Heavy and wooden, this table had been with the royal family longer than any of the kitchen staff. Amare had sat here after school as a boy, his feet swinging above the floor and his books spread out next to him. The kitchen had always been a comfortable place. His mother liked it, too, though he didn’t often see her down here at night.

  After a few minutes alone with his snack, soft footsteps approached in the dark hall. Probably Taavi. He always seemed to sense when Amare was awake. Amare turned, ready to send Taavi back to bed, but found Nadia standing in the doorway instead.

  Watching him with her gorgeous, dark eyes.

  He lifted his fork from his plate. “Tell me what you think of this.”

  Nadia crossed the dim kitchen, the faint light playing at her hair. She stopped at the edge of the table and opened her mouth. That was all it took—Amare was hard again. Wanting her again. He tried not to let it show and gave his full concentration to guiding the fork between her lips.

  She took the bite and chewed.

  A split second later, Nadia’s eyes widened and she put a hand over her mouth. She turned, frantic, and ran to the sink. Nadia barely got the water on in time to cover the sound of her spitting. With a shake of her head, she arranged her hair over one shoulder and grabbed it in one fist. Ah—so she could lean under the stream of water and drink. Spit. Drink again.

  Finally, she straightened up and tipped her head back, catching her breath. When she had steadied herself, she shot a look at Amare. “What was that?”

  He laughed, some of the stress that had brought him here dissipating. “It’s nkhaat pane. Deep-fried lamb brains.” Nadia held a hand to her mouth, her body tensing toward the sink, and he laughed again. “It’s not for everybody.”

  Nadia closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Watching her try to keep her composure for him in this moment filled him with warmth. It was such an unguarded, natural reaction, and she hadn’t denied it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said when she opened her eyes again. “I should have warned you.”

  “Please. You wanted my real opinion. You wouldn’t have gotten it if you’d told me in advance.” Nadia’s voice was affectionate, familiar, and she came to sit next to him at the table. She put her feet on the rung of her chair and propped her chin on her hand. “What are you doing up?”

  It came to him then, with her sitting so close to him, her hair falling over her shoulder in a dark wave and her eyes on his face. Nadia had woken up in his empty bed and come to find him. They had a connection—one that had drawn her to him in the middle of the night. And part of what nagged at him was that connection. They had differences, he and Nadia. They had become more apparent when they’d gone to the coast together.

  “I was thinking about the pearl diving contest.”

  Her eyebrows lifted with curiosity. “What about it?”

  Amare pushed his empty plate away. It felt strange, to be telling Nadia why he was down in the kitchen in the middle of the night. As sheikh, he wasn’t in the habit of being open with his worries. It was too intimate for most people in the palace. He always had to walk the line between being a ruler and being a man—and more often than not, he erred on the side of being the sheikh. Amare had known from a young age that the sheikh could not appear to waver very often. Could not appear to have doubts. He had to be sure and strong.

  It was different in the dark kitchen with Nadia.

  “Did you fall asleep with your eyes open?” she teased gently, startling him back to the conversation. Nadia could hear this from him. She could sit next to him at his heirloom kitchen table and listen to what he had to say, sheikh or no.

  “I’m awake.” He patted her hand on the table and immediately wanted to hold it, but—that might be a bit far. “Taavi enjoyed the contest so much. It brought joy to the divers and the people watching.” The day had reminded Amare of his own childhood trips to the pearl diving contest. The perfect weather. The glittering water. The triumph of finding the largest, most perfect pearls. It had all come rushing back to him on that boat, watching his son step into the experience. “Am I wrong in thinking I should get rid of it?”

  Amare’s expression in the dim light of the palace kitchen was so open that Nadia’s heart squeezed. Late-night talks had a special character to them—they let people be more honest with each other. It was more than that, though. They’d agreed to keep emotions out of sex, and she’d stick to that agreement. Still, being so close to him physically had closed the distance between them in other ways, too.

  She thought about her answer for several more moments. “Does being modern mean giving up the entirety of the past?” One of the refrigerators cycled, filling the space with a low, comforting hum. “Every country, every region has a history, both good and bad. Some of it has to be worth hanging on to, right?”

  Amare nodded along, understanding in his eyes. But then he took a deep breath. The corners of his mouth turned down. “I don’t like making mistakes. I made my decision for Kirisil, and I mean to follow through.”

  Nadia frowned back at him. “Not all mistakes are bad. Like the pearls on the boat. I broke how many oysters trying to learn the knack? And in the end, I got my pearl. Some mistakes just lead you to where you’re supposed to be.”

  “And what about the others?”

  “Other mistakes teach you exactly what you shouldn’t do again. Like try nkhaat pane. As much as I want to forget that texture, if I wipe it from my past, I could make the same mistake twice. And I would not want that.”

  Amare laughed, the sound rich and delighted, and Nadia laughed with him. She felt the deeper moment passing them by. He was shrugging off her life philosophy. Pushing aside the idea that the past was worth saving. Amare’s laugh tapered off, and his face began to settle into a frown.

  Nadia nudged him with an elbow. “No, no—you can’t laugh like that then go back to being so serious.”

  His smile started at one corner of his moth and broke over the rest, lighting up his dark, gorgeous eyes. Nadia had never seen him quite like this before, with tousled hair and comfortable clothes, leaning back in his chair as if he spent a lot of time in the kitchen. As if he had the time. The sight of him in his T-shirt and low-slung pants warmed her core.

  “Better?” he teased.

  “Perhaps.” She pursed her lips. “Or perhaps it would be better if you came back to bed with me.”

  Nadia half-expected Amare to leap from his seat and chase her back to the bedroom, but he put a hand on the table instead. “Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?”

  From bed. “Yes. Where?”

  Now his smile lit up his whole face. “Come with me.”

  Amare put his plate in the sink on the way out of the kitchen and turned out the light. They walked side by side through the darkened halls of the palace to an exit that seemed rarely used. Amare pushed open the door and ushered her out. Nadia stepped out onto a path paved with cobblestones that ended several paces from the palace.

  “Is this a secret exit?”

  “It gets old, being followed and watched all the time. No one uses this door, and there’s something nearby I want to show you.”

  The cobblestones gave way to flat dirt, then uneven rocks, her feet cushioned from the dips and planes by the soles of her slippers. Amare put his hand on her lower back to steady her as they walked. Around them, the sky lightened with the first hints of dawn. The world seemed to inhale, waiting for the day, and Nadia was acutely aware of the air moving in and out of her lungs. Of Amare’s hand on her back. Of his scent, which was light and masculine—she could only catch hints of it in the morning breeze.

  The path opened onto a rocky outcropping, and Amare stopped.

  Nadia’s mouth dropped open.

  Stunning. The view was stunning. The wide expanse of dark water, growing pink where the horizon met the sea, stretched endlessly in front of them. Dawn would break into a sky decorated with the occasional wisp of cloud. More light bloomed on the horizon by the minute.

  “Here,” Amare said, and he helped her to sit on a natural ledge, his body close to hers.

  The sun rose, turning the sky pink and dusky and pouring light over the edge of the world. “I’d like to build a city here that rivals Dubai and Abu Dhabi.” Nadia stole a glimpse at him out of the corner of her eye. With his features lit by the gentle dawn, he was breathtaking. She gave in to the urge to touch him and leaned against his shoulder.

  He bent his head to rest on hers.

  “A whole city?”

  “Yes. A city to watch the sun rise.”

  “It would be beautiful.” A gleaming city on a cliff, high above the water. “But I would hate for skyscrapers and towers to ruin this view. It’s too wonderful.”

  He pressed against her a little harder, and she leaned in, reveling in the contact. Nadia felt it singing between them—a closeness. It made her heart lighten, her breathing quicken, and no, it wasn’t emotional. She wouldn’t let that happen. She would only let herself catch his eye. She would only let his gaze linger on hers.

  Amare dipped his head and kissed her.

  The Sheikh of Kirisil kissed her with the growing passion of the sunrise, his tongue possessive and needy. She parted her lips for him. Let him in. Her body sang with the need to be close to him, and what better way than this, when they could speak with touch alone? He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and tipped her back so he had her balance for her. So he had her. Nadia existed only in his hands, and in the sensation of his mouth on hers.

  They didn’t speak again for a long time.

  9

  Nadia curled into the chair in Amare’s room, notebook in hand, pencil hovering over the pages. She’d been finding herself in this chair, by the window in his room, more and more often since they watched the sunrise together. It felt natural to be here. Nadia felt at home in a way she didn’t in her beautiful guest suite. Amare’s space was permanent. Lived in. Her space was flawless, kept that way by the palace staff, but—

  She liked it here better.

  If only she weren’t so frustrated today. Nadia hadn’t made much progress on the chapter she was working on for her book. Her mind kept circling back to Amare and Taavi. No surprise, since she spent most of her days with them.

  She tipped her head back against the chair and sighed. It was because she enjoyed spending time with them that she was behind on her book. Every day, Nadia meant to take time for work, and every day, she found herself sinking into the rhythms of the palace, the wax and wane of Taavi’s energy, and the conversations she had with Amare. Nadia didn’t want to break away from those moments.

  It was an important project, though. The whole reason for her travels in the first place. She frowned at the half-filled page of her notebook. Nadia had tried to type out the chapter on her laptop for almost an hour before she switched to pen and paper.

  Maybe it wasn’t the schedule that was the problem.

  Nadia put the notebook aside and tugged her laptop back into her lap. She opened the file containing what she’d written so far and scanned through it. Oh, it was good. It was really good. Reading it put a smile on her face. It was exactly the kind of book that would introduce Kirisil as a jewel of modernity to the world. Amare would love it.

  But Nadia wanted to love it completely—and there was something missing.

  Herself.

  She opened a new, blank document, fresh and empty and ready for her to transform it. TRAVEL MEMOIR, she typed.

  Nadia’s heart quickened as she started her new outline. Her original plan had been to keep herself out of the book, focusing on the history and the facts. But she wasn’t wedded to the idea. In fact, now that things had changed so much from her original travel itinerary, the book needed to change, too. The list expanded under her keystrokes. It would be a more personal account of the trip. Nadia decided she’d write about her kidnap and rescue. Her time at the palace.

  Her fingers on the keys slowed to a stop, and she frowned at the screen.

  If she spoke about those things, it would change the tone of the project. It wouldn’t be as complimentary to the region as Amare had envisioned. Still—she had been locked in a room with no phone and no way out. She had been forced to seek help in any way she could, and that help had come in the form of Amare. Nadia wouldn’t set aside those experiences.

  More details poured into the outline. For the first time since she’d arrived at the palace, the words came easily. Nadia took up one page, then two, then three.

  Amare came in when she was seven pages deep and counting. Sure, it was rough—it would need revision and streamlining, but she was getting things done. She could ask him about it now, run it by him, and then—

  “The luncheon is coming up in forty-five minutes,” he said as he crossed the sitting room and went through to the bedroom. Nadia opened an internet browser on instinct to hide the latest page of her document. It was a partial recounting of being held at Sheikh Haatim’s palace. They needed to talk about this first, and then she could keep going. “My mother is hoping we haven’t changed our plans.”

  “Why would we?”

  Amare glanced at the computer in her lap, the notebook tucked down by her side in the chair. “What have you been doing?”

  “Planning for the next leg of my journey.” The half-truth slipped out before she could wrestle with the right and wrong of it or figure out why she suddenly felt so cagey. In a way, she had been thinking about where her journey might take her. She’d been thinking of where her project would take her. With what she’d just written, it would put her at odds with Amare. The corners of his mouth tightened at the mention of her trip. It was an odd, stilted look. Nadia closed her laptop. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Of course.” He adjusted the cuff of one of his sleeves. “I'll wait here while you get ready.”

  Nadia blinked. What was he talking about? She glanced down at the maxi dress she'd chosen that morning. “I'm ready now.”

  The unease in his expression grew. “Go back to your room, and I'll send someone to help you choose an outfit and fix your hair.”

  She raised her eyebrows, and he returned the look—but Nadia expected more playfulness between them, and she didn't find it. How semi-formal was this lunch?

  The conflict between real and fake, between the feelings she had for Amare and the reality that they were only pretending, tugged at her heart. Nadia put on a smile and stood, noting the relief in Amare's face. This was no time to mention her second idea for the book about Kirisil. It would have to be later, when he wasn't so tense.

  “I'll be ready in no time,” she promised, and went away to change.

  Amare was going to have an aneurysm watching Nadia at the luncheon. The whole purpose was to introduce his fiancée to the council and close advisers and show them that she was the ideal match for him. His spine got stiffer with every mistake she made. The first came during the appetizer course, when she used the wrong fork. During the salad course, she spoke to the wife of one of his prominent council members like they were two women who had bumped into each other at the market. Too casual. Much too casual. It was as if she’d dropped that hint about the next leg of her journey and then leaned into her philosophy about making mistakes. Who cared how many shells she broke, since she’d be leaving soon?

  He kept his frustration in check, though Amare couldn’t stop feeling a pang whenever he thought of her on her laptop. She hadn’t looked bad when he’d found her in his room. She hadn’t looked bad at all. He’d wanted to take her to bed in that maxi dress. But her outfit wouldn’t have fit in with the tailored business suits and tea gowns that were the uniform at the luncheon. Nadia stunned in violet-blue, her hair in elegant waves around her face. She’d made her transformation in less than fifteen minutes.

  So Amare knew he shouldn’t be as frustrated as he was with her mistakes. Admitting that he was really frustrated about something else—

  Well, he wasn’t going to do that here. Even in the privacy of his own mind. The sheikh found himself withdrawing a little from the luncheon conversation. The man sitting next to him moved down to the other end of the table to greet a friend, and Amare’s mother slipped into the unoccupied seat. Amare knew with a glance she’d been able to tell something was off.

  “I’d like to plan an official engagement party.” She put a hand on his arm, a brief touch. “To make things more realistic.”

  His throat tightened, aching. Amare swallowed away hurt he wouldn’t allow himself to feel. “This is all going to end soon, Mother. It doesn’t need to be more realistic.”

  She reached over and patted his cheeks, a little more forcefully than necessary. “Look at you, Amare. Why don’t you just settle down with Nadia? Everyone in the palace likes her, and she would make an excellent mother for Taavi.”

  He rolled his eyes and gestured toward where Nadia stood in a clutch of prominent wives. “Haven’t you seen all the mistakes she’s made today? She’s not queen material.”

  His mother gave him a look, slightly narrowed eyes and a tilt to her head that made Amare feel like he’d said something out of line. “I’ve seen a woman doing an amazing job at your side.”

  “Well. Nadia has no interest in staying in Kirisil.”

  Qadira smiled, a broad grin that she usually reserved for the relatively private rooms in the palace, then pulled it back, toning it down into an expression appropriate for the luncheon, but her eyes twinkled. “Amare.”

  “What are you smiling for? She’s been testing me today. Showing me that she doesn’t want to be here. Nadia isn’t taking the luncheon seriously.” And I hated what I felt when she told me she was planning to leave. I didn’t want her to be happy about leaving, though I know she should be happy. Amare wouldn’t say any of that to his mother. Not at this luncheon, and maybe not ever.

  She patted his cheek again, softer this time. “We can discuss an engagement party later.”