“Kamal,” Ali breathed. “I can’t think when you kiss me like this.”

He smiled. “I am glad.” He brushed his lips to her neck and heard her gasp. “Tell me that my touch does not make you want more.”

“Kamal—I don’t know if this is right.”

“Of course it is.”

“For you, maybe. But I’m not so sure about me,” said Ali.

“Then let me show you that this is right for both of us.”

“Without regard for tomorrow?” she asked. “I just can’t.”

He let out a long breath as he released her hand, letting her go. She hurried down the hall.

Kamal closed the door, then walked into the living room. He had hoped by this time to have his feelings for the American nurse under control. But if anything, he was falling more under her spell.

To Wed a Sheikh
Teresa Southwick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

TERESA SOUTHWICK

lives in Southern California with her hero husband, who is more than happy to share with her the male point of view. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Silhouette Books.

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

Epilogue

Chapter One

It was just as easy to love a rich man as a poor man. If one was looking for love.

Ali Matlock wasn’t. At least not right now. She’d decided to take a break from romance and concentrate on her career. So she’d traveled halfway around the world from Texas for the job opportunity of a lifetime. She was working in a hospital built by a sheik who definitely fell into the rich-man category. She could earn triple the average stateside salary for a nurse. And the best part was the opportunity for adventure in magical, mysterious, mystical El Zafir.

As she inventoried supplies and equipment at the nurses’ station in the Labor and Delivery Department, she heard the third-floor elevator doors whisper open. Kamal Hassan, the country’s crown prince and the sheik who’d just crossed her mind, stepped out. He was elegantly handsome in his designer suit. Probably out of it, too.

Not that she would ever know. Although five months ago he’d kissed her in the moonlit palace garden. But history had taught her to be wary of men—especially a sheik who kissed an engaged-to-be-engaged woman.

He stopped to speak with one of the workmen putting finishing touches on the recently completed hospital, giving her a chance to study him. With every last dark, wavy hair in place, the prince was approximately six feet two inches of tall, dark and handsome. Black eyes smoldered with intensity in an arresting face featuring a straight aristocratic nose, carved cheekbones and olive skin. He had a wonderfully shaped mouth, and boy, did he know how to use it. The memory made her heart skip at the same time she reminded herself to beware of princes wearing designer suits.

She’d met his formidable aunt, Princess Farrah Hassan, in January when the woman had visited the Texas E.R. where Ali worked. The woman had been visiting Sam Prescott, of Prescott International, a wealthy friend of the family. While there, she’d experienced chest pain that turned out to be nothing. Farrah had insisted Ali accept an all-expense-paid trip to El Zafir in March to talk about a job in the hospital her nephew was building. It had been impossible to refuse the woman even though Ali had no intention of accepting the position. She’d attended an international charity auction hosted by El Zafir.

Although enchanted by the job and the country, she’d refused the Princess’s offer. Because at the time she’d been in love. Past tense. Past history. Past caring. Now she was only interested in her career. By God, if she couldn’t have love, there would be adventure. Wasn’t it handy that she could combine the two in El Zafir? Career and adventure, that is.

And she couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that a key player in her adventure was standing a couple of feet away. Because of that kiss? Her stomach jitterbugged when she remembered what his lips had felt like against her own. But she would bet he hadn’t given her a single solitary thought since that night. It was highly unlikely he even remembered her name. Why would he? She was from the wrong side of the tracks by American standards—way off the royal radar. Which begged the question—why had he kissed her?

He finished his conversation, then looked in her direction. “Hello.”

“Your Highness,” she said, clutching her pen until her knuckles turned white.

He walked toward her and stopped, his gaze never leaving hers. The scent of his aftershave drifted over the stack of boxes separating them. That and the clipboard on top of the stack was all that stood between her and the heat of his body. Her palms started to sweat.

“It’s nice to see you again, Alexandrite.”

She winced. “Thank you, I think. Remind me not to underestimate your powers of recalling inconsequential details, like a name no one should be burdened with.”

“On the contrary. Your given name is lovely. A jewel, is it not?”

She nodded. “But Ali is so much simpler.”

“On the contrary. Ali, I think, is very complicated.” He held her gaze for another thundering heartbeat, then glanced around. “What do you think of it?”

“The hospital? In a word? Awesome.”

On her first day of work, she’d received an in-depth tour. Now she recalled the lobby with the marble pillars and walkways, cherry-wood information and reception desks. The ground floor contained the emergency room, lab and X-ray. The second floor housed administrative offices. From there up were patient rooms and an ICU filled with the most advanced equipment money could buy. It was a seven-storied, high-tech marvel.

“A good word. Most appropriate,” he answered, one black eyebrow lifting as he smiled.

Pride outlined the set of his mouth and shone in his eyes as he looked around again. Following his gaze, Ali could understand why. The brightly lit circular nurses’ station was designed with technology as well as efficiency in mind. Cozily decorated labor rooms surrounded it. Serviceable low carpet covered the floor, and the hallway to her right led to comfortable patient rooms. She was impressed by the facility, but the elevators had her atwitter, agog, amazed. They were framed in gold. She couldn’t decide whether or not it was the fourteen-carat variety, but that wasn’t out of the question.

The royal family of El Zafir had more money than God—or so she’d heard. The expensive decorating statement might have bothered her except rumor also had it that the prince had cut no corners in his quest to build this facility. He was determined to bring his country in line with Western medical technology, knowledge and research in order to give his people the finest health care. It bordered on obsession and Ali wondered why.

On her last visit, she’d talked extensively with Princess Farrah, but his aunt had never confided the reasons, if there were any, for the crown prince’s fixation. After his aunt failed, he had tried to persuade Ali to accept the job offer, but she had turned him down also. Then.

“My aunt informed me just this morning that you’d arrived.” The full intensity of the prince’s black-eyed gaze rested on her.

“A week ago,” she confirmed, settling her palm over her abdomen.

“You’ve met the director of nurses?” he asked, frowning slightly.

Ali nodded. “I like her very much.”

“I regret we were compelled to hire someone else in the position first offered to you. But when you refused me—”

“I’m delighted that there was still an opening on staff, Your Highness. The position as nurse-manager of Labor and Delivery is a terrific opportunity.”

“You are not disappointed you’ll be unable to add something more prestigious to your résumé? As I recall, you found that tempting.” A gleam stole into his eyes as one corner of his mouth curved up.

Her pulse skipped at the implication she hadn’t found him intriguing. She wasn’t about to share that his kiss could tempt a spinster out of her bloomers. But he probably already knew. After all, he had a reputation as an international playboy.

She stuck her hands in the pockets of the white lab coat she wore over green scrubs. “Truthfully, I was a little nervous about that job.”

“I do not understand. Your references are most impressive. You have a master’s degree in nursing, do you not?”

Again his memory for details surprised her. “Yes. A five-year nursing program. But a degree is no substitute for experience. When I get to the top of my profession, I’ll need both.”

“When?” His eyes were keen with intelligence and amusement. “You’re certain of the future?”

She shrugged. “I’ve studied and worked hard. I’m good at what I do. Princess Farrah insisted I was ready now. I like to think she’s right. But I believe she offered the job to me because it’s difficult to get good help to come halfway around the world. I know my age could be a problem. At twenty-five, I’d have difficulty commanding respect from a staff of nurses who probably would have a great deal more practical training.”

“My father ascended the throne of this country at the same age.”

“That’s different.”

“Indeed,” he said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “The director of nurses is child’s play by comparison.”

“Maybe compared to running a country. But still a challenge,” she said, struggling to keep the defensive edge out of her voice.

“I don’t dispute it. And I do not underestimate what you do. My country does not have enough health-care professionals to adequately staff the hospital. No matter how generous the compensation, you’re right that it’s difficult to find skilled, qualified and highly trained personnel willing to uproot their lives and come here to work. I am in your debt.”

She had no life to put on hold, and since her mother’s death a year ago, no family to leave behind. Except a father who wouldn’t miss her since he’d turned his back on her long ago.

“I’m looking forward to all the challenges of the job.”

“My aunt has every faith in your ability to handle it in an exemplary manner.”

“Princess Farrah is very kind.”

“And apparently more persuasive than I. Since she convinced you to accept a job in El Zafir after all.”

Ali absently twisted the cap on her pen. “Actually, I changed my mind about the job. I contacted her a few weeks ago to inquire about a position. She very kindly offered me a different one.”

“Your fiancé must miss you.” His voice held the barest hint of a question.

She stared up at him, noting his serious, interested air. For goodness’ sake, the man was a king-in-training. Didn’t he have more important things to remember than what she’d said almost half a year ago? “My fiancé?”

“Indeed. You mentioned an engagement the night I escorted you to the charity auction. If I remember correctly, your exact words were that your fiancé would not jump up and down with joy if you took a nursing position halfway around the world.”

He remembered correctly and way too much, Ali thought grimly. Unfortunately, she’d discovered after returning home that she and Turner Stevens, M.D., had not been on the same matrimonial wavelength.

“As it turns out, Your Highness—”

“Call me Kamal.”

She blinked. “That doesn’t seem appropriate.”

“In private, as we are now, it’s perfectly permissible. And if I wish, it will be so.”

“Kamal,” she said, testing the name on her tongue. She wondered if he always got everything he wished for. If so, it must be good to be the crown prince. Because if he was trying to be a regular guy, it wasn’t working. There would always be a line in the sand between him and someone like her.

And the whole behavior-with-royalty thing was foreign to her frame of reference. Did private mean just the two of them? That certainly wouldn’t happen often—if at all.

“As it turns out—”

“What?” he prompted.

She sighed. “News of my engagement was greatly exaggerated.”

“Oh?”

“I turned down your job offer on the assumption that the man I’d been dating for a very long time was ready to propose.”

“And did he?”

Anger and pain joined with embarrassment, then formed a gigantic knot in her stomach. She briefly thought about fibbing, but decided against it. Lying to a future king could never be a good thing.

“Yes, he proposed. Just not to me.”

His dark eyebrows pulled together over black eyes brimming with something that looked a lot like male satisfaction. She was about to tell him what he could do with it.

“So the jackal’s idiocy is El Zafir’s gain?”

Then again, he did have a way with words. “What a lovely thing to say.”

“As it turns out,” he said, paraphrasing her, “I do know you well after all.”

She recalled him saying she wouldn’t have come all the way to visit his country if the employment offer was out of the question. She’d challenged his assumption that he knew her so well. But he’d been right. Even formidable Princess Farrah couldn’t have persuaded her to visit if she hadn’t been interested in the opportunity. Had she subconsciously known that a marriage proposal wasn’t in the cards for her? No. If she had, she wouldn’t have been so completely blindsided by the betrayal. And it wouldn’t have hurt so deeply.

“How nice that one night’s acquaintance gives you insight into what makes me tick.”

The words came out sharper than she’d intended. It wasn’t fair, or especially bright, to take out her frustration on the crown prince of an oil-rich, up-and-coming nation.

“So, what brings you here today?” she asked, trying to change the subject. It wasn’t quite as transparent as “nice weather we’re having,” but close.

His chin rose a fraction and his black eyes narrowed. “I am here every day.”

Then why hadn’t she seen him before this? Maybe because his aunt had just told him of her arrival? What a difference a four-letter qualifier made. A glow started inside her but she shut it down stat. Her idea of adventure was traveling to an exotic land. It did not include falling for a guy who would kiss a woman he’d thought was engaged. She was too smart for that. Once burned, twice shy.

“I see.” She picked up the clipboard on the stack of boxes between them. “It was nice to see you again, Kamal. But if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

He nodded. “I will do my best to make your stay in El Zafir everything you hope.”

“Thank you.”

As she watched him walk away, she couldn’t help wishing his shoulders weren’t quite so broad and his stride not quite so long. Because rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief—it made no difference. Loving any man wasn’t easy. Period.

Not that their paths would cross. He ran a country. She’d been hired to run the maternity ward of his hospital. And if that wasn’t enough to convince her, not a single research source she’d consulted about El Zafir had ever promised that Ali’s foreign adventure would include a dalliance with a handsome prince.

Ali Matlock was a distraction.

Kamal knew because his meeting had dragged on longer than it should have. And the fault was hers. The ministers of finance and education had repeated information two and three times because thoughts of the attractive American had splintered his concentration. It was a weakness he would take pains to overcome.

He looked at his watch as he left the palace business wing and hurried to the family quarters. No doubt he’d missed Johara’s prenatal checkup. His sister was eight months pregnant, an unfortunate result of her teenage rebellion. After the first angry confrontation, the king had ignored his daughter. And the baby’s jackal of a father had the audacity to be killed in a motorcycle accident before Kamal could take him apart with his bare hands, then force what was left of him to marry his sister. Instead, Kamal had given her his promise that she could lean on him. Always.

Today he hadn’t exactly broken his promise. But he’d certainly bent it.

He stopped before the door to his sister’s suite of rooms and knocked. When his aunt bade him enter, he did so, grateful the older woman had been there for his sister.

Following the sound of female voices, he crossed the marble foyer and entered the living room. Along with his two sisters-in-law, Penny and Crystal, he found Farrah on the semicircular sofa that dominated the room.

“Has the doctor been here?” he demanded of his aunt.

Holding a delicate china cup, she looked up at him. She was an elegantly attractive woman in her fifties, although she could pass for twenty years younger. Her black eyes snapped with intelligence in her unlined face. Black hair, expertly coiffed, turned under and brushed the collar of her jewel green silk suit jacket. “Yes.”

“Been and gone,” Penny informed him. “He apologized for not waiting for you. But he had to get back to the hospital.”

This small, delicate, blond, blue-eyed American had captured his youngest brother’s heart when she’d been assigned as his assistant. The family charmer, Rafiq had been charmed by her and they quickly married. Although her slender figure didn’t show it yet, they were expecting a child within the year.

“I was delayed,” he explained.

“A likely story,” Crystal said, her hazel eyes twinkling. “I think you would grab any excuse to avoid a chick thing.”

“Chick thing?” he asked.

“You know.” Crystal’s grin betrayed the fact she was baiting him. “Prenatal care, babies, swollen ankles, water retention.”

“Ah,” he said, permitting himself a small smile.

He’d once thought Crystal’s hair nondescript. But long and loose as now, it shone with red highlights. She’d been hired as the nanny to his brother Fariq’s five-year-old twins and they’d fallen in love. Looking at her rounded curves, one would never guess that she, too, would give birth to his brother’s third child before the end of the year.

A fleeting twist of envy gripped Kamal before he suppressed the feeling. His brothers were second and third in line to the throne. They could afford to fall in love. He could not. He had no intention of letting any weakness distract him from his responsibilities to his country and its people. For him, marriage was strictly a duty to be undertaken, but love wouldn’t be involved.

“Where is Johara?” he asked, looking around.

“In the other room,” Farrah answered, lifting her chin toward his sister’s bedroom.

He could hear the distant, indistinct sound of a female voice. Looking at his aunt, he asked, “What did the doctor say?”

“He wishes to see her once a week until she gives birth.”

“Why?”

“It is standard procedure during the last month of pregnancy.” Her smooth forehead wrinkled with worry. “One thing of concern—her blood pressure is slightly elevated. As yet, he doesn’t believe it’s of consequence, but instructed us to call him if we have any worries or questions.”

He nodded grimly. Pregnancy and birth were the cycle of life. The most natural thing in the world. Unless there was a problem. He’d watched Johara’s mother lose her life while she was with child. Pushing aside his dark thoughts, he looked at the three women sitting on the sofa—two of them with an unmistakable glow.

“May I inquire about your checkups?”

“A-okay,” Penny informed him. “Morning sickness has passed and we’re doing fine.”

“Me, too,” Crystal said. “My only hitch was on the scale. I have to cut back on dessert and beef up the protein, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

“Of course. Anything for a beautiful woman.”

She grinned. “Kamal, you’re a shameless flatterer, just like your brother. Although Fariq didn’t reveal that trait at first.”

Penny laughed. “That was before he saw through your disguise.”

An interesting time, Kamal remembered. His aunt had gone to an exclusive agency in New York to hire a new nanny for his brother’s children, preferably a plain woman who would not attract undue attention and disrupt the palace. She’d come back with two new employees who had bewitched his brothers. He realized his aunt was also responsible for bringing Ali Matlock here to work in the hospital and wondered if he should be concerned. Then he decided not to be. He had yet to meet the woman who could persuasively divert him from his duty. Ali was nothing more than a distraction; he wouldn’t let her be anything more.

But he was expected to produce an heir. Soon. The hints from his father and aunt Farrah were getting bolder and less veiled.

Crystal sighed. “Did you know the first time I met Fariq he told me beautiful women are an unwelcome distraction?”

“No,” Kamal said a little too quickly and forcefully. She couldn’t know he’d just had the same thought a moment ago. But Ali had splintered his concentration, producing the weakness. Fortunately, she worked in the hospital, not the palace. It was unlikely she would distract him a second time.

Just then the sound of female laughter carried to him, before Princess Johara waddled—walked—into the room. Behind her was his own personal unwelcome distraction. Ali Matlock.

“Kamal!” His sister came forward to greet him.

He leaned down and kissed her on both cheeks. “How are you, little one?”

“Not so little.” She placed her hands on her bulging belly. “Did Aunt Farrah tell you what the doctor said? My blood pressure?” she asked, her lovely dark eyes brimming with worry.

“I was informed.” He looked at Ali.

She was dressed as she’d been when he’d seen her at the hospital several hours before. White lab coat over green scrubs. Women in El Zafir dressed conservatively with long sleeves, high necklines and hems that covered their legs to mid-calf. She was covered appropriately for her work, but somehow what he couldn’t see tantalized him more. Her auburn hair was twisted up and off her collar, but several tendrils caressed her cheeks and flirted with her long neck. Big eyes, brown with flecks of green and gold, stared back at him.

Six months ago, he’d seen her dressed for a ball. He’d thought about her often in the intervening months and couldn’t comprehend why. She was a woman just like any other. So why had he been unable to forget her?

“We meet again,” he finally said.

“So we do. Since I’m managing hospital L and D, Dr. McCullough thought I should be his nurse today. He returned to the hospital, but I’m off duty and Princess Johara insisted I stay on after the house call.” She looked around the suite and laughed. “Some house.”

“The first time I saw the palace,” Penny said, “I wanted to drop a trail of crumbs so I could find my way out.”

“I hear that,” Crystal agreed. “But, trust me, all the walking is good for a girl’s waistline.”

“Unless you’re big as a house,” Johara said ruefully.

“As long as there are no complications, walking is good for you in your condition. Or should I say conditions.” Ali grinned at each of them in turn. “A plethora of pregnant princesses.”

Everyone laughed. Including Kamal.

“You should do that more often.” Ali was studying him. “Your subjects will be less likely to run screaming from the room.”

“No one screams or runs from me—”

“Sometimes they do have to run.” Penny stood. “This pregnant princess has an appointment with the minister of education. Please say he’s going to have good news for me,” she added, meeting his gaze.

“Sufficient funds have been allocated for your early childhood education program,” Kamal informed her.

“Excellent.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you all at dinner tonight.”

“Wait,” Crystal said, standing. “I have to go, too. The twins will be finished with their art lesson shortly. I love seeing their drawings.” She kissed his other cheek. “Bye, all. Ali it was great to meet you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again soon.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” she answered.

“I’m afraid I must go as well.” Aunt Farrah placed her empty teacup on the table and stood. “Ali, thank you for coming. If there is anything you require while you’re in the hospital’s employ, I insist you let me know.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

When everyone left, Kamal was alone with only two women—one very pregnant. The other disturbed him more than she had just several hours before. The laughter she’d provoked had briefly disarmed him.

“Kamal, Ali asked me to show her around my suite. I’m so glad she’s here. The doctor scared me. He said high blood pressure during my pregnancy could put the baby in danger.”

“And you, too,” Ali warned. “But let’s not borrow trouble. It’s important you stay calm.”

“I was very calm,” the girl said, “until he told me all the horrible things that could happen to my baby. But you made me feel better.”

“I’m glad.”

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I have to—” She looked at her brother. “That is, I need to—”

“Use the bedpan—so to speak?” Ali finished for her.

“Yes!” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at her brother. “Keep Ali company. Be nice.”

“I am always eminently cordial,” he said. That was the second time it had been implied that his formality could be intimidating. He was merely being polite.

His sister rolled her eyes without reply, then left the room. Leaving him alone with Ali.

“I wish to know the truth,” he said. “Her blood pressure? Is it serious?”

“Dr. McCullough takes pregnancy very seriously. And so do I.”

“As do I. But is there danger to my sister?”

“Not immediate. Everything I said to her is absolutely true. There’s nothing for you to be alarmed about.”

“On the contrary. When a woman is with child there is always cause for concern. Johara’s mother died from pregnancy complications. A rare condition, we were told, but she was still gone. My sister was five years old.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, obviously shocked. “I didn’t know.”

“It was many years ago. But about my sister. She’s young—merely in her teens. It would seem to me youth would be in her favor.”

“On the contrary. Teens are at high risk for PIH—pregnancy-induced hypertension. High blood pressure,” she explained. “If left untreated, it can cause seizures.”

“What can be done?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice neutral.

“Bed rest. Medication if necessary. Swelling is a symptom—”

“But my sister’s ankles are swollen. She often says she’s retaining enough water to raise the level of the Arabian Sea.”

Ali smiled at the exaggeration. “That’s normal. Swelling in the hands and face isn’t. You need to watch her for—”

Johara came back in the room pressing a hand to her lower back. “I can’t believe I will be a mother in a few short weeks. Part of me is very anxious to see my baby and hold him. But another part of me is afraid of the process of bringing him into the world.”

“You’ll do fine,” Ali assured her.

“Aunt Farrah tells me it doesn’t hurt. But I don’t know whether or not to believe her.”

“People tolerate pain differently,” Ali said, cautiously diplomatic.

“She’s never given birth,” Kamal said wryly.

“Oh. That would tend to cancel out her opinion.” Ali put her arm around Johara and led her to the sofa, then gently settled her on it. She sat down beside the teenager. “I’ve never had a child either, but I’ve been present at many births. Without firsthand experience, I can only give you my impressions. There is pain. But there are medications to help manage it. Next week when you see the doctor we can talk about those things. Knowledge is power. The more you know, the more in control you’ll feel.”

“I think so, too,” she agreed. “What do you think, Kamal?”

“What Ali says makes a lot of sense. She’s studied and worked hard in her field. You should be glad she agreed to work in our country.”

“Oh, I am. But I wish—” Johara lowered her gaze to the clasped hands in her lap.

“What, little one?” he asked gently.

“I wish my mother was here.”

Kamal tried to understand. He’d lost his own mother when he was but ten years old and didn’t remember what it was like to rely on anyone else. Because that was the first time he’d seen his father anything but strong and in control. Five years later the king had married Johara’s mother then lost her as well. He’d staggered beneath the grief of losing another beloved wife and the weakness took a profound toll. It was then Kamal had vowed love would never bring him to his knees that way.

Kamal sat on her other side and touched a finger beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “If I could bring her back for you, I would in a heartbeat.”

Unhappiness settled over her delicate features. “I have no father—”

“Yes, you do—”

She shook her head. “No. You heard him. When he learned of my baby he said I am no longer his daughter. Ever since, he has only spoken to me when absolutely necessary and always in anger. I have shamed him and he will never forgive me. I am worse than dead to him.”

Kamal feared she was correct. “Give him time, Johara. Until then, know this. You are not alone. I will be with you.”

“You are so good to me. There is something I would ask,” she said, taking his hand between her two smaller ones.

From the time she was very little, she’d followed him around and looked up to him. He cared deeply for his only sister, this fragile woman/child of beauty, spirit and fierce independence. “You have only to name your pleasure, little sister, and I will make it so. Ask of me anything.”

“I want Ali to move into the palace and be with me until my baby is born.”

Anything but that.

Chapter Two

Stay in the palace?

Ali hadn’t seen that one coming. Stupid, but true. She sank into the cushy plushness of the semicircular white sofa and thought, there were adventures. And there were adventures. It’s why she’d come to El Zafir in the first place.

It’s also why she’d agreed to accompany the doctor on this house call—or should she say palace call. The chance to have a gander at the inside of the royal palace was irresistible. But staying there 24–7? A girl from the wrong side of the tracks in Nowhere, Texas? That could be pushing the adventure envelope too far. She’d feel like a guppy in a garden chair.

Kamal’s gaze gave no hint of his reaction to the request as he studied her. Then he looked at his sister who sat beside him. He took her hand protectively into his own.

“Johara, is that really necessary? The palace physician is here and—”

“He is not an obstetrician.”

“Neither is Ali,” he pointed out.

“But she works with my doctor. She understands these things and I feel comfortable with her.”

“You wound me, little one. I am your brother. I wish to be here for you and I thought you were untroubled in my presence. Am I—what is that American saying?”

“Chopped liver,” Ali supplied.

“Exactly. Am I chopped liver?”

“You are a man, Kamal.”

Same thing, Ali thought. When he frowned, she was afraid she’d either voiced her opinion or he’d read her mind. Either way she would be toast. But he didn’t say anything.

The princess rested her head on his shoulder in a conciliatory gesture. “I do not wish to offend you. But at a time like this, a woman wants another woman with her.”

“You have Penny and Crystal,” he said. “I’m certain it would make them happy to be available to you.”

She shook her head. “They are newly married and they do not have medical training. Besides, I do not wish to intrude on their happiness.”

“They are married to your brothers who are as concerned for your welfare as I.”

“I do not wish to take my brothers’ wives from them at a time when their focus should be on starting their new lives. And families.”

Ali watched the exchange between brother and sister. The crown prince’s reaction was very interesting. Until this moment, she hadn’t thought royalty could sweat or squirm. Unless she missed her guess, he was darn close to doing both. But what was the problem? Maybe it had something to do with that invisible line between royalty and commoners. He was cordial and polite, but he wanted her at a distance.

Ali held up her hand. “Excuse me, but—”

“Might I suggest Aunt Farrah?” He dropped a quick kiss on the top of Johara’s dark head. “She is a single woman and has been like a mother to you since you lost your own.”

“Our aunt has indeed been very good to me. But she has no personal or practical knowledge to offer on the subject of childbearing,” Johara protested. “As you said, she’s never had a baby.”

“Nor has Ali,” he said, his gaze sliding to hers.

Now she was starting to squirm. It might be a stretch for royalty, but peasants like herself had a great deal of experience in the art of sweating and squirming. How could she diplomatically excuse herself so brother and sister could discuss this privately? She didn’t relish being on the spot and talked about as if she wasn’t there.

Johara turned her big, black eyes on her brother. “As we also said, Ali is a nurse trained in labor and delivery. She’s been present in that capacity at many births. She has experience. Her presence in the palace at night will calm my nerves. And the doctor said I should remain calm. Why are you hesitating, Kamal?”

A good question. Ali was wondering the same thing. He met her gaze but his own was unreadable.

“Ali has come halfway around the world and is settled in the American compound,” he said. “It would be presumptuous to ask her to disrupt her life once again. Besides, the palace is farther from the hospital.”

“Five minutes away,” Johara protested. “Ten at the most.”

Just what Ali was going to say.

“This could be an unpardonable imposition, little sister. It is not as if you have no one else to turn to.”

“It can’t hurt to ask her.”

He leaned down and kissed his sister’s cheek. “I think you should get some rest. You look fatigued.”

“I am a little tired,” she agreed.

“I will handle this,” he said. “Go and lie down. Never fear. You will come to no harm. I will see to it.”

She nodded. “Ali, thank you for staying with me. I appreciate it very much.”

“You’re welcome.”

When his sister was gone, Kamal stood and walked to the other side of the glass-topped coffee table. “I apologize if my sister’s request has made you uncomfortable.”

It wasn’t the request, but his attitude that made her ill at ease. But probably it wasn’t appropriate to say that to a prince. Especially the prince whose pet project was the hospital where she worked. If he wanted to throw his royal weight around and fire her, who would tell him he couldn’t do it?

Her world wouldn’t come to an end if she lost her job, but it would put a serious speed bump in the path of solidifying her future. And what other position would afford her the adventure opportunity of a lifetime? She should let His Royal Snootiness off the hook and say thanks, but no thanks. Except she had a perverse impulse to not make it easy on him.

“Your sister has nothing to apologize for.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “Meaning I have done something which requires an apology?”

She decided not to answer that directly. “Princess Johara is young, pregnant and scared. She merely said she wanted me to stay with her. That in no way made me uncomfortable. It was your reaction that puzzles me. Why don’t you want me here?”

“I have no feelings one way or the other. I was merely attempting to let my sister know that it is thoughtless to turn other people’s lives upside down at her whim. Some are intimidated and do not realize it is permissible to refuse a request from a member of the royal family.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m not intimidated,” she lied. “I can stand up for myself and say no.”

“Then I will tell her that you are unable to accept her invitation to live here in the palace until her baby is born.” His tone was rife with male satisfaction and it bugged her.

“That’s not what I meant. I am able to accept. I’m just not certain I want to.” She had the satisfaction of surprising him. It was written all over his handsome face.

“Is that so?”

“You’ve presumed to know what I would do.” What happened to her polite thanks, but no thanks? Where was this spine of steel coming from? From his mightier-than-thou attitude, that’s where, she thought. “If you want to know my answer, try asking me.”

By gum, if she wanted to stay in the royal palace with his sister, she would do it.

His dark eyebrows rose and he straightened to his full height, planting his feet just a little wider apart. He reminded her of the conquering hero surveying his victory. It was a good look and he wore it well. But she couldn’t help feeling it was also body language to let her know he was the boss and she hadn’t backed him into a corner.

“As you wish,” he said in his velvet-smooth voice. “Would you agree to my sister’s request to live in the palace for several weeks until her baby arrives? Before you answer, be advised that my sister will be well taken care of if you wish to say no.”

That did it. He wanted her to refuse. That pushed some major buttons. She was mistress of her fate and no one was going to make her decisions for her. “I would be happy to accept Princess Johara’s invitation.”

Before he could mask it, his dark eyes narrowed and his mouth compressed into a straight line. She knew as surely as if he’d said it out loud—he’d thought she would turn him down. He didn’t want her to stay in the royal palace. And why should he? She wasn’t royal palace material. She wasn’t even the right kind of daughter material. Her own father had walked out on her and her mother to marry someone with higher social standing.

But come on. Even if Kamal knew all that ancient history about her, it had no bearing on this situation. What was his problem? This place was so big it wasn’t as if they would be tripping over each other. He never had to see her. Suddenly she realized how much she wanted to stay. As adventures went, this assignment was a plum among plums. It was the crunchy chocolate coating on the vanilla ice-cream bar.

“Is my sister in imminent danger?” he asked.

“If you’re asking whether or not it’s really necessary for me to be in residence, the answer is no. All my presence will do is give the princess some peace of mind.”

“I do not wish to interfere with the duties at the hospital for which you were hired.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. As long as Johara knows I have a job to do. If she’s okay with my being here after work, then I would like to accept the invitation.”

“Very well, then.”

“Okay.” Ali nodded. Although she had no frame of reference for living in a palace. But this would undoubtedly be her only chance to experience it. And isn’t that what coming here was all about? A fabulous job in an exciting country? Her situation just got more fabulous and definitely more exciting. Adventure, here I come, she thought.

And if she ran into Kamal in the hallway, he could feel free to ignore her. She would simply smile and say hello because a person could never go wrong being polite.

And if her heart beat a little faster and her palms grew damp, he would never know. And what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Right?

“I will inform my aunt that you will be moving into the palace.”

Right.

“Something is wrong, Kamal?” Aunt Farrah sat on her pristine sofa drinking a before-dinner sherry.

“Of course not. Why do you ask?”

Behind her on the light tan-colored wall hung a tapestry depicting a scene from El Zafirian history reflecting the courageous exploits of one of his ancestors. He’d always especially liked this particular wall hanging among the many expensive paintings his father’s sister collected. History was his passion. Someday he hoped to take his place with favorable marks from the historians.

“This is me,” she said. “I’ve known you since you were born. From the time you were a small boy when there was something troubling you, the vein in your forehead began to throb. It is throbbing now.”

“You’re joking,” he said, even as he touched that particular spot.

She merely smiled. “What is it you wish to discuss with me that couldn’t wait until the family gathers for dinner in a little while?”

“Ali Matlock.”

“It’s about time,” she murmured.

“Excuse me?”

“I said it’s fine.”

“What?” he asked.

“I spoke with Johara. She told me about asking Ali to stay with us in the palace until the baby is born. I think it’s a splendid idea.”

“Do you?” Kamal had the unsettling thought that men ruled at the pleasure of women. Power was meted out by the females around him. But surely he was mistaken.

“After what the doctor said today, it would ease my mind knowing there was a health-care professional here in the palace.”

“There’s a highly gifted physician in the palace at all times,” he reminded her.

“True. But having a nurse whose specialty is childbirth would be a comfort to Johara. And I must admit, although the doctor’s intention wasn’t to alarm us, I was fairly concerned following his examination of your sister.”

“As was I.”

He was also intrigued by the American nurse. From the first, he’d noticed her fairness of face. Today he’d found her feisty as well. If she hadn’t challenged him regarding his less-than-gracious behavior, he wouldn’t find her so, but she had. Had he been testing her? Not consciously, but now he knew if she had failed, he would have cheerfully forgotten her. But she’d made that impossible. And, for the foreseeable future, she would be living under his roof. He had yet to decide how he felt about it.

“Kamal, did you hear me?”

“I’m sorry, Aunt. I have a matter of some importance on my mind.”

“As do I. Has Ali agreed to stay?”

“Yes. She will come after work in the hospital and spend the evenings here until my sister has her baby.”

There was a gleam in his aunt’s eyes as she nodded. “I will have the room next to Johara’s prepared.”

“Very well. If there is nothing further, I will leave the details in your capable hands and see you at dinner.” He started to turn away.

“Wait, Kamal. Since you’re here, there is another matter I wish to take up with you.”

“Yes?”

“Your father consulted with me on the matter of your wife.”

“I have no wife.”

She sighed. “Yes. That is the heart of what he consulted me about.”

“I do not understand why it was necessary for him to discuss my marital status with you.”

“Because you refuse to and he is concerned.” She set her delicate crystal sherry glass on the gold-inlaid coffee table. “It is time, Kamal.”

“I disagree.”

“You are not getting any younger. It is your duty as crown prince to marry and produce an heir to the throne.”

“I know what my duty is. But I see no reason to hurry the process.”

“Your behavior is proof of that.”

“To what are you referring?” he asked.

She sighed. “You are seen with many women, yet you do not seem interested in a single one of them.”

Until now, he thought, remembering the way Ali’s eyes sparkled with mischief during their exchange. He wished she was like all the other women he’d known.

“I do not wish to rush into anything. It is my intention that the union be enduring.”

“Again I must remind you I’ve known you since you were a baby. There are other reasons for your hesitation. I am aware of your sensitive nature.”

“Such emotion implies a weakness not permitted the man who will assume responsibility for his country’s people.”

“The line of succession will go to your brother’s son if necessary. But that is only as a last resort. You are the crown prince. It is your obligation to try.”

“And I have been, Aunt Farrah. But the woman I choose must possess certain qualities.”

Shaking her head in defeat, she said, “As I said, you must do your best to produce an heir. What steps will you take toward acquiring a bride to accomplish this?”

“Do not worry, Aunt. I will do what is expected of me.”

“You haven’t so far. Why should I believe you will now?”

“Because my father wishes it now.”

“That’s true. He has charged me to see that your duty is done soon. I must inquire how you will go about finding a suitable woman to marry. If you require assistance finding someone, I could—”

“I don’t.” He let out a long breath as he struggled to keep a tight rein on his temper in the presence of a female who was also a revered family member.

“I wish only to help. Would you like me to compile a report of suitable candidates?” She folded her hands in her lap and stared at him.

“Choosing a wife is not unlike hiring an assistant. She must have certain qualifications and I’m perfectly capable of procuring a suitable candidate for my bride.”

“As you wish,” she said, her gaze never wavering from his. “But it is imperative that you understand the depth of your father’s displeasure.”

“I think I understand.”

She shook her head. “No. But hear this. If you do not select a bride in a time frame acceptable to the king, the choice will no longer be yours.”

Irritation scratched at his nerves and he fought to keep his voice neutral. “It was my understanding that arranged marriages were a thing of the past in El Zafir.”

She sniffed. “Only because they have become unnecessary. But if you continue to procrastinate, the practice can easily be reinstated.”

“Very well. Your message is duly noted.” He swallowed his anger and the taste was bitter on his tongue.

He left his aunt and walked back to his suite of rooms to change for dinner. As a small boy his father had continuously reminded him that with great power comes great responsibility. Kamal had learned from watching his father that weakness of emotion was an undesirable flaw. No one understood duty better than Kamal Hassan. He would do what was expected of him. But before he did, he would have a final fling. Suddenly a vision of Ali Matlock came to mind.

Chapter Three

Dinner in the royal palace, Ali decided, was like being thrown into the deep end of the pool with no working knowledge of water safety and no arm floaties to keep her from sinking. One on one with Kamal was one thing. But the whole family together in a dining room that felt as big as her entire apartment at home was intimidating.

This environment of wealth and formal beauty was so far beyond her frame of reference, she could as easily be on another planet. The soft ting of goldware against china was an elegant, sophisticated sound she’d seldom heard and always in a restaurant. Nothing in her nurse’s training had prepared her for this. If someone choked on a crab-stuffed mushroom and became a candidate for the Heimlich Maneuver or clogged their arteries from froufrou food and needed CPR, then she was your gal.

A symptom of her intimidation was being tongue-tied. The silver lining to that was being able to observe her surroundings without interruption. If she’d been a brave little soldier who muddled forward, she wouldn’t have had as much opportunity to admire the crystal chandelier overhead and the graceful wall sconces that lighted the room with just the right amount of soft glow. Nor would she have been able to appreciate the arrangements of fresh flowers on the table and every other flat surface in the room.

She admired the intricate pattern on the crocheted lace tablecloth and suspected it cost a small fortune. Only the imminent threat of dehydration could compel her to move a hand anywhere near liquid and chance a spill on the costly material. The upside: her full glasses of water and champagne would save the hovering servers the necessity of refilling them.

Ali looked at Princess Farrah who was sitting diagonally across from her at the end of a table long enough to line dance on. The woman was engaged in a spirited conversation with her nephew Rafiq and his wife, Penny, regarding El Zafir’s greatest natural resource—children. King Gamil sat at the head of the table talking with Fariq and Crystal about the country’s opportunities for foreign investors. Kamal was between Ali and Johara. She felt like a bump on a pickle and just about as exciting. Taking call for a teenage mother-to-be was one thing. Having dinner with a multitude of royals at the invitation of the little mother’s aunt was something else altogether. What did one converse about with them?

Ali was in over her head. No question about that. Kamal was intimidating enough all by himself, although she’d managed to stand up to him. But now she was afraid to open her mouth—even with Penny and Crystal there.

In college speech class, she’d learned one of the techniques to get over stage fright was to picture the audience in their underwear. Her gaze slid sideways to Kamal. In his dark suit, tone-on-tone deep gray shirt and tie, he looked every inch the designer-dressed, powerful crown prince—a sight that made her pulse pound and her hands tremble. One thing became crystal clear to her in that moment. Picturing Kamal in his underwear wouldn’t cure what ailed her. If anything, it could double-knot her tongue.

“Ali?”

“Hmm?” She glanced past Kamal’s chest to his aunt’s amused gaze. “I’m sorry. You were saying, Your Highness?”

“I said I’m delighted that you could accept my invitation for dinner this evening. We wanted to welcome you and make your first night in the palace memorable.”

“I—I—” She cleared her throat when the word came out a croak. “I assure you, this is an experience I’ll never forget,” she replied sincerely.

“Is your room comfortable?” the princess asked.

“Is there anything you need?” The king looked like a gracefully aging movie star with his dark eyes and silver hair. Very Cesar Romero.

Leaving her dessert untouched, Ali settled her gold fork on the side of her delicate china plate. It seemed the prudent thing to do since she couldn’t eat anything anyway.

“My rooms are wonderful,” she said, picturing in her mind the large suite.

The living room had French doors leading to a balcony that overlooked the Arabian Sea. The large bedroom was littered with numerous pieces of matching cherry-wood furniture. Gold bathroom fixtures. Marble floor. What was not to like? Her rooms were definitely satisfactory—the most satisfactory rooms she’d ever had.

Johara leaned forward, looking past her brother. “I am happy you could stay. It relieves my mind to have you close. I will—”

“Farrah.” King Gamil interrupted his daughter and pointedly met his sister’s gaze. “Is there any progress on that matter we were discussing the other day?”

Ali glanced at the teenage princess and saw the flush that crept into her cheeks at being talked over as if she wasn’t there. Her mouth compressed to a straight line as her large dark eyes snapped with what looked like resentment. Ali couldn’t help feeling sorry for the young girl. But before she could dwell further on what had happened, Princess Farrah was speaking. She noticed the questioning look the woman slid in Kamal’s direction.

“Kamal and I have talked. I have high hopes that things will proceed well from now on.”

“Do we want to know what things?” Penny glanced at each of them, then her husband.

In response, Rafiq smiled lovingly at her. “Probably not, my dear. So I will change the subject.” He looked at his sister. “Johara, how are you feeling?”

Good for him, Ali thought. Just because her father seemed bent on pretending Johara wasn’t there didn’t mean the rest of the males had to as well. She saw the dark look the girl tossed her father before her chin lifted.

“Big,” the teen answered, staring ruefully at her belly. “I am very ready for this baby to arrive.”

“I can imagine,” Crystal said. “I’m barely showing, but I can hardly wait to hold this child in my arms.”

Fariq looked at her. “My wife is a wonderful mother. She’s proven that with Hana and Nuri.”

“Your twins adore her,” Penny said. “But seeing how uncomfortable Johara is, I vote we shorten the gestation period significantly.”

“I’ll draft a resolution,” Kamal said wryly. “And submit it to the El Zafirian ruling cabinet. We’ll see what we can do to accommodate your request.”

“Yes,” Johara agreed, shifting uncomfortably. “I second that.”

The king cleared his throat. “Are you well, Crystal? Penny? I understand the doctor was here yesterday.”

“Everything’s fine with Penny and me,” Crystal said.

Ali tried to think of something to add to this conversation. This was a subject she knew about. The king of the country had made an effort to be polite to her even if he was being an old poop to his daughter. Ali should be able to come up with a bonding sort of thing to say.

“Your Highness, you must be very excited at the prospect of having three new grandchildren here in the palace,” she finally managed to say.

King Gamil turned his dark-eyed gaze on her. “I have only two grandchildren on the way.”

Ali’s heart was pounding as she saw the tears in the young girl’s eyes and waited for someone to come to her defense. Crystal and Penny looked as shocked as she felt. The men stared daggers at their father, but said nothing. Ali felt the pressure build inside her. It was probably too forward, but she couldn’t keep silent. Outrage melted her intimidation.

“Johara is your daughter. When she gives birth in a couple weeks, that child will be your grandchild also.”

“Miss Matlock—Ali,” the king said. “I do not expect you to understand this. But I no longer have a daughter.”

“You can’t mean that,” she said. “I know her situation isn’t ideal, but—”

He held up a hand. “She sits here at the insistence of her brothers and aunt. But she chose to turn her back on me when she ignored all the teachings of her revered ancestors. I cannot forgive that.”

“It wasn’t like that, Father.” Johara slapped her napkin on the table. “I fell in love.”

As if she hadn’t spoken, the king took a sip of coffee from his cup, then set it back on the saucer with an almost musical clink. “Kamal, how is the hospital progressing?”

Studying the crown prince, Ali held her breath. Anger and disapproval swirled in his eyes as he met his father’s gaze.

“Father,” he said, “are you also aware that the doctor said Johara’s pregnancy is at a very delicate stage? Her condition can be adversely affected by stress. She needs your support—”

“Her condition is that she is with child and without a husband. She has shamed me.”

“But, Your Highness,” Ali blurted out. Funny how adrenaline loosened the tongue. She leaned toward the man on her left. “She’s young. Didn’t you ever make a mistake when you were her age?”

“You are a visitor to this country and therefore cannot comprehend this situation. There are consequences for dishonorable actions.”

Abruptly, Johara stood. “The king is rigid in his beliefs. He refuses to admit that times are changing even here in El Zafir. Since I cannot convince him of this, I must concentrate all my energy on my baby.”

With all the dignity a very pregnant, very emotionally upset young woman could manage, she left the room. In her wake, a churchlike silence descended.

“Times are changing,” Kamal said, the muscle in his lean cheek contracting.

You go, Kamal, she rooted silently. Sure, the girl had made a mistake, Ali thought. But she was paying for it. She was going through the most momentous experience a woman could have. Under the right circumstances—a committed couple waiting for a baby that represented the tangible result of their love—it would be joyous. Johara was facing the prospect of raising her baby alone and she was doing that under the cloud of her father’s disapproval. Ali crossed her fingers in her lap, hoping the crown prince would tell him off for his lack of compassion and understanding.

“Some things are not meant to change,” the king said.

“Father, my sister is in a most delicate condition. It is likely that your attitude is contributing to her stress and could result in harm to her and her child.”

“Do not interfere, Kamal,” the king ordered. “You have always been weak where she is concerned. This behavior is unacceptable for the man who would follow me on the throne of El Zafir.”

Ali noticed he wouldn’t use Johara’s name or call her Kamal’s sister. It was as if she’d been surgically cut out of the family for him. The idea outraged her. She looked at Kamal, waiting for his comeback to his father. His eyes snapped with anger and the muscle worked in his cheek as he clenched his jaw. But he said nothing more.

Where was the conquering hero she’d seen yesterday? The one who refused to be boxed into a corner?

Kamal found Ali in the palace garden. Back and forth she marched, muttering to herself as the scent of jasmine and magnolias drifted in the air. Stars winked in the black velvet sky above but the night was moonless. The only illumination came from strategically placed spotlights and the small white lights strung in the palms and date trees clustered in the center of the lush area and around the perimeter. Flowered vines climbed the pink-tinged stucco walls surrounding the courtyard. This was one of his favorite places in the palace and he came here often for the serenity it offered.

Although not tonight, he thought, watching Ali prowl like a cat. She hadn’t noticed him yet and her fevered pace made him think of an enraged kitten. But when she stopped at the end of the stone pathway and turned toward him, the furious look on her face convinced him to keep that opinion to himself.

“I have been looking for you,” he said.

She hurried forward and stopped in front of him. “Is it Johara? Is she—”

He held up his hand. “I left my sister a short time ago and she was in good health.”

Her chin tilted up with a somewhat defiant air. “Then you were looking for me because of what happened at dinner.”

“I was,” he confirmed.

She straightened to her full height and met his gaze as a glint of steel glowed in her own. “I need to explain something to you.”

“Yes?”

“I have a hard time when someone is throwing their weight around. When a person is being bullied, I will defend the underdog.”

“I noticed,” he said wryly.

She folded her arms beneath her breasts. In her white, long-sleeved silk dress with the midcalf hem and deep V neck, the movement gave him a most enticing view of her bosom. Normally, he took his height for granted, but at times like this, he was most grateful for it. And the fact that even in high-heeled pumps, her lack of stature gave him quite a delightful vantage point.

Color stained her lovely, high cheekbones. “I’ve been known to act impulsively, but, I believe, with right on my side. Like tonight, for instance.”

“What about it?”

“It’s wrong of your father to cut off his daughter. She mentioned the emotional exile, but until I saw it with my own eyes, I didn’t quite believe her.” She stared at him for a moment and the shadows in her eyes made him wonder. “Johara made a mistake,” she continued. “No one, especially her, denies it. But who died and made him king?” she huffed.

“I believe that would be my grandfather.”

She blinked and one corner of her lush mouth lifted. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

“I know.”

“If he can’t be supportive, she needs him not to add stress. In fact, if he’s truly disowned her, why was she at a family dinner? Why hasn’t he sent her away somewhere?”

“You’d have to ask my father.”

“Probably he thinks that would be too easy. If he keeps her around to ignore, every day she’s an outcast reminds her of her error.”

“You think he’s a cruel man?”

“I think the way he’s treating his only daughter is cruel.”

“It’s complicated.” Kamal sighed. “But he loves her very much. In fact, she is his favorite.”

“He’s got a funny way of showing it. It’s hard for me to believe he favors her.”

“I didn’t think you would understand. But remember, a change in attitude takes time and my father is of a different generation. He is conservative and puts a high price on family honor.”

“It doesn’t seem especially honorable to turn your back on family, someone you’re supposed to love.” There was an edge to her voice that made him wonder if she had personal reasons for her impulsive defense of his sister.

But then, she was talking about love. A complex concept and one he had been successful in avoiding. Family affection was simple and straightforward. The web of emotion between a man and woman was not. It was a maze he wished never to enter or experience.

“Love equals weakness,” he said. “Look what happened to my sister in the name of love.”

“And you think she’s weak because she gave in to her feelings for a man?”

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