His Royal Prize

“I don’t think so.” Rose looked questioningly at King Zak, who shook his head.

Shay picked up his water glass and napkin and held them up to Livy. “You do intend to replace these.”

It wasn’t a question. More of a command, and Livy had a good mind to tell him what he could do with the glass. Sideways. “Of course,” she said politely, and fumed all the way back to the kitchen.

To think she’d wasted a precious night’s sleep on that jackass, she thought as she pitched the damp napkin and filled a fresh glass with the special bottled water Ella must have bought for the visitors. Although why anyone wouldn’t want the best-tasting well water in all of Texas from out back was beyond Livy’s understanding. Of course nothing seemed good enough for Shay. Especially not her.

“Anything wrong?” Vi asked.

She was so self-absorbed, Livy had almost forgotten Ella and Vi were in the kitchen. “Not a thing. Be right back.”

She hurried away before she started either cussing or sniveling and opened the door with her hip, then marched into the dining room, the water in one hand, the coffeepot in the other.

Shay turned at the sound of her footfalls. “Ah, there is the girl now.” He frowned at her loaded hands, then lifted one eyebrow. “The sugar?”

“Oh, silly me. How could I have forgotten?” She set the coffeepot on the corner of the table, lifted the clean napkin she had draped over her arm and laid it across Shay’s lap. That he jumped slightly pleased her enormously.

When he glanced menacingly at her, she pursed her lips. “You know what, Shay? You may be a hotshot in your country, but you really don’t know beans about women.”

His stu

Chapter Four

Sharif cursed as the ice-cold water ran down his neck and spine. He jerked back and nearly toppled over. Rose stared at him with a hand over her mouth, shock widening her light blue eyes. His father remained expressionless.

Behind Sharif, the door swished closed. The coward had left.

“I don’t know what happened. Livy is usually such a sweet, sweet girl,” Rose began, waving helplessly. “I—I…”

His father lifted a silencing hand and Rose promptly obeyed. He looked directly at Sharif. “Do you know what provoked the woman?”

Sharif snatched the napkin off his lap before it absorbed any more water, and used it to dry his face. And to avoid his father’s probing eyes. “Why would I know about this crazy person? She is nothing more than a…”

After an awkward silence his father asked, “A what?”

He could not finish his initial thought aloud. Sharif’s reluctance had nothing to do with his father’s stern tone or the warning issued in his disapproving eyes. It was the recollection of the hurt in Olivia’s face that stopped him.

Shamed him.

Angered him.

Surely the vixen did not regard their playfulness yesterday as anything significant. He was merely passing the time, looking for a distraction. So what had prompted her outrageous behavior?

The hurt in her violet eyes echoed in his head.

To her mind, it was apparent he had done something wrong.

“Sharif?”

His father’s voice was quieter now, not so stern, making Sharif fear his expression had given away his self-doubt. He straightened and silently met the king’s eyes in subtle defiance.

“Tell me, Sharif. What do you think the woman’s punishment should be?”

“Oh, please, I’ll talk to her—” Rose began in a pleading tone, but again King Zak lifted a hand and again she fell silent.

Sharif stared at her subdued face, u

Which was absurd. Women in his country, and where Rose once was queen, were taught subservience from an early age. Sharif liked it that way.

He turned to his father’s expectant face. “I will deal with her myself.”

“In what ma

Sharif saw the amusement lurking in the king’s eyes, and anger seized him once more. He would not be made the fool. Throwing down his napkin, he stood, heedless of his chair scraping the hardwood floor as it flung back.

Before he could say anything, a loud noise coming from outside drew their attention. Angry shouts, the slamming of car doors, the blare of a horn all sounded from somewhere in front of the house. King Zak and Rose both left the table and hurried toward the living room for a look through the expansive glass windows.

Sharif followed close behind, knowing deep down his nightmare was coming true. He had lain awake half the night, pla

“Oh, no.” Rose was first to the window, the sudden slump in her shoulders foretelling. “Reporters.”

Sharif looked away from the comforting hand his father pressed to her lower back, and stared out at the same dark sedan he had seen yesterday. Two men stood face-to-face with one of the ranch hands, all of them gesturing wildly.

“There’s Alex,” Rose said, straightening, a trace of pride in her voice. “He’ll take care of it.”

With a mixture of admiration, envy and relief, Sharif watched his eldest brother approach the men. Rose was right. Alex probably would take care of everything. From what Sharif had witnessed, he was the most sensible and responsible of the four brothers.

As soon as Alex joined the group, the shouting stopped. Moments later, the two strangers got in their car and left.

Alex stood watching until the car disappeared out the front gate. Their other brother, Cade, rode up on a black gelding, then climbed down to confer with Alex and the ranch hand. All three men glanced toward the house, and tension cramped Sharif’s shoulders.

Of course the commotion was about him. And, to a lesser degree, King Zak. And possibly Rose. Sharif had to face public scrutiny sooner or later.

Alex and Cade started toward the house while the third man led the gelding toward the barn. Rose sighed as she watched her two sons approach.

“I’m sure everything is fine,” she said, smiling.

She did not have to say her reassurance was due to Alex, and Sharif experienced a sting of jealousy. Absurd. These people meant nothing to him. He did like Alex. He seemed to be a good man, and Sharif was grateful to him for banishing the reporters. At least for now.

In fact, he liked all three of his brothers, and he hoped in time, they would become friends. But Rose could never replace his mother.

He saw the pride shining in her eyes as she watched Alex, and Sharif felt empty suddenly. He had seen how they interacted, as though they had never been separated. As though she had been the one who had dried his boyish tears and sung him to sleep. Sharif did not understand.

Perhaps they had a special bond because Alex remembered her. He had been four when Rose was torn from them. Cade and Mac were barely three and had no memory of her. Sharif had been the only one who had gone with her. Until he had outgrown the inside of her belly.

Sharif stepped back from the window, away from Rose, shaken by the sudden realization that they did have a bond, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. But in his heart, Queen Nadirah would always be his mother. Even though she had been ripped too early from his life. Her death still pained him.

His gaze automatically drew to Rose. Had she felt the same razor’s edge slicing through her body when he had been torn away from her?

Sharif pushed the crippling thought out of his mind. He could not afford sympathy or regret or any other emotional obstacle. Not now. His future was at stake.