On her right, Samira nudged her and hissed, "Leila-stop that. Someone will see you." Leila rolled her eyes. So what? she wanted to say. It would not be the first time. Many people had seen her dance in Switzerland and England, and the world had not come to an end. When she was in boarding school she had learned to dance the western way, to rock and roll music, and in England she had even-and she was sure her father would have a heart attack if he knew-danced with boys the way westerners did. Touching one another. And nothing terrible had happened then, either. She was still, alas, very much a virgin. And likely to remain one for the foreseeable future.

"I am bored," she whispered back. "I have eaten too much and I want to lie down. When is this going to be over?"

"Hush," Samira scolded. "This is Hassan and Elena's night. Remember your manners." "I wish we could at least mingle with the guests-talk to them," Leila said, wistfully eyeing the golden-haired man across the reflecting pool. But his head was bowed as he listened, apparently with close attention, to the frizzy-haired woman seated next to him. Leila sighed. And before she could stop it, her mouth opened wide in a blatant, jaw-popping yawn.

"I'm sorry?" Cade politely lowered his head in order to hear what the woman at his side was saying above 2 the discordant wailing these people called music.

Kitty repeated it in a loud, hoarse whisper. "I said, that girl across the way over there has been tryin' her darndest all evenin' long to catch your eye. I believe she'd like to flirt with you."

Cade's glance flicked upward reflexively. "Oh yeah? Which one?" Anything, he thought, to relieve the tedium. He wasn't accustomed to spending three hours over dinner.

"That one-the real pretty one in the aqua blue dress…long black hair with gold thingies in it…looks like something out of The Arabian Nights. See her?"

Cade looked. He'd already noticed the girl, since she was drop-dead gorgeous and he was a man and only human. Now, though, he felt a shiver of silent laughter ripple through him. "You mean, the one who looks like she's about to swallow herself?"

His amusement blossomed into an unabashed grin as the girl's bright and restless glance collided suddenly with his. Her eyes went wide with horror and she slapped a long, graceful hand over her mouth in a belated and futile attempt to cover up the yawn. Next, he watched, fascinated, as a parade of expressions danced across her face like characters in a play: dismay, chagrin, vexation, arrogance, pride, irony…and finally, to his delight, a dimpled and utterly winsome smile.

Kitty gave a little crow of triumph. "There, you see? I told you she was flirtin' with you."

"Kind of young, don't you think?" Cade drawled. "Not to mention," he added, as the significance of that circlet of gold medallions on the girl's head sank in, "if I'm not mistaken, she's a princess."

"Really?" Kitty gasped before she caught herself, then added with a lofty sniff, "Well, so what if she is? Hassan's a prince. That didn't stop Elena." She gave an excited little squeal. "Oh-I just realized-that would make her Elena's sister-in-law, wouldn't it? I'll bet she could introduce us-uh, you."

"I wouldn't count on it," Cade said dryly. "Looks to me like they keep those princesses pretty tightly under wraps."

Pretending disinterest, he watched out of the corner of his eye as an older woman flanked by a cadre of female servants suddenly appeared beside the princesses' table across the way. This woman he knew. He'd been presented to Tamir's first lady-Elena's new mother-in-law-along with her husband, Sheik Ahmed, following the wedding ceremony last night. Alima Kamal-who, he'd been told, preferred not to use a royal title-was dressed in the same gracefully draped style of gown as were her daughters, this one deep royal blue liberally trimmed with gold. Like her daughters, she wore a circlet of gold medallions in her still-raven black hair. They glinted in the torchlight as she gracefully inclined her head. Without a word, all the occupants of the princesses' table rose and were swallowed up by the royal entourage, which then moved away in the direction of the palace, veils fluttering, like a dense flock of brightly plumed birds.

"Wow," breathed Kitty. "It really is like something out of The Arabian Nights. Do you think they keep them in a harem?"

Cade gave a snort of laughter. "I'm sure they don't. For starters, the sheik only has one wife. And, if Hassan is any indication, they're pretty westernized here. All this native costume stuff tonight-the turbans and veils-I'm sure is just for this occasion. Some kind of wedding tradition, probably."

"Umm-hmm…" Kitty was thoughtfully chewing her lip. "Well, I'll still bet Elena could introduce you to that cute little sister-in-law of hers, if you asked her to."

"No, thanks."

"Why not? She's very pretty, and she was definitely interested in you, Cade."

"Not on your life." Cade's grin tilted with grim irony. A knockout she might be, but not really his type and way too young for him, anyway. Not to mention that the very last thing he needed was to get tangled up with some royal pain-in-the-ass princess, when what he was really hoping for was to close a nice, lucrative business deal with her father, the sheik.

Chapter 2

Eight horses thundered in close formation down a grassy plain on what appeared to be a collision course with disaster. Long-handled mallets flashed and winked in the bright morning sunlight to the accompaniment of guttural cries, grunts of effort, and shrill and imperious whistles, while on a sideline shaded by olive trees that looked as though they might easily have dated from biblical times, Cade watched the proceedings with an interest that could best be described as ambiguous.

He wasn't a polo fan-in fact, he knew next to nothing about the game. He considered it a rich man's sport. And while there were some who'd place Cade in that category, he certainly never thought of himself in those terms. As far as he was concerned he was just a hardworking businessman who happened to have made a lot of money, which put him in an altogether different class than those who had nothing better to do with their time than gallop around a field on horseback jostling one another for the chance to whack a little ball with a big mallet.

"Snob," said Elena teasingly when he voiced that opinion to her. "I knew it. You, Cade, are a working-class snob. Come on-polo is the sport of kings."

"I rest my case," Cade said around the stem of his cheroot.

"And, it's one of the oldest sports, maybe the first ever invented." She shot him a mock-piercing look. "What's this prejudice you have against royals? Seeing as how I'm now one."

"Prejudiced? Me?' he countered in mock outrage. "I don't even know any royals-except Hassan, I guess."

"That's what prejudice is," Elena said smugly. "Forming an opinion without personal knowledge." Her eyes went to the riders on the field, seeking and fastening on one in particular. "Anyway, you've met a few more in the past couple of days. Hassan's parents…What did you think of them, by the way?" Her tone was carefully casual, but Cade heard the question she was really asking: Do you like him…my husband, Hassan? Please like him.

He glanced down at the woman he'd thought of as a sister for most of his life, arguably the only family he had left. He said gruffly, "I had my doubts about your husband for a while. You know that." His voice softened. "But as long as he does right by you, that makes him okay in my book." He paused. "So…are you? Happy?"

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then smiled up at him, and he read her answer in her shining eyes before she spoke. "Yeah, Cade…I am."

Cade took a quick sip of his cheroot, surprised again by that sudden fierce ache of envy. "Then that's what counts."

Elena shot him a searching look. "So… what did you think of them-Hassan's family? The old sheik?"

He took a moment to consider, though he didn't need to. "Ahmed's a sharp old fox," he said finally. "Knows what he wants for his country, and won't give an inch until he gets it. He'll drive a hard bargain, but he'll be fair." He gave a dry chuckle. "I'm looking forward to doing business with him." "What about his wife -Alima?" Elena smiled ruefully. "My mother-in-law." She paused, shaking her head. "Boy, I never thought I'd say those words."

"She seems very nice-warm." He didn't tell her that for some reason the sheik's wife had reminded him, in ways that had nothing to do with physical resemblance, of his own mother. What he remembered of her, anyway.

"And Rashid?" Elena's eyes were once more on the field of play, watching the swirling melange of men and horses. Sunlight glinted off helmets and goggles and sweat-damp horsehide, while brightly colored jerseys tangled together like ribbons. Eyes sparkling, she answered herself before he could. "He does raise some fine ponies, you've gotta admit."

Cade grinned. "He does that." He'd been admiring Rashid's own mount in particular, a dapple gray stallion with the Arabian's classic dish face and high-arched neck, graceful, delicate lines and, it appeared, the courage of a lion. He was hoping to find an opportunity to talk horse breeding with the prince…maybe discuss an exchange of bloodlines-

His thoughts scattered like dry leaves as several ponies thundered down the field in tight formation, close to the sideline and only a few yards from where he and Elena were standing, shaking the ground beneath their feet. A gasp went up from the spectators, followed by shouts-mostly of triumph, intermingled with a few moans of dismay. Apparently the Tamiri team, jubilant and easily distinguishable in bright gold and black, had just scored on the scarlet-clad Montebellans.