Issam was taken aback. It wasn’t supposed to be this easy, but if she was amenable—
“Are you prepared to step into that role?”
“I’ll step into that role however you mean it.” Was he mistaken, or was there desire in Mackenzie’s eyes when she said it?
“I mean that as my wife, you’ll be expected to support Al-Dashalid in this dispute.” Especially with the threat of war hanging over us, he wanted to say, but didn’t.
“I’m a good lawyer,” Mackenzie told him. “I’ve done my research, and I know what tactics and arguments my brother-in-law was going to make.” She leaned forward, as if she thought Issam was waffling on the proposal. “I’ll be a real asset to you.”
He was relieved. The warmth of it spread through his veins from his fingertips to his shoulders. Mackenzie would be valuable to him, and triply so because having her safely folded into the royal family meant that there would be no tension between Al-Dashalid and America, and he and Al-Madiza could work together to prevent Caldad from becoming a nightmare for the region.
He realized he was smiling—a big, wide smile—when Mackenzie smiled back at him.
She was sexy. And smart. She was the kind of person that Issam could picture himself talking to in the evenings, after the various family members had returned to their apartments within the palace.
Issam could sense it in the air as color rose to her cheeks.
It was going to go well.
Very well.
5
“Thirty days,” intoned the imam, then pressed his lips into a thin line. It was clear—he was not entirely pleased with being overruled by the royal family.
Mackenzie didn’t care.
She’d been nervous when she walked into the mosque at Issam’s side, even though the muscled height of him commanded the space. It was a spark of fear at the pit of her stomach. What if the imam went against the royal family’s wishes? What if he insisted on some hasty execution beside the ruined column?
But he had only sat down on the other side of his desk from Mackenzie and Issam and listened while the sheikh explained his plan.
“Thirty days?” Issam said.
“To negate the death penalty.” The imam folded his hands on top of his desk and looked them each in the eye. “Any later, and the sentence will have to be carried out.”
“It’s no trouble,” Issam told the imam. “I have a more pressing deadline.” With that, the sheikh stood up, and the imam quickly followed. “God willing, the planning will go smoothly.”
Mackenzie was so relieved that it took until they were back in their black SUV for Issam’s words to register.
“Wait—what did you say? You have a more pressing deadline than the death penalty?”
His dark eyes danced with amusement. “I might have exaggerated slightly. But I do have a pressing deadline.”
“What is it?”
“I have to be married by the time I’m thirty. That’s in twenty-seven days.”
Mackenzie laughed. “Another set of ancient laws?”
“Yes, except the royal family is not immune from this one.”
Issam sat back in his seat, and Mackenzie took the opportunity to appreciate the hard lines of his body beneath the crisp white dress shirt and black slacks that he wore. His arms, carrying her away from the perilous column, had been so strong. Pleasure bloomed at the memory, but she shoved it away. She only felt that way because he had saved her life. Twice. It was no reason to lose her head.
“I’m sure they’re not willing to bend on wedding traditions, either,” she mused. “What kind of wedding will your family plan?”
He smiled at her, a curl of his lip that made her want to edge closer. “We’ll elope.”
“Elope?”