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She leaned back against the headrest, eyes focused firmly ahead—into the future. But what kind of future would it be now?
After they arrivedat the palace at the center of the city, Sarah imagined she’d be able to find someone who could sort out her passport so she could make a quick getaway. She had no intention of hanging around because, whatever she’d experienced with Kadar, it had been based on a lie. And no matter how strong her feelings were for him, she had to leave for own safety, sanity and the protection of her heart. She’d made a mistake in coming to Sirun at all. And there was no way she was staying here in this palace. She’d fallen into the exact situation her grandfather had been afraid of—at the mercy of a ruthless and all-powerful king who hated her family. She just thanked God that Kadar didn’t know who her family was. Because how could he, when she didn’t even know?
At first, she was relieved when Kadar made his excuses and went one way and she was escorted another by one of his officials. It would give her time to sort out her affairs. To secure another passport and be on her way—disappear back to England and resume her old life. Because no matter how curious about her family, there was no longer any way she could stay here.
But, with each twist and turn through the palace corridors, the number of people thinned out until they were walking through plushly carpeted rooms on a decidedly domestic scale. Before she realized what was happening, she was ushered into a pretty drawing room—more French inspired than Arabic—and, before she could turn around, the door was closed and she was left there, listening to the lock turning in the door.
Incensed, she rattled the doors, then hammered on them, and then shouted. But all she could hear was distant doors clanging shut behind the retreating official. She leaned backagainst the locked door, tears of frustration stinging her hot cheeks as she realized the reality of the situation was far worse than she’d imagined. She had been literally locked away by her enemy.
How could she have fallen into such a trap? But she knew. She closed her eyes against the tears as she remembered the way he’d looked at her. She gasped at the thought of how he’d touched her, both physically and emotionally, all during that long night with the piercing shriek of the wind outside the castle and the hot passion inside. She rolled her head from side to side with a soft moan. She had to get away. She’d been a fool. She had to get out of here as soon as she could. But she couldn’t leave until she got herself a new passport. And she couldn’t get that until she’d got herself out of this room.
Steeling herself, she pushed herself away from the door, and picked up the phone and dialled zero. It seemed a good place to start.
It was only after repeated phone calls—all of which were met with polite explanations that the lockdown was protocol until she’d been cleared for security—that she finally found someone who appeared to be more knowledgeable about her situation.
“What I need is a new passport,” she said, trying hard to control her temper. “And I’m sure you can see that I can’t expedite that if I’m LOCKED HERE IN MY ROOM!” The fury escaped into the last few words, reflecting the anger and tension which had been building since the moment she’d discovered Kadar’s identity.
She closed her eyes tightly, exasperated as she listened to yet another official repeating the fact that the king was busy at that moment and yes, they understood, but there really wasn’t anything they could do about it. Not without the vizier’s permission.
“Then put me through to the vizier.”
It seems her demand must have met with sympathetic ears, or else the assistant didn’t want to listen to her anymore, and she heard the phone ring.
“Yes!” said a gruff voice which could only be someone higher up the chain of command.
“This is Sarah Albright, and I demand to be released!”
There was a faint chuckle. “Released? From what Miss Albright?”
“From this locked room,” she said, trying to keep her voice even.
“I’m sorry, I’m sure there has been a mistake. You wouldn’t have been locked up.”
“I can assure you I am.”
“Then we willunlock you,” he said in a conciliatory tone, quite different from the one he’d used when he answered the phone initially. “Don’t concern yourself. I assure you this was an administrative error and you will be released immediately, and free to go, and do whatever you wish.”
“What Iwishis to see the British Consul and arrange a new passport.”
“Ah, now that may take a little longer. There will be paperwork we need to do here first.”
“What paperwork?”
“Don’t concern yourself, Miss Albright. Leave it with me.”
“No, I will not. I’ll come and see you as soon as my door is unlocked, so we can get the matter of my passport sorted as soon as possible.” She didn’t wait to hear any more excuses and slammed down the phone. She immediately tried the door, but could hear footsteps approaching. Within seconds, the door was unlocked, and she went in search of the vizier with only one thought on her mind—to get out of this prison she’d found herself in.
Kadar lookedout of his office window toward the wing of the palace to which Sarah had been escorted. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to her, even if her suppressed anger and confusion hadn’t created a barrier for the short flight back to the city. It was hardly surprising, and he regretted he had no time alone with her to explain the situation. But what could he have told her? That he’d known her identity when he bedded her? That he’d purposely not told her he was king? It wasn’t exactly playing fair, but since when had life been fair?
He’d been forced to agree to an arranged marriage with a neighboring sheikha he’d met only once years earlier, and he’d inherited a kingdom far more impoverished than his father had led him to believe. He was beset by problems from all sides. It was hardly surprising that he’d allowed himself to indulge in some illicit lovemaking with his enemy. But he still felt bad. He’d used her. And he’d always prided himself that he’d never be like his father. He’d failed at the first hurdle.
He turned to see his vizier talking on the phone. His vizier shot him a quick look before finishing the call.
“Who was that?” Zak asked, guessing immediately by the amused look on his vizier’s face.
“Miss Albright.”
Kadar nodded. “I must go to her.”
