The Lost Prince Page 8

  “Just in case, I arranged for a witness to be at the other end of that air shaft tomorrow afternoon. The Muslim tradition is that if a man and woman state that they marry one another three times before a proper witness, the marriage is legal.”

  Katy glanced at the tiny opening. “Are you Muslim? I’m Christian. Won’t that be a problem?”

  He sighed. “I was born Muslim and raised Anglican, so take your pick. The thing is, we don’t stand a chance of getting a minister in here to officiate a Christian wedding. But I can arrange a Muslim witness. Since the government of Baraq recognizes both Christian and Muslim religious ceremonies, I figured we could merge the two. We’ll repeat Christian vows in the Muslim way.”

  “Will that be legal?” she asked doubtfully.

  “All it takes for the wedding to be legal in Baraq is a civil marriage license signed by a government official of sufficient rank.” Dryly he added, “Last time I checked, I have sufficient rank in the legitimate Baraqi government to qualify.”

  That made her laugh. And goodness knew, she needed the tension relief. This was all happening so blasted fast!

  “If we say our vows into the air shaft, the gentleman above will hear them and witness them properly. The civil marriage license will have to catch up with you later, I’m afraid. I’ll sign it as soon as it can be smuggled in to me, and then I can pass it to you or it can be sent to you later.”

  Later, as in after he was dead. Oh, God.

  “I’m sorry, Katy. It was the best I could do.”

  She took a deep breath for courage, set aside her misgivings and said gamely, “I think it’s amazing that you’ve managed to arrange all this.”

  He smiled painfully at her. It was the first glimpse of regret she’d seen from him. She stepped close and hugged him. “It’ll be all right, Nick. This will work out. For both of us.”

  He sighed and then his spine straightened resolutely. “The important thing is that we know in our hearts that we are husband and wife. A marriage ultimately stands between us and God, anyway. Even if my friend doesn’t succeed in getting you a copy of the marriage license, you’ll still have DNA to prove the parentage of our child.”

  Katy frowned. “But if you have no living relatives, whose DNA will they compare the child’s to?”

  “Mine. It is likely my body will be buried and not burned. It is considered a great insult to bury a Muslim’s body along with that of a pig. While I haven’t practiced the faith for a long time, it is how I was raised as a child. I expect the rebels will want to insult me in such a fashion. You will have to insist that my remains be exhumed and DNA samples taken from it.”

  The thought of Nick dead made her positively ill. “Oh, Nick, isn’t there something we can do to save you?” she cried softly.

  He looked her straight in the eye. “No, Katy, there is not. That is why we must make a child together if we can.”

  She closed her eyes, steeling herself to continue with this agonizing conversation. “Okay, so I insist on DNA tests to prove that the child is yours. Then what?”

  “Contact your government’s State Department. Ask for the names of high-ranking members of my government who survived the coup and made it out of Baraq. Let them know my child lives. They will do the rest. I will give you a list of names of people who are staunch allies of the Ramsey throne.”

  Alarm cut through her. “They won’t try to take the baby from me, will they?”

  Nick jerked back and stared down at her. “Certainly not! You will be honored as my queen and you will raise our child.”

  Relief made her light-headed for a moment.

  Nick continued. “Speaking of which, I want you to raise our baby in the United States. Teach this child about the West so he or she can bring Baraq into the modern world. It is my country’s only hope of survival in the long run.”

  Katy gulped. Teach their baby all by herself to be a king or queen? It was a daunting thought.

  Nick must have sensed her alarm. “You will not be alone. Friends of my family’s, former advisors, wealthy Baraqis, they’ll all be beating down your door to help you train and educate this child. If I had to guess, your worst problem will be too much help, not too little.”

  Katy smiled wryly. “You forgot to add my family to that list of well-meaning meddlers. My parents are beside themselves to become grandparents.”

  Nick gathered her close. “I’m sorry I won’t be there to help you with this. I can only thank God a woman like you was delivered to me who is capable of taking on this challenge.”

  “You barely know me. How do you know I can do this?”

  “You’re here in Baraq, aren’t you? How many women have the courage and compassion to travel halfway around the world to help total strangers in their time of need?”

  Katy took a deep breath. Could she ever hope to live up to his expectations of her? “I’ll do my best, Nick. I only hope it’s enough.”

  “I have money in London. You’ll need to contact my bank once you get out of Baraq and get the Ramsey holdings transferred to you. I’ll give you the account numbers, passwords and a letter of reference. Those should be sufficient to get the funds released. There should be enough money to keep the two of you safe and well cared for until the child is grown. Besides,” he added with a trace of bitterness, “I’ll be damned if Sharaf is going to get his hands on my family’s money.”

  Katy nodded, dazed at the enormity of what she was taking on.

  “If you will bring a pen and paper for me tomorrow, I can write down the name and phone number of the bank and of a few Baraqis living abroad who you can count on to be loyal to you and the child.”

  “I have writing stuff in my bag now.” Katy pulled out a small personal journal and a ballpoint pen and handed them to Nick.

  He turned to a blank page and rapidly filled two full pages with names, addresses, phone numbers and banking information.

  He handed the book back to her. “That should be enough to get you started. May I keep the pen and some paper overnight? There are a couple other documents I need to write before I die.”

  Katy gulped. Like a will. She tore a fistful of pages out of the book and handed them to him. She tucked the rest of the journal carefully into her medical bag.

  “So when was the start of your last period?” Nick asked abruptly.

  Katy started and looked up at him. Heat flooded her cheeks. She knew why he was asking, but the idea of discussing something so personal with anybody, let alone a man, and let alone this man, was embarrassing in the extreme. “Uh, about ten days ago,” she managed to stammer.

  “Excellent. But that means we have no time to waste.”

  The irony of his remark made Katy wince. He had no time at all. And she—she had a lifetime. Good Lord willing, two lifetimes. Hers and a child’s. The good news was McMann women tended to get pregnant if their husbands even sneezed in the same county. She and Nick had a real shot at making a baby if her genes held true.

  The padlock rattled outside. Nick stepped back hastily, while she grabbed her veil and wrapped it around her head.

  “Come back tomorrow afternoon,” he murmured as she swept past him to stand at the door of the cell.

  “Count on it,” she replied before she stepped out.

  Nick prayed that Kareem had done as he’d promised and found the other end of the air shaft. He’d told the older man it would be afternoon when Katy came. Nick also prayed nothing would interfere with that, today of all days.

  So many details, all of which had to fall into place perfectly for this scheme to work. It was a fragile house of cards at best. But it was his only chance. He just had to hope that somehow it all worked out. He offered up a rare prayer—to a Christian or Muslim god, he didn’t care. Just so long as some divine entity heard him and took mercy on him. Please, God, help me in this one last endeavor before I die.

  Nick counted the hours after breakfast anxiously. The light grew as bright as it ever did in his cell, indicating that mid
day had come.

  Another bit of good luck: the surly guard whom Katy didn’t like had gone off duty with the coming of afternoon. Hopefully bribable Riki of honey-cake fame was on shift today.

  Please, God, let the timing of this work out.

  Some wedding day this was turning out to be. And to think, he’d always wished to avoid a big, elaborate state wedding broadcast by satellite to half the world. He’d certainly gotten that wish. He alternately paced and lay down on his stone bed, his nerves stretched to nearly the breaking point. He’d done his best to wash himself and straighten his filthy clothes, but he wasn’t presentable to swine, let alone to his bride. He sighed and got up to pace some more.

  Finally, when the light had begun to wane from his window, the padlock outside rattled to announce someone’s arrival. It was too early for supper. Please, God, let it be Katy.

  Sure enough, her black robe swept into the room in a rush of lavender. He glimpsed a wrapped package changing hands between Katy and Riki before the cell door swung shut.

  Nick folded her, robes and all, into a relieved embrace. “Thank goodness you’re here. I was losing my mind waiting for you.”

  She hugged him back tightly. “Me, too. I didn’t think I was ever going to get done with my other visits.”

  “I don’t like sharing you with the other prisoners,” Nick growled in abrupt jealously. “Good thing they’re my subjects and I have to share or I’d tell you to stop seeing any of them.”

  Katy’s bright blue gaze shined up at him, laughing. “A greedy king, are we?”

  Nick grinned back. “Speaking of greed, what was in the package you gave to Riki?”

  “Cosmetics for his mother and a whole bag of honey cakes for him.”

  Nick asked, surprised, “Cosmetics? We still have such things readily available here in Baraq.”

  The smile faded from Katy’s gaze. “Not many. The new regime outlawed them.”

  The urgency of what they were about to do struck Nick afresh. He had to give his people an alternative to a repressive military dictatorship. The Baraqis would never stand for this sort of backward thinking if there were another ruler to be had.

  Please, God, give us a child to lead my people out of darkness.

  He held out his hand to her. “Come, Katy. It is time.”

  She laid her hand in his, and he led her the few steps to the far side of the cell, underneath the tiny window. Katy looked up at him, her gaze apprehensive and trusting at the same time.

  “How about if you give me your vows according to the Christian tradition, and I give you mine according to the traditions of Islam? That way both religions will be satisfied.”

  She smiled, relieved. “That sounds splendid. I’m not sure I can remember the whole wedding ceremony, but I can hit the high points.”

  “As long as you remember the ‘I take you, Nick, to be my lawfully wedded husband’ part, I think we’ll be okay. You’ll have to repeat that bit three times, though. That’s the ancient Islamic way.”

  Katy nodded. “Three times. Got it. Does your ceremony have a similar line in it?”

  “It does.” In a mellow baritone Nick recited a line of beautiful Arabic that flowed over her like water.

  “That was lovely,” Katy sighed.

  Nick smiled. “If we had more time, I’d read you poetry in Arabic. It is the most beautiful in all the world.”

  But he didn’t have the time.

  Awareness of that fact settled between them, and some of the light seemed to leave the room.

  Nick turned to face her. She was lovely in the half-light. She looked as though she’d lost some weight in the past days. Her cheekbones were more pronounced, and the new thinness about her face made her eyes look even bigger and more blue. He took both of her ice-cold hands in his and gave them a gentle squeeze.

  “If you’re ready,” he said quietly, “let’s begin. Why don’t you go first?”

  Please, God, let Kareem hear this.

  Katy nodded seriously. He gazed deeply into her eyes. No matter that this wasn’t a huge cathedral. No matter that she wore a simple black abaya and not an elaborate white lace wedding gown. No matter that they were all alone. When she started into the familiar words, Nick’s heart tripped and sped up.

  “I, Katy, do take thee, Nikolas, to be my lawfully wedded husband…”

  Her eyes shone as if a starry night had been captured within their blue depths. He gazed into them, losing himself completely as her words rolled over him, soothing him all the way to his soul. As bizarre as the circumstances were that had brought them to this moment, a feeling of rightness suffused him. This was the woman who’d been made for him, whom he’d been meant by destiny to marry. Even if they only had a short time together on this Earth, he was going to savor it and give her as much of himself and his heart as he could in whatever time they had.

  “…to have and to hold in sickness and health…”

  Her voice faltered. He squeezed her hands and gave her a reassuring smile. She took a deep breath and continued. What a brave young woman she was. Pride in her filled him.

  “…until death…” Her voice cracked and then broke altogether. She swallowed and managed to choke out, “…until death do us part.”

  He smiled soothingly at her. She’d made it through, all the way to the end, complete with the three repetitions of the key lines.

  “I’m sorry, Nick,” she whispered.

  “It’s all right,” he murmured. “In my vows, I will promise to be with you for eternity. Even death will not extinguish what we have between us.”

  She took a quick swipe at her nose and then smiled up at him through the tears swimming in her eyes.

  He took a deep breath and began to recite his own marriage vows. They came haltingly at first, but as he continued in his mother tongue, the familiar Arabic phrases came more and more easily. Katy seemed mesmerized by his voice, and he spoke to her from the bottom of his heart. By the time he finished, he was all but delivering the words as a love song to Katy, his wife, his soul mate, his beloved for all time.

  And then it was done. Silence fell between them and, wide-eyed, they looked at each other while the magnitude of the moment trembled between them like a perfect dewdrop on a newly bursting rose.

  A slow smile broke across Katy’s face. “In my religion,” she murmured, “it is traditional for the groom to kiss the bride.”

  Nick felt an answering smile spread across his face. “It is the same in my religion.”

  He lowered his head and touched her warm, soft lips with his. She sighed and her arms went around his neck. He lost himself in the kiss, relishing the warm, sweet taste of her upon his tongue, the way her body went liquid against his, the way she gave and took at the same time, making him feel wanted and appreciated. He drew her close, offering his protection and his strength to lean on, offering the best that was within him. As he welcomed her into his heart, it seemed as if she did the same in return for him.

  He tugged the veil completely off her head, freeing her golden hair to spill across his hands. She was his angel of light, bringing warmth and brightness into his world. He couldn’t get enough of her.

  He took a firm hold on his emotions and slowed himself down. He wasn’t going to rush her. He lifted his head and took her by the hand. Slowly he led her to the ledge, where his lone blanket was neatly spread.

  He reached for her throat and the fastenings that held her abaya closed. She watched him, rapt, as he undid them and then lifted the black fabric away from her.

  He opened the robe’s folds wide, like velvet wings unfurling, to reveal Katy, swathed in a plain white dress made of silk that clung to every curve and nuance of her body. The garment was completely unadorned, and her fair skin glowed like a diamond against the simple background of white silk.

  She was curvaceous, and he reveled in the fact that she wasn’t bony. Frankly he’d never found the thin angularity of high-fashion models all that appealing and he relished her woman
liness. Katy was full of curves and hollows and shadowed places that begged to be explored.

  “Beautiful,” he breathed. Katy’s rib cage relaxed as if she’d been holding her breath. He glanced up, surprised by the apprehensive look on her face. “What are you worried about?”

  “That you’ll think I’m fat and won’t find me the least bit attractive. You’re probably used to gorgeous, perfect women, but I’m just sort of average.”

  He smiled, amused. “Katy, my dear, you are anything but average. Actually, I was just thinking how relieved I am that you’re not skin and bones. That’s completely unattractive to me.”

  A smile relaxed her features. “Even if you don’t mean that, it was nice of you to say it.”

  He chuckled and held out his arms to her. “Come. Let me show you whether or not I meant it.”

  She stepped forward shyly, and as she did, he stripped the abaya off her arms. He flung it wide, using it to cover the crude ledge, transforming it into an elegant and mysterious perch worthy of his wife.

  His wife! Shockingly the words delighted him. He bent and picked her up in his arms, grinning at her gasp of surprise. He laid her on their marriage bed and followed her down, stretching out beside her, kissing her throat and inhaling the dusty-sweet scent of lavender as he did.

  “I love the way you smell,” he murmured.

  Katy laughed softly. “Remind me to thank my soap company for their products.”

  He rose up on one elbow, relishing the humor she brought into his life. “I will.”

  She reached up for the buttons on his shirt. “I’m feeling a little underdressed here, Nick. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind taking off some of your clothes?” she asked seriously.

  “Where have my manners gone? Of course I’d be happy to strip for you, madam,” he teased.

  A shadow of apprehension touched her gaze, and he reminded himself sharply to go slowly with his bride. A frisson of guilt whisked through him for taking advantage of her like this—and for enjoying it so much. He vowed to make it up to her as best he could. If he had to seduce her, the least he could do was make it as pleasurable as possible. He’d never thought of making love as a selfless act before. But as soon as the concept occurred to him, he was struck by the power of the discovery.