LITMIR.BIZ

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about their nation’s future.

      Their conversation was focused fairly constantly on their brother Rashad, a chemical engineer who’d been doing great things at his lab in Raz to open up new industries. Basmah and Samira were helping their mother plan the thirty-fifth birthday party for Farah and her brother being held in another week. The lot fell to Farah to think of a birthday present they could give him. Something exceptional.

      “What do you think, Lauren?”

      “Well, if I had a brother, I’d find him something to enjoy when he wants to relax.”

      Basmah shook her head. “He doesn’t know how to relax.”

      “She’s right!” Samira echoed. “He’s too busy working all the time.”

      “Surely he has down time.”

      “If he’s not at work, he’s off on his horse,” Farah inserted.

      “He likes them better than women,” Basmah added. “At least that’s what all his girlfriends say.”

      Everyone laughed, including Lauren. “In that case, why not pick out a fine saddle blanket?”

      “For that matter, why not a new saddle?”

      Lauren eyed Samira. “You could give him one, but he probably won’t use it.”

      She frowned. “Why not?”

      “Because it needs to fit him and his horse like a glove. No hand fits a glove the same way, neither does a man on his horse. I bet it took your brother a long time to decide on the one he uses now.”

      Farah nodded. “You’re right. Abdul would say the same thing.”

      “Does he like jewelry? Maybe you could give him a ring from all of you with three stones.”

      “That’s a lovely idea, Lauren, but he doesn’t like them. He says they irritate him when he works.”

      “Well, he’ll have to get used to one when he’s married,” Basmah commented.

      “He’s dreading that day.”

      Lauren looked at Farah. “In this day and age he still can’t choose his own wife?”

      She shook her head. “No. It’s tribal law that our father chooses the spouses, I’m glad he picked Abdul for me. I love him now. But it’s different for you, being an American.”

      “That’s true. Even if my father were alive, a woman still gets to pick the man she will marry.”

      Lauren felt Basmah’s eyes on her. “You are the most beautiful American woman I ever saw in my life. When you go back to your country, you will have many opportunities to marry and do your own choosing.”

      “Thank you for the compliment, but the truth is, I don’t plan to marry.”

      “You don’t want children?” Farah cried.

      Lauren saw one of the little twins running along the tiles to catch up with her sister. She was so sweet. “Not without the right man.”

      “He exists somewhere,” Farah said with her heart in her eyes. “You have to believe that.”

      “I do,” Lauren said with a sad smile, “but it doesn’t mean fate will bring us together.” Rafi’s image would always be sketched on her heart.

      “That is true,” Samira murmured. “You sound very wise.”

      Lauren shook her head. If she’d been wise, she wouldn’t have come to the desert, but then she wouldn’t have met these delightful women who were also the grandchildren of King Malik. She wouldn’t have met Rafi.

      “You don’t know how lucky you are,” Farah confided. “I worry about our brother who will have to live with a woman he doesn’t love. They’ll be married at the end of the year.”

      “Give them time,” Samira counseled.

      “Time won’t fix anything for Rashad,” Farah blurted. “I know my twin brother too well. He’ll never be happy. Our mother’s fears have come true, he has been too favored.”

      “What do you mean?” Lauren questioned her.

      Farah spread her hands. “He’s been given every gift a man can have. Our mother is afraid there’ll be a price to pay.”

      “A price?”

      “Yes. Heaven is jealous of him.”

      “Our mother worries too much,” Basmah said.

      Farah looked sad. “I happen to agree with her. Something will come along that Rashad will want more than anything on earth, and for all his godlike virtues, it won’t be granted.”

      Godlike. Celia’s very words. They raised goose-bumps.

      With nothing but the sound of the childrens’ voices in the background, the women grew quiet. Their collective silence indicated they feared Farah had spoken the truth. How awful for their brother.

      Before long the children grew restless and the fun ended. Everyone left the pool room except for Farah. “Perhaps later in the week you’ll come to my suite and have dinner with me.”

      “What about your husband?”

      “He’s away on business and won’t be back until next week.”

      “Then I’d like that very much.”

      “So would I. I’ll phone you.”

      Lauren left the pool and headed for her suite. She’d just returned to her room where a dinner tray was waiting for her when the phone rang. It set off her pulse because she’d been hoping to hear from Rafi. She picked up and said hello, trying not to sound too eager.

      “Mademoiselle Viret? This is Louis at the travel office in Montreux.”

      “Oh—thank you for returning my call,” she said, fighting her disappointment. “Have you made new travel arrangements for me?” She was determined to leave the Oasis before … before she could no longer do so.

      “Desolé, mademoiselle. I’m most sorry to tell you that it will be impossible for you to leave Al-Shafeeq until the date you’d originally set to return to El-Joktor.”

      She panicked. “But I told you I’d pay you extra.”

      “I’m afraid it’s not a question of money. The men in charge of the caravans don’t operate by the same rules as most of us. They agree on a fee and a time when they’re ready to go. You can try another agency, but I can promise you won’t have better luck with them.”

      “I believe you. Then I’ll book a helicopter.”

      “There is no service at the Oasis except in an emergency, and it has to be cleared through the royal palace. The fee would be prohibitive.”

      That meant going through Rafi. She couldn’t possibly ask him for another favor that would require the king’s involvement. “I understand. Merci, Louis.”

      With a growing sense of inevitability, she hung up the receiver. There was going to be no escape until Mustafa took her back to El-Joktor. Since she was a guest of the king, she couldn’t go to a hotel. That would be an insult to him. But another night with Rafi, let alone another week, would melt her resolve not to get any more involved.

      She ate part of her dinner, wondering if he would call or come by. Maybe she’d watch TV; she moved over to the sofa facing the cabinet holding it. With the aid of the remote, she surfed a few channels, all in Arabic. Everything reminded her of Rafi. She shut it off and rested her head on the pillow while tears slipped out beneath her eyelids.

      What other man could ever cause her to burn with desire the way he did? He brought her to life in a way that frightened her because she knew no other man could ever make her feel that way again. This

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