"That is Desmond Caruso, Princess," Nargis interrupted eagerly, pleased to be the bearer of information that would make her once more the center of attention. "He is one of the Sebastianis-you see, that is Duke Lorenzo with him. And the woman with the red hair is Duke Lorenzo's new wife, Eliza. She is an American, too, you know." Her voice dropped to a gleeful whisper. "A newspaper reporter."

"Really?" As always, Leila's interest perked up at the mention of America, and she did not stop then to wonder why Samira had suddenly gone so pale and silent.

"Really-you three are the worst gossips," said Nadia, making a tsk-tsking sound. But she said it good-naturedly as she, too, came to join them at the screen.

There was a little silence while the four women watched the shifting patterns below in the gardens… people gathering, greeting, moving on. Sounds drifted up to them on the balcony…the tinkle of water in the fountains, snatches of laughter and the murmur of conversation.

"Well," Leila said flatly, "I do not trust a man who is that handsome." A small, involuntary shiver surprised her. Funny-the same thing had happened to her when she had seen him talking with Samira yesterday in the corridor near the great hall. Something about the man was definitely off, but Leila did not mention it. No one would take her seriously anyway. She smiled with lowered lashes and added in a voice like a purr, "I much prefer the tall American. Do you not think he looks like a cowboy? Even dressed in a business suit?"

Samira smiled indulgently. "Oh, Leila, you just like Americans. You have a fascination with that country."

"Why not?" said Leila, tossing back her long, black hair. "America is fascinating."

"How do you know?" Samira asked with a trill of laughter.

Leila could feel her cheeks growing warm. "Hassan evidently thinks so. And Elena has told me about America-especially Texas. Since Elena is from there, it must be a very wonderful place, must it not? She is so smart, so…" She caught herself before she could say the word in her mind-free!-and instead turned her back on Samira and addressed the sister on her other side. "Nadia? Wouldn't you like to visit America?"

Nadia gave an indifferent shrug. "What is so special about America? It is just… very, very big." "But," said Leila eagerly, "that is what makes it special." She threw her arms wide. "It is so big. And Tamir-" she brought her hands almost together "-is so small." She finished with a sigh. "It is hard to imagine a place so enormous."

Oh, but Leila could imagine it. If she closed her eyes she could see herself mounted on one of her brother i Rashid's polo ponies, riding like the wind across the green-gold fields of his farm on the outer island of Siraj, with the wind blowing back her hair and the sky cloudless and blue above and all around her and the land seeming to go on and on forever.

Only it did not go on forever, of course-how could it, on Siraj or even Tamir? Very quickly the land ended and there were the cliffs, and below them the white sand beaches and blue-green water. Someday, she thought with a sudden and intense yearning, I want to go to a place where the land does not stop.

"Where would you like to go in America, little sister? What would you want to do there?" Nadia was looking at her, smiling in that tolerant, affectionate way she had, as if Leila were a particularly appealing, perhaps even moderately amusing child. "Shopping, I'm sure. Perhaps…New York City?"

Leila had shopped in London boutiques and Paris salons; her shoes were custom-made in Italy. What, she thought, would New York City have to offer her that those fashion centers did not? But she only said with a shrug and a superior smile, "I was thinking more of Hollywood. Maybe…Rodeo Drive?" But images of endless desert vistas and ranges of snowcapped mountains remained wistful and golden in her mind. Like memories, except-how could she have memories of places she had never seen?

Nadia laughed. "Hollywood? Oh, Leila, you are a dreamer."

Stung, Leila said, "Why is it so impossible to think of going to America?"

"You have no reason to go," Samira answered in her matter-of-fact way. "Father would never allow you to make such a trip just for fun, and what other reason would you have, when Europe is so much closer?"

Leila had to bite her lip to keep from mentioning the fact that Hassan had attended college in America. Her own education had been restricted to an all-female boarding school in Switzerland, capped off by a year in England, and her brother's engineering degree from M.I.T. was a source of envy to her.

"What about business?" she said after a moment. "Now that Hassan has married Elena, and she is head of an oil company-"

"But that is Hassan's business. It has nothing to do with you. No, Leila, dear-" Samira gave her arm a not unsympathetic squeeze as she turned away from the screen "-I am afraid the only hope you would have of visiting America is if, like Hassan, you were to marry an American." She and Nadia exchanged laughing glances. "And for that, you must first wait until Nadia and I have found husbands."

"I will be old and ugly before that happens," Leila grumbled.

Never one to entertain a dark mood for long, she straightened, dimpling wickedly as she peered through the screen. "Speaking of prospective husbands-guess who has just arrived. Look, Nadia, it is Butrus Dabir." She slid her eyes toward her oldest sister, lips curving in an innocent smile. "Is it true he has asked Father if he may marry you?"

Her teasing was rewarded by a most satisfactory gasp of dismay from Nadia. "Where did you hear that?" Hands on her hips, she rounded on her servant. "Nargis?How many times-"

Nargis was already making a hasty retreat, after sneaking Leila a delighted wink. "Yes, Princess-I am going to prepare your bath now. Did you wish the jasmine scent, or the rose? Or perhaps that new one from Paris…" She ducked through the draperies and disappeared into the princesses' sitting room.

"She is such a terrible gossip," Nadia said crossly, snatching up her sketchbook from the settee and preparing to follow. In the doorway she paused to give her sisters a piercing glance. "I have not said I will marry Butrus."

"She will, though," said Samira with a shrug when Nadia had gone. "I am almost sure of it."

Still gazing intently into the garden, Leila could not repress a shiver. "I wish she would not. Even if it means we both must wait longer before we can marry."

"You do not like Butrus?" Samira looked at her in surprise. "He is very handsome, in his way. And he has been almost a member of the family for so many years. Father trusts him."

"It is just that…he seems so cold. I do not see how Nadia can possibly love him."

"Perhaps," said Samira thoughtfully, "there are other reasons to marry besides love. Not," she hastened to add, "that I would ever do such a thing. But…who knows what is in another person's heart? Nadia's, after all, has been broken once already. Perhaps she does not wish to risk such pain again. And I suppose if the other reasons were important enough…"

Leila said nothing. Once again she was watching the man in the dove-gray suit and cowboy hat stroll along the tiled pathways. This time she did not take her eyes off of him until he had disappeared from view beyond a stone archway thickly entwined with climbing roses.


* * *

In the shaded promenade beyond a rose-covered archway, Cade Gallagher paused to light a cheroot-a small sin, and one of the few vices he allowed himself. He was alone, for the moment, in this secluded part of the palace grounds, and he relished the solitude and the quiet, pulled it into himself along with the honey-sweet smoke of the cigar. As he exhaled, the chatter of strangers' conversation receded to background noise. Nearby he could hear the twitter of birdsong, and the musical ripple of water. The air was cool and fragrant, misty with breeze-blown spray from distant fountains.

Not quite the juniper and live oak-covered vistas of his Hill Country ranch retreat back home in Texas, he thought, but not at all bad.

Admittedly, he hadn't seen much of Tamir so far, save for the mosque and the royal palace and gardens. Thanks to the usual flight delays, he'd arrived late yesterday afternoon, just barely in time for the marriage ceremony. He found it all interesting, though frankly he was already beginning to feel cooped up and restless. He was more than ready for all this partying and celebrating to be over with so he could get on to his real reason for flying halfway around the world to this remote little island kingdom-business.

More specifically, oil business. In the beginning he'd resisted Elena's invitation to attend the wedding as her honored guest, and to stand up for her as her guardian-ridiculous idea, he knew of no one on earth less in need of guardianship than Elena Rahman-in place of nonexistent family. At first. Until she'd mentioned that Sheik Ahmed Kamal, her father-in-law to be, was interested in refitting his country's oil refineries, perhaps even building new ones. Cade was in the business of building and refitting oil refineries. The opportunities had seemed too promising to pass up.

There was very little in this world that impressed him, certainly nothing having to do with wealth or title or positions of power. But the old sheik-Sheik Ahmed-he'd made one hell of an impression on Cade, even after only one brief meeting. He was sharp, that one. Silver-haired and carrying the weight of a little too much good living, but still crafty as they come. Surprisingly unpretentious, too. The man was the absolute monarch of his country, yet he'd elected to use the title of sheik-a general all-purpose title of respect, was the way Cade understood it-rather than king. Cade liked that.