The Desert Sheikh's Innocent Queen: King of the Desert, Captive Bride. Jane Porter

told her that the First Residence Complex, which included the First Residence Shopping Mall and the Four Seasons Hotel, was the most coveted real estate in Cairo and the place all the stars and sheikhs and heads of state hit when they visit the city.

      “But you don’t stay there?” she asked, catching glimpses of handsome palm trees lining the broad cornice as the last glints of dying sunlight warmed the creamy paint on the building facades.

      “I usually do when I’m here, but on the plane you mentioned your love of history and geography and I thought the Mena House would appeal to you.”

      “You chose it for me?”

      “Yes.”

      Liv felt that painful tightness in her chest again, and, flustered, she dipped her head, surprised, flattered, but also confused. “Thank you.”

      The car slowed before an elegant domed building. “We’re here,” Khalid said, as his driver came around to open the back door. “And I believe your personal shopper is here waiting for us, too.”

      Indeed, a smart-looking woman in a dark suit stepped toward the car as the driver opened the door. She’d obviously been waiting for them and she bowed deeply to Sheikh Fehr, and gave a smaller bow to Olivia. “I’m Val Bakr,” she said, her long dark hair braided and pinned up. “I’m a personal shopper and I’m here to make wardrobing you as quick and efficient as possible.”

      She led Liv through the shopping center to a selection of designer shops where she’d already selected dozens of outfits for Liv to try on. Khalid accompanied her in each shop, but he sat off to one side and silently observed the fittings.

      By the end of the hour Liv had tried on a staggering array of dresses, skirts, slacks, jackets, blouses, gowns, shoes and coats. Raffia totes were added to the pile of clothes, along with small clutches, swimsuits, belts, hats, scarves, and even robes and nightgowns.

      The clothes were stunning. Cotton and silk white trousers, off-white patent pumps, a jade-green crocodile belt, a cotton cardigan with real pearl buttons. The rainbow-hued Louis Vuitton bag got its color from pretty leather buttons adhered with a tiny gold ball. The green Valentino heels had a rhinestone bow. The sea-foam green silk chiffon dress had sweet ruffles at the neck and then a high-waisted belt covered in semiprecious stones.

      Khalid didn’t even hand a credit card. He just nodded at the pile and asked for everything to be sent to him at the Mena Hotel and then he took Olivia’s arm and walked her back to his car.

      “You can’t possibly really buy all that,” she said in protest as they exited the elegant shopping mall.

      Khalid didn’t answer. He just gestured to the car’s open door, but Liv hesitated. She could still remember how Val had stood elbow-high in tissue and boxes and garment bags. “Sheikh Fehr, I saw the price on the bag—which alone was seventy-five hundred dollars. I don’t even own a car worth seventy-five hundred dollars.”

      Khalid sighed and glanced at his watch. “Miss Bakr has impeccable taste and everything she selected is perfect for our needs.”

      “But all those clothes! They must cost thousands and thousands of dollars.”

      “You need a proper wardrobe.”

      “But this is too much. A couple skirts, a few blouses, a pair of sandals. But certainly not all the designer labels, and those extravagant accessories … and you must admit a seven-thousand-dollar purse—”

      “Please get in the car,” he interrupted quietly, but in such a no-nonsense tone that Liv gulped a breath and complied.

      Inside the car he added, “We do not argue with our women on the city streets, and our women do not disagree with us in front of family, friends or strangers.”

      Flushing with embarrassment, Liv went hot and then cold and hot again. She was just trying to save him money. She’d only been trying to make things easier. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful. I just didn’t want you spending so much on me. There was no need.”

      “But there is,” he corrected. “It’s what people will expect of you. You now represent me. You are my fiancée, and here in the Arab world, I am very well-known.”

      “But you must understand I can’t pay you back for these things,” she protested huskily. “My mom certainly can’t. She’s nearing retirement, and Jake can’t, either. He’s a carpenter. He builds houses for a living.”

      Khalid sighed. “I don’t expect to be paid back. But I do expect your respect, and cooperation. I have put my name and reputation on the line for you. I am risking my personal and family honor, and honor is everything here. Honor is the difference between life and death.”

      It was dark now and the streetlights and building lights illuminated the city blocks.

      “My job is to protect you, but you must allow me to protect you. You must trust me when I say we are in a difficult, and dangerous, situation.”

      Khalid’s warning sent a shiver through her. How many times had Jake virtually said the same thing? How many times had he told her the world wasn’t a nice place, the world wasn’t a safe place, especially for a girl from a small Southern town?

      But she hadn’t believed him. She’d thought Jake was a pessimist. Now she knew differently.

      “Are you listening?” Khalid asked.

      “Yes,” she answered hoarsely. The things Khalid was telling her terrified her. It wasn’t the life she knew. It wasn’t how she’d been raised.

      “I do not mean to frighten you,” he added after a moment, “but I need to impress upon you the importance of appearances. We must be discrete. Everything we do will be observed by others. Everything we do—individually, or together—will be documented, analyzed and discussed. The only time you are truly free, or truly safe, is when you are alone with me.”

      She gave a short nod to show him she understood.

      Khalid fell silent, his forehead creasing, his expression turning brooding. “One more thing. I phoned your brother earlier, while you were finishing your tea. I told him you were safe. I told him you were with me. And I told him you would personally phone later tonight and he said he’d look forward to speaking with you, but in the meantime, he sends love and extends to us his heartiest congratulations.”

      Liv’s blood froze. “Congratulations?” she whispered, through impossibly cold, stiff lips.

      “On our engagement.”

      “You told him?”

      “I had to. He’s going to read it in the paper soon. I thought he’d rather hear the news from us.”

      “But we’re not really going to get married,” Liv choked, fingers balling into fists in her lap. “It’s just a ruse, a facade to buy us time.”

      When Khalid didn’t answer she felt downright hysterical. He couldn’t be serious about marriage. There was just no way. No way. And how was it possible that she’d left prison only to be forced into marriage? Apparently it was just one jail in exchange for another. “I can’t do it,” she said fiercely, “and I won’t.”

      “Then tell that to the Jabal officials who are coming to see us in an hour or two,” he said, doing little to hide his annoyance. “Tell them you’re not really my fiancée, tell them it was all a mistake and you’ll see what will happen when you get me out of the way. Olivia, I am the only one keeping you from that prison. I am the only one who can, and the only way I can is by offering you my name, my life and my family’s reputation.”

      She hung her head, closed her eyes and dragged in a breath, and then another. “Why does it have to be jail or marriage? Why?”

      “Because this isn’t Europe, or America, and you were charged with a very serious crime. A crime which can carry the death penalty.”

      “But