The Princess Brides: The Sultan's Bought Bride / The Greek's Royal Mistress / The Italian's Virgin Princess

What would Malik say when he found out she’d lost Fatima and was wandering somewhere inside the endless medina?

Nic moved toward a woman to ask for directions but the woman drew her scarf closer to her face and hurried on.

Nic wrinkled her nose. That was not the response she wanted. Glancing left, and then right, the streets much narrower than they had been earlier. What she needed to do was backtrack…

Nic set off again, returning the way she’d come, but the street didn’t lead to the market. Instead the street ended in a narrow alley, and alley led to yet another alley.

This was definitely not the right direction.

Nic chewed the inside of her lip. The sun had dropped, but the heat was still intense, and there were fewer people out now.

Nic batted a fly buzzing her face and sighed. She couldn’t panic. She hadn’t been gone that long. Twenty minutes. Thirty at the most.

She rubbed the back of her arm across her eyes, catching the dampness on her brow. Think. Which way did you come? Where was the sun? In Baraka the markets—like the mosques—are built facing East. All she had to do was orient herself to the East and she’d find her way across.

Malik was waiting at the side of the car when Fatima arrived alone. ‘‘Is the princess here?’’ Fatima asked, bending down to peer into the darkened car windows.

He felt as if his heart stopped, his muscles turned to stone. ‘‘She’s supposed to be with you.’’

Fatima looked at him, wide-eyed, innocent. ‘‘I thought we were together. We were just browsing through the market—’’

‘‘You lost her.’’

‘‘No.’’

‘‘You lost her.’’

His normally quiet voice boomed. Fatima shook her head. ‘‘I didn’t. I thought she was with me. I was sure she was following me.’’

He snapped his fingers, and his driver appeared. ‘‘The princess is missing.’’ He spoke quickly, urgently.‘‘Summon the security officers, let them know we must find her. In the meantime, I’m going to call the palace, request additional guard.’’

The chauffeur bowed, hurried away. Fatima watched Malik call the palace on his phone, tears in her eyes. ‘‘I didn’t mean to lose her, cousin. I wouldn’t do that.’’

He silenced her with a lift of his hand. ‘‘I don’t want to hear it. You’ve had a problem with the princess since she arrived.’’ He turned his back on her, spoke to the captain of his military guard, requesting assistance, giving the captain his location at the market square.

Tears continued to well in Fatima’s eyes. ‘‘Forgive me, cousin.’’

But he couldn’t look at her. ‘‘I trusted you,’’ he said, his deep voice curt, his tone bitter. ‘‘And you have shamed me.’’

Fatima climbed into the back of the limousine and buried her face in her hands. Malik paced before the car, waiting for the driver to return. Malik intended to set off and look for Nicolette himself, but suddenly she was there, a flushed princess, hot, tired, but obviously grateful to have found her way back. ‘‘You’re still here.’’ Nic smiled in relief. ‘‘Thank goodness.’’

‘‘I’d never leave you.’’

‘‘I know, but I—’’

‘‘I’d never leave you.’’ His gaze swept her, a quick inspection to ensure she was truly in one piece. ‘‘Are you okay?’’

‘‘I’m fine. Just embarrassed. I don’t know how I managed to lose Fatima.’’ Nic paused, glanced around. ‘‘Is she back yet?’’

Malik’s expression darkened. ‘‘She’s in the car.’’

‘‘Good. I was afraid she was out looking for me, and I didn’t want to put her in any danger.’’ Nic shook her head, incredulous. ‘‘It’s hot.’’

‘‘It is,’’ he agreed, spotting the driver returning through the square with the security officers. ‘‘Let me take care of this,’’ he said, indicating the officers approaching, ‘‘and then we’ll head back to the palace.’’

Back at the palace, Nic returned to her suite and discovered Alea waiting with open arms. ‘‘Are you alright, Princess?’’ Alea cried, touching Nic’s arm as if she were an apparition.

Alea’s concern was almost comical. ‘‘I’m fine.’’ Nic grimaced. ‘‘I was lost. The city was hot. But I found my way back and everything’s okay.’’

‘‘Well, we’re going to take good care of you,’’ Alea assured Nicolette. ‘‘First, a shower to cool you off, wash away the dust, then a good soak in the hot tub, after that, a massage, help relax every muscle—’’

‘‘That’s not necessary, Alea. A shower is all I need.’’

But the young woman wasn’t listening. She was already off, heading into Nicolette’s luxurious bathroom, opening doors, turning on the shower. ‘‘Come, Princess,’’ Alea called above the steamy shower spray. ‘‘Let’s get you started.’’

An hour and a half later, Nicolette winced as the experienced masseuse dug her elbows into the knots in Nicolette’s back. The massage wasn’t Swedish style, Nic thought, wincing again, but after an hour of steady kneading, rubbing, twisting, Nic was beginning to feel boneless.

But gradually the deep tissue massage gave way to a softer touch, longer strokes that soothed instead of hurt. Relaxed beyond belief, Nic drifted in and out of sleep, happy to just lie there and be mindless.

No worries now, she thought sleepily. It’d be impossible to worry.

The masseuse finished by working Nic’s hands, feet, lightly kneading, working each little joint.

Stepping from the table the masseuse held up Nic’s warm silk robe. ‘‘Your Highness.’’

Nic dragged herself off the massage table, her limbs so heavy, she wanted to slide into bed. Instead she forced her arms into the robe’s quilted sleeves and belted the tie around her waist. ‘‘Thank you.’’

‘‘My pleasure.’’ The masseuse opened the door, gestured to Nic’s pink marble bathroom. ‘‘The steam room, Your Highness?’’

‘‘No thank you, not again. I think I’ll just shower.’’

‘‘As you wish.’’ The masseuse bowed, and excused herself and Alea appeared.

‘‘How do you feel, Princess?’’

‘‘Lovely.’’ Nic covered her mouth, hiding her yawn. ‘‘I can’t even keep my eyes open.’’

‘‘You won’t have to. Rinse off the oil and then I’ll finish you off with a nice scented lotion to keep your skin soft. Afterward, you can put your robe back on and you’ll find refreshments waiting for you in your sitting room.’’

Nicolette spent forever in the shower, letting the hot water rain down on her head. She couldn’t remember when she last felt so languid. She was relaxed, almost too relaxed, she didn’t feel the slightest urgency…about anything. She shampooed her hair, once, twice, and then finished with the delicious fruit scented conditioner that made Nic’s mouth water.

After finally stepping from the shower and toweling dry, Nic allowed Alea to slather her in lotion. She couldn’t protest the indulgence even if she wanted to. She simply didn’t have the energy. The heat from the market place, and then the two hours of pampering, had taken all speech away. Nic might as well have been a rag doll.

With her hair lightly blowed dry, Nic slipped on a clean robe, this one a gorgeous coral silk embroidered with gold and green threads, and headed for the sitting room where hot mint tea and sweets waited.

But that wasn’t all that waited.

Malik Nuri waited as well.