The Park's Empire: Handsome Strangers...: The Prince's Bride

A half hour later, showered, hair blown dry, makeup applied, wearing only a towel she walked back into the bedroom and halted abruptly. A maid dressed in a soft royal-blue uniform edged in gold, was just setting a tray with teapot and scones atop the small table near the window.

“Good afternoon.” Her soft voice was friendly and polite, the English words faintly accented with a musical lilt.

“Hello.” Emily glanced at the very English teapot with its pink tea rose pattern. Yet another country heard from, she thought.

The maid opened a door to a walk-in closet. “I unpacked your bag this morning and hung your dresses in here.” She pulled open a drawer. “And I folded your lingerie into the drawers.” She looked expectantly at Emily. “Would you like me to help you dress, ma’am?”

“I think I can manage but thank you for unpacking my things.”

“You’re very welcome,” the young woman murmured. “When you’re dressed, I’ll show you to the breakfast room.”

“Thank you.”

The maid smiled and left the room.

Emily waited until the door closed behind her before walking into the closet. She recognized only three of the many dresses and suits that hung on the long rod suspended along one wall. The closet was filled with gowns and casual wear, shoes on racks against the end wall, lingerie tucked into the drawers fitted against the opposite wall from the dress rack. She flipped through a row of dresses, noting the designer labels, before pulling open the drawers to glance at the filmy lingerie, all in her size. The clothing and underpinnings were gorgeous but Emily was torn between appreciation for the beautiful clothing and sheer annoyance that Lazhar obviously knew her measurements, right down to her bra and panties.

Was it possible that he’d ordered an entire wardrobe just for her? No, she thought, discounting the idea. That was a grand gesture that a very rich man might make for a potential lover, not for a business associate.

Still, he’d clearly noticed some things about her since he’d guessed her measurements perfectly.

Unless Jane told him, she thought. Emily resolved to have another serious talk with Jane about her role in aiding Lazhar’s high-handed methods when she returned to San Francisco.

Chapter Three

Emily followed the maid through unfamiliar halls until the young woman halted, pulled open a door and bowed.

“Prince Lazhar is here, madam.”

“Thank you,” Emily murmured, and was rewarded with a warm smile from the maid before she stepped across the threshold and the door closed silently behind her.

Lazhar sat at a round table, documents spread across the snowy cloth next to his coffee cup. He looked up as she entered the small dining room, a swift smile curving his mouth, his gaze heating as it flicked over her from head to toe and back again. “Good afternoon, Emily, did you sleep well?”

“Yes, very well, thank you.” Emily sat down in the chair held by a white-coated male servant and murmured a thank you when he poured coffee from a carafe into her cup.

“And your room is satisfactory?”

“More than satisfactory.” She smiled at him. “The view of the harbor is amazing, as is the garden off the bedroom. Do all the rooms have walled gardens?”

“Many of them, yes.” Lazhar dropped the document he was holding and lounged in his chair, nodding at the servant who immediately filled his coffee cup. “The palace gardens are my mother’s pride and joy. She’ll be pleased you’re enjoying her babies.”

“Her babies?” Emily looked up from the rubyred marmalade she was spreading on her toast.

“That’s what my mother calls the gardens. She told my sister and me that since we haven’t given her grandchildren, she’s making do with plants as a substitute for babies.” His smile flashed, white against tanned skin, his eyes warming with quick affection. “She’s as anxious as my father to see us happily married and starting our own families.”

“And do you and your sister agree with her?” Emily asked, curious.

He shrugged. “I can understand our parents’ wish to see us happily settled—especially since my father’s health is uncertain. Jenna, however…” He shook his head, amused. “My sister is adamant that she won’t be nudged into marrying before she’s ready.”

“So there’s no fiance waiting in the wings for your sister?”

“No. But it’s not for lack of trying by my father.”

Emily couldn’t help but smile with sympathy. “It hadn’t occurred to me before, but I suppose I should be grateful that while my father tries to control my life in other ways, he’s never nagged me about getting married—” She broke off, leaning back to let the silent servant place a plate with salmon quiche on the table before her and didn’t see the fleeting expression of regret on Lazhar’s face. The quiche was every bit as delicious as the sweet cantaloupe and honeydew melon cubes in a small bowl next to her plate. She wondered idly if the family chef would be preparing the wedding food before she remembered that she needed to speak to Lazhar about the designer wardrobe hanging in her bedroom. “Speaking of being grateful…” She glanced up at him to find him watching her, his dark eyes enigmatic. “I noticed that the closet in my room is filled with clothing,” she said carefully.

“I asked Mother to have her assistant stock the closet for you—it seemed only fair since I didn’t give you time to pack your own things before we left San Francisco,” he said smoothly.

How clever of him, she thought, her gaze never leaving his as she slowly sipped water from a chilled Waterford crystal glass. If I object, then I’ve insulted his mother. Very clever, indeed. She returned the glass to the table. “Please convey my thanks to your mother,” she said, her voice purposely neutral. “That was very kind of her.”

“I’ll be happy to,” he replied.

His words were as carefully polite as hers had been, but the amused glint in his dark eyes told her that he knew very well that she was uncomfortable with the situation. The clothing and lingerie were all the right size and that he had guessed so accurately made her painfully aware that he was far too familiar with the female body in general and hers in particular. The undercurrent of sexual tension that stretched between them stole her breath. He’s getting married soon, she told herself, unable to look away from the heat in his eyes. It’s crazy to feel so attracted to him. Lecturing herself didn’t make her heart stop pounding against her ribcage, nor did it cool the warmth moving slowly through her veins.

“Your Highness?”

Lazhar’s gaze left hers, moving past her to the doorway. “Yes?”

“King Abbar would like you and Miss Parks to join him in his garden this afternoon.”

“Very well. Tell him we’ll be with him shortly.” The servant bowed and left the room and Lazhar once again focused his attention on Emily. “I hope you don’t mind postponing our discussion of your itinerary until later. My father mentioned earlier that he wanted to meet you and since he must spend much of his time resting, we all tend to adjust our schedules to fit his.”

“That’s perfectly understandable—I’d be delighted to meet the king.” Emily glanced at her plate and realized that while she’d struggled to cope with the sexual tension between them, she’d mindlessly continued to fork food into her mouth and her plate was empty. She barely remembered chewing and swallowing. Annoyed that Lazhar had distracted her to such an extent, she blotted her lips with her napkin and placed the linen square neatly beside her plate. “I’m ready.”

Lazhar didn’t comment but again she caught the gleam of amusement in his eyes as he stood and held her chair.

They left the dining room and by the time they made a right and then a left turn down wide hallways, Emily was completely confused.

“Has a guest ever gotten lost in the palace?” she asked as they passed an open doorway and she caught a quick glimpse of a sitting room, tastefully decorated in feminine rose and pink shades.

“Often, but never for long. See the gold corded ropes hanging next to every third door?”

“Yes.” Emily hadn’t noticed them before.

“They’re bell-pulls connected to the main housekeeping office. If you’re ever lost, just tug on one of them and a speaker hidden in the wall above the door will allow you to ask directions from one of the staff.”

“That’s very ingenious.”

“Mother thought of it. I wanted to tie the speakers into the security system with the cameras but she thought it was too intrusive. She didn’t want guests reminded that they’re being watched, particularly here in our family quarters.” Lazhar paused outside mahogany double doors carved with the Daniz coat-of-arms. The two palace guards flanking the doors snapped to attention, saluted, and pulled open the heavy doors.

They crossed the threshold and Emily’s eyes widened as her gaze swept the expansive apartment. The white marble floor was partially covered by scattered Persian carpets in the royal colors of deep blue and gold. The room seemed more Eastern than European with its low blue sofas, mahogany tables, and large blue and gold silk pillows piled on the floor. One whole wall was glass with transparent white panels of silk drawn over half the length to deflect the brilliant, hot sunshine pouring into the high-ceilinged space. Emily caught her breath as they crossed the room and stepped through open doors into the garden beyond. The walled garden was bigger, more lush than the one outside her suite of rooms but it was the view beyond the waist-high stone balustrade that halted her. Not only were the harbor and the city’s redtiled roofs visible but also the pine and cypress covered hills above Daniz City’s narrow streets. The king’s garden boasted a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree view of mountains, harbor, sea and city that was so impressive that for a moment, Emily didn’t notice that she and Lazhar weren’t alone in the garden.

“Ah, Lazhar, is this lovely young woman our guest from San Francisco?”

“Yes, Father, this is Emily.”

Startled from her absorption, Emily realized that Lazhar had been standing silently, waiting for her attention, and that an older man sat on a cushioned chaise lounge at the far end of the garden, shaded by the wide, leafy branches of an acacia tree. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized, embarrassment heating her cheeks. “I’m being terribly rude, please forgive me.” She gestured at the panoramic view. “You have such an amazing view.”

Lazhar cupped her elbow and escorted her the length of the garden to the small semicircle of chairs arranged beneath the spreading branches of the tree.