The Princess Brides. Jane Porter

silence put knots in her stomach. ‘‘If she’s ill, we shouldn’t go—’’

      ‘‘She’ll be herself soon. I don’t want you to worry. You have enough on your mind.’’

      ‘‘But—’’

      ‘‘No.’’ This time he was adamant, his tone forceful. ‘‘I do not want to discuss this further. Have Alea pack. Tell her you are going to Zefd.’’

      Several hours later Nicolette and Malik left noisy, congested Atiq behind, traveling in a luxuriously outfitted four wheel drive vehicle, the interior seats leather, the windows tinted, the middle console between two of the passenger seats built to house a mini refrigerator, a stereo, and a DVD player.

      Malik sat silent the first half hour of the trip, staring blindly out the window. Nicolette knew he wasn’t angry with her. Rather he was wrestling internally, in a battle with himself.

      Finally she wouldn’t let him sit in silence any longer. He’d had over an hour to beat himself up. Now he’d have to talk to her.

      ‘‘I’ve never seen a four-wheel drive vehicle like this,’’ she said, her voice breaking the heavy silence.

      ‘‘It’s custom,’’ he answered, his expression even more brooding. ‘‘Built for the desert. To handle the dunes if necessary.’’

      ‘‘It’s quite plush. You could live in here.’’

      ‘‘If necessary.’’

      He wasn’t making this easy, but Nicolette doggedly inspected the entertainment system, remembering the hidden speakers and stereo system in her room at the palace. ‘‘Lots of interesting gadgets.’’

      ‘‘A king should be entitled to a few play things.’’

      She cocked her head, hearing the anger and self-loathing in his voice. What had happened last night? What had happened with his cousin? ‘‘Please tell me about Fatima.’’

      ‘‘There’s nothing to say.’’

      Pain deepened his voice and Nic’s heart ached. ‘‘I’ve been worried,’’ she said softly. ‘‘And I know you care about her very much.’’

      Malik continued to stare out the windows. The hills were giving way to steep red tinted mountains. ‘‘She’s going to go to New York for a while, spend time with her family there. She agrees with me that she needs a change—’’

      ‘‘And until then, we’re leaving her alone?’’

      ‘‘She won’t be alone. Her mother and sister are arriving from America this afternoon.’’

      Nic assessed the situation, understanding suddenly that she was being sent away deliberately before Fatima’s mother arrived. ‘‘You didn’t want me to meet your aunt.’’

      ‘‘Fatima wanted to avoid any potential problems.’’

      ‘‘Meeting your aunt would have created problems?’’

      He turned his head, met her gaze. ‘‘My aunt wished me to marry my cousin, and Fatima, wisely wanted to save you, and herself, from further embarrassment.’’

      So that explained Fatima’s hostility. Nic exhaled slowly, thinking of the past week, all the time the two had been forced to spend together. Fatima must have felt hurt, and humiliated. ‘‘I didn’t know.’’

      He made a rough sound, impatient, angry. ‘‘I didn’t, either.’’

      Her lips parted in surprise but Malik’s pained expression stilled the words on her lips, leaving them unspoken. He looked staggered even now. Nicolette had never seen him so quiet, so closed. It was as if he’d gone inward and shut all his emotions down.

      Something horrible must have happened last night…‘‘I’m sorry, Malik. I really am.’’

      ‘‘I am, too.’’

      Nicolette suddenly wondered if perhaps she’d done something far worse by coming here than just masquerading as Chantal. Had she perhaps destroyed people’s futures…their lives? ‘‘Was there a reason you couldn’t marry?’’

      His powerful shoulders shifted. ‘‘I didn’t choose her,’’ he said flatly, turning to look at Nicolette with a piercing gaze. He stared at her hard, staring at her as if he could see all the way through her. ‘‘I chose you.’’

      Nicolette felt a wave of panic. Fatima loved Malik, she’d hoped to share her life with him, and all the while Nicolette was playing a part, biding her time before she could escape back to Melio.

      How would Nic’s disappearance affect Malik…Fatima…the Nuri family?

      She swayed on her seat, feeling dizzy, sick, scared of what she’d started. Her breezy words spoken to Chantal returned to haunt her, I’ll sneak in, sneak out, and be gone before the sultan even notices…

      Wrong.

      ‘‘She’s going to be okay,’’ Malik said, sensing Nicolette’s panic, seeking to reassure her. ‘‘Don’t blame yourself. I chose you. You didn’t create this…problem.’’

      Nicolette heard the emotion in Malik’s voice, felt his worry, his personal struggle. He blamed himself.

      He cared about Fatima. He loved his family. He’d spent his life trying to protect those he cared about. And in that instant, Nic realized that all those European gossip magazines had gotten King Malik Roman Nuri wrong. He wasn’t a Casanova. It’d be impossible for him to take women to bed just to discard them later.

      Malik cared about women. He didn’t take advantage of them.

      She felt tears start to her eyes. ‘‘No wonder you enjoy your gadgets.’’ She covered his hand with hers. ‘‘You should be entitled to a few fun toys. It’s not easy being King.’’

      He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissed the back of her fingers. He was trying hard to lighten his mood. ‘‘You will enjoy Zefd. It will be good for us to spend a few days in the mountains.’’

      But Nic didn’t want him to put on a happy face for her sake. She searched his eyes. ‘‘Are you going to be okay?’’

      Leaning forward, he brushed his mouth across her cheek, and then once more on her lips. ‘‘I’m glad you’re with me, laeela.’’

      ‘‘I’m glad I’m here, too.’’

      They spent two hours traveling in and out of the rugged red and pink mountains, climbing slowly, steadily to the peak of one mountain, to descend on the other side, and then start climbing all over again.

      Late afternoon they reached an open valley, the barren ground dotted here and there with oases of green. ‘‘Artificial lakes,’’ Malik said, ‘‘for commercial orchards of date trees.’’

      On this side of the mountains the landscape looked brighter, clearer, and more unusual. It was the quality of light, Nic thought, the way the golden rays hit the rose and gold sand, reflecting off the pink and red granite cliffs.

      Everything here seemed to come from the earth, to be made of the earth, and would eventually return to the earth. The driver approached a red sandstone fortress, the stark walls high, the parapet clearly etched against the brilliant blue sky. The fortress towered over the rest of the city and yet was still dwarfed by the snow-capped mountains behind.

      ‘‘So where are we?’’ Nic’s inquisitive gaze took in the magnificent mountains dusted in white and the weathered apricot and terracotta buildings before them.

      ‘‘This is Zefd. One of the oldest cities in Baraka. My father’s family came from here.’’

      As Malik’s vehicle entered the walls of the city, people unexpectedly poured out, robed men and women and dozens of eager children.