Desert Prince, Bartered Bride by Marguerite Kaye Chapter One Kingdom of Djaradh, Arabia, 1819 Her heart was

racing. Little wonder, with so much at stake. What if her plan backfired? No, don't even think about that! Even this early the heat was searing, but the all-enveloping cloak and headdress she wore to disguise her identity was also welcome protection from the fierce sun. Around her, the city's souks were open for business, the air redolent with the scent of fragrant spices, heady perfumes and roasting meat. Welltravelled as she was as a career diplomat's daughter, she had never seen anything quite so colourful, nor so very exotic. But now was not the time for sightseeing. Her father's entire career was at stake. Silvia tightened her hold on the tasselled reins of her camel, resisting the urge to clutch at the sides of the high box saddle which swayed most unnervingly. Finally, she reached the massive portal to the royal palace. The letter, written in an elegant hand and stamped with the prominent royal seal, got her safely past the ornate iron gates and the impassive guards with their wicked scimitars. A tall bearded man in his fifties greeted her, his expression set in stern disapproval. "I am Bakri, his highness's Chief of Council. He is expecting you, Sir Francis," he said, as he waited impatiently for Silvia to dismount. Head lowered, she followed him along a labyrinth of cool marble corridors and through a pair of heavy double doors, where he bowed curtly and departed. Her heart was pounding so hard she could scarcely breathe. Her mouth was dry. Silvia blinked in the multihued light that streamed down into the long room through a stained glass window. A tall figure, dressed in a royal blue tunic trimmed with gold, was standing on the dais at the end of the room. Prince Munir al-Khashqar, ruler of the kingdom of Djaradh. Silvia's first impression of the man who held her father's fate in his hands was one of almost palpable power. Here was a man accustomed to rule, a man accustomed to unquestioning obedience. Sinking into a low bow, she stole a closer look at him. Younger than she had expectedin his midthirties, she estimatedwith no trace of over-indulgence in that hard, muscled physique. A little frisson of awareness rippled through her. Prince Munir was as fiercely attractive as the desert kingdom over which he ruled. "Sir Francis, I bid you welcome," he said. "As-salamu alaykum, your highness. It is an honour," Silvia said gruffly, masking her voice. He came toward her suddenly, and, before she could snatch her hand away, knowing it would betray her, he engulfed it in an unexpected handshake. The dark tan of the sheikh's skin made her own seem milky whiteand unmistakably feminine. A tingle shot up her arm at the contact. Her startled gaze met his. Dark brown eyes flecked with gold narrowed suspiciously at her. "Your Highness," she began, "I can" But it was too late. The prince grabbed the igal which held her headdress in place and yanked it free, causing her haira heavy fall of burnished goldto tumble down her shoulders. "Explain this treachery!"

Chapter Two Munir gazed in utter astonishment at the attractive woman dressed incongruously in male clothes, a female who was quite clearly not the British diplomat Sir Francis Bruntsfield. Tall, slim and creamyskinned, there could be no greater contrast between this woman and the sultry beauties who occasionally occupied his haremyet there was something strikingly attractive about her nonetheless. Perhaps it was those wide-spaced hazel eyes staring at him defiantly, or the determined tilt to her mouth? Regardless, her behaviour was outrageous! "Who are you? Where is Sir Francis?" Silvia had visited any number of royal courts, met countless members of the aristocracy, but none had had the effect on her of this man. There was an edge to him that both attracted and frightened her at the same time. Like the wicked blade of his scimitar, glinting and deadly. Prince Munir could be ruthless when necessary, she knewthe brigands who had embroiled her father in their crime had been summarily executed. He glowered at her, his sensual mouth at odds with his forbidding frown. She took a deep breath. Years of playing the diplomatic hostess came to her aid. "Your highness, there is a perfectly rational explanation. I am Silvia Bruntsfield, Sir Francis's daughter. Unfortunately, my father was taken ill today. Knowing how very gracious it was of you to agree to the meeting, he sent me in his stead." "It is discourteous to send a mere woman on such an important mission!" He spoke the English words softly, his accent smooth as silk, though there could be no mistaking the menace in his tone. But it was his words that made Silvia bristle. "I have no doubt that my father would believe it more discourteous still to have failed to keep this appointment." "He does not know you are here?" She met the prince's gaze defiantly. "He was too ill to be consulted, but he would expect it of me. I am no mere woman. I have acted as his emissary on numerous occasions. I came to plead his cause, since he cannot do so himself. And to return this." Pushing back her cloak, Silvia unclasped the little leather pouch fastened to the belt of her tunic and handed it to the prince. "I swear he did not know its significance. In all the years he has served his country, Papa has never taken plunder, and certainly nothing so valuable. He thought it was a trinket." Munir opened the pouch and extracted the idol. Looking at the huge yellow stone set into its middle, he had to acknowledge that an untrained eye could easily mistake the diamond for glass. "The fact remains that your father effectively stole a priceless artefact. The men who sold it to him in the ruined city of Djaradh-Laskit were brigands, thieves. Your father should have known better than to take any artefact from such a sacred place. There are still many people here in my kingdom who believe in the old ways, that the city is the home of the ancient gods. Were his actions made public, I could not guarantee his safety." "It was wrong of him, and foolish, but" "Extremely foolish! As a consequence of his actions, I intend to cancel the treaty that would have granted your English government exclusive rights to use our port. I cannot be seen to do business with foreigners who violate our traditions." "I know," Silvia said quietly. "That is why I am here. I intend to make you change your mind." Chapter Three

Munir arched his brow inquisitively. "Change my mind? How, pray, do you intend to make me do that?" "I hadn't quite worked that part out," Sylvia confessed. "Throw myself on your mercy, most likely." The prince laughed. It was an attractive laugh, deep and sonorous with just a hint of devilment. "That assumes I am merciful. You do realize that you have risked death by coming here?" "If I had not come, if I cannot change your mind, my father's life will not be worth living. He will be ruined, the earldom he has been promised for thirty years of dedicated service to his country withdrawn. After so long abroad, he has been looking forward to returning to England, taking up his seat in Parliament and spending time with my sister and her family. My father is an honourable man, Highness. His unwitting crime weighs heavily upon him. I beg of you, do not punish him or his country, nor deprive your own kingdom of what will be a most profitable partnership." Munir could not help being impressed by her daring. She did not drop to her knees. She did not even lower her eyes. Did she know she was being disrespectful? He should call the guards and have her thrown out. If he had listened to Bakri, his Chief of Council, he would not even have granted Sir Francis an audience. But the deal with the English was too lucrative to walk away from without a second thought. His neighbour, Prince Ramiz of A'Qadiz, had made just such an alliance, and his kingdom was already seeing enormous benefits from the increased trade. "You have risked a great deal," Munir said carefully. "Tell me, Miss Bruntsfield, what is in it for you?" Silvia stiffened. "I'm here only for my father's sake. And for my sister, who would be tainted by association," she added, because despite everything, she had never wished Louise ill. Nor Matthew. Despite having just cause. An idea, an outrageous idea, was beginning to form in Munir's mind as he eyed Sir Francis's courageous daughter. She was slim, but the man's tunic she wore could not conceal the curve of her breasts, the length of her legs, the indent of her waist. Desire shivered through him. Her father would be in Munir's debt and could prove a worthy and lucrative allyparticularly if the debt were cemented with an even stronger alliance. And yet Munir's idea would undoubtedly enrage the Council. Was it madness to risk estranging them after he had worked so hard to repair the damage his father had done? Or more accurately, Halimah had done? No. The Council would bluster as usual when presented with an idea that was not theirs, but once they understood the manifest advantages, he had no doubt he could win them over. The plan was appealing to him more and more. Munir ran his finger down the curve of the Englishwoman's cheek. "Are you a virgin?" She jerked away. "That is none of your business!" He smiled at the blush that stained her throat. Her reaction told him all he needed to know about her experienceor rather lack of it. She smelled of flowers. A delicate English rose transplanted to the sultry desert heat. The combination could be intoxicating. It was most certainly arousing. "It would be very much my business," he said, "if you were to become my wife." Exhilarated by the quite unaccustomed recklessness of his offer, he pulled her into his arms. Chapter Four

Being enfolded in the sheikh's arms was, if anything, even more unexpected and shocking than his outrageous proposal of marriage. Silvia was so startled that by the time she thought to protest it was already too late. His kiss was like the deserthot and exotic, excitement spiced with danger. By comparison, Matthew's kisses seemed tame. As Munir's tongue stroked along the soft skin inside her lower lip, a jolt of pure pleasure shot through her, and she opened her mouth to him. His hands were warm on her back, her waist. She felt tense and limp at the same time. His body was hard against her yielding flesh. Solid. She had never been this close to a man. Not even Matthew. Much too late, Silvia struggled to free herself. "How dare you!" Munir released her reluctantly. This haughty Englishwoman had a slumbering passion just waiting to be ignited. In fact, what he wanted to do was to take her on the dais and pleasure her, right here in the throne room. It was an established fact that no one woman could satisfy a man, but he suspected he would not tire easily of this one. It was a wholly unexpected and extremely distracting bonus. With difficulty, he forced himself to turn his mind to business. "You are quite right. There are other, more important matters to be settled first." "You weren't serious about marriage!" Silvia exclaimed, desperately trying to assemble her thoughts into something vaguely coherent. "I never say what I do not mean," Munir replied crisply. He rarely spoke so impetuously, either, but there was no need to admit that. "Tell me, why are you not already married?" "I have no desire to be married," Silvia replied, folding her arms across her chest. Her nipples were hard against the boning of her corset. She feltshe could not articulate what she felt. "Why not?" Munir persisted. "I cannot believe there has been any shortage of willing suitors." A veritable procession, many actively encouraged by my father in his obsessive desire to find his daughters an advantageous match, Sylvia thought bitterly. Realizing that she would get nowhere with Munir by prevaricating, she opted for the truth. "I never married because the one man I did lovewho said he loved memarried my elder sister instead," she said baldly. "Louise inherited our mother's fortune, and was better connected through her godfather. My father arranged the match with Matthew the earl of Inverkip, that is." "And as a result, you have rejected any attempts since by your father to find you a suitable husband?" Silvia's smile was twisted. "You make me sound petty. The real reason is that I have no intention of embarrassing myself by falling in love again. I have no wish to subject myself to the pain of that experience more than once. So you can see that your preposterous notion that I might be your wife is doomed to failure." Munir smiled. "In my kingdom, what I want, I have." Chapter Five "In my kingdom, what I want, I have." Silvia folded her arms across her chest even more firmly as the intimidating desert sheikh held her gaze. "Somehow, I do not doubt that, Prince Munir. So it is well for me that my visit to your kingdom will be a brief one. I will be returning to England with my father as soon as my business here is settled."

"You are looking forward to going home?" "Having spent most of my life travelling with my father to his various postings, I don't really think of England as home." "Where will you live?" "With my sister and her family. She has four children. I will no doubt be expected to play the good aunt." Silvia could not keep the bitterness from her voice. "By heaven, you cannot wish to reside in the same house as the man who rejected you for your sister!" "I don't have much choice." "But your concerns are not confined to your domestic arrangements, I think?" His perception surprised Silvia into admitting to her innermost fears. "Moving in the diplomatic circles my father occupies, I've become accustomed to a great deal of independence and to making a contribution. In England it will bedifferent," she said. "I confess I am afraid that I will find myself somewhat redundant." "If you became my wife, your contribution would be great indeed. You would be facilitating the forging of a bond between our two countries," Munir pointed out. "You would be the first, and therefore the most important, of my wives. The harem would be yours to rule." "The first!" Silvia could not keep the horror from her voice. "It is a fact that no one woman can satisfy a man. In England, men have one wife and many mistresses, and it seems to me that in that circumstance all women are treated disrespectfully. Here in Djaradh we respect and honour each of our wives." Silvia bit her lip. She could not argue with the truth of what he said. Not when everything she had seen in her travelsto say naught of her own experienceproved him right. But there remained, buried deep inside her, the illogical, romantic notion that true love could make one woman more than enough for one man. Yet she would never be that woman. And Prince Munir, by his own assertions, would most certainly never be that man. She swallowed hard. Whether she was his first wife or twentieth was of no consequence, what mattered right now was saving her father. "If I did agree to this fantastical notion of yours, my influence would be confined to the harem?" she asked carefully. "You would not consider a more public role for me as consort?" "As prince, I must be seen to rule alone. A prince must be invulnerable, infallible, superior to all men." "And women, apparently," Silvia said dryly. Munir thought of his aunt, Halimah, who in her ruthlessly manipulative ways had played his father like a puppet. He thought of the destruction her ambition had caused. The bloodshed. "And women," he said, more harshly than he'd intended. The Englishwoman's eyes widened at the bitterness of his remark. He took a calming breath and moderated his tone. "Consider the benefits. As my wife, you will have your own palace here. You will not have to return to the man who scorned you, you will

have the satisfaction of knowing that you have saved your father's career and will be able to assist promoting your country's long-term relationship with mine. You will also have the honour of being the mother of my sons," he said softly, tilting her chin so that she had to meet his gaze. "And daughters." Munir laughed, as roused by her refusal to be embarrassed as he was by the challenge in her eyes. Marriage to this woman held a most definite appeal. "Sons and daughters. It will be a pleasure." Silvia flushed deeply. Desire hung in the air between them, heady as a perfume. Munir's fingers stroked down the long column of her neck, raising goose bumps, lighting sparks. His eyes darkened. She saw the sharp intake of his breath beneath the silk of his tunic. His blatant arousal was provoking. "What is your answer, Miss Bruntsfield?" he whispered seductively. "Will you be my bride?" Chapter Six "Your bride!" Silvia pushed Munir away. "You cannot expect me to give an instant answer to such a question, asked by a man I have never met before." "Oh, but I do. Is it really so different from the marital matches your father has tried to foist on you?" Having set upon this reckless course, Munir wanted the deal concluded before her father or his Council had time to interfere. Djaradh deserved prosperity. The kingdom needed an heir. That he personally craved this woman was serendipitous. "The terms are simple. If you accept my proposal I will sign the treaty and smooth over your father's indiscretion. We will be married before he departs for England and a hero's welcome. If you do not, you, your father and your country must endure the consequences." Munir stifled the tiny stab of guilt his ultimatum provoked. He was ruthlessly exploiting the situation, of that there was no doubt. "That's blackmail," Silvia said bitterly, seeming to read his thoughts. Munir's expression hardened. "A barter. May I remind you that you came here, unbidden, with the express purpose of making me change my mind. You implied you would do anything to save your father's reputation. I am offering you the opportunity to do just that." Silvia flinched. The stark choice she faced was of her own making. Her mind raced. To marry a virtual stranger, to commit herself to living in a country where she might be even more suffocated and constrained than she would be in Englandit was madness. But to be forced to live in the same house as her erstwhile lover, to see him every day acting the husband to her sister, and to have nothing more to expend her energy on than playing aunt to their growing brood of children. No! That didn't bear thinking about. It may well be a choice between two evils, but Prince Munir's proposal most certainly seemed the lesser of the two. "But I know nothing about Djaradh and its people," she said distractedly. "I know nothing about you." "Djaradh has a history more ancient than any sovereign state in Europe, and our traditions and culture are richer by far than most Western civilizations. All of which you will learn in time. As my wife, you will want for nothing. And as to your knowing little about meI am a prince and an honourable man. I do not offer love, we are both too wise to place any value on such empty protestations, but I will always treat you with respect. How many English wives can rely on that?" He did not love her. Of course he did not, and nor would he. Besides, she'd told him herself that she had abandoned any thoughts of love, which she had. His offer was tempting. After all, would sharing a harem with his other wives and their children really be so different from life in England with Louise?

Still, Silvia hesitated. Even though she did not love Munir, she didn't think she could live like that. She had no wish to share her husband or her harem, and what's more, she wanted her husband to value her for more than her ability to bear him children. But there was a chance that she could prove herself to him, and by doing so, forge a future for herself in this alien country. Maybe, if she had a year The idea appealed immensely. Silvia relished a challenge almost above all else. Her stomach lurched at the thought of what would happen if she failed, but she had already decided. She smiled, not her usual, quizzical smile, but a real one that lit up her eyes. "Very well. I have an answer for you." Chapter Seven Silvia examined herself in the long mirrored tiles that formed the wall of the harem's bathing chamber. After the excited chatter and giggling of the army of maidservants it had taken to dress her in her wedding finery, the silence was a welcome relief. In the past week she felt as if she had been in a play acted out at top speed in her head. Her father's initial anger at the news that she was to marry Munir quickly shifted to relief and then astonishment at his good fortune. His talk was all of settlements and spheres of influence. He was so carried away with the consequences of his daughter's astounding betrothal that it didn't occur to him to question her actions. He'd said his goodbyes this morning after the formal signing of the contracts. "I'm damned proud of you. England will be proud of you," he'd said gruffly. After the ceremony, he would leave for England, and her last tie with her old world would be severed. Today, she would enter another world entirely. The figure gazing back at Silvia from the mirrored tiles was an alluring creature. Her skin was soft with scented oils, and her hair gleamed like burnished gold against the burnt-orange silk of her kaftan, which was weighted with semiprecious jewels woven into the gold-threaded passementerie. The pantaloons beneath were crimson organdie, full and pleated into her waist, yet almost transparent. Gold bells tinkled on her wrists, ankles and on the headband that held the gossamer-fine veil in place. Her hands and feet were painted with henna. Her kid slippers were embroidered with pearls. Around her neck was an intricately designed gold necklace with a shower of pink and yellow diamonds that Munir had given her. Munir Custom forbade contact between them in the whirl of preparations before the wedding, and so she had spoken to him just three times since he had very reluctantly agreed to her terms. Tonight he would be her husband. And for the next year, she had made him promise she would be his only wife. "A year to prove that you can be all the woman I will ever need? I look forward to it," he had said with a wicked smile. As she followed her coterie of female attendants from the harem to the main body of the palace, an unsettling thought reverberated in Silvia's head. Before she could begin to erode the barriers that confined her to the harem, she must first prove herself within it. Before she could be useful, she must be desirable. And she had absolutely no idea of how to go about such a thing. With her nerves jangling, she could eat nothing of the feast laid out before her on gold plates. Through the grille that separated the men from the woman in this strange ceremony, she could hear the low rumble of masculine laughter. When they finally led her to the dais where Munir stood, magnificent in gold and blue and even more fiercely attractive than she remembered, her heart lurched.

Her moods swung like a pendulum, from exhilaration to agitation, from anticipation to dread. And when Munir finally slipped the ring onto her finger, panic flared. What was she doing! Her eyes flew to his above her veil, sending a frantic message. Stop! Stop! Munir took her hand. He smiled at her reassuringly, anchored her firmly to his side. "Are we married?" Silvia asked tentatively. "Is it over?" He pulled her to him. "It has barely started," he whispered huskily, "for now the honeymoon begins." Chapter Eight Stars glittered overhead, a thick carpet woven through the inky-black midnight sky. Silvia reined in her camel alongside Munir's. Before she could dismount, his hands were around her waist and he effortlessly lifted her clear of the seat. "What do you think?" he asked. Silvia gazed around her at the inviting cool of the deep, crescent-shaped oasis. A huge tent lit with braziers stood under the shade of the palms that fringed the water. "It's beautiful. Breathtaking." Silence lay heavy as a blanket. "Where is everyone?" Munir smiled. "This is our wedding night. We are quite alone." "Oh." Nerves clutched at Silvia like tiny tugging fingers. "Prince Munir, I" "Just Munir. I am your husband now, Silvia." "Oh." It was the first time he had spoken her name. No one had ever made it sound like that before. So much depended on her doing this right. But suddenly, fiercely, she wanted it also to be special. "Munir, II don't know Will you tell mewhat I should do? I want this to I don't want to disappoint you." She was blushing, but still she held his gaze. He could not but admire her courage and her honesty. Munir raised her hand to his lips. "You won't disappoint me, Silvia. I promise. Trust me." He kissed her palm, licking into the soft skin between each finger. His lips lingered on the wildly beating pulse at her wrist. She tasted delicious. "Trust yourself," he said huskily. "Do as your instincts tell you." All her life, Silvia's instinct had been to use caution. To wait. Think. Evaluate. But this could not be what he meant. She looked up at Munir. His eyes glittered, dark with something that she hoped was desire. What she wanted was for him to kiss her. What she wanted was to see her husband naked. What she wanted She stepped closer, inhaled his scent. Desert heat. Something very male that made her feel absurdly powerless. In thrall. "Munir," she said in a voice she didn't recognize. She reached up to push back her veil, then she tugged his headdress off. His hair was jet-black and close-cropped, emphasizing the sharp planes of his face. She curled her fingers into his neck, pulling him toward her. Desire flared in his eyes. She heard the intake of his breath. Then she touched her lips to his. Not like before, his kiss. Deep, passionate, dark and hot, it set her instantly aflame. She twined her arms around his neck and he pulled her closer, moulding her against the solid muscle of his body, stroking her

back, the curve of her bottom, all the while urgently laying claim to her mouth. Heat surged through her, pulsing out from where he touched, pooling in her belly. He picked her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing and carried her to the tent. She had a brief impression of sumptuous hangings when he set her down, then she forgot all about her surroundings as Munirher husband, Munirbecame the focus of her world as he set about inhabiting every fibre of her being. Chapter Nine He undressed her slowly, as if he was unwrapping a precious gift. Kissing, stroking, caressing every part of her as it was revealedher neck, her arms, her breasts. Especially her breasts. His hands moulded them, his mouth licking, sucking, making her moan, a strange sound that aroused her further. He discarded his own clothing at the same time, taking her hands, showing her how to touch him, to learn the map of his body, the contours of his shoulders, his chest, the concave of his belly. Naked now, she resisted the urge to wrap her arms protectively around herself and saw that she had done the right thing in the way he looked at her, with a hint of admiration and a gratifying blaze of desire slashing crimson on his cheeks. His focus intensified. He, too, was naked. She slanted her gaze down to the proud, thick length of his arousal. She burned wit h wanting and wondered how he could possibly How they could possibly "Touch me," Munir said, taking her hand and laying it on his shaft. Hard and silken, so very, very different from anything she had known. So very, very arousing. He laid her down on the low divan and gently parted her thighs, his fingers stroking into the hot wetness between them, making her moan again. "Munir, what should" He kissed her. "Nothing," he commanded, "you should do nothing. I am your husband, Silvia. It is my pleasure to teach you pleasure." He kissed her again. Her mouth. Her throat. Her breasts. Her belly. Lower. His mouth was on the tender skin between her thighs, his fingers parted her and then his tongue licked in. There! She gasped. Shock. Then a bolt, a surge of heat, as he licked into her again, coaxing and circling, stroking and stoking up the spiralling, clenching, tightening heat until she gasped again and let go because she could not hang on any longer, though she wanted to. She was hurtled and spun into the air, high, higher still and higher, and she wanted only this. To fly effortlessly. Even as she soared, Munir was kissing her mouth again, his body covering hers. Tilting her toward him, he eased himself inside her, riding on the ebb and flow of her climax. Her maidenhood gone, he pushed deeper still, so that Silvia felt herself gathering anew, tightening anew. He paused, waiting. For what? She arched, dug her hands into his buttocks, saw from the tautness in his face that he liked it. She arched again. His hands on her hips, Munir pulled her even closer to him. His wife. His wife! His. So strange to feel so possessive. And for this to be so much more intense than he'd ever experienced, much more so than he had ever imagined. He thrust into her, his length enveloped in her slickness, his movements making her shiver and tighten around him. Harder, higher, deeper he thrust, feeling himself swelling inside her until she let go, and then

he spilled himself with a harsh moan, kissing her, clutching at her, lost in the raging tempest of his climax as he had never been before. Chapter Ten Save for the mysteriously invisible servants who delivered food regularly, Silvia and Munir were entirely alone at the oasis. Seven days passed of blissful, sybaritic pleasure. They bathed naked in the warm, balmy depths of the pool by the light of the full moon, and lay together in the shallows, the water lapping over their skin as they stroked and caressed each other to fulfilment. Silvia exalted in the sensual power she held over her new husband, growing bolder in her touch, in giving as well as taking; her own pleasure increased by the pleasure she saw etched in his face when she sheathed him inside her. "We must return to the palace in the morning," Munir said at the end of the week, as they lay entwined in the cool of the dusk. "I have already been away far longer than I intended." "Doesn't the Council have the authority to act in your absence?" "The authority, but not the will. A legacy from my father's rule." Silvia propped herself up on her elbow to study his expression. For the first time since their wedding, Munir had that distant, forbidding look on his face. A week ago, she would have hesitated to ask, but now her desire to know more about the man she was to spend her life with overrode her natural caution. She stroked his cheek. "How so?" Munir sat up, knocking her hand away. "Silvia, I am well aware that you hope to use this year to persuade me to give you a role outside the harem, but it cannot be. Perhaps I should have made it plainer before we married, but the truth is" He broke off, rubbing his forehead. "It is a painful subject." It was his hesitancy that touched her. Though she knew what he was about to confide was going to be unpalatable, she was moved by his wish to do so. Silvia took his hand. "Tell me." Munir closed his eyes, frowning. Then he nodded several times, something she'd noticed he did when he'd made up his mind. "My father was a very weak man," he said. "His sister, Halimah, was his elder by five years. Halimah means gentle. Never was a woman more wrongly named. She was self-seeking, ambitious, a tyrant who believed her royal blood entitled her to everything she wanted, and she would stop at nothing to achieve it. My father was her puppet, and the Council learned the hard way not to interfere. But her policies devastated the country, and I have spent the entire period of my reign unravelling the conflicts that are Halimah's legacy. Even now, some of our Bedouin tribes live on the knife-edge of war. The least little thing can set them off. There was this one time" It was as if a wall had been breached. All the painful memories, the vicious arguments that had arisen as he'd grown up and attempted to exert his own authority, the agonies of conscience he'd had as he was torn between loyalty to his kingdom and to his father, it all poured out. Munir talked as the sun rose higher in the sky and the tent grew hotter, and Silvia listened in growing horror and dreadful understanding. "So you realize now why you must confine yourself to the harem," he concluded. "Never again can a prince be seen to defer to a woman." Silvia bit her lip. "You do that when you disagree with me, do you know that?" Munir said.

"Do I? I don't know what I think, save thatI thought you valued my opinions. These last few days" "I do, you have the mind of a man when it comes to politics, but such discussions can only ever be between us." "I see." For the first time since their wedding day, Silvia felt the fluttering of doubt, like a small caged bird trying to set itself free. She wrapped her arms around her husband and burrowed her face into his chest. The rough hair on her cheek, the scent of him, the hard maleness of him beneath her started up the thrumming pulse of wanting. He had pulled back the princely cloak of infallibility and let her into his confidence. It was a step. A big step. It would be enough for now. Chapter Eleven On the following day they returned to the city, and so, too, did Silvia's doubts as the reality of her situation confronted her. Munir led the way imperiously through the city to the gates of the royal palace. His subjects threw themselves to their knees as their prince passed, leaving Sylvia to bring up the rear, barely acknowledged by the cheering throng. Halimah's legacy had not only been wholesale unrest, she had obviously engendered in Munir's people an innate distrust of royal princesses. Bakri awaited them at the palace. "We did not expect you to be gone from us for so long, Highness. There are many matters now requiring your attention." "Come, Bakri, I am just married. Surely even you would allow my wife to claim my undivided attention for such a short period," Munir replied. "The wife of a great prince must learn not to make demands," Bakri said, making no effort to disguise the enmity in his tone. "My intention is to be a support to my husband, not a hindrance," Silvia said hurriedly, meeting Bakri's hostile glance with a placatory smile. "The burdens of state can be heavy, and I hope" She stopped, for Bakri was staring at her in horror, and then he spat at her feet. Looking to Munir, she saw his mouth was set in a firm line. "You will excuse me while I see my wife settled in the women's quarters. Then I will be free to conduct our business," he said to Bakri in clipped tones. "Munir! There is no need" He ignored her protest, sweeping her along the cool corridors, ignoring the hurried salutes of the guards. The harem doors closed, leaving them alone in the square courtyard with its central fountain shaded by lemon trees. Munir released her so suddenly that Silvia stumbled. She could see his pulse beating furiously at the base of his throat. Recalling her very first impression of him, that he was not a man to be trifled with, Silvia felt a flutter of fear. But it was lost as her own temper woke slowly, like a creature that had been hibernating. "What on earth have I said to make you so angry?" "I told you how things were with Halimah. You should not have spoken to Bakri of business." "Business! All I said was"

"I know what you said." "You were the one who made light of it in the first place. If you had not joked that I demanded your undivided attention" "I am aware of what was said!" Munir cursed under his breath, something he very rarely did. He should have known better than to joke with Bakri, but in this last week with Silvia he had forgotten all his own dire warnings. He was furious with Bakri for the insult to Silvia, furious with Silvia for compounding the mistake, but more furious with himself for having made it in the first place. Snatching off his headdress, he ran his fingers through his hair. "You saw how Bakri reacted. You see now how it will always be." "I see that you will not change it," Silvia replied tightly, too hurt by the unfairness of Munir's anger to guard her tongue. "Cannot change it," Munir snapped. "And now, as Bakri pointed out, I have business to attend to. I will come to you when I can." Before Silvia could protest further, the heavy doors of the harem shut behind him. Chapter Twelve Munir had intended to wait before seeking Silvia out, thinking that by introducing a distance between them it would enforce her understanding of the situation. But after a busy day of official business with every one of his opinions deferred to, he missed the counterbalance of her sharp mind. And after a sleepless night on a divan, which seemed to have grown far too wide, he ached for her body. "I've made a decision," he announced the next morning as he strode into the harem, surprising her at her breakfast. "It will be good for my people to see us together. You were right," he continued in answer to her unasked question, "some things can change. I don't want you following in my wake like a servant as you did yesterday. I will have you treated with respect." "Thank you." The previous day had shown Silvia the extent of the battle ahead of her, and she'd spent the hours since fighting off the depression that had followed. She was delighted at his unexpected change of heart. She had missed her husbandnot just his body, but the man himself. Perhaps too much. She would do well to have a care, for it would not do to fall in love with a man who loved only his kingdom. Though when he took her around it, she could easily see why he was so devoted to it. Djaradh, city and desert, captivated her, and her obvious rapture, the questions she plied Munir with, delighted her husband. The hours passed too quickly. Afterward, in the sultry, sensuous ambiance of the harem, their lovemaking took them both to new heights. He needed no encouragement to show her more of the sites the next day. And the next. Over the next few months, he forgot all about putting distance between them. "A new gold mine has been found in the east," Munir said as he sank down on the cushions beside Silvia. Dinner was spread out on the table before them. He had not eaten in his own quarters for some time. Spending every spare minute he had in the harem with Silvia had become a habit. "Unfortunately, it spans the border of some disputed territory. You remember the two Bedouin tribes I mentioned?" "The ones your aunt set against each other? A bidding war over a bride, I seem to remember." Silvia bit into a delicate parcel of pastry filled with spiced meat. "This is delicious."

"You are delicious." Munir leaned over to kiss away a tiny fleck of pastry from her lips. "The bride was only part of it. The enmity between the tribes has deep roots. A dispute over ownership of this mine could easily cause war between them." "And you're worried that it wouldn't be confined to those two tribes?" Munir nodded. "Bakri advises us to wait and see." "When does Bakri ever advise anything else," Silvia said wryly. Munir smiled. "Yes, but in this case, he's probably right. There is no dispute yet. And I have more than enoughhow do you say iton my serving dish?" "Plate," Silvia said with a chuckle. She hesitated, but forged on. "You know, I could help you if " "Please don't. You do help." "But I could do more if you would let me, Munir." "You are my sanctuary. My confidante. And my lover. What more can you want?" Your love. Silvia clasped her hands to her breast, as if to capture the words before they could escape, but already the truth had burrowed itself into her heart. The one thing she had sworn never to do again, and she'd done it all the same. She had fallen in love. Chapter Thirteen Silvia paced restlessly from one end of the harem's courtyard to the other. She had fallen in love with her husband. The man behind the princely cloak had secured a permanent place deep in her heart. If only she could believe the same was true for him, but at times she felt as if she could actually touch the barriers he had placed between them. Why could he not see that his attempt to protect his kingdom by doing the opposite of what his father had done was only isolating him? He said he trusted her, but always there was a limit to that trust, and without trust there could be nothing of substance between them. Certainly not love. "And it's love I want from him, more than anything," Silvia said to the marble beauty in the centre of the fountain that had become her confidante. "I don't just want to be a helpmeet, a political pawn, a sultry secret hidden away in his harem. I want to be all the woman he ever wants or needs. I want him to see that I could make him so much happier, that with me at his side, he could be so much stronger. I want him to love me as I love him. I love Munir." A warm glow suffused her as she spoke the words aloud for the first time, but the statue, to Silvia's eyes, appeared unconvinced. "I know what you're thinking. Look what happened the last time, but this is different. My love for Munir makes my feelings for Matthew seem like smoke." She bit her lip. "You're quite right, it simply means Munir can hurt me even more. He doesn't love me. Eventually, perhaps even before our year is over, his passion for me will wane. I can't bear the notion of sharing him. I just can't! If he will not love me, and me only, then I must find another way of being by his side. For my own sanity, I must carve out a meaningful role for myself, else I would have been better off to return to England with Papa. Except that then I would not have loved Munir, and I cannot regret that. I have to find a way to convince him. I will."

The opportunity to do so arrived when Munir appeared in the harem not long after. He looked tired. A crisis had blown up, the details of which she managed to extract by gentle questioning. Her suggested solution made him smile. "It is an excellent idea. If only I'd thought of it but it is done now. We settled it another way." "If you'd talked to me earlier, perhaps" "I could hardly have walked out of a Council meeting saying I had to go and consult my wife!" Munir laughed. "Is it so unimaginable?" His smile faded. "You know it is. Let us not go over old ground again. Already, I spend far more time with you than other men do with their wives." "I should be grateful, you mean," Silvia said, frustration and disappointment making her rash. "Grateful? For what?" Munir demanded. "In six months our agreement will be over. You will have another wife to make demands on your time," Silvia said, unable to keep the hurt from her voice. Munir stared at her in astonishment. The idea of another wife, another woman who was not Silvia, here in the haremhe could not imagine it. In fact, he had almost forgotten their agreement. A year had seemed such a long time. "Are you saying you are growing tired of me?" He held his breath while he awaited her answer. Chapter Fourteen "It is rather you who will tire of me," Silvia threw at him, abruptly losing control of her temper. "It is you who said that one woman can never be enough. You are unfailingly attentive now, but in six months, perhaps earlier" "I am unfailingly attentive because you are unfailingly satisfying," Munir snapped, unsettled and confused by the way she was looking at him. Even more unsettled and confused by the feelings those looks were rousing in him. He felt as if the rock he'd thought he was standing on was instead turning out to be only sand. Silvia flushed. She was angry, frustrated, hurt. And still she wanted him. She could not understand it, but she could not deny it. She wanted him just as fiercely as he wanted her. In this aspect of their relationship at least, they were equals. Quite deliberately, she ran her palm over her breast. Her nipple budded. "Then we should make the most of it," she said. "In six months" Munir shook his head. He didn't want to think about what could change in six months. "Silvia, you cannot doubt that I want you." In truth, he could not imagine a time when he would not. "Prove it." It was a challenge he could not resist. Munir dipped his head and sucked on the hard bud of her nipple through the silken barrier of her clothes. Silvia clutched at his shoulders. The air was potent with their arousal, a salty, vanilla perfume all their own. It intoxicated them, making them tear at their clothing,

clutch at each other, kissing thirstily. Silvia's nails dug tracks into Munir's back. His mouth bruised her lips. She tore his tunic to get at his chest. Her pantaloons fell to the tiled floor of the courtyard. He bent her over the fountain. She braced herself on its marbled edge, her hair trailing into the cool waters, scattering the silver fish that swam there. His first thrust made her cry out with pleasure. She pushed back against him. Their coupling was like a continuation of their argument, the thrust of one against the other, pushing to the limits, determined not to surrender until finally they came together in an explosive, shattering climax which left them breathless. Shaken by the depths of emotion their union had roused, Munir pulled his ruined tunic back over his head. He had always enjoyed their joining but thisthis had been something different. He felt as if they had fought, and he wasn't sure who had won. Silvia's hair dripped water. Her skin was flushed. He wanted to take her in his arms, to sleep curled into her. He had never spent the night in the harem: it was one of the lines he kept rigidly in place and he was not about to cross it now. He turned and strode away. But as he walked toward the harem door, he sensed her behind him, standing bereft. It took all his resolve to keep going. Chapter Fifteen In the weeks that followed, a distance opened between them that quickly yawned into a chasm. Simple self-protection made Silvia close herself off from her husband. It was an agony, but nothing compared to the agony she would feel if she gave herself to him completely and he took another wife, as she was certain he would inevitably do. She knew it would kill her inside, and so instead she tried to kill her love for him. Their lovemaking took on an edge of desperation. Her retreat confused Munir, and she wished fervently that he would find a way to bridge the gap. But he left her every night, and she lay wide awake long into the morning, so alone. But her love refused to die, and Silvia realized she didn't want it to. So if she could not be his only woman, then she could still at least try to be the most valuable one. It was not enough, but a crumb was better than nothing. When Munir announced that the British Consul was coming to inspect the newly refurbished port, Silvia grasped the opportunity like a drowning man grasps at a rope. "I know Lord Wincester very well. He attended the same school as my fatherthey are old friends," she told him. Munir dropped onto the cushions beside her. "The trip should take three or four days." "I look forward to it," Silvia said with a bright smile. "You can't come with me," Munir said flatly. "You know how resistant some of the elders on the Council have been to change. Your presence would make it look as if this deal were your doing." Silvia frowned. "But it was my doing, in as much as our marriage facilitated it. And it is a good deal for the future of Djaradh." "A good deal, too, for your England." "It is not my England! My loyalties lie here now, with your kingdom." With you, she wanted to tell him, but could not. Our kingdom, she wanted him to say, but he did not.

Instead, Munir shook his head. "Such business is the preserve of men." Silvia's temper flared. "You do not think that exploiting my personal connection to the Consul is more important than nursing your Council's fragile egos?" she asked tightly. "That clutch of children would run in terror at the very idea of making a decision. No wonder your aunt found it so easy to wrest control from them. I am your wife, Munir. Why will you not have me by your side?" "I am a prince first, and husband second," Munir replied, his mouth tight with anger. "I rule alone." "Then your destiny is always to be alone, no matter how many wives you take." Silvia dashed her hand to her eyes. She never cried in front of him, she would not do so now. "And I am destined to be a very lonely woman. If you are not willing to let me prove myself then" An uneasy silence reigned for some moments. "Have a care, Silvia. Think, before you utter another word." The telltale pulse at his neck leapt. Colour streaked the sharp contours of his cheekbones. Silvia clenched her fists beneath the long sleeves of her kaftan. "I want you to leave," she said shakily. Munir stared at her for a long moment. Determinedly, she held his gaze. He turned swiftly on his heel and walked away. Silvia dropped onto the scatter of silk and velvet cushions and let go a storm of tears. Chapter Sixteen Silvia woke up drained from her crying and the restless night that followed. Why did love have to be so painful? She loved Munir not just with her body, nor even just her heart, but with her soul. She loved him, but Munir would never love her. He ruled alone and he lived alone, inviolate. It was not that she wanted him to change, merely that she wished he would make room in his heart, in his life, for her. But she would always exist on the periphery, in the shadows of the harem. He would not admit to needing another person, for he would be admitting to being as weak as his father had been. Munir blamed Halimah for bringing Djaradh to the edge of ruin. But he couldn't see that had his father been stronger, his aunt would never have grasped power. Munir thought that isolating himself made him strong, but it only made him weak in a different way. He could not grasp that love, true love, could make him so much more powerful. Two days after he left for the meeting with the British Consul, Silvia was wandering listlessly in the palace's main courtyard when a messenger arrived. The gold mine that had been discovered on the border of the two Bedouin tribes was erupting into the very dispute that her husband had been worried about. Prince Munir was most urgently required to arbitrate, for the tribes were upon the brink of war. In the midst of the commotion caused by scurrying, harassed palace officials and an emergency meeting of the Council, Silvia went in search of Munir's junior secretary, Dabir, whom she had befriended in the long hours she spent reading in the palace library. She had already coaxed the full story from him when Dabir, realizing far too late that he should not have confided in the princess, began to retreat nervously. "Wait. Tell me, what has the Council decided to do?" Silvia asked. "They will dispatch a messenger to recall the prince from the port." "But he is more than a full day's travel away. And then it is at least another to the border." "All the more reason for a messenger to be dispatched urgently."

"Is the situation really so grave?" "Indeed, Princess Silvia. Apparently hostilities may break out at any moment." "Surely it makes more sense for Bakri to arbitrate in my husband's place?" "I am afraid that the Council They will not act without the prince, Highness." Silvia knew how proud Munir was of the hard-won peace he had established in his kingdom, knew that he feared a dispute like this could quite easily escalate into nationwide war. How could the Council not see it, too? Briefly, she contemplated petitioning them, but quickly abandoned this idea as beyond foolish. They would not listen, she would offend them with her presence and, more importantly, they would have lost precious hours. "There is no time for this. The matter must be addressed now." "Yes, Highness, but Bakri and the Council will not" Silvia clapped her hands together decisively. "Never mind them. I will resolve the matter personally." Chapter Seventeen Dabir stared at Silvia, openmouthed at her decision to deal with the political crisis herself. She would have laughed at his expression if her mind hadn't been whirring with possibilities. "I'll need a camel. No, two camels. And supplies. And" "You cannot! If the prince discovered Highness, you must not!" "What do you think my husband would prefer? To have war break out because no one took responsibility to prevent it? You know the answer to that, even if the members of the Council do not. I am not afraid of the danger. "Don't worry, I will travel in disguise," Silvia said in a hasty attempt to reassure the horrified secretary. Hadn't she done so once before, and hadn't it paid off? Pushing past Dabir, she hurried back to the harem. She still had the outfit somewhere. Doubt assailed her as she pulled the headdress over her hair and fastened the band in place. She was not only defying Munir, she was publicly usurping his authority. Or at least she would be, if he did not authorize her as his envoy. Which he could do retroactively. Encouraged by the thought, Silvia fastened a leather belt around her waist and slipped a jewelled dagger into the sheath, conscious that she was, with this single act, risking everything. Even if she did manage to broker a deal, even if Munir did place the veneer of authority upon it, it was possible, very possible, that far from being impressed with her resourcefulness, he would never forgive her. She would lose everything. Perhaps he might even divorce her. It was possible in his country. She would be shamed. She would have to return to England. And if that happened, Munir might even renege on the deal he was at this very moment going to discuss with the British Consul. But he had given his word, and that was one thing she did not have to doubt. Was she being foolish? Undoubtedly. Could she live with herself if she did not act? No. This was her one opportunity to make the man she loved see her in a new light. That was worth any risk. Resolutely, Silvia pulled the voluminous cloak around herself and made her way out to the main palace courtyard. Dabir was waiting, dressed for travel. "If I cannot persuade you to reconsider, Highness" "You cannot," Silvia said, clicking her tongue so that her camel fell to its knees to allow her to mount.

"Then I will be your escort," Dabir said. "Thank you, but I cannot allow you to get into trouble on my behalf." "I am already in trouble," Dabir said sadly. "The prince will be angry with me for not preventing you from going. If I come with you, Highness, at least he will know that I tried my best to protect you. And besides, you are right. He would want everything possible done to prevent a war." Silvia hesitated. An escort would undoubtedly be useful, especially one she knew and could trust. "I will intercede with the prince on your behalf," she said. "Fear not." Dabir smiled weakly. His actions might cost him his job. But did the Englishwoman realize she might well lose her head? He could not help but admire her courage. Any man would be proud to have such a wife. Any man, with one notable exception. "May the fates smile on us both," he said fervently, as he followed the princess out of the courtyard. Chapter Eighteen The missive dispatched by the highly insulted Bakri on behalf of the outraged Council reached Munir early the next morning. Lord Wincester, the British Consul, was with him when he broke the seal of the note. "Something wrong, Highness?" "I must leave at once. I am afraid the conclusion of our treaty must be postponed." "Postponed! But there are only a few formalities, a matter of a mere hour or so" Lord W incester spluttered. "A matter of a mere hour or so could be the difference between life and death," Munir said curtly. "My wife's." He blanched as he said the words. "So you will understand" Lord Wincester fanned himself with his copy of the contract. What was it about these Englishwomen who came to Arabia? First Lord Armstrong's gal, and now this one. "Very well, very well," he said, making no attempt to keep the irritation from his voice. "I will await your Highness's pleasure." But the door had already closed behind the prince. Moments later, he could be seen disappearing out into the desert, a cloud of dust in the wake of his prized white camel the only thing visible, so fast was the beast travelling. Munir did not stop for sleep. He did not stop for food. He drank water from his goatskin flask while his camel pounded out the miles across the sand. Time and again his hand crept to the reassuring weight of his scimitar. At an oasis, waiting impatiently for his camel to take on water, he honed the wicked blade of his dagger on a rock. What was Silvia thinking, putting herself in such danger? She knew how delicate the peace was between these two particular tribes. With a sick feeling, he realized that her understanding of the situation was precisely why she had acted. Because his Council had not! He cursed. Silvia was braver, more resourceful and more courageous than every man on his Council. But she was not a man.

Kicking the camel once more into a thunderous gallop, Munir tried desperately to quell the churning in the pit of his stomach. When the Bedouins discovered who they had in their midst, they would not hesitate to use her. She would not just be a pawn in the bartering game, she would suffer for Halimah's crimes. They would They would "No!" He bellowed the word out loud at the moon that hovered fat and full over his head. Silvia was his. Only his. Always his. His wife. His heart. His love. "No!" This time the word contained a lifetime of anguish. He loved her. He needed her by his side. She was a part of him. How could he not have realized? Why had he not realized? She was the only woman he needed. The one woman he needed. He loved her. And Silviahis beautiful, proud, brave Silvia loved him. He could see that now, understand her retreat from him these past weeks as an attempt to protect herself from the threat of another taking her place. As if any woman could! How close Halimah had come to blighting his life along with his father's. How could he not have seen as Silvia had so clearlythat his self-imposed isolation was wrong? That Silvia was no Halimah? This bold play of hers, to prevent war, she had done only for the good of his kingdom. Their kingdom. He'd never said it. He did not deserve her. "But I will learn to, if only she is safe," Munir shouted to the wind. He cursed his blindness. He cursed his history, which until today had bound him as effectively as Halimah had bound his father to her will. And then Munir prayed. Let Silvia be safe. Let her still love him. Riding pell-mell across the desert to come to the rescue of his love, Munir cast off the chains of his past. He forgot he was a prince. He was just a man. And he simply wanted his woman back. Chapter Nineteen As he reached the borderlands, Munir reined in his exhausted camel. Drawing out his scimitar and jumping down from the saddle in one lithe movement, he strode toward the largest of the tents, intent on murder if necessary. But he stopped short as the heavy curtain that formed the doorway was thrown back and Silvia stepped out, wearing a man's tunic and cloak, but no headdress. His heart leapt. Munir ran toward her, sweeping her up in his arms. "Are you hurt?" "Munir, I must tell you" "Are you unharmed?" She didn't recognize his expression. Anxiety? Fear? No, something else. He looked stunned. Silvia's heart began to beat too fast for her to breathe. She had to warn himbut the words fled. "Munir." She touched his face. Dusty, hot from the sun. "I'm perfectly fine. I promise." "I thought I thought" She touched a finger to his mouth. "Munir, please don't be angry. I had to do something to prevent war. It was not Dabir's fault. He could not stop meno one could have stopped meso if you must be angry" "I'm not angry with anyone, save my Council."

"Oh." The way he was looking at her made her nervous. He had never gazed upon her like that before. As if As if "The gold mine," Silvia said distractedly. "I should explain what's been agreed to so you can formally endorse it. They were only willing to accept me as your envoy if I promised that you would come personally. Dabir told me the Council had summoned you so I hopedknew you would come. I need to explain, before the head tribesman" "No." For once, Munir had no interest in either his people or his kingdom. "No, whatever it is can wait. I have something of far more import to tell you." For a terrifying moment, the urgent note in his voice made Silvia fear the worst. He was done with her. As he strode away from the Bedouin settlement to the relative privacy of a rocky outcrop, pulling her along behind him, Silvia wondered if she could bear losing him. She felt nauseous, but gathering up the remnants of her courage, she prepared to fight one last time for her future. For their future. "Munir, let me explain" His smile stopped the words in her throat. "There is no need. I understand," he said, pulling her to him, pressing her into his body as if he would make her part of him. "You did it for Djaradh. Our kingdom." "Our kingdom," she repeated in wonderment. "Ours," Munir said firmly. "Unlike my Council, you were willing to risk your life to protect it. Our kingdom. I am so proud of you, Silvia. But you must promise me never to risk your life like that again. I could not bear it." "Oh." Munir laughed softly. "It is not like you to be lost for words. Don't you want to know why I could not bear it?" She could not speak, could manage only a tiny nod. Munir took her hands in his. "The clouds have finally been lifted from my eyes. I have discovered that there is somethingsomeoneeven more important to me than Djaradh. I love you, Silvia." Chapter Twenty "I love you," Munir said tenderly. "I love you with all my heart, Silvia. I didn't know. I didn't realize it, but I do now. Say it's not too late." "Munir!" "Say you love me, Silvia. I want you by my side. I want everyone to see you by my side, as my equal. That is where you belong. I understand now that my thinking has been so skewed by the past but you are different. So very different. You are more than enough woman for me. I could never want another. I beg of you, put me out of my misery!" Tears sparkled on her lashes. The world narrowed, so that it contained only the two of them. "I love you, Munir. I feel like I've loved you forever. I can't believe Do you really mean it?" She was crying and laughing at the same time.

"I have never meant anything more in my life," Munir said. His lips touched hers. There was a tenderness in his kiss that melted her. Silvia wound her arms tightly around her husband's neck, opened her mouth and her heart and let him in. It was the cheers from the Bedouin tribesmen that brought them to earth some moments later. Munir colored, grinned, but did not release his wife. "So, diplomat's daughter, tell me, how have you managed to pour oil on troubled waters?" "I wish I could tell you that I had an inspired idea all of my own, that my skills alone brought about this truce," Silvia said, "but the truth is, apart from asking them to treat me as an honorary man and your trusted envoy, I had absolutely no idea what to do. So I asked myself what you would say, and I said that. And it worked. They listened, but only because I promised that you would say it again in person. I knew you would come, because whatever you felt about me, you would not allow war to break out, and" "I came here for you and you alone, Silvia. You are my kingdom. The only star in my sky." Silvia blinked away a tear. "I was afraid that you would divorce me for disobeying you." His hand tightened around hers. "To be without you would kill me. I will never release you from my side again. And if that means taking you to Council meetings" "Good grief, Munir, they would expire with shock," Silvia said, laughing with sheer happiness. "That won't be the only shock. I intend to put the majority of them into well-earned retirement. But enough of the Council, let us get the formalities of this treaty you have brokered over and done with. I want to make love to you." The gleam in his eyes made Silvia shiver. He stroked her breast, and heat pooled in her belly. "It is a full moon tonight," she whispered. "A honey moon." Munir's husky laugh gave her goose bumps. "I love you. Every night will be a honeymoon. I have no intention of ever spending another apart from you, I promise you, my wife." And it was a promise, like all his others, that Munir kept all the days of their lives. THE END

One Perfect Night by Teresa Southwick Seduced by the Dark Stranger by