The Princess Brides. Jane Porter

silenced her with a lift of his hand. ‘‘I don’t want to hear it. You’ve had a problem with the princess since she arrived.’’ He turned his back on her, spoke to the captain of his military guard, requesting assistance, giving the captain his location at the market square.

      Tears continued to well in Fatima’s eyes. ‘‘Forgive me, cousin.’’

      But he couldn’t look at her. ‘‘I trusted you,’’ he said, his deep voice curt, his tone bitter. ‘‘And you have shamed me.’’

      Fatima climbed into the back of the limousine and buried her face in her hands. Malik paced before the car, waiting for the driver to return. Malik intended to set off and look for Nicolette himself, but suddenly she was there, a flushed princess, hot, tired, but obviously grateful to have found her way back. ‘‘You’re still here.’’ Nic smiled in relief. ‘‘Thank goodness.’’

      ‘‘I’d never leave you.’’

      ‘‘I know, but I—’’

      ‘‘I’d never leave you.’’ His gaze swept her, a quick inspection to ensure she was truly in one piece. ‘‘Are you okay?’’

      ‘‘I’m fine. Just embarrassed. I don’t know how I managed to lose Fatima.’’ Nic paused, glanced around. ‘‘Is she back yet?’’

      Malik’s expression darkened. ‘‘She’s in the car.’’

      ‘‘Good. I was afraid she was out looking for me, and I didn’t want to put her in any danger.’’ Nic shook her head, incredulous. ‘‘It’s hot.’’

      ‘‘It is,’’ he agreed, spotting the driver returning through the square with the security officers. ‘‘Let me take care of this,’’ he said, indicating the officers approaching, ‘‘and then we’ll head back to the palace.’’

      Back at the palace, Nic returned to her suite and discovered Alea waiting with open arms. ‘‘Are you alright, Princess?’’ Alea cried, touching Nic’s arm as if she were an apparition.

      Alea’s concern was almost comical. ‘‘I’m fine.’’ Nic grimaced. ‘‘I was lost. The city was hot. But I found my way back and everything’s okay.’’

      ‘‘Well, we’re going to take good care of you,’’ Alea assured Nicolette. ‘‘First, a shower to cool you off, wash away the dust, then a good soak in the hot tub, after that, a massage, help relax every muscle—’’

      ‘‘That’s not necessary, Alea. A shower is all I need.’’

      But the young woman wasn’t listening. She was already off, heading into Nicolette’s luxurious bathroom, opening doors, turning on the shower. ‘‘Come, Princess,’’ Alea called above the steamy shower spray. ‘‘Let’s get you started.’’

      An hour and a half later, Nicolette winced as the experienced masseuse dug her elbows into the knots in Nicolette’s back. The massage wasn’t Swedish style, Nic thought, wincing again, but after an hour of steady kneading, rubbing, twisting, Nic was beginning to feel boneless.

      But gradually the deep tissue massage gave way to a softer touch, longer strokes that soothed instead of hurt. Relaxed beyond belief, Nic drifted in and out of sleep, happy to just lie there and be mindless.

      No worries now, she thought sleepily. It’d be impossible to worry.

      The masseuse finished by working Nic’s hands, feet, lightly kneading, working each little joint.

      Stepping from the table the masseuse held up Nic’s warm silk robe. ‘‘Your Highness.’’

      Nic dragged herself off the massage table, her limbs so heavy, she wanted to slide into bed. Instead she forced her arms into the robe’s quilted sleeves and belted the tie around her waist. ‘‘Thank you.’’

      ‘‘My pleasure.’’ The masseuse opened the door, gestured to Nic’s pink marble bathroom. ‘‘The steam room, Your Highness?’’

      ‘‘No thank you, not again. I think I’ll just shower.’’

      ‘‘As you wish.’’ The masseuse bowed, and excused herself and Alea appeared.

      ‘‘How do you feel, Princess?’’

      ‘‘Lovely.’’ Nic covered her mouth, hiding her yawn. ‘‘I can’t even keep my eyes open.’’

      ‘‘You won’t have to. Rinse off the oil and then I’ll finish you off with a nice scented lotion to keep your skin soft. Afterward, you can put your robe back on and you’ll find refreshments waiting for you in your sitting room.’’

      Nicolette spent forever in the shower, letting the hot water rain down on her head. She couldn’t remember when she last felt so languid. She was relaxed, almost too relaxed, she didn’t feel the slightest urgency…about anything. She shampooed her hair, once, twice, and then finished with the delicious fruit scented conditioner that made Nic’s mouth water.

      After finally stepping from the shower and toweling dry, Nic allowed Alea to slather her in lotion. She couldn’t protest the indulgence even if she wanted to. She simply didn’t have the energy. The heat from the market place, and then the two hours of pampering, had taken all speech away. Nic might as well have been a rag doll.

      With her hair lightly blowed dry, Nic slipped on a clean robe, this one a gorgeous coral silk embroidered with gold and green threads, and headed for the sitting room where hot mint tea and sweets waited.

      But that wasn’t all that waited.

      Malik Nuri waited as well.

      Nic froze in the doorway, one hand going to her chest, checking the drape and coverage of her thin silk robe. ‘‘Your Highness.’’

      ‘‘I thought I’d join you for tea.’’

      She’d never felt self-conscious around any man before and yet Malik did something to her, made her feel absolutely naked. And truthfully, right now she was rather naked. Her silk robe didn’t conceal much.

      ‘‘It is your palace,’’ she said, tension curling in the pit of her stomach.

      His eyebrow lifted. ‘‘That’s not the same thing as a ‘yes, I’m glad to see you’, is it?’’

      Nic licked her bottom lip, conscious she wore absolutely nothing beneath the robe, not a chemise or even a thong. Just skin. Warm, still slightly damp skin from her hot shower and application of body lotion.

      And he knew it, she thought, with a curiously expectant shiver.

      ‘‘Of course I’d enjoy your company,’’ she said, surprised yet again by her flutter of nerves. She shouldn’t have this kind of response—at the very least, she shouldn’t act on this response.

      ‘‘Any company?’’ he teased. ‘‘Not my company?’’

      Her gaze took in the way he reclined on the sofa cushions, his own robe open at the chest, his long muscular legs covering the length of the settee.

      He was gorgeous. And he knew it. ‘‘You know I enjoy your company,’’ she answered softly.

      ‘‘And my touch.’’

      She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. ‘‘Did it ever cross your mind that you’re still single because you’re arrogant and conceited?’’

      He smiled. ‘‘I’m not conceited.’’

      ‘‘But arrogant?’’

      ‘‘Laeela, I wouldn’t be a proper sultan if I didn’t have a certain amount of confidence.’’

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      HIS smile was slow, wicked, and rising from the couch Malik walked to a console