Throwing on some clothes, she avoided looking at the rumpled bed since it left her thinking too much of Khalid. The room also smelled of honey, leaving her even more determined to get out of here and stop thinking about him—and how great last night had been. She’d head downstairs to get some coffee, breakfast and some work done. Grabbing her laptop, she slipped out of the room.
She had plenty of places to choose from for working and coffee—the kitchen, the dining room, and maybe a hundred other rooms. But it was still cool enough that the gardens beckoned. She ignored that small voice that was whispering that maybe Khalid would be there, waiting with breakfast for her.
Stepping into the lush gardens, she followed the path to the same spot she’d been before, where she knew she’d find a wrought-iron table and chairs. But instead of Khalid being there, a slim, dark-haired woman sat on one of the chairs, her back stiff and her hands folded in her lap. The sultan didn’t have any daughters, so who was this?
Well, no matter—she wasn’t going to intrude.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you.” Casey started to turn away. But the woman looked up, and Casey froze. She knew that face. This was the woman Khalid had been about to marry.
Fadiyah had dressed in casual Western clothing—a long, dark brown linen skirt and a white, button up blouse. She sat with a scarf in her fingers and seemed to be wadding it up and then smoothing the patterned silk. She also looked unhappy, her dark eyes huge and sheened by unshed tears and her mouth pulled tight. Standing, she faced Casey. “My father plans to marry me still to one of the sultan’s sons. My wishes do not seem to matter.. But you…you stopped my wedding before. Can you help me?”
Casey started to shake her head. “Fadiyah, I—”
“Please. Even at this moment my father is speaking to the sultan, arranging my life.” She sniffed and brushed at her eyes and sat down again. “I ask too much, I know. I am a stranger. Why should you help me?”
Walking over to her, Casey pulled up one of the other patio chairs and sat down. She settled her computer on her lap. “Have you ever thought about telling your father no? Or telling him what you do want?”
Fadiyah nodded and stared at the scarf in her hands. “I want…my father is convinced a union between our family and that of the ruling sultan’s is best for all. But I’m in love. With a…a nobody. A man who is only a security guard here at the palace. Hazim.” The way Fadiyah said the name pretty much told Casey everything. Fadiyah breathed out the word and her mouth curved into a smile. Her skin almost glowed. So, yeah, she was gone over the guy. Casey had seen just the same look on her sister’s face once before.
Fadiyah frowned again. “My father swears if I do not do as he asks and marry one of the sultan’s sons he will send me to our country house and keep me there for the rest of my days. And he can do that.”
Rubbing a palm over her computer’s smooth metal case, Casey asked. “What about this Hazim? Would he run away with you?”
Waving a hand, Fadiyah shook her head. “How can he? If I am not with my father, I am with my father’s security guards. I am never alone.”
“Except for right now.” Standing, Casey grabbed Fadiyah’s wrists. “Come with me. We’re going to have a long girl talk. I want your whole story. And then we’ll see what we can do to get you out of this mess and into the life you really want.”
11
Khalid glanced from Zaid to Ahmed, who had turned pale. Zaid seemed to be taking this news that either he or Ahmed was to marry Fadiyah better in stride. Zaid—in jeans and a white polo—crossed his arms and waited, his expression carefully blank. Ahmed was rubbing the back of his neck. He had dressed in sweats and a T-shirt as if he had been out for an early run and he must be thinking he was too young to marry—and he was.
Turning to their father, Khalid spread his hands. “Father, you cannot—“
“Silence.” The sultan stood. “Khalid, you have your bride. Choosing Zaid to marry makes sense.”
Ahmed let out a breath, and Zaid bowed his head, but Khalid could see the pulse beating in Zaid’s jaw—the man was angry, and Khalid could not blame him. He could also not think of a way to stop this outrage. He had not considered that when he ended his own possible marriage to Fadiyah that one of his brothers would be put in his place. He had thought that Mehmood would have had enough of the entire family.
Waving his hands as if to scoot them out of the room, the sultan said, “Go. Go. We have much to discuss. This wedding will take place at once—just so there is no danger of it coming undone. And you, Khalid, I wish you to set a date as well. These long engagements only delay you giving me grandsons.