THE TRUTH WAS, of course, that Cade had made certain he had the short straw. He didn’t want his brother to go to Balahar. Mac wasn’t cut out for marriage to a woman he didn’t know or love, especially a princess who could very likely turn out to be hard to handle.
Cade, on the other hand, had loved women with all the enthusiasm of a handsome, confident male who knew how to please a lady, and make her feel like a princess when the morning hours dawned and it was time to say goodbye. A difficult woman was more his forte than Mac’s.
More than anything, it would hurt him to see his twin suffer. If Mac was happy, then Cade would be happy.
This was the wrong time for a woman to be foisted on Mac. Cade was a little annoyed that his mother didn’t recognize this fact. Mac had been engaged some time ago and nearly made it down the aisle when he discovered his fiancée was pregnant by another man. Talk about heartbreak. Cade sighed.
And then at their cousin Jessica’s graduation from the University of Texas last December, Mac had slipped away for the evening. Seeing Mac the next morning, Cade tried to pry out of his brother where he’d been the night before. Mac was elusive, and Cade suspected his brother had met a mystery woman. But if he had, he refused to be teased into an admission.
That was Mac, though, Cade thought. If it had been Cade, he would have written the whole matter off as a windfall adventure. He might have thought about the woman again, but not often.
No, going to Balahar to make certain his already-wounded brother wasn’t getting saddled with a rack pony as opposed to the wonderful woman his brother deserved was a job Cade would gladly undertake.
Royalty be damned.
“I WILL NOT MARRY HIM,” Princess Serena insisted. “There are plenty of princes from whom I can make my own choice.”
King Zak sighed at his adopted child’s insistence. Adopted maybe, but no less a daughter of his heart. “I want you to be happy. I need also to make certain that peace is achieved between our country and that of Sorajhee. I am not asking you to be a brood mare, a sacrificial lamb. This marriage with an old family of royal standing and popularity among our people would pacify the peoples of Sorajhee and Balahar. Could you not just meet Prince Makin?”
“I will meet him,” Serena said with a toss of her head. Rich, light emerald eyes flashed with determination, and her chestnut tresses shone with fire. “I will meet him, and I will be a dutiful daughter to the father who has been so good to me. But I promise you one thing. I will not love him, this royal pretender to our throne. He will be haughty and overbearing, as all Americans are. He can never fit into my world. Just because he breeds Arabians does not mean he will breed with this one.”
“Rena!” King Zak murmured with some surprise. “You are more American than you think. Your father’s bloodline left his mark on you in more ways than one.”
“I have grown up in Balahar. I could never be American. The idea of marrying a cowboy makes me—” She faltered at the distressed look on her adopted father’s face. “I will do it,” she murmured. Slowly she moved forward to kiss the king on the cheek. “Please pardon my unforgivable loss of composure. I know you are doing the best thing.”
“You do understand?” King Zak asked with relief.
“I do. If I were ruler and had the choices set out before me that you do, I would choose no differently. I, too, love Balahar and its people.”
“Ah, Rena,” the king sighed, placing her soft hand against his face. “You have been the daughter to me that Queen Nadirah and I prayed for and were never granted. Thank you, my daughter. I promise you this will all work out for the best.”
Serena closed her eyes as she stroked her father’s cheek. If she was lucky, the cowboy prince wouldn’t be brash and mean, a J.R. Ewing looking to take over the Middle East with this marriage. There was much to gain for her would-be suitor, and much for her to lose. Her freedom. Her pride. Her dream of falling in love with a prince of her own. She might not have been Al Farid by birth, but she had grown to love the country. A prince of the Middle East had been her most fervent hope.
Prince Makin would come to meet with her. She would accept his suit. They would agree to a royal match that would benefit everyone and the countries involved, and most especially the father she loved more than anything But she would never, ever love Prince Makin. That was something no one could ask of her.
Her heart was her most closely guarded treasure, and it would never belong to a pretender.
Chapter Two
“I hear rumors that the Princess Serena may be marrying,” Queen Layla whispered into her husband’s ear.
“Whom would she marry? There are few princes available who would suit Al Farid’s daughter.” Azzam chuckled and got up from the bed. “Why not a marriage for his son, Sharif?”
“Sharif is young and hotheaded, while Serena, though young, is more amenable to her father’s wishes. Or perhaps Zakariyya Al Farid is hoping that this more minor marriage of his daughter will build the people’s faith in his rule and give him more time to make a truly advantageous match for Crown Prince Sharif, one that befits a future king—should Zakariyya decide to give the ruling family throne to a foundling child rather than unite with you.”
The last words came out on a near snarl that Layla managed to temper at the last second. She rose up on her side, trying to recapture her husband’s full attention with the alluring pose. “Possibly you should have a word with the king, in order to assist him with the proper choice for his princess. I am certain he would appreciate your counsel.”
Azzam glanced back to Layla, his attention captured by her words and not her pose. “Are you suggesting that the adopted daughter of the king could present a threat to my rule of my own Sorajhee throne? Power doesn’t come through princesses.”
Layla uncomfortably thought about Rose Coleman and the four boys she’d delivered. Why couldn’t Layla have been so blessed by Allah? Moreover, why couldn’t Layla have won Ibrahim in the first place, rather than Rose winning his heart? All the years of secrecy, pain and betrayal had begun in the moment the American Rose had stolen Ibrahim’s heart. If he had chosen Layla, she would have had the sons, the heirs to the Sorajhee throne.
All she’d gained in the years since she’d had Ibrahim assassinated and Rose incarcerated in the asylum was fading looks and declining power in the region. Even if she had the Balahar ruler assassinated, there was a crown prince. And Serena, and a possible new marriage to an El Jeved prince, according to her palace spy. There were many problems that stood in her way.
Particularly if the Coleman-El Jeved princes ever came to press their right to the throne.
She glanced at her husband as a maidservant assisted him with his robes. He wasn’t the young, vibrant male she’d married with great hopes. Sometimes she thought he was content to allow King Zakariyya Al Farid to rule both Balahar and Sorajhee. How could he be so complacent! Being number two had never sat well with Layla.
And now the new information of a rumored marriage for Serena Al Farid. The girl was of age. A marriage was not what bothered Layla. King Zak had not bothered to discuss the union with Azzam, a fact of importance that seemed to escape her husband. The secrecy and planning of the marriage meant that evermore the Balahar throne slipped further from Azzam, leaving him with only the smaller country of Sorajhee.
Layla sighed. Once again she would have to assist her husband. Behind the scenes, as always, a fact which galled her. Surely she had not erred by stealing Rose Coleman’s youngest son and secretly giving him to King Zak and the now-deceased Queen Nadirah—as a seeming gesture of caring—to raise? This irony unsettled her. Until she realized that King Zak could be planning to marry off his daughter without consulting Azzam, she had not thought her husband’s position as supreme ruler was in jeopardy. But with the queen dead and Zak unwilling to seek solace amongst his harem, possibly he was feeling all his powers waning from him