Perhaps he was wrong about that. Perhaps he should mention them to Piper.

  Not now. Today was about visiting the museum.

  They went into the first exhibit hall, and Camil examined the space. The outside of the building had seemed shabby, with pieces crumbling from the sandstone walls, but the inside was well-maintained.

  And the collection—

  “This is wonderful,” Piper murmured to him as they wended their way through rows of historical artifacts and neatly typed placards. Each small card was typed in both Arabic and English, so he didn’t have to translate, though he missed the opportunity to lean down and say things softly into her ear.

  Piper was correct about the collection. It was wonderful. The curators had put together an attractive display. Even with Piper on his arm, he found himself absorbed in the items and the descriptions.

  At least most of the time.

  They moved past a small exhibit about each sheikh of the last century.

  “Your father,” Piper said.

  “And me.” Camil pointed to a photo—there he was as a small boy, standing on the steps of the palace with his father. “I wonder what his exhibit will look like in fifty years.”

  It was relatively small, but then again, the sheikh was still alive. His cases contained clothes and letters and trinkets. Close by was a much larger display.

  “There,” Piper said. “There’s what we’ve been looking for.”

  Camil did not admit that Piper was, by far, the most intriguing thing in the museum. He constantly caught himself stealing glances at her, taking in the expressions on her face as much as he did the words on the placards.

  Piper’s hand tightened on his arm as they approached. These cases, for his great-grandfather, focused on his “famous love” and included photos of the desert palace.

  “It’s so lovely,” she said, leaning closer to take in all the details. “I can’t believe you’re going to turn it into a hotel. It’s too pretty to be a hotel.”

  “Lovely indeed. But it will be lovelier if it serves my purposes.” Camil took a deep breath, allowing himself to feel the pressure that had dogged him for all these weeks. “I need to implement my plans for renovations within the year.”

  “Hmm,” Piper said, her voice soft. He expected more questions about it. For her to insist on an explanation. But Piper turned her face toward a set of doors on the other side of the gallery. “Is that a courtyard?”

  “It is. Let’s get some fresh air.”

  Out in the afternoon sun, she tipped her face to the sky. “Could we sit for a minute?”

  “Of course.” He led her to a stone bench, and they sat down together. Piper looked pale. A little peaked, the way she did sometimes before they ate lunch. “Are you all right?”

  “I—” Piper pressed her lips together, then took a shallow breath. “I am. Just a touch of morning sickness.”

  Guilt crashed into him like a stiff breeze. They hadn’t spoken about the baby. He’d been avoiding it, and she had been meticulous about not bringing it up.

  “We’ll need to talk about it eventually,” he said, the olive trees in the courtyard rustling their leaves.

  Piper was still and quiet for several moments.

  Then she shook her head. “I’m enjoying the afternoon for now, okay?”

  “Very well.” He inched closer. The way she sat, her back so straight—it looked uncomfortable. Tense. He didn’t want that. Camil put an arm around her shoulders to run a hand down her arm.

  As he did, his fingertips skimmed the sleeve of her shirt, and Piper leaned her head against his shoulder.

  He pressed his lips to the top of her head.

  Camil had not been thinking when he did it, had not planned to do it, but Piper let out a happy sigh. Warmth unfurled in his chest. He’d made her happy.

  He wouldn’t do a single thing to ruin it.

  They sat on the bench in the silence together, the breeze gently caressing their faces, their hair, Piper resting against him. He’d never felt so content.

  4

  The palace was different. Piper knew it the second she stepped into the air-conditioned cool of the lobby. The energy of the palace changed throughout the week in its regular pattern, but today was different from anything else she’d experienced. People moved quickly across the space alone and in twos or threes, their heads bent together, murmuring conversations with lots of hand gestures.

  What was going on?

  “Good morning, Piper.”

  The voice at her side was an unfamiliar one, and Piper turned to see a pair of smiling, dark eyes. The woman who possessed that voice had dark hair to match and smile lines around her mouth. She couldn’t have been more than forty-five.

  “Good morning,” Piper answered, a beat too late. “I’m so sorry. I usually go down to the archives, but—”

  A gentle hand on her arm stopped her excuses. “I’m Farah Said, Sheikh Jal’s assistant. Prince Camil sent me to meet you so you would know right away that the archives are closed for the day.”

  Her voice was so warm and so calm that Piper’s disappointment was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by curiosity. “Is there something going on?”

  Farah’s smile broadened. “The sheikh and prince will be hosting a formal dinner for the other regional sheikhs this evening.”

  “I had no idea.” Oh, she looked silly now, barging into the palace on an event day. “Camil didn’t mention it to me. I’m so sorry. I’ll come back at a better time.”

  Piper turned to go, but Farah reached for her arm again. “The prince has also asked me to issue an invitation for the dinner. He would like you to accompany him as his guest.”

  The bustle of the lobby seemed to cut out abruptly, careening away from her as an embarrassed blankness took over her thoughts. “Oh, I—I couldn’t. I have nothing to wear.” That, and she had no idea how to handle a formal dinner. The fanciest thing she’d ever attended was a fundraising gala in graduate school, and she’d spilled red wine on a white tablecloth.

  “Not to worry. My job for the afternoon is to show you the ropes and find you something appropriate to wear. Come with me. I’ll take care of you.”

  Any other time, Piper might have insisted on heading back to her flat, but Farah was kind...and Camil wanted her at the dinner. He knew her. He knew exactly how much she knew about palace life and formal events and fancy functions. If he didn’t want her there, he wouldn’t have asked. It gave Piper a glow of pride to think that he wanted her, even in this capacity.

  Which was not a thought she should entertain—Camil wanting her. She shouldn’t let the words enter her mind. Piper wrestled them away as Farah led her through the public-facing areas of the palace and down a series of shining modern hallways that were quieter than the lobby had been.

  A private area of the palace.

  There were fewer servants here, but the room Farah stopped at had someone inside, another member of the staff. She was arranging the last of a few outfits on a long rack at the side of the room. A table at the other end had been set for a meal. The other staff member left with a smile, and Piper took another lingering look at this private dining room turned training-ground. It was a warm, welcoming space, with a big window looking out onto a courtyard. She felt at home in all the natural light, but the table settings—

  “Prince Camil thought of everything, didn’t he?”

  Farah nodded. “He did indeed.”

  Piper’s racing heart settled just in time to leap into a whirlwind afternoon of etiquette lessons and tips on how to navigate the conversational landscape of a royal function. It was easy to roleplay with Farah. Piper fell into the task without struggling, which was a surprise. She wasn’t normally the kind of woman who looked forward to pop quizzes like attending royal dinners. But for Camil?

  She would do it.

  Between lessons, they tried on gown after gown. Gorgeous, expensive gowns. The height of Middle Eastern formalwear. Each gown featured long sleeves, a nipped-in waist, and a fall of fabric to the floor, and each had been embroidered with gold and silver threads. “What do you think?” Farah asked, again and again as she turned in front of the mirror they’d brought in. This way and that. Turn again.

  Piper didn’t know what to think. It was a lot. Her days in the archives were so quiet and ordered. A morning of research, with only the archivist to check on her. Lunches with Camil. Afternoons of more silent reading and research.

  And now—

  Now she was going to be Camil’s date.

  She hadn’t imagined the connection between them. Piper couldn’t describe it. Not today, not with all the hurry and the lessons. But it did exist. He’d asked her to be at his side at a royal function. She felt the bond between them, nameless as it was. He must feel it too.

  Finally, she chose a soft blue gown with gold embellishments and a fitted waist. The moment Piper touched it, she knew it would be perfect.

  “Just in time,” Farah said softly, and all at once Piper realized how much of the day they’d spent on etiquette and clothing decisions. “Am I late?”

  “No, no. I wouldn’t let you be late.” Farah patted her arm. “We have time to dress and prepare you.”

  Someone brought makeup and she put it on in the mirror, and then Farah helped her into the gown. “This is like magic,” Piper told her when it floated down around her. She’d been right—a perfect fit. Everything had been provided. Underthings. Shoes. Makeup. Even styling tools. Farah helped to twist her hair into an elegant bun.

  “Wow,” breathed Piper. The two women looked into the mirror together. “I’ve never looked this good.” She met Farah’s eyes. “Thank you.”

  “You were beautiful when you arrived,” said Farah. “The prince is waiting.”

  Now Piper’s heart pounded underneath the lovely blue of her dress. All day it had been a rush to learn, and a rush to dress, but now the rushing was over and the prince was waiting.

  The prince. Waiting. For her.

  She hardly paid attention to the path they took through the palace, but they turned a corner and there he was.

  Camil. Tall and handsome and regal in a tuxedo so fitted to his body that her mouth watered. He turned his head, obviously catching a glimpse of her—

  And did a double take.

  Her nerves flew away as the grin took over. Camil shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it was her, and he held out his arm.

  “Piper,” he said, and her name sounded like a sweet invitation in his mouth. Or a wicked one. She couldn’t decide which.

  Piper took his arm and batted her lashes at him. “Why, hello there.”

  “Hello to you too.” Camil’s eyes skimmed down over her gown. “You look stunning. Come and let me show you off.”

  His words sent another thrill of pride down her spine. Camil escorted her into the main ballroom with the confidence of a prince. The confidence that was his birthright, she thought with a shiver. He was the kind of man a woman could fall head over heels in love with at first sight, with his beauty and his power. Would it be true love if that happened?

  “My father,” he said, turning her to greet a man who was an older version of Camil. Her body tried to bob into that awkward curtsey, but gentle pressure from Camil’s arm kept her upright and Piper settled for inclining her head. “Sheikh Jal. This is Piper McCarthy.”

  The older man’s smile reminded her of Camil’s. He clasped both her hands in his and bowed his head over them. “You are a most honored guest, Ms. McCarthy. Please enjoy yourself.”

  A waiter with a tray passed by, and Jal lifted an appetizer from it and handed it to her. Piper smiled. A bite-sized twist of spiced meat and peppers. But when she put it to her lips, something about it tasted…wrong. She ate it anyway. She would not be rude in front of the sheikh.

  Piper lost herself in the other introductions. There were other sheikhs and their wives, young and old, and names and faces swam together in the heat of the room. Someone tugged at Camil’s attention—Sheikh Faidh of Nouzar—and he turned away from her to speak to his close friend, who had olive eyes and curly dark hair and laughter in his expression. Waiters circulated through the crowd, and she found herself turning her head again and again from the scent of the food. It would start out smelling wonderful, and as she took a deep breath—

  No. Not wonderful anymore. Piper turned one more time and found herself alone.

  She was adrift. The crowd carried her away from Camil, and now Piper only saw strangers. Oh, no. Had Farah given her a tip for this? Probably to smile. She did. But heat rushed to her face without Camil’s steadying presence at her side.

  “Come here, come here,” said a woman, hooking her arm through Piper’s and pulling her into a conversation. “You look lost. I’m Sarai, married to one of Sheikh Jal’s councilmen. You must be the prince’s friend from America.” A knowing smile spread across Sarai’s face. “Camil has been quite excited about the project you’ve been working on.”

  Piper was about to laugh, about to ask what he’d said, but at that moment the serving platters for the meal were carried in by a procession of waiters. The smell of all the food hit her full force.

  Nausea shot up through her, seeming to take all the air from her lungs. “Excuse me,” she managed, and Piper only had time to clamp a hand to her mouth and run from the room.

  The meat. The peppers. It had been too much, all those scents clinging to the room. She loved meat and peppers, but right now they made her gag. Piper pushed blindly through a door and found herself in the foyer between palace and courtyard. There. Fresh air. She leaned against the wall, breathing deeply and trying not to throw up.

  This was not how a royal ball was supposed to go. It was supposed to be a fairy tale evening with a prince. Fairy tales did not get invaded by realities like upset stomachs.

  A moment later, the door opened again. Camil came to her wearing a disapproving frown. But then he saw her, and all the irritation in his expression melted into concern. He put his big palms on her arms and rubbed gently up and down. “Are you all right?”

  Her smile felt wobbly and insubstantial. “I’m trying not to be sick. I’ll come back in a minute and apologize.”

  “No,” he murmured. “I’ll make your apologies. You should go rest.” He released her, but only so he could pull open the inner door and beckon to a man in a staff uniform. “Have one of the guest suites prepared for Ms. McCarthy,” he told the man, and the staff member took off at a clip, and Camil turned back to her. The corners of his perfect mouth turned down, but it was nothing like the disapproving frown he’d worn before. It was pure concern.

  Her own flare of irritation dissolved. He wasn’t being malicious or treating her like a child. He wasn’t sending her to bed to get rid of her. He cared.

  Piper relaxed, letting her body sag against the wall for one more minute. “Thank you.”

  Camil offered her his arm again. “Come with me. I’ll show you to your room.”

  The rumors had already begun flying by the time Camil returned to the ballroom, which had been set up as a banquet hall. The sheikhs had gathered in a group at the back of the room, and they were obviously exchanging gossip. Whispering. Shaking their heads.

  Camil strode up to them and pushed into the circle, breaking through the huddled barrier. “Ms. McCarthy makes her apologies. She wasn’t feeling well and has gone to bed for the evening.”

  Most of them nodded, but a few of the older, stuffier sheikhs made a point not to look at Camil. A hand on his shoulder got his attention.

  Faidh’s mouth curved with an amused smile he was trying to hide. “Are you out of your mind?”

  Camil took him off to the side, away from the whispering gossips. “What?”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Faidh repeated. “Piper is gorgeous. She’s witty, and she’s charming, but she’s hardly the type to bring to a state dinner. Where did you even meet her?”

  “She came looking for information about a research project. The Lovers of Al-Fahr.”

  “Your grandparents?”

  “Great-grandparents. And we—” Camil glanced around to be sure no one was in earshot. They weren’t. “We hit it off. Now she’s working on a project that will benefit both of us. She’s just a friend, Faidh.” It tasted like a lie—bitter and sharp.

  Faidh shot him a skeptical look. They’d been friends for too long for his friend not to pick up on his hesitance. “What are you leaving out?”

  He took a deep breath. If he told Faidh now, it would be real, what had happened between him and Piper. It was already very real—there was a baby involved. A child. His child. But telling his friends was a different level entirely. How long did he hope to hide it? Forever?

  “Tell me,” Faidh demanded. “I can tell you’re holding back. Whatever it is, I’ve probably done worse.”

  “We slept together.” He would never tell Faidh how much he’d loved it. How much being tangled in Piper’s arms had felt like home, more than any place he’d been in his life.

  “Piper didn’t run out of here because you slept with her.” Faidh raised one eyebrow.

  A heavy sigh. They were here, then. This was the moment. “She’s pregnant,” he said, his voice dropping. Camil’s throat had gone tight, and he swallowed that hard lump. Not here. He was not going to get emotional in front of his friend and in front of all these people. “About eight weeks along. With my child.”

  Faidh shook his head, blowing out a sharp breath. “Fool.”

  It hurt, spearing into some soft part of him that he hadn’t expected. “It’ll happen to us all eventually.”

  His friend wouldn’t look at him. “First Amare and now you. Both of you have betrayed me.” It had the cadence of a joke, but Camil knew it wasn’t. “My best friends, and you’ve both broken your word.”

  “I’m not in love with her,” he insisted, and this time it was worse than a lie. It was betrayal. But he couldn’t take it back. Not in this moment. “We’re going to figure out some arrangement for the baby. Piper—she’s becoming a wonderful friend, but I don’t have any interest in her romantically.”