on her memory forever. She faced a choice, a fork in the path that would significantly change her
life no matter which direction she chose. This was all moving much too fast for her. But the one thing they didn’t have was time.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  She took a deep breath. “I’ll do it. I’ll have your baby.”

  Nick’s heartfelt sigh of relief was calming but also frightening. She had just set herself upon the more dangerous path of the two. Much more dangerous.

  He stepped forward. “Thank you, Katy,” he breathed as his arms went around her. He hugged her painfully tight, but she didn’t mind. Her head rested comfortably upon his shoulder, and her arms crept around his waist. His body was big and hard against hers. Muscular. Masculine. And she’d just agreed to sleep with him. Trepidation flared in her gut.

  She leaned back in his embrace and looked up at him. “Now what do we do?” she asked in a small voice.

  He grinned down at her. “I thought they explained the birds and the bees early on to you American women.”

  Surprised out of her case of nerves, she laughed. “I’ve got that part down. I was wondering how and when we do this.”

  The smile faded from Nick’s eyes. “There is one thing we must do first.”

  “What?”

  “We must be married. For this child to be my legal heir, it must be conceived in wedlock.”

  Shock slammed into her. Married? Her? To him? “You want me to m-marry you?” she stuttered.

  He frowned. “Is that such an onerous thought? I promise you’ll be a safely available widow in no more than a few weeks.”

  The thought wrenched her heart. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” she corrected hastily. “It’s just the idea of me marrying a guy like you… A king… It’s kind of hard to imagine.”

  “Welcome to Cinderella’s world,” he said lightly.

  Only one response to that came to mind. “Wow.” And then she said, “How are we ever going to throw a wedding in here without getting caught? I don’t see how we’re going to manage that.”

  Nick replied, “Actually, I’ve taken care of it.”

  Already? Had he been that sure she’d accept his proposal?