The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. Phoebe cleared her throat, then picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Here I had imagined you spending the day pining for me when in truth you were out having a good time."
Her heart jumped into her throat. She could barely breathe. "Mazin?"
"Of course. What other man would call you?"
Despite her loneliness, she couldn't help smiling. "Maybe there are dozens."
"I wouldn't be surprised." He sighed. "Aren't you going to ask me how I knew you weren't alone in your room, pining for me?"
"How did you know?"
"I've been calling and you have not been there."
Her heart returned to her chest and began to flutter, even though she knew she was a fool. "I went to the church and the dog park. Then I had lunch. A lovely couple told me about the boat tour around the island. I thought I might do that tomorrow."
"I see."
She plowed ahead. "You've been more than kind, but I know you have your own life and your own responsibilities."
"What if I wish to see you? Are you telling me no?"
She clutched the receiver so hard, her fingers hurt. Tears pooled in her eyes. "I don't understand."
"Nor do I."
She wiped away her tears. "Th-thank you for the flowers."
"You are welcome. I am sorry about today." He sighed. "Phoebe, if you would rather not spend time with me, I will abide by your wishes."
Tears flowed faster. The odd thing was she couldn't say exactly why she was crying. "It's not that."
"Why is your voice shaking?"
"It's n-not."
"You're crying."
"Maybe."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Would it help if I said I was disappointed, as well? That I would rather be with you than reading boring reports and spending my day in endless meetings?"
"Yes, that would help a lot."
"Then know that it is true. Tell me you'll see me tomorrow."
A sensible woman would refuse, she thought, knowing Mazin would not only distract her from her plans for her future, but that he would also likely break her heart.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
"Good. I will see you then."
She nodded. "Goodbye, Mazin."
"Goodbye, my dove. Until tomorrow. I promise to make the day special."
He hung up. She carefully replaced the phone, knowing that he didn't have to try to make the day special. Just by showing up he would brighten her world.
Five
"Where are we going?" Phoebe asked for the third time since Mazin had picked her up that morning. They'd already toured the marketplace, after which he had promised a surprise.
"You will see when we arrive," he said with a smile. "Be patient, my dove."
"You're driving me crazy," she told him. "I think you're doing it on purpose."
"Perhaps."
She tried to work up a case of righteous indignation, but it was not possible. Not with the sun shining in the sky and the beauty of Lucia-Serrat all around them. Not with Mazin sitting next to her in his car, spending yet another day with her.
She had known him little more than two weeks. They had spent a part of nearly every day together, although not any evenings. So far they'd worked their way through a good portion of Ayanna's list. Phoebe had seen much of the island, including a view from the ocean on the tour boat.
"Is it a big place, or a small place?" she asked.
"A big place."
"But it is not on my list."
"No."
She sighed. "Did my aunt visit there?"
"I would think so."
They drove toward the north end of the island, heading inland. Gradually the road began to rise. Phoebe tried to picture the map of the island in her mind. What was in this direction? Then she reminded herself it didn't really matter. She had memories stored up for her return home. When she was deep in her studies, she would remind herself of her time on Lucia-Serrat, when a handsome man had made her feel special.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was concentrating on his driving and did not notice her attention. Although he was unfailingly polite, he had yet to kiss her again. She wasn't sure why, and her lack of experience with men kept her from speculating. She thought it might have something to do with the fact that she was inexperienced, but couldn't confirm the information. Asking was out of the question.
They rounded a corner. Up ahead, through a grove of trees, a tall house reached up toward the sky. She squinted. Actually it was more of a castle than a house, or maybe a palace.
A palace?
Mazin inclined his head. "The official residence of the prince. He has a private home, but that is not open to the public. Although this is not on your Ayanna's list, I thought you might enjoy strolling through the grounds and exploring the public rooms."
She turned to him and smiled with delight. "I would love to see it. Thank you for thinking of this, Mazin. My aunt came here often to attend the famous parties. She danced with the prince in the grand ballroom."
"Then we will make sure we see that part of the castle."
They drove around to a small parking lot close to the building. Phoebe glanced at the larger public lot they had passed on their way in.
"You forget I have a position of some importance in the government," he said, reading her mind as he opened his car door. "Parking here is one of the perks."
He climbed out of the car, then came around to her side and opened the door. Phoebe appreciated the polite gesture. Sometimes she even let herself fantasize that he was being more than polite, that his actions had significance. Then she remembered she was a nobody from Florida and that he was a successful, older man simply being kind. Besides, she had her life already planned. Okay, maybe her plan wasn't as exciting as her imaginings about Mazin, but it was far more real.
"This way," he said, taking her hand in his and heading for the palace. "The original structure was built at the time of the spice trade."
"You told me that the crown prince is always a relative of the king of Bahania. He was probably used to really nice houses."
Mazin flashed her a grin. "Exactly. Originally the prince lived in the palace, but as you can see, while it is a beautiful palace, it is not especially large. Quarters were cramped with the prince's family, his children and their children, various officials, servants, visiting dignitaries. So in the late 1800s the prince had a private residence constructed."
Mazin paused on the tree-lined path and pointed. "You can see a bit of it through there."
Phoebe tilted her head. She caught a glimpse of a corner of a building and several windows. "It looks nearly as big as the palace."
"Apparently the building project grew a little."
She returned her attention to the graceful stone palace in front of them. "So official business occurs here? At least the prince doesn't have much of a commute."
"I'm sure he appreciates that."
They crossed the ground around to the front of the palace. Phoebe still felt a little uneasy about trespassing, but as Mazin wasn't worried, she did her best to enjoy the moment. He was a knowledgeable host, explaining the different styles of architecture and telling her amusing stories from the past.
"Now we will go inside," he said. "Our first stop will be the ballroom."
They headed for the main gates overlooking the ocean. As they crossed the open drawbridge, a distant call caught Phoebe's attention. She looked toward the sound. A small boy raced toward them, down the length of the drawbridge. Dark hair flopped in his face, while his short, sturdy legs pumped furiously.
"Papa, Papa, wait for me!"
Phoebe didn't remember stopping, but suddenly she wasn't moving. She stared at the boy, then slowly turned her attention to Mazin. Her host watched the child with a combination of affection and exasperation.
"My son," he said unnecessarily.
Phoebe was saved from speaking by the arrival of the boy. He flew at his father. Mazin caught him easily, pulling him close into an embrace that was both loving and comfortable. They obviously did this a lot.
A tightness in her chest told her that she'd stopped breathing. Phoebe gasped once, then wondered if she looked as shocked as she felt. She knew Mazin was older. Of course he would have lived a full life, and it made sense that his life might include children. But intellectualizing about a possibility and actually meeting a child were two very different things.
Mazin shifted his son so that the boy sat on his left forearm. One small arm encircled his neck. They both turned to her.
"This is my son, Dabir. Dabir, this is Miss Carson."
"Hello," the boy said, regarding her with friendly curiosity.
"Hi." Phoebe wasn't sure if she was expected to shake hands.
He appeared to be five or six, with thick dark hair and eyes just like his father. She had been unable to picture Mazin as a child, but now, looking at Dabir, she saw the possibilities.