“That's very kind of you,” Ziad began, but Laura shook her head.

  “Not kind, just doing my job,” she retorted, “just like the adults at your school should have done. You were only thirteen? That's way too young to be forced to bear that kind of responsibility.”

  “Perhaps if you are living a normal life,” Ziad reminded her. “I wasn't. I was born noble, and thus I bear a greater responsibility. Jamila—her fate will be the same. Being a royal is more than just posing for pictures or charming the press. It is a responsibility, and I learned the hard way. I…don't want Jamila and Hasan's lessons to be as harsh as mine were.”

  Laura didn't know what to say, but she felt for the first time the kind of weight that hung over Ziad, and somehow, she could feel it coming to rest over her as well. It was history and tradition and responsibility and hope for a future that could only come if she took very good care of the children in her charge.

  She couldn't speak for a moment, and then Ziad took her hand.

  “You can feel it too, can't you, what the world needs from you? It's all right. I'm here. I share it with you.”

  She felt as if she were spinning through space, and then suddenly Ziad was there, and a warmth that she had never felt before swelled up in her heart. The fear and anxiety that had taken hold of her was suddenly swept away. Everything was clear, and all she could see was Ziad, his warm eyes, the unshakable way that he lived in the world.

  Laura had no idea if Ziad leaned in or if she did, but then she was in his strong arms, the meeting of their lips like something she had wanted all her life but never known. All that mattered was the fulfillment of the warmth that his very first touch had promised her, and she sank into it with a soft moan, her hands fisted in his T-shirt, her eyes closing at the intensity of what she was feeling.

  Ziad ravished her mouth. He took his time, but there was a kind of elemental force to how he kissed her, as if this was what they were both meant to do, had always been meant to do. Laura groaned as Ziad's tongue slid over her lower lip and then invaded her mouth, boldly plundering it and sending a shocking wave of pleasure through her body. She wanted more and more, crying out when he pulled away, but it was only so he could drag his lips from hers down to her throat and the tender, almost ticklish place where her neck met her shoulder.

  “Oh, oh that feels good,” she whispered in wonder, and Ziad uttered a hoarse chuckle.

  “This is just the beginning, darling,” he crooned, and her heart beat faster.

  He pushed her to lie flat on the bed, his strong hands roaming her body. The silk nightie she wore was thin enough that she could feel the heat of his hands right through it, and the slippery material slid around her like water, making her feel somehow more sensitive, more needy.

  She jumped a little when Ziad's fingers slid along the waistband of her pajama pants. She groaned with embarrassment at being caught wearing something so cheap in front of a man like Ziad, but he only uttered a low and throaty chuckle.

  “You are beautiful,” he assured her. “You would be beautiful in a garbage bag. Though you will be more beautiful wearing nothing at all.”

  She might have had a response to that, but then he slid the pajama pants straight down her legs, whipping them away and baring her from the waist down to his hands and his eyes. Any impulse Laura had to hide herself from his gaze drained away as she realized how hungry he was. His need sent an answering pulse through her, and mutely, she reached towards him.

  “I want you.” She sighed, and Ziad fell on top of her, his big body coming over hers, his elbows braced to either side of her to hold himself up. All she had to do was tilt her head up to catch the kisses he gave her, and her hands came up to tug insistently at his own clothes.

  “Please,” she said, closing her eyes. “Please, I want to feel you.”

  She suddenly realized how much she was asking for, and she almost took it back. Before she could, however, Ziad stripped off his clothes with efficiency, kneeling up on the bed so she could see him. He was a handsome man clothed, but naked he was gorgeous. The way his broad shoulders narrowed to the taper of his waist, and his dark hair and striking smile, he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, and Laura was stunned at the fact that she was in bed with him, that she was allowed to touch him.

  “Do you like what you see?” he asked teasingly, and she laughed.

  “You know I do,” she muttered, and he shook his head.

  “I don't think I know yet,” he said. “Maybe I should find out for sure.”

  She started to ask him what he meant, but then he stretched out by her side, gathering her even closer to him. The heat of his skin against her made her whimper with the pleasure of it, and she felt the iron hardness of his desire pressed against her hip. Before she could do anything about it, however, he swept his hand down her body and up it again, long and sensual sweeps that made Laura sigh.

  There was something at once tender and demanding about the way he touched her. From the tension that thrummed through the air between them, she knew that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, but he wasn't giving in to their shared desires, not yet.

  Instead he touched her, raising heat on her skin with every pass, making her more aware of her body than she had ever been. She whimpered when he leaned in to kiss her, starting with her mouth then working down her throat to her breasts and back again. His touch was firm and perfect, and she lost herself in the haze of pleasure. He slid his hand down between her legs, startling her and momentarily making her close her thighs around his questing fingers. She blushed at her own exaggerated reaction, but Ziad only looked at her curiously.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, and despite the throb of passion in his voice, there was something soft and gentle there as well.

  “Yes, it was only startling. Please…Please go on.”

  The smile on his face was positively wolfish, and then he continued, his hand coming down to cradle her most delicate parts before touching them with such care and expertise that any reservations she might have had went straight out the window. One moment, Laura was only trembling with desire, and the next, she was panting and writhing on the sheets, nothing in her at all but the need to get more, to have more of this gorgeous man.

  “Please,” she whimpered. “Ziad, please…”

  But he paused.

  “Should we talk about protection?” he asked, his voice admirably level. “I would not like to make things in any way—”

  “Fine,” Laura squeaked. “It's fine. I've been on birth control since I was seventeen.”

  “Good. And you are sure? That this is what you want?”

  “Yes, oh yes.”

  Something changed in Ziad when she uttered those words. He pulled his hand away, and before she could react to that loss, he rose over her, his heavy, naked body sliding deliciously over hers. There was a moment when she gasped, feeling the blunt tip of his manhood against her, and then he entered her in one long and perfect stroke, filling her and sending a deep wave of pleasure through her.

  She cried out, and then he began to thrust into her, setting a rhythm that felt as if she had known it all her life. There was nothing she could do to resist it, nothing she could do to stop it. The tension started low in her belly then spread to the rest of her body. All she could do was cling to him, her nails digging into his bare shoulders as she tried to give him the same pleasure that he was giving her.

  Just as the tension in Ziad's body changed, just as he started to push into her with increasing urgency and need, fireworks exploded through her, explosions of pleasure that made her cling to him even harder, her legs rising to wrap around his hips and bring him even closer, even deeper. She was crying out his name over and over, and just as the stunning pleasure that took her started to fade, she felt Ziad tip over the edge as well.

  Ziad cried her name out once, and then he clutched her to him, shaking over her as his own climax claimed his body

  They were joined, perfectly and without a single reservation between them, and as Laura hung on to Ziad for dear life, she knew that this was all she wanted, ever, in all her life.

  Laura knew that she was in a strange bed when she woke up, but it wasn't until she opened her eyes to see Ziad watching her from beside the bed that she remembered everything that had happened the night before.

  “Good morning,” Ziad said, and Laura felt a brief dip of dismay in her belly. His voice was cool, and she wondered if they were back to being strangers even after the passion that she had seen in him last night.

  “Good morning,” she said in response, and she blinked as he handed her a robe. He was already dressed in a pair of light drawstring pants and a T-shirt, and she put the robe on hurriedly, suddenly nervous about her own nakedness.

  “Are you doing well this morning?” he asked, and she nodded hesitantly.

  “Yes, I think so,” she said. “Are you?”

  He looked startled to be asked, and then he nodded thoughtfully.

  “What happened last night—”

  Before Ziad could finish the statement, the outer door to the sitting room of their suite opened and closed, followed by a cheerful singing.

  “Jamila,” Ziad said. “She comes in to color sometimes.”

  “Oh, um, I should go to her. There's…there's no problem with our sharing a bedroom, right? I mean, we're married.”

  It was the first time she had said it, and the words sent a shiver through her. Ziad narrowed his eyes momentarily and then nodded.

  “No, no problem at all. It is only…”

  He hesitated, and Laura couldn't stand it any longer. She wanted to yell, but that would hardly be appropriate with a little girl on the other side of the door, particularly a little girl who still needed her caregivers to be calm and unshakable for her.

  “Look,” she said, cutting to the chase. “What happened between us last night was fun, but that's all it needs to be, right? I know what the score is, what deal we signed. It's okay to just let last night be what it was.”

  “Fun,” Ziad echoed, and she didn't know why it hurt that she couldn't read him now, after he had been so open just a few hours ago. After a long moment, he said, “Yes. That would likely be for the best.”

  “It would,” she said firmly, even if something was stirring underneath her breastbone, trying to make itself known. “And now I should go out to see Jamila and say good morning.”

  She tightened the tie on her robe, leaving Ziad behind, and she put away the thoughts of how he had touched her the night before and how she had touched him.

  6

  Just before he got to the nursery, Ziad's phone rang. He hesitated for a moment, but then he saw the caller ID. He answered, making a face.

  “This is Ziad.”

  He had barely gotten his name out before the Secretary of Commerce launched into an impassioned tirade about the Americans and their waffling ways. It took several moments before he grasped the situation, and then he passed his hand over his eyes in exasperation.

  “No, you're right, that is unacceptable. You were right to call. I'll be down in twenty minutes.”

  He ended the call and took a deep breath as he tried to get himself under control. A brief disappointment seemed appropriate. The deep wave of dismay at not being able to spend time with his children—with Laura—seemed like too much, and he carefully marshaled his features into line before he opened the door.

  “It's Daddy!” crowed Jamila, already wearing a frankly adorable blue bucket hat and a matching dress. “We're going soon, Daddy? To the zoo?”

  “You are still going, Jamila,” he said as kindly as he could. “I am not. Something has come up.”

  Her face wobbled, and he knelt down, giving her a serious look. Thank God Laura had taught him this trick, speaking with his children calmly and with respect for what they could understand.

  “I'm very sorry, Jamila,” he said. “Sometimes, being a king means doing what is best for everyone else before you get to have fun. I wish I didn't have to miss a trip to the zoo with you and Hasan and Laura.”

  He glanced up over Jamila's head at Laura, who was entering with Hasan on her hip. He was especially disappointed to miss the time with Laura, though he didn't like to think too long on that.

  Jamila sighed gustily.

  “I understand. I'm still sorry you can't come, though.”

  He rose to his feet with a slight smile, patting Jamila on the head.

  “Me too. Perhaps you can see if your Uncle Imran would like the outing. I heard your Aunt Sarah saying that if he hovered too close today she would swat him like a fly.”

  “Jamila, can you go get your backpack, please?” Laura said.

  Jamila ran to her room, and Laura came closer. Ziad found himself briefly entranced by the long caftan and trousers she had chosen, a pale blue with silver stitching over white trousers. It was a demure choice for a young royal, which she was, but it was arrestingly pretty on her. He pondered how good she looked, the clothes skimming her slender frame just right, when he realized she had been talking.

  “Ah, what? I'm sorry. I was thinking of other things.”

  “Just repeating Jamila. I'm sorry you won't be able to go along. I'll text Imran if you really think he wouldn't mind coming.”

  “No, and thank you for doing so. He loves Sarah, but he's also bothering her with how underfoot he has been.”

  Laura grinned.

  “Got it. And don't worry. You take care of the country. I'll take care of the kids.”

  There was something natural about the way she spoke, as if of course they would split the duties of state and home, helping each other and coming to an accord.

  This is where I would kiss her, if we were really husband and wife. If we were in love.

  He remembered abruptly that they weren't, and after a goodbye that was likely far more curt than it had to be, he left.

  The meeting turned out to be of the sort that was deadly dull and vitally important to governance, and though mediator was not a role he liked playing, it was one he could do in his sleep. When the American representative started to go on again about progress eroding tradition, he pulled his phone out and started to text under the desk.

  How's it going?

  The response was immediate.

  Just fine. Wish you were here!

  It was followed by a picture of Jamila in front of a large tank of water, watching entranced as a baby hippo yawned enormously in front of her. The image brought a smile to his face, and he started to put away his phone, but then another thing occurred to him.

  And Hasan?

  A picture followed, an obvious selfie aimed at Laura's chest, where a curious and excited Hasan waved from her chest harness.

  Ah good, they are having fun. He started to put the phone away again, but then he paused.

  Did you bring along enough sunscreen? It looks bright.

  Again, the response was immediate.

  Yup! We've all been protected!

  Ziad frowned. It was a perfectly adequate response. It made sense. She was a professional, and he trusted her with his children. He had married her because she was so good with children.

  Despite that, he couldn't help but take his phone up again.

  Did you remember to bring extra clothes in case of messes?

  Is the security service being vigilant?

  What about snacks?

  That ice cream looks good, but is it all right for them to have that much?

  Laura answered each question as it came in, responding quickly and kindly, but he wondered if she was getting a little short. Her texts were getting less wordy, and he began to wonder if there was some kind of detail he was missing out on.

  The meeting droned on, and sometime around lunch, he stopped getting answers at all. He knew that if something had gone wrong, the security service would have notified him immediately. As the meeting cleared for the midday meal, he stepped into the hall to call.

  To his dismay, Laura's phone went directly to voice mail.

  What in the world?

  He deliberated a moment, considered consulting the security team, and then shook his head. He could go right to the source; he dialed Imran.

  “Hi, big brother,” said Imran, infuriatingly cheerful. “Before you say anything, you need to quit.”

  Ziad scowled.

  “Quit? Quit what? What are you talking about?”

  “Everything's fine. Jamila's having a fantastic time, Hasan has not spit anything disgusting on anyone, no one is sunburned, no one is crying, no one is hurt. Now stop calling.”

  “I am Jamila and Hasan's father, and I have every right to know what's going on.”

  “So talk to Laura at the end of the day. You'll be seeing her, won't you? She's your wife, not your employee. Stop demanding answers every ten minutes as if she's a teenager at her first job.”

  Ziad wanted to defend himself, but Imran hung up on him. He was left fuming at his phone, and for a moment, he wanted to call his brother back and demand that he put Laura on. Then it occurred to him that he would just be doing what Imran had accused him of doing, treating Laura like a servant and not what she actually was.

  My wife. That word even on its own made his heart flutter, made him take a deep breath.

  He went back into the meeting room and resolved to do better.

  The zoo was beautiful, full of exhibits that showed animals in the next best thing to their natural environments. Jamila was ecstatic to greet the hawk she had met on her last visit, and Hasan shrieked with delight at the giraffes. It had taken a bit to get used to the security team that was meant to protect them, but they had faded into the background after a while.

  Laura liked being a woman at the zoo with her kids, but her silent phone nagged at her. It had been such a relief when Imran had suggested that she shut it off, but now she was beginning to feel guilty.