‘One kiss …’ Layla smiled.

‘Your brother asked me to—’

‘You don’t have to keep my promises for me,’ Layla interrupted. ‘I shall be returning to Ishla a virgin.’

‘We were talking about a kiss!’

‘So what’s the problem, then?’ Layla said.

She soon found out.

Mikael turned her around to face him and she stood shivering in anticipation. She felt his hand on her shoulder and his face move to hers … And then she was lost, because nothing in her imaginings could have prepared her for arrogant lips turned tender.

His kiss was soft at first, as one hand rested on her waist, the other at her shoulder. Then she felt the slip of his tongue and the slide of his hand to the back of her head. It was shocking, it was sensual, it was the gateway to paradise.

One kiss and her lips were swollen.

‘We agreed one kiss.’ Layla smiled again. ‘But now I know why it is trouble …’

CAROL MARINELLI recently filled in a form where she was asked for her job title and was thrilled, after all these years, to be able to put down her answer as ‘writer’. Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation and, after chewing her pen for a moment, Carol put down the truth: ‘writing’. The third question asked, ‘What are your hobbies?’ Well, not wanting to look obsessed or, worse still, boring, she crossed the fingers on her free hand and answered ‘swimming and tennis’. But, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, and the closest she’s got to a tennis racket in the last couple of years is watching the Australian Open, I’m sure you can guess the real answer!

Protecting the Desert Princess
Carol Marinelli

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Cover

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘PRINCESS LAYLA, are you excited to be…?’

Layla patiently waited as the little girl on her computer screen faltered while choosing her words. By video link Layla was being beamed into the classrooms of the girls and young women of Ishla. Each class took an hour and, by working hard, Layla managed to get to each classroom once a month. Here she encouraged the children to converse in English and to work harder on their schoolwork, and it was proving a huge success.

‘Princess Layla.’ The little girl tried again. ‘Are you excited that you will travel to Australia with Prince Zahid and Princess Trinity on their honeymoon?’

At the word ‘honeymoon’ the class exploded into a fit of giggles and Layla did her best not to join in with them. This class consisted of ten-year-old girls and they were all terribly excited that the handsome Prince Zahid had married the English lady Trinity, and they were all only too happy to talk about weddings.

And honeymoons!

‘Well done,’ Layla said to the little girl when the laughter had died down. ‘You asked your question beautifully. Yes, I am very excited that I shall be joining my brother and his bride in Sydney, Australia. Did you know that you are my final class before we leave on the royal plane tonight?’

Zahid and Trinity’s wedding had been beautiful, and the whole of Ishla had joined in the celebrations, even though the shocking news had hit, just before the wedding, that Trinity was already pregnant.

Layla’s rule was that so long as questions were politely asked she would answer as best she could. Some of the questions, though, about Trinity’s pregnancy, had been more than awkward—and not just because the subject in Ishla was sensitive. Layla simply hadn’t known the answers, and had begun to understand just how naïve she was.

Layla craved knowledge.

She had long dreamt of a world outside the palace walls.

Before Zahid had even known who his bride was he had agreed to allow Layla to accompany him on his honeymoon. As a future king Zahid could not be expected to entertain his wife all day, and of course it had been assumed that his bride would need a companion.

They were so deeply in love, though, that perhaps they would prefer to be holidaying alone—but there was no way Layla was going to give up her first and only trip out of Ishla.

Guilt gripped her.

Not because she might prove a bit of an imposition for a couple in love—instead the guilt was for what Layla was secretly planning to do when she got to Australia.

‘Princess Layla, are you scared?’ another little girl asked.

‘A little.’ Layla spoke a guarded version of her truth. ‘After all, I have never been out of Ishla, and so I don’t really know what to expect, but I am also very excited. It is going to be a huge adventure for me and I have been looking forward to it for a very long time.’

‘Princess Layla…’

All hands were raised. Her students adored her. They always did their homework now, just for the chance to speak with their princess each month. There were a lot of questions, but Layla’s father, King Fahid, wanted to speak with Layla before she left and so she brought things to a close.

‘Now,’ Layla said to the students, ‘there is no more time for questions. Instead it is time for you all to wish me a safe journey.’

She smiled at their voices as they did just that.

‘Will you miss us?’ they asked.

Layla held up her finger and thumb and held them a small distance apart. ‘This much,’ she said. As they all moaned their protests Layla stretched out her arms as wide as she could reach. ‘Or perhaps this much! All of you know that I will miss you to the moon and back.’

She would miss them very much, Layla thought a little while later, as she lay on her bed on her stomach, going through her computer and checking and rechecking details for the very last time.

Would her father even let her teach them again, after she—?

Layla halted her thought processes; she could not allow herself to think like that now. Whatever the consequences to her actions, Layla had long ago decided that she was prepared to bear them.

One week of freedom would be worth whatever punishment her father would serve out for her.

Layla was petrified about taking a taxi alone in Australia, but she had watched little clips on her computer over and over and was as certain as she could be that she knew what to do.

How she loved her computer!

King Fahid was getting older and, though no one in Ishla must know, he was seriously ill, so perhaps had not investigated Layla’s teaching aid quite as thoroughly as he once would have. Fahid did not really understand the access to the world that the computer gave his daughter. Layla lived a very protected life and wasn’t even allowed a phone—she had never seen a television.

The computer was to assist with her teaching. Fahid was pleased that his daughter was helping the young women of Ishla and that finally his rebel daughter seemed to be staying out of mischief’s way.

Layla pulled up the page that she had been studying carefully for weeks now—ever since she had found out where the honeymoon was taking place.

There he was!

Layla smiled at his scowling, haughty face.

Mikael Romanov, Senior Counsel, was, according to everything she had read, an extremely successful barrister. According to the translation of his website, he was considered amongst the best criminal defence lawyers in Australia. Originally from Russia, he had studied law in Australia. Tough and ruthless, he attacked the prosecution on every point and all too often won.

Good, Layla thought. He would need to be tough and ruthless to deal with Zahid, and possibly even the King.

Layla typed in his name and read a translation of the latest news. Although Layla could speak and understand English, she could not read or write it.

Mikael was in the news a lot at the moment, defending a man accused of murder and other heinous crimes against his late partner. Layla had been closely following the case from her computer after she went to bed at night.

How she loved the news clips of Mikael walking out of court in his black robe and wig. He offered no comment or apology to the questions that were hurled at him. He seemed not to care that everyone was demanding to know how he could even consider defending such a vile man.

Perhaps Mikael would be glad to turn his focus to a family matter, Layla thought. Maybe he would welcome the break from his horrible client, because Mikael did not look happy.

Not once had she seen him smile.

Layla felt a small shiver as she enlarged an image and looked at his full mouth. It was the only soft feature in his face, and it had her tongue rolling over her lips. His hair was as dark as his skin was pale, and always his attire was immaculate. Oh, and his voice—his voice!

She clicked on a rare interview from a couple of years ago that she had recently found. It was Layla’s very favourite one, and she listened to his deep, heavily accented voice scolding a reporter.

‘Tread carefully!’ He pointed his finger at the reporter though for Layla it was if he was scolding her and Layla made a biting noise with her teeth. Her smile was wide as she started at the screen. ‘May I remind you of the unanimous verdict?’

She had not chosen Mikael for his beauty, and yet the more she looked at him, and the more she found out about him, the more Layla wanted to know. She looked into his serious grey eyes—cold eyes that made her feel warm.

Some of the pictures of Mikael Layla was not so keen on—for there were a few of him with very beautiful women by his side.

Many beautiful women.

There he was on a yacht, with a blonde beauty lying topless on a daybed—or Layla assumed she was topless, because where her nipples should be the picture was all blurry.

Layla found her lips were pursed, but then she shrugged.

Her brother Zahid had been wild in his day.

She did not want wild—she wanted fun and romance and dancing.

Of course she would return to Ishla intact.

There were simply some things that Layla wanted to experience before she married a man she did not love. She closed the computer and lay on her back, imagining a whole day spent in bed without having to dress or speak to another person. She thought of other things too, like a romantic dinner, sitting holding hands, and afterwards dancing—which was forbidden in Ishla. She imagined the brush of lips on her mouth… But then her eyes snapped open, for it was Mikael’s mouth that she was imagining.

No.

Layla dismissed that thought.

Mikael was merely a means to an end.

And a commoner too!

She clicked on her laptop again, to see if any other foreign royals were visiting Australia, and sighed at the lack of news for there were a couple of foreign princes who looked as if they could be fun!

Jamila, Layla’s handmaiden, knocked on the door, and Layla clicked onto a game of chess she was playing and then called for Jamila to come in and prepare her bath.

When it was ready Layla went through and stood by the sunken bath as Jamila undressed her and then held Layla’s hand as she lowered herself in.

‘The water is lovely,’ she said as Jamila started to wash her. ‘Jamila?’ Layla’s voice was just a little too high as she attempted to sound casual. ‘Are you nervous about coming to Australia?’ When Jamila didn’t answer straight away, Layla jumped in. ‘Because if you are I can speak with father. I am sure I would manage on my own.’

‘I would be more nervous if you were in a foreign country without me to take care of you,’ Jamila said.

Jamila adored Layla. She had held her the moment she was born—a few moments before Layla’s mother had died.

Layla was the baby Jamila had never had—not that she could ever let Layla know that she loved her like a daughter.

Neither could Jamila tell a single soul that she secretly loved Fahid—the King—and no one must ever know about the occasional love they shared.

‘Here.’ Jamila handed Layla a cloth, which she took, and she washed her private parts as Jamila washed her hair.

Still Layla carried on speaking.

‘Well, you should rest while we are in Australia,’ Layla said. ‘You deserve to have a holiday too.’

‘Layla!’ Jamila’s shrewd eyes narrowed as she rubbed oil into Layla’s long black mane of hair. ‘What are you up to?’

‘Nothing.’ Layla shrugged her bony shoulders. ‘I just think that it would be nice for you to have a chance to rest and relax.’

Layla said no more, but she was worried about how her plans might affect Jamila, who was old and very set in her ways.

Trinity and Zahid, Layla had decided, would just have to bear the chaos of her actions. After all, they had had their fun—but poor Jamila…

Layla swallowed and dismissed the gnaw of discontent. She certainly wasn’t going to change her plans to spare a servant’s feelings.

‘You are too thin,’ Jamila said as she looked at Layla’s skinny knees jutting up out of the water, her slender arms wrapped around them.

‘Jamila,’ Layla said, ‘I could fill this bath and you would still say that I was too thin. Do you remember when I was a baby and always hungry and you said that I was too fat?’

Jamila’s hand paused as she went to rinse Layla’s hair—Layla should not remember those times. Jamila thought of those little fat legs and arms and her round belly. Layla had been such an angry, demanding baby and toddler. She had begged for attention from her father and it had been denied her as he’d grieved deeply for Annan, the late Queen. Jamila had tried to comfort the little princess with food, feeding her cream, honey, anything that might stop the relentless sobs that filled the palace.

Such sad, sad times.

‘Let us get you dressed,’ Jamila said, quickly finishing Layla’s hair. ‘Your father wishes to speak with you before you leave.’

Layla had chosen a simple burnt orange cotton tunic for the journey, but Jamila prepared a silver robe and silver jewelled slippers for her to wear on her arrival as there would be some dignitaries to greet them. Her fingers, toes and ears were dressed in pretty jewels, and her long black hair was tied in a low bun which was worn at the side of her head.

‘Dismissed,’ Layla said to Jamila, and then frowned when still she stood there.

‘You will listen to what your father has to say, won’t you?’ Jamila asked, for she too was worried at the thought of Layla beyond the palace walls.

‘Dismissed, Jamila,’ Layla said.

Alone, Layla stepped out onto the balcony. The sun was starting to set and the sky was a fiery orange. The desert was like molten gold and it was a sight to behold, a view that she loved, and yet she knew there was more. She looked up to the sky, through which she would soon be being carried to her long-awaited adventure.

She knew she was being bad, and yet she had tried so hard to be good.

Once this was over she would be good for ever, Layla vowed.

This was her last chance.

Four years ago, when she was twenty, Layla had been dressed in white and gold and led down the stairs to walk into a room and select her husband from the men who knelt there.

Hussain had been and still was considered the right choice. They had played as children, and her father had told her that marrying Hussain would bring many benefits to the people of Ishla. Yet as Layla had walked down the stairs she had remembered what a mean little boy Hussain had been, and she had collapsed and started to shout and scream.

The kind palace doctor had smoothed out the offence caused by explaining that anxiety had caused the young princess to have a seizure.

Layla smiled to the sky. She had not selected her husband that day.

It had not been a seizure, just her temper exploding as she had looked at her wrist and recalled one time with Hussain.

‘How do you make a match burn twice?’ he had asked when Layla was nine.

‘Show me?’

Wide-eyed, Layla had watched as he had lit the match and blown it out and then dug the burning sulphur into her wrist.

Immediately Layla had slapped him.

Now she looked down to the small scar on her otherwise unblemished skin and wondered about Hussain’s reaction if his wife were to slap him.

He had no doubt moved on from matches now!

Layla headed back inside and opened the drawer in her dresser. Feeling far into the back, she removed the wrapped parcel she had been hiding.

Opening it, she held in her palm the black ruby named Opium. It had been gifted to her at birth by the King of Bishram and must surely be worth quite a lot.

Layla hoped that it was.

She had read that Mikael was expensive, and perhaps he would want to be paid.

Layla slipped the ruby into her tunic, worrying about something she had read on the internet about Australian Customs. She tried to tell herself that it would all be okay.

She made her way through the palace to her father’s study, where Abdul, the King’s chief aide, let her in. But Fahid dismissed Abdul so that he could speak to his daughter alone.

‘Are you looking forward to your trip?’ Fahid asked her.

‘Very much, Father.’

‘When you are in the hotel you will have your own room, with Jamila adjoining. Jamila is to take care of you there, but at all other times you are to be with either Trinity or Zahid.’

‘I know that.’

‘If you are in a restaurant then Trinity is to come with you if you need to go to—’

‘Father!’ Layla interrupted. ‘I do know the rules.’

‘They are there for your protection,’ the King said. He looked at his daughter, whom he loved so very much. She was so contrary—floaty and vague, and yet arrogant too, just as her mother Annan had been. Layla was fiercely independent, and yet naïve from living her life within the palace grounds.

‘Layla, I have not asked to speak with you to deliver meaningless words and a lecture. I really want you to listen to all that I have to say. Things are very different overseas—the people are different too. There is traffic…’ The King winced as he thought of his daughter in a foreign city with fast-moving cars when she had never so much as crossed a road.

Layla saw his grimace and her heart went out to her father. ‘I know you are worried for me, Father,’ she said. ‘I know that you have loved me from the moment that I was born…’

Again the King closed his eyes as Layla hit a still raw nerve.

He hadn’t loved her from the moment she was born.

In fact the King had rejected Layla for more than a year. Sometimes Fahid wondered if that was why Layla was so rebellious and constantly challenged him, even if she couldn’t logically know about that time.

He worried so much about her—especially knowing that soon he would be gone from his world. Surely Layla needed a stern husband like Hussain, who would keep her in line?

He would just miss the wild Layla so…

‘Do you have any questions you wish to ask?’ Fahid offered.

‘I do.’ Layla nodded. ‘Father, I was looking up the customs in Australia—I thought I would find out who curtsies to me, who bows, and what gifts we should exchange, but instead I read that at the airport your property can be searched—even your body…’ She paused when she saw her father’s reaction. ‘Why are you laughing?’

‘Oh, Layla!’ The King wiped his eyes as he tried to halt his laughter. ‘That does not apply to you. Your retinue will take care of all the paperwork and luggage and our gifts are in the diplomatic pouch. You do not have to concern yourself with such things.’

‘Thank you, Father.’

He rose from his seat and came over and took her in his arms. ‘I love you, Layla.’

‘I love you too,’ Layla said, and hugged him back, but there were tears filling her eyes as she did so. ‘I am sorry if I make you cross at times—please know that it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.’

‘I know that,’ Fahid said.

What the King didn’t know, though, was that Layla was not apologising for her past.

Instead she was saying sorry for all that was to come.

CHAPTER TWO

‘GREAT!’

Mikael had no choice but to pull to a stop as a policeman put up his hand and halted the morning traffic.

Even though he had more than enough on his mind, with closing arguments starting this morning, he flicked on the news to listen to the traffic report and hopefully find out the reason for the hold-up. He knew that he should have stayed at his city apartment, or even a hotel, instead of driving to his waterfront home last night, but he had just needed to get away from the case.

Mikael’s remote beachside home was his haven, and last night he had needed to escape from the more pungent details of the case he was consumed by and breathe in fresh air and simply switch off.

It would be over soon, Mikael told himself.

‘Pizdet.’ He cursed in Russian when he found out that the reason for the delay was some visiting royal family, grinding everyone else to a halt.

Then he heard a little about himself as the news continued.

Mikael Romanov, SC, was surely going to lose this time…there was no way he could get his client off…

Then the calls in from listeners started and a character assassination ensued. Not of his client but himself.

‘What sort of a person is Romanov?’ an enraged caller asked. ‘How can he possibly sleep at night?’

Mikael yawned with boredom and turned the radio off.

When his phone rang, instead of letting it go to voicemail, as he usually would, Mikael saw that it was Demyan and took the call.

‘Any news?’ Mikael asked, because Demyan’s wife Alina was due to give birth soon.

‘We have a little girl—Annika.’ Demyan said, and Mikael rolled his eyes at the sound of his tough friend sounding so emotional. ‘She’s beautiful. Her hair is curly, like Alina’s…’

Demyan went on to describe interminable details to Mikael.

All babies had blue eyes, Mikael thought.

‘Congratulations,’ Mikael said. ‘Am I to visit while Alina is still in the hospital? What is the protocol?’

Demyan laughed. He took no offence. He knew that Mikael had no concept of family, for Mikael’s upbringing had been even harsher than Demyan’s.

‘You don’t have to come to the hospital,’ Demyan said, ‘but once this case is over it would be good if you could visit us before you disappear onto your yacht. I’m really looking forward to showing Annika off.’

‘I’ll be there,’ Mikael said. ‘It is closing arguments over the next couple of days, and then we await the verdict.’

‘How is the trial going?’ Demyan asked. ‘It is all over the news.’

‘Long,’ came Mikael’s honest answer. ‘It has been a very long couple of months.’

It had been an isolated couple of months too.

He always pretty much locked himself away from the world during a trial and, he admitted to Demyan, he was more than a little jaded from sitting with his client day in, day out.

‘He’s a fortunate man to have such a good solicitor.’

‘Barrister,’ Mikael corrected. ‘One day you will get it right. Anyway, enough about the trial. Go back to your beautiful wife and daughter, I am very pleased to hear the good news.’

Rather you than me, Mikael thought as he ended the call.

When Demyan had told him that he was marrying again Mikael had offered to draw up a watertight pre-nup this time, given how Demyan’s first wife had ripped him off for years.

Demyan had refused.

Fool! Mikael had not just thought it but had said it straight to Demyan’s face, but he had been told that he was far too cynical.

Guilty!

Absolutely Mikael was cynical—he believed nothing anyone told him and had been proved right numerous times.

Mikael trusted and needed no one in his life, for he had never had anyone.

There were a few vague memories of a communal flat when he was growing up, but not one person in particular he’d been able to turn to. Mikael had been his own protector—even when he had found himself on the streets.

Especially then.

When he was a teenager Igor, a government worker, had stepped in and given Mikael an identity, a surname, an assumed date of birth and then a home.

Igor was the reason Mikael was driving to chambers now to prepare for court—he was the reason Mikael believed absolutely in the need for a solid defence. For without one justice could never be truly served.

He did not want to think today of Igor; instead his eyes moved from the procession of royal cars to his dashboard, where the mileage read six hundred and forty-nine. He would be bored with his new toy by the time it read one thousand, but for now the low silver sports car was his new baby.

Finally the procession passed and the traffic inched forward.

Mikael arrived at chambers and spoke to Wendy, his clerk, for a few moments. His world had centred around this trial for a very long while, and all he wanted was the arguments delivered, the jury out, the verdict in and then to get away.

He’d take one of his toys to the water—he didn’t even want crew.

Then Mikael changed his mind.

A couple of crew might be essential.

He had no intention of cooking or cleaning.

Perhaps Mandy could join him for a couple of days too?

Or Pearl?

Mikael soon put all such thoughts out of his mind and sat for a quiet period in his office, preparing himself for the day ahead and getting back to the real love of his life.

The letter of the law.

CHAPTER THREE

‘I WANT TO drive that car!’ Layla’s slender finger pointed to a low silver sports car that gleamed in the morning sun as they passed an intersection.

‘You can’t drive,’ Zahid said, but he did smile—it was nice to see Layla so excited and animated. Her face was up against the blacked-out window as she watched the world go by unseen, fascinated by it all.

‘When can it just be us?’ she asked. ‘I am tired of all the formalities.’

‘Soon,’ Zahid said. ‘Once we are at the hotel things will be more relaxed.’

‘We can go shopping then,’ Trinity added.

‘Just Trinity and I?’ Layla checked with her brother who, after a brief hesitation, nodded. ‘Good.’ Layla smiled. ‘I want a red dress, red shoes, red…’

Her list went on until they were at the hotel.

Soon the Ishla royals and their retinue were taking up the entire top floor. There were guards at the lift and Layla paced her suite nervously, waiting for Trinity to come and take her shopping.

‘Let me do your hair again,’ Jamila offered.

‘My hair is fine,’ Layla said. ‘You can go and rest in your room now.’

‘I will wait for Trinity to get here.’

‘You are dismissed, Jamila.’ Layla said.

All Layla wanted was to be alone with her thoughts and to go over her plans for a minute or two before Trinity arrived.

Reluctantly Jamila went to her adjoining room. Layla looked at the lock on the door that stood between them and wanted to turn it.

She wouldn’t have to turn it, Layla reminded herself.

A few hours from now she would be free!

Layla looked down at the streets below. Soon she would be down there amongst the noise and people.

She could see yellow taxis everywhere.

It was going to work!

‘Enter,’ Layla said when there was a knock at the door.

‘Layla, you have to open it from the inside!’ Trinity called.

‘Oh!’

Fancy that.

Layla was ready to go, but Trinity seemed to have other ideas.

Zahid’s last words to Trinity had been, ‘Watch her.’ She looked at Layla, dressed in a long silver tunic and jewelled slippers. Her black hair had been taken out of the bun and was loose and glossy. Her absolute beauty would turn heads everywhere they went.

‘Would you like…?’ Trinity hesitated—she was still very new to being Zahid’s wife, and sometimes she simply didn’t know how to speak to Layla, who was so different from Trinity’s serious, rather more grounded husband. ‘Would you like to borrow some of my clothes to wear while we go shopping?’ Trinity offered.

‘Borrow?’ Layla screwed up her nose.

‘I’m just concerned that in what you’re wearing you’ll stand out and people might stare.’

‘But I always stand out,’ Layla said, ‘and people always stare. Come on—let us go shopping. I have been looking forward to this for a long time.’

They passed the guards and took the elevator down, and then stepped out onto the hot, busy street. Layla was more than used to heat, and walked quickly ahead.

‘Slow down,’ Trinity said. ‘There’s no rush.’

They wandered into boutique after boutique, but Layla was not really looking at the clothes—instead she was wondering how she could shrug Trinity off, for she was watching Layla like a hawk would watch its prey.

‘I would like to try that,’ Layla said, pointing to an ice cream shop.

‘Sounds good.’

Still Trinity clung to her, and Layla’s impatience was increasing. Yes, the ice cream was refreshing, but would Trinity ever just give her five minutes to be alone?

‘Where to now?’ Trinity asked once they had finished their ice creams.

‘I might go for a little wander,’ Layla said casually.

‘Layla…’ Trinity swallowed. ‘Zahid said that I wasn’t to leave you alone.’

‘I am not a baby,’ Layla said, ‘I am twenty-four…’

But she went to cross the road without so much as looking and Trinity grabbed her back just in time.

‘You have to wait for the lights to change before you cross.’ Trinity pointed to the traffic lights as they turned green and they started to cross. ‘I’m not leaving you alone, Layla. You can take it up with Zahid this evening if you want to, but for now…’

Trinity’s voice trailed off as they walked across the road and Layla looked to where Trinity’s eyes had been drawn.

Perfect!

‘Oh, look,’ Layla said, walking over to the window of the baby boutique that held Trinity in its spell. ‘Oh, Trinity, look at these sweet clothes—there is nothing like this in Ishla…’ From Trinity’s rapt expression, Layla knew her chance to escape was surely about to come. ‘Let’s go in.’

They did just that.

It wasn’t just clothes on display but teeny-tiny shoes and socks, and little cashmere baby blankets too, and of course, the assistant told Trinity, they’d be only too happy to ship to Ishla.

‘Why would you use a ship when we have a plane?’ Layla asked, but Trinity wasn’t listening—instead she was gazing at those little blankets and had the lost look in her eyes that Layla recognised from her cousins who had had babies.

Layla slipped outside unnoticed, pulling an envelope out of her bag as she did so. If Trinity saw her Layla would say she was just stepping out for some air.

On the street there was a yellow cab driving towards her, and Layla put up her hand as the clips she had watched on her computer had shown her she should.

It obeyed!

The driver did not get out and open the door for her, which made Layla cross, and she was glad that the window was wound down as the driver asked her where she wanted to go for it was a very smelly car.

Layla gave him Mikael’s address. ‘I need you to hurry.’

She did need him to hurry, for Trinity was racing out of the boutique.

‘Layla, wait!’ she shouted.

‘I shall be fine, Trinity.’ Layla threw the letter she had written in Arabic out of the window and shouted instructions to Trinity as the taxi pulled away. ‘Get Zahid to read this and do not tell my father.’

She refused to feel guilty for ruining their honeymoon. Okay, maybe she felt a little guilty—but, Layla reminded herself, Zahid had had this sort of freedom for close to two decades when he had lived in England. Trinity had had it all her life.

Layla just wanted a week.

* * *

Mikael’s day had not improved—not that he let anyone know it. He sat with his face impassive as he listened to the closing arguments from the prosecution barrister, who boo-hooed where Mikael had been expecting him to. A couple of members of the jury were even in tears. But then the prosecution hit him with an argument Mikael had not foreseen.

Deliberately Mikael refused to reach for his notes or react.

He just noted it in his head.

Tomorrow his response would be savage.

Tomorrow he would use every letter of the law that he had at his disposal.

‘I’m gone, aren’t I?’ his client said before heading back to the cells.

‘I haven’t closed yet,’ Mikael responded, though he gave no pep talk. He certainly wasn’t here to reassure or make friends with his clients. All he required from himself was to offer the best defence.

It was a long walk back to chambers.

The press were waiting, with their usual questions, and Mikael duly ignored them. His mouth was dry and he wanted the cool darkness of his office, where the heavy drapes would be closed and he could sit in silence and make notes on all that had been said today.

‘Don’t ask!’ Mikael warned his clerk as he stepped in.

Both knew that it was not going well, and that he would be here all night working on the final details before delivering his closing speech tomorrow.

‘I don’t know how to tell you this—’ Wendy started.

Mikael turned and saw that his very efficient clerk for once looked a touch ruffled.

‘There’s a lady here to see you.’

‘I haven’t got time to see anyone now.’

‘Mikael, I’ve tried to get rid of her…’ Wendy let out a nervous laugh. ‘I’ve never met anyone like her before—you simply can’t say no. I even ended up paying for her taxi because she didn’t have any money—the driver was about to call the police!’

‘Wendy?’ Mikael frowned, because he had never seen his clerk like this. Mikael dealt with the lowest of the low, and had only the best of staff around him—staff that were able to deal with the most difficult of people. ‘Where is she?’ he asked, glancing into the small waiting room.

‘She’s waiting in your office.’

‘What?’ She’d got past Wendy? This Mikael had to see. ‘What’s her name?’

‘She won’t tell me,’ Wendy said, ‘and she won’t tell me what she’s here for either. She refuses to discuss it with anyone but you.’

‘Okay.’ Mikael nodded. ‘Don’t worry. I shall sort it out.’

Mikael walked into his office and completely ignored his uninvited guest, who was standing by the window, looking out through a chink in the heavy curtains and watching the world go by.

Yet as much as he ignored her somehow Mikael was reminded of the rare beauty of the first glimpse of a new moon. Perhaps it was the way the light caught her silver robe or because she was so slender, but as he opened the bar fridge it was that image that was on his mind.

‘Mr Romanov!’

Her voice demanded that he acknowledge her.

‘Oh, sorry…’ Mikael’s voice was wry as, his back to her, he added a slice of lime and ice to a glass and then poured sparkling water. ‘Weren’t you getting enough attention?’

‘I expect to be greeted.’

‘Well, had you made an appointment then you would have been.’

He turned and looked at her, a golden ray of sun from the chink in the curtains serving as his spotlight. Her beauty was now possibly the biggest challenge of his day, for Mikael was momentarily sideswiped. Her black eyes were huge in her exquisite face, her hair thick and glossy, and her complexion quite simply flawless. His eyes roamed her face—as far as Mikael could tell she wasn’t even wearing make-up. She was the first woman to actually stun him—so much so that when she held out her hand Mikael handed her his drink.

How did that happen? Mikael wondered as he turned again and made another drink—for himself this time.

‘I am Princess Layla of Ishla,’ Layla said, because, given Mikael’s poor manners, perhaps he was not aware of to whom he was speaking.

‘Really?’ Mikael said.

Layla waited for him to continue.

‘So you’re the reason I was almost late for court this morning.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Your convoy held me up,’ Mikael said. ‘Look, I don’t know what your issue is—in fact I don’t even want to know. I’m in the middle of a very complicated case and I am going on leave soon.’

‘I know all about your case, but I need for you to speak with my brother. I want you tell him that I am taking a week off from royal duty and that he is not to look for me or inform my father.’

‘Can’t you tell him that?’

‘I have written it all in a letter that he must be reading about now. I need you to reiterate the contents to him,’ Layla said. ‘If I speak with him it will get all emotional and I might back down—that is why I want you to do it for me.’

‘You need an embassy.’

‘No,’ Layla shook her head. ‘I do not want to make a big incident—unless I have to, of course.’

He heard the warning note in her voice, saw then the fire in her eyes, and he understood why Wendy had been unable to say no to her. She was pretty unstoppable.

Mikael, though, could not be manipulated. ‘As I just said, I am near the end of a huge case. I’m not taking anything else on.’

‘You will make one phone call for me,’ Layla said. ‘But first you can arrange for some refreshments to be brought in.’ It had been a long afternoon of shopping after all.

Mikael felt the shock from the muscles in his face as they broke into a smile.

Was she for real?

‘You want me to arrange refreshments before I make your phone call?’

‘Just something light.’ Layla nodded. ‘Maybe some fruit, and also something sweet.’

Mikael pulled out a roll of mints. ‘Here’s your refreshments.’

She took one and popped it in her mouth, and he watched her eyes widen in delight as she rolled the mint across her tongue.

‘I like.’

So too, Mikael decided, did he!

CHAPTER FOUR

‘ONE PHONE CALL,’ Mikael said.

But there was no way, Mikael knew, that this was going to go away with one phone call. He had only agreed to it because Layla had eked from him the first smile he had given in weeks.

He opened the curtains and invited her to take a seat.

‘First, though—’ Mikael went on, but Layla interrupted.

‘I give you some details.’

‘No,’ Mikael said. ‘First we need to discuss my retainer.’

‘Retainer?’

‘I’m very expensive,’ Mikael said.

‘Oh, you want payment up-front?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘I have this.’

Mikael was a master at keeping his face impassive—poker would have been a lucrative hobby if he’d so chosen—but even he was struggling as, from her tunic, Layla took out a stone that looked more like a paperweight and placed it on the desk between them.

‘It is called Opium,’ Layla explained. ‘It is a rare black ruby that was gifted to me by the King of Bishram on my birth, so I would expect it to be worth quite a bit.’

Mikael said nothing at first. He just stared at the stone that was almost as beautiful as its owner and thought of her walking the streets with that in her pocket. After a long stretch of silence he picked it up and decided to put it in his safe for now, then he sat back at his desk and looked at her. ‘What exactly are you hoping to achieve this week?’

‘There are things that I would like to do before I marry.’

‘Such as?’

‘They are not your concern. All I want is a week of freedom from my duties and a week away from my family.’

‘To do what?’ Mikael persisted. ‘If I’m to ring your brother then I need to know what you intend to get up to.’

‘I would like to dance,’ Layla said. ‘It is forbidden in Ishla. And I would like to try an Irish coffee….’

‘There are other drinks.’ Mikael smirked.

‘My brother mentioned Irish coffee once, many years ago. I thought it sounded nice that the cream stays at the top.’

‘What else?’

Layla looked across the table at Mikael. For the first time in her life she felt a little… Layla tried to decide how she felt. Intimidated? She wasn’t sure if that was the right word, but it had never entered her head that Mikael might say no to her request. More than that, though, the effect of his smile had unsettled her stomach in a way she did not understand.

Certainly she wasn’t about to tell him all the adventures she was seeking—though her eyes did fall to his mouth, which she had briefly imagined upon hers, but then she met again the cool of his gaze. ‘I don’t know you well enough to tell you,’ Layla said.

‘How long have you been planning this?’

‘For quite some time,’ Layla admitted.

‘Would your family have guessed that you were going to escape?’

‘No.’ Immediately she shook her head.

‘‘You’re sure of that.’

‘Very sure,’ she said. ‘I learnt a very long time ago that I get in trouble if I tell anyone my thoughts.’

‘You can be honest here,’ Mikael said, and Layla gave a hesitant nod—though her eyes said that she doubted it.

She did offer a little more. ‘I tried to get my brother to take me to a wedding in London a few months ago—I was going to escape there, but he refused to take me with him.’

Sensible man, Mikael thought, feeling a knot of unease forming at the thought of her let loose in London—or even let loose here, for there was an innocence behind her arrogance, an inherent trust in the good of others that could so easily be shattered.

‘How are your family going to react?’

‘That depends,’ Layla responded. ‘I have made it very clear in my letter to my brother that he is not to inform my father that I am missing. If he does my father will have no choice but to create an international incident. That is avoidable, of course—I just need for you to reassure my brother that I will be safe and that I will return to the hotel one week from now.’

‘What about your mother?’

‘From what I have been told about her, she would approve.’

‘Told?’

‘She is dead, but apparently we are very similar, and if that is the case then she’d approve of my plans.’

‘Where are you going to stay?’ Mikael asked. ‘Have you got friends…?’

‘You will arrange that.’

‘One phone call?’ Mikael reminded her.

‘Two.’ Layla smiled. ‘You are to make sure I stay somewhere nice and you will have to drive me there. I am not taking a taxi again; the man was very rude.’

‘Possibly because you didn’t pay him,’ Mikael said. ‘I’ll ask Wendy to book you somewhere and she’ll drive you to a hotel.’

They went over a few more details. There was nothing uncomplicated about Layla. She was twenty-four, he found out, and he checked that she was healthy, that she wasn’t on any medication, or suffering any illnesses. He wanted to be sure that there was nothing that could be flashed up on the news about her life being at risk.

Physically, it would seem she was healthy—though certifiable, perhaps…

‘They thought that I had seizure once, but I did not,’ Layla said.

Mikael let out a tense breath as out of her lips popped another surprise.

‘I was on my way to select a husband and I started to scream and shout expletives and then I fell to the floor. The palace doctor is kind and she told my father and suitors that anxiety had caused a seizure. But it was not a seizure. I was just cross.’

‘Don’t you ever try that trick on me,’ Mikael warned her.

‘It wasn’t a trick.’

‘Oh, Layla.’ Mikael slowly shook his head. ‘I’m quite sure that you are full of them.’ He ran shrewd eyes over the cunning minx. ‘Why did you choose me?’

‘Because you are not swayed by emotion and you don’t care what others think.’

‘You don’t know that,’ Mikael said.

‘You are hated by many for the people you defend.’ Layla shrugged. ‘Yet you do not look like a man who cries himself to sleep at night. Now, am I wasting my time or are you going to make that call?’

‘Layla…’

‘Princess Layla,’ she corrected.

‘I’d suggest,’ Mikael responded, ‘that if you really want to disappear for a week then you lose the title.’

‘Mr Romanov—’

‘Mikael,’ he interrupted.

‘Mikael,’ Layla amended. ‘I would like you to speak with my brother now.’

‘Very well,’ Mikael said, ‘but you need to understand that I am near the end of a very complex case. I will make one phone call and have you taken to a hotel…’ He briefly closed his eyes. ‘I don’t have time to babysit you.’

‘Good.’

She smiled very widely then, and it was like a fist to Mikael’s guts because the breath was almost knocked out of him when she did.

‘The last thing I want this week is to be watched over.’

Layla didn’t have a phone, but she did have Zahid’s number. Mikael blocked his own number and then made the call.

He did not give his name, but explained that he was representing Layla and that her request for a week away from her family was far from unreasonable.

‘You don’t understand—’ Zahid started.

‘I understand that the laws in your land may be different,’ Mikael interrupted, ‘but—’

‘You don’t understand Layla.’ This time it was Zahid who broke in.

Far from the fury and hysterics that Mikael had expected, Zahid’s response was clipped. ‘She will not manage alone.’

‘Layla is twenty-four.’

‘Which means for twenty-four years she has had everything done for her. Everything,’ Zahid reiterated.

‘Well, she seems very capable to me, and more than independent.’

‘Could I speak with her?’ Zahid asked.

Mikael looked over to Layla, who sat rigid in the chair, her lips pursed. ‘Your brother wishes to speak with you.’

He expected her to shake her head, but instead Layla nodded.

‘You don’t have to,’ he said, but she was holding her hand out for the phone.

‘Don’t give him my name,’ Mikael warned her.

Layla had been right to get him in to handle this, Mikael thought, because whatever was being said in Arabic the conversation was clearly emotional. He watched as she stood and started pacing, shouting and crying, but then, just as he was going to take the phone from her, she switched to English.

‘No, Trinity, I do not accept what Zahid just said and you can tell him the same. Yes, I have messed up your honeymoon—well, guess what? I don’t expect to have a happy honeymoon. I know my honeymoon will be miserable. At least you get the rest of your life to be happy…’

Mikael’s eyes widened a touch in admiration, and then he suppressed the second smile to grace his lips in months as Layla continued.

‘What does your pregnancy have to do with my life?’ Layla demanded. ‘I am supposed to put my one chance for freedom to the side because you are growing a baby…?’ Layla gave an incredulous laugh. ‘I never realised you were so precious, Trinity. Let me speak with my brother—clearly you are supposed to avoid the real world for the next six months.’

Mikael listened as she continued speaking to Trinity, who was surely pleading with her to go back before the situation got out of hand.

‘I think one week of freedom is a very good deal,’ Layla said. ‘And I warn you: if you tell my father—if you look for me—then I shall take my barrister’s advice and go to an embassy.’ Layla handed Mikael the phone. ‘My brother wants to speak with you again.’

‘Whoever you are—’ Zahid’s voice was still supremely calm but it cracked near the end of his words ‘—please look after her.’

Mikael was just about to point out that that wasn’t in his job description, but then he looked over to Layla.

How could he send her out onto the streets alone?

‘She’ll be fine,’ Mikael said.

‘I need your word.’

‘Hey,’ Mikael said, ‘you’re not my client.’

‘I’ll be paying your bill,’ Zahid said, and Mikael ended the call and threw the phone on the desk and looked at his problem.

‘You are trouble,’ he said, and Layla smiled.

‘I know that I am.’

CHAPTER FIVE

WHERE TO HOUSE the runaway princess? Mikael thought as her eyes lit on his chessboard and she walked across his office.

‘Leave it!’ he warned, because he played against himself and chess was part of his process when he was working through a case and needed fifteen minutes away from it at a time.

‘But I can see checkmate!’ Layla said.

‘Layla!’ Mikael warned again, and strode over. ‘Leave it!’

He pointed his finger at her and blinked as her teeth made a biting noise and she smiled widely at him.

She was like a little wild animal.

Sex had previously been the last thing on his mind.

That would happen after the trial—as soon as possible after the trial—when Mikael would make up for all he had missed out on as he surfaced to the world.

Sex, though, was right at the front of his mind now—and starting to make itself known elsewhere.

‘Come on.’ His voice was brusque as he opened his office door. ‘Wendy…’ he called as Layla followed him out, but then Mikael halted. It would be easier to drop her off himself than explain it all to Wendy, so they walked together to his car.

‘This is your car!’ Layla clearly approved. ‘It is very beautiful.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I’d love to drive it.’

‘But then I’d have to kill you,’ Mikael said, opening the passenger side door for her.

‘You are much more polite than the taxi driver,’ Layla said.

Mikael got in himself and before driving off called his favourite hotel.

He glanced over to Layla. Yes, he told Reservations, he would have his usual luxury suite.

‘Right, I’ve booked you into a hotel. I’ll cover it, and we can sort out money some other time.’

‘You have your retainer.’

‘I do.’ Mikael sighed, imagining trying to cash a rare ruby. ‘Put your seatbelt on.’

‘Pardon?’ Layla frowned. ‘The taxi driver said the same.’

‘And did you?’

Clearly not.

‘You need to.’

It should have been easy to reach over and do it himself, except she started to laugh as if he was tickling her as he leant over to retrieve the belt and suddenly there was nothing straightforward about the way Mikael was feeling as his nostrils delivered to his brain its first hit of the exotic aroma of Layla close up.

‘What are you doing?’ She was giddy from the brief contact.

‘Putting on your seatbelt.’ He pulled the belt out, trying to ignore the scent of her and the sound of her laughter as he clicked it in. ‘Don’t you wear seatbelts in Ishla?’

‘I don’t,’ Layla said. ‘The same thing happened on the plane.’ Then she turned and looked at him. ‘Though it wasn’t as much fun.’

Mikael said nothing. He just drove to the hotel. But he could feel her eyes on him.

‘You’re not a very happy person, are you?’ Layla observed.

‘It’s not a requisite for my job.’

‘You’re not working now.’

‘Yes, Layla,’ Mikael said, ‘I am. Believe me, it would have been far cheaper to get a chauffeur-driven limousine with a trained monkey in the back peeling grapes for you than to have me drive you.’ He turned and saw her frown. ‘You’ll see the breakdown on my bill.’

‘I want that monkey!’ Layla said, then pouted when she got no response from Mikael. ‘You didn’t laugh at my joke.’

‘I wasn’t sure if it was one,’ he admitted, but then turned and gave her a brief smile. ‘It was a good one, though!’

They got out at the hotel and Mikael gave the parking attendant his keys, telling him he’d be out shortly and not to park the car. They walked through to check in.

‘I’ll see you to your room and then I need to go back and do some work.’

‘That’s fine.’

Heads were turning, Mikael realised, and not just turning. People were craning their necks to get a glimpse of Layla as she glided along beside him. As he checked her in under his name he explained that there was no luggage.

‘You might want to…’ He turned to see if she needed some cash but she was no longer beside him. Mikael saw her wandering into one of the hotel’s boutiques.

‘Excuse me a moment,’ he said to the receptionist, and then strode through the foyer and into the boutique.

‘I like!’ Layla said, holding up a very glittery, very high shoe. She sat down and kicked off her silver slipper and held out her foot to him, just as the assistant called over that she would be there in a moment.

Even her feet were beautiful, Mikael thought. Long and slender and, yes, clearly irresistible—because with barely a thought he was helping her on with the shoe.

The sole of her foot was a soft as a kitten’s paw and Mikael tried to ignore the feel of her skin and the scent of her hair as she bent forward as he tried to slip it on.

‘It doesn’t fit!’ Layla exclaimed.

‘You’re like Cinderella in reverse.’

‘Why doesn’t it fit?’ Layla demanded, because in Ishla her shoes were hand-made and fitted beautifully. This she could not even get her foot in.

‘Because this isn’t Planet Layla,’ Mikael said. ‘Come on.’

‘But I want—’

‘Layla.’ His voice was stern. Mikael was fast losing patience as she followed him to the elevators. ‘I don’t have time to be taking you shoe-shopping, I deliver my closing argument tomorrow…’

Not that she’d understand that, Mikael thought as he swiped a card for the lift and handed it to her. ‘You need to use this to take the lift and to get into your suite.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Twenty-fourth floor,’ Mikael said, pressing the button.

‘How did court go today?’ Layla asked.

‘Not very well.’

‘He must be very difficult to defend,’ Layla said.

Mikael shrugged and offered his usual response to that statement. ‘Not difficult for me,’ he said.

‘It’s an interesting case, though,’ Layla said. ‘Her silence is his defence.’

He had assumed that she was talking morally.

For once he was wrong.

‘You really have been following it.’ Mikael didn’t even hide the slight surprise in his voice.

‘Of course,’ Layla said. ‘I wanted to know who I would be dealing with.’

He showed her around the suite and where everything was, and then he showed her the phone. ‘If you want anything ring—’

‘You.’

‘No, you ring the desk.’

‘What if I need to speak with you?’

‘Please don’t need to speak with me,’ he said.

He went to get out his business card but then changed his mind and wrote his personal number down on a pad on the desk.

‘Emergencies only,’ he warned, but she wasn’t listening. She was at the window, her eyes glittering as she eyed the city streets below. He was starting to understand Zahid’s concern—because how the hell would she manage out there?

‘Can I ask that you don’t go out tonight?’

She briefly turned and gave him a scoffing look. ‘You think I did all this just to stay in my room?’

‘Layla, I have a huge case on.’ Mikael let out a breath. ‘But tomorrow night I’ll take you out.’

‘Really?’

‘Or possibly the next night.’

Layla rolled her eyes. ‘Good evening, Mikael, thank you for your help with my brother. You’re dismissed for today.’

He could not dismiss her from his mind, though.

Well, he’d have to.

Mikael returned to chambers and finally sat down to work through his closing argument. If he was lucky he’d get a couple of hours’ sleep.

Mikael was very good at shutting the world out when needed.

This was his passion.

Over and over the prosecution’s closing he went, looking for holes, for the one little thing that might plant reasonable doubt.

He already had it—in fact Mikael had long known that it was all he had. Layla had got it exactly: the victim’s silence was his client’s only defence.

He might be getting more than two hours’ sleep after all, he thought, and his mind briefly drifted to Layla. He wondered how she was doing in a strange city on her first night out of Ishla.

Not his problem.

He walked over to the chessboard to take a small break and stared at it for ages.

It wasn’t even close to checkmate.

Was it?

Mikael looked again, for a considerably longer time.

No.

He made his move.

Mikael got back to his computer screen but there was a gnawing of anxiety in his mind. To ease it he picked up the phone and called the hotel and asked what had been charged to his room.

Several Irish coffees, toiletries and two peeled and thinly sliced apples, he was told for starters. But then that gnaw started to burn as he heard about the dresses and shoes that had also been charged to the suite, and that the car was almost ready to collect them.

‘Cancel the car,’ Mikael said.

Cursing, he reloaded his briefcase and headed out to his car, making light work of the dark city streets. At the hotel he tossed his keys at the valet and made his way up to the twenty-fourth floor—only to meet Layla, stepping into the elevator as he came out.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘I am looking for my driver…’

Mikael tried not to notice how gorgeous she looked in a tight red dress, and he also tried not to recall how soft her feet were as he saw that she had managed to get the shoes in her size.

Then he looked at black eyes that were almost crossing as they tried to focus.

‘You’re drunk!’ Mikael accused.

‘Am I?’ Layla said, sounding very pleased with herself.

‘No way are you going out tonight,’ Mikael said, frogmarching her back to her suite.

‘You can’t stop me.’

‘I’ll call your brother, then,’ Mikael said. ‘Because I’m not going to police you.’

He pulled out his phone the second they got into her suite. There were glasses everywhere, and dresses and shoes; it was clear that Layla was seriously going all out for her week of fun.

‘You will not call Zahid!’ Layla roared. ‘I am an adult. I am capable of making my own decisions.’

‘Fine, then,’ he snapped. ‘But I’m warning you: it would be beyond foolish for you to go out in that state, but if you choose to then that’s up to you.’ He turned to leave and yet he couldn’t. ‘Where exactly are you planning to go tonight?’

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