The Desert Sheikh's Innocent Queen: King of the Desert, Captive Bride. Jane Porter
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“I was exhausted,” she admitted.
“Were you able to call your family before you went to bed?”
She nodded, recalling the brief five-minute conversation. Her mom and brother were on the phone at the same time and her mother still found it difficult to speak for too long without getting winded, so Liv and Jake did most of the talking, but even then, they were both quite careful to say nothing that would upset their mother.
“It was fine,” she said. “I was tired and not as talkative as I could be. But at least they know I’m safe, and, well … and they don’t have to worry anymore.” She hesitated. “I was surprised, though, that Jake didn’t mention your call to him, but maybe he didn’t feel right talking about it with Mom on the phone.”
“I imagine he’s doing his best to protect your mom.” The edge of his mouth curved. “It’s what men want to do for their women, whether it’s their wife or their mother.”
Intrigued by this revelation, she probed for more information. “Are you close with your mother?”
“No,” he answered, and instead of elaborating glanced at his watch. “Feel like shopping?”
Liv wrinkled her nose. “Not particularly.”
“You don’t enjoy shopping?”
“We shopped yesterday.”
He looked at her strangely, deep grooves forming on either side of his full mouth, his upper lip slightly bowed, but not quite as full as his sensual lower lip. For the first time she noticed he had a hint of a cleft in his chin. Definitely handsome, if not completely overwhelming.
“Women love to shop,” he said.
“I don’t, unless I’m buying travel books or history books or something that I can read.” She watched his face, trying to gauge his reaction, but his expression was perfectly blank. “I was actually hoping we could go sightseeing.” She hesitated. “See the pyramids or visit the Sphinx.”
Before Khalid could answer, the suite’s doorbell chimed and the butler emerged from a back room to go to the door. Liv could hear the door open, and then listened as he greeted someone and then the door closed again. The butler entered the living room with an older Egyptian in a dark suit following close at his heels, a large leather briefcase in one hand.
“Your Highness,” the older Egyptian said, greeting Khalid with a deep bow. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
“Not at all,” Khalid answered. “We were just discussing the day.”
The man bowed again. “Is there someplace in mind you’d like to do this? Shall I join you there in the sitting area, or would you prefer to move to the dining room?”
Khalid glanced at Liv where she sat, and then into the dark dining room. “I think the light is better here,” he answered, “and Olivia is already comfortable. Let’s just do this where we are.”
“Excellent.” The man carried his briefcase to the low coffee table between the upholstered pieces of furniture and set his briefcase down. It wasn’t until he placed the briefcase on the table that she noticed it was handcuffed to his wrist.
Shocked, she watched him take a tiny key from another pocket and undo the clasp on the handcuff, before turning his attention to the locked briefcase.
Glancing at Khalid, she realized he wasn’t at all surprised by the elaborate security measures. Then when the man opened the briefcase, she understood why.
It was filled with diamond rings. Rows and rows of diamond rings in the velvet-covered, foam-lined briefcase. There had to be at least twenty rings, maybe thirty, and the diamonds were enormous. They started in the three-or four-carat range and went all the way to three or four times that size.
But not all the diamonds were the traditional clear stone. Parts of the rows glittered with pastel light, and a dozen rings featured the incredibly rare and costly pink and yellow diamonds.
Each diamond was cut differently, too, and the shapes and styles dazzled her—marquise cut, emerald cut, oval, pear. The settings were all unique, too, with prongs inset with diamonds, the bezels paved, every setting glittering with fire and light.
“I know you said you don’t enjoy shopping, but I do think you should pick the ring you’ll wear,” Khalid said.
“It’s not just a ring,” the Egyptian jeweler said soberly, “it’s a symbol of your commitment, and you’ll want a ring that will always remind you of your love and vows—”
“Khalid,” Liv murmured, rising to her feet. “May I please have a word with you?”
“Of course,” he answered, “but we can speak freely here. Mr. Murai is an old friend of my family’s and has been in the jewelry business a long time. You are not the first jittery bride-to-be he has helped.”
Liv’s frustration grew. Khalid was deliberately misunderstanding her. “I’m just overwhelmed,” she said. “I don’t think I can make this decision today. Perhaps at the end of the week …?”
“I want my ring on your finger,” Khalid answered bluntly. “It’s important to me. It’s important to my people, and it’s important to my family.”
“But I don’t know anything about diamonds or jewels—”
“Which is why Mr. Murai is here. He’s not just the best in Cairo, he’s one of the best jewelers in the world. Most of the royal families use him.”
But she didn’t want to wear a ring, especially not a ring like this. None of these was just a simple band, but a statement of wealth, a statement of style and lifestyle—all things Liv wasn’t comfortable with.
“I understand you want me to wear a ring,” she said, swallowing with difficulty, “but these rings are too much. They’re so elaborate, and large and more than I need.”
“Miss Morse, I understand this can be overwhelming,” Mr. Murai said kindly. “Selecting one’s ring is often a very emotional decision and it requires time and thought. Please, won’t you sit down again and tell me a little about what you’d like? There’s no hurry, no pressure. We shall take as much time as you need, we will try every ring, and if nothing pleases you, I shall go, search out more beautiful choices and bring them back to you.”
Liv looked up at Khalid as the jeweler spoke and she stared at him hard, wanting to tell him that she still wasn’t happy even as she knew that Khalid would have his way.
She couldn’t fight with Khalid in front of the jeweler. Khalid had said appearances mattered. He said everything they did would be scrutinized, including her wardrobe, her jewelry, and what she wore—or didn’t wear—on her ring finger.
Slowly she sat back down on the couch. “I don’t know very much about diamonds,” she said, her voice pitched low.
“That’s fine, I can teach you what I know.”
She nodded, aware of Khalid standing behind the jeweler, aware that he’d hardly glanced at the case of jewels. Instead his entire focus seemed to rest on her.
“Do you have any favorite pieces at home?” the jeweler persisted.
She blushed shyly. “I don’t own very much jewelry, just an opal ring my brother’s former girlfriend brought me back from Australia, and a pearl necklace my father gave me when I turned eighteen.”
“No diamonds?” the jeweler asked.
“No diamonds.”
“Well, then, we will make sure your first is exactly right for you.” Mr. Murai gestured to the front row of diamonds. “I don’t know if diamonds are truly a girl’s best friend, but I do know diamonds are timeless. The popularity of the cut might come and go, but the stone itself remains the most popular of all gemstones.
“There