Issam ran a hand through his hair, and the serious expression he usually wore returned. “Tensions are high as it is. You must already know that. You came here to negotiate about the no-man’s land.”
“Yes,” Mackenzie agreed. Her brother-in-law had been on edge about it as well, but he’d seemed most concerned about Caldad, not Al-Dashalid. The two men needed to put aside their differences.
Soon, she’d be able to leverage her power as a member of the royal family to make them do it—and complete her real mission.
“But,” Mackenzie pressed on. “Shouldn’t we plan a larger ceremony? For the press, I mean. To make it look like we’ve been considering this for a long time.”
Issam dismissed this with a wave of his hand. “I don’t have time for a large ceremony. We’re on the brink of serious military involvement with Caldad.” He cut another glance at her. “Besides, this is all business. We don’t need an ostentatious ceremony for what’s only going to be a legal commitment.”
It stung a little, his casual dismissal of her as someone not worth loving—or at least liking. But she wasn’t going to admit that. She had no reason to be hurt. “Of course.” She turned her head and looked out the window. The sun was setting over the buildings of the capital city, bathing all of it in a warm desert glow.
Would an elopement be enough for the imam?
And would it be enough to save the people who were counting on her?
* * *
By the time the SUV pulled up at the private entrance to the palace, Mac
kenzie had shaken off her moment of doubt. Who had time for doubt, anyway? She was getting what she wanted: access and influence on the matter of the land dispute, and it was priceless. She was one step ahead now and in the perfect position to research Al-Dashalid the same way she had researched Al-Madiza.
Before the driver opened her door, she reached out and touched Issam’s hand. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For saving me.” There would be plenty of time to battle him about that ancient fort later. Now was the time for gratitude.
Now was the calm before the storm.
Issam’s dark eyes seemed to see right through her, and a strange tension zinged through the air between them. He put his other hand on top of hers. “It was my pleasure,” he said.
They got out of the SUV and went into the palace. They’d entered a wide hallway, dim and quiet, though Mackenzie could tell by the crush of the carpet beneath her shoes that it was expensive carpet indeed, and this was a private area. No one else was in the hall. She was suddenly aware of Issam’s breathing—of the scent of him in the air. She edged a little closer.
“Where to now?” she asked. She hadn’t thought much about what would happen when they were actually back in the palace, but now…it was likely they’d end up in his private sitting room again.
“Upstairs,” Issam said. “Your rooms are a hallway down from mine. I’ll show you, and then I’ll need to meet with my family for a moment before—before we’re all introduced.”
He led her halfway down the hall to a staircase, also richly carpeted, and gestured for Mackenzie to lead the way. Issam followed her closely all the way up the stairs, then reached around her for the door handle as he said “The rooms have already been—”
The door opened, and light and noise burst in around them. Mackenzie took a step back in surprise and connected with Issam’s firm chest, his hand automatically coming around her waist to steady her.
It was a party.
She knew it instantly by the music and the laughter, the waiters moving through the crowd, and all the bright clothing. A celebration.
“Come on,” Issam said gruffly. “Let’s get out of the stairwell.”
They stepped up into the room, and Mackenzie took it all in. Tables throughout the space—which looked like the grand entryway of the palace—were draped in white tablecloths and blue table runners. It wasn’t just a party, it was an event.
It took a few moments for anyone to notice them.
The man who stepped up first was as tall as Issam and muscular, though slightly less built. It was Kyril, Issam’s brother. Mackenzie recognized him from her research.
“Issam!” he cried. “You’re here at last. Everyone’s been waiting for you.”
“Kyril, what is this?” Issam said, and then an older man who resembled Kyril stepped forward and clapped Issam on the back.
“Congratulations, son,” he said, his voice quietly proud.
“You shortened your trip,” said Issam. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“And miss this? Never.”