Protecting the Desert Princess Read online

  Hussain had been and still was considered the right choice. They had played as children, and her father had told her that marrying Hussain would bring many benefits to the people of Ishla. Yet as Layla had walked down the stairs she had remembered what a mean little boy Hussain had been, and she had collapsed and started to shout and scream.

  The kind palace doctor had smoothed out the offence caused by explaining that anxiety had caused the young princess to have a seizure.

  Layla smiled to the sky. She had not selected her husband that day.

  It had not been a seizure, just her temper exploding as she had looked at her wrist and recalled one time with Hussain.

  ‘How do you make a match burn twice?’ he had asked when Layla was nine.

  ‘Show me?’

  Wide-eyed, Layla had watched as he had lit the match and blown it out and then dug the burning sulphur into her wrist.

  Immediately Layla had slapped him.

  Now she looked down to the small scar on her otherwise unblemished skin and wondered about Hussain’s reaction if his wife were to slap him.

  He had no doubt moved on from matches now!

  Layla headed back inside and opened the drawer in her dresser. Feeling far into the back, she removed the wrapped parcel she had been hiding.

  Opening it, she held in her palm the black ruby named Opium. It had been gifted to her at birth by the King of Bishram and must surely be worth quite a lot.

  Layla hoped that it was.

  She had read that Mikael was expensive, and perhaps he would want to be paid.

  Layla slipped the ruby into her tunic, worrying about something she had read on the internet about Australian Customs. She tried to tell herself that it would all be okay.

  She made her way through the palace to her father’s study, where Abdul, the King’s chief aide, let her in. But Fahid dismissed Abdul so that he could speak to his daughter alone.

  ‘Are you looking forward to your trip?’ Fahid asked her.

  ‘Very much, Father.’

  ‘When you are in the hotel you will have your own room, with Jamila adjoining. Jamila is to take care of you there, but at all other times you are to be with either Trinity or Zahid.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘If you are in a restaurant then Trinity is to come with you if you need to go to—’

  ‘Father!’ Layla interrupted. ‘I do know the rules.’

  ‘They are there for your protection,’ the King said. He looked at his daughter, whom he loved so very much. She was so contrary—floaty and vague, and yet arrogant too, just as her mother Annan had been. Layla was fiercely independent, and yet naïve from living her life within the palace grounds.

  ‘Layla, I have not asked to speak with you to deliver meaningless words and a lecture. I really want you to listen to all that I have to say. Things are very different overseas—the people are different too. There is traffic…’ The King winced as he thought of his daughter in a foreign city with fast-moving cars when she had never so much as crossed a road.

  Layla saw his grimace and her heart went out to her father. ‘I know you are worried for me, Father,’ she said. ‘I know that you have loved me from the moment that I was born…’

  Again the King closed his eyes as Layla hit a still raw nerve.

  He hadn’t loved her from the moment she was born.

  In fact the King had rejected Layla for more than a year. Sometimes Fahid wondered if that was why Layla was so rebellious and constantly challenged him, even if she couldn’t logically know about that time.

  He worried so much about her—especially knowing that soon he would be gone from his world. Surely Layla needed a stern husband like Hussain, who would keep her in line?

  He would just miss the wild Layla so…

  ‘Do you have any questions you wish to ask?’ Fahid offered.

  ‘I do.’ Layla nodded. ‘Father, I was looking up the customs in Australia—I thought I would find out who curtsies to me, who bows, and what gifts we should exchange, but instead I read that at the airport your property can be searched—even your body…’ She paused when she saw her father’s reaction. ‘Why are you laughing?’

  ‘Oh, Layla!’ The King wiped his eyes as he tried to halt his laughter. ‘That does not apply to you. Your retinue will take care of all the paperwork and luggage and our gifts are in the diplomatic pouch. You do not have to concern yourself with such things.’

  ‘Thank you, Father.’

  He rose from his seat and came over and took her in his arms. ‘I love you, Layla.’

  ‘I love you too,’ Layla said, and hugged him back, but there were tears filling her eyes as she did so. ‘I am sorry if I make you cross at times—please know that it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.’

  ‘I know that,’ Fahid said.

  What the King didn’t know, though, was that Layla was not apologising for her past.

  Instead she was saying sorry for all that was to come.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘GREAT!’

  Mikael had no choice but to pull to a stop as a policeman put up his hand and halted the morning traffic.

  Even though he had more than enough on his mind, with closing arguments starting this morning, he flicked on the news to listen to the traffic report and hopefully find out the reason for the hold-up. He knew that he should have stayed at his city apartment, or even a hotel, instead of driving to his waterfront home last night, but he had just needed to get away from the case.

  Mikael’s remote beachside home was his haven, and last night he had needed to escape from the more pungent details of the case he was consumed by and breathe in fresh air and simply switch off.

  It would be over soon, Mikael told himself.

  ‘Pizdet.’ He cursed in Russian when he found out that the reason for the delay was some visiting royal family, grinding everyone else to a halt.

  Then he heard a little about himself as the news continued.

  Mikael Romanov, SC, was surely going to lose this time…there was no way he could get his client off…

  Then the calls in from listeners started and a character assassination ensued. Not of his client but himself.

  ‘What sort of a person is Romanov?’ an enraged caller asked. ‘How can he possibly sleep at night?’

  Mikael yawned with boredom and turned the radio off.

  When his phone rang, instead of letting it go to voicemail, as he usually would, Mikael saw that it was Demyan and took the call.

  ‘Any news?’ Mikael asked, because Demyan’s wife Alina was due to give birth soon.

  ‘We have a little girl—Annika.’ Demyan said, and Mikael rolled his eyes at the sound of his tough friend sounding so emotional. ‘She’s beautiful. Her hair is curly, like Alina’s…’

  Demyan went on to describe interminable details to Mikael.

  All babies had blue eyes, Mikael thought.

  ‘Congratulations,’ Mikael said. ‘Am I to visit while Alina is still in the hospital? What is the protocol?’

  Demyan laughed. He took no offence. He knew that Mikael had no concept of family, for Mikael’s upbringing had been even harsher than Demyan’s.

  ‘You don’t have to come to the hospital,’ Demyan said, ‘but once this case is over it would be good if you could visit us before you disappear onto your yacht. I’m really looking forward to showing Annika off.’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ Mikael said. ‘It is closing arguments over the next couple of days, and then we await the verdict.’

  ‘How is the trial going?’ Demyan asked. ‘It is all over the news.’

  ‘Long,’ came Mikael’s honest answer. ‘It has been a very long couple of months.’

  It had been an isolated couple of months too.


  He always pretty much locked himself away from the world during a trial and, he admitted to Demyan, he was more than a little jaded from sitting with his client day in, day out.

  ‘He’s a fortunate man to have such a good solicitor.’

  ‘Barrister,’ Mikael corrected. ‘One day you will get it right. Anyway, enough about the trial. Go back to your beautiful wife and daughter, I am very pleased to hear the good news.’

  Rather you than me, Mikael thought as he ended the call.

  When Demyan had told him that he was marrying again Mikael had offered to draw up a watertight pre-nup this time, given how Demyan’s first wife had ripped him off for years.

  Demyan had refused.

  Fool! Mikael had not just thought it but had said it straight to Demyan’s face, but he had been told that he was far too cynical.

  Guilty!

  Absolutely Mikael was cynical—he believed nothing anyone told him and had been proved right numerous times.

  Mikael trusted and needed no one in his life, for he had never had anyone.

  There were a few vague memories of a communal flat when he was growing up, but not one person in particular he’d been able to turn to. Mikael had been his own protector—even when he had found himself on the streets.

  Especially then.

  When he was a teenager Igor, a government worker, had stepped in and given Mikael an identity, a surname, an assumed date of birth and then a home.

  Igor was the reason Mikael was driving to chambers now to prepare for court—he was the reason Mikael believed absolutely in the need for a solid defence. For without one justice could never be truly served.

  He did not want to think today of Igor; instead his eyes moved from the procession of royal cars to his dashboard, where the mileage read six hundred and forty-nine. He would be bored with his new toy by the time it read one thousand, but for now the low silver sports car was his new baby.

  Finally the procession passed and the traffic inched forward.

  Mikael arrived at chambers and spoke to Wendy, his clerk, for a few moments. His world had centred around this trial for a very long while, and all he wanted was the arguments delivered, the jury out, the verdict in and then to get away.

  He’d take one of his toys to the water—he didn’t even want crew.

  Then Mikael changed his mind.

  A couple of crew might be essential.

  He had no intention of cooking or cleaning.

  Perhaps Mandy could join him for a couple of days too?

  Or Pearl?

  Mikael soon put all such thoughts out of his mind and sat for a quiet period in his office, preparing himself for the day ahead and getting back to the real love of his life.

  The letter of the law.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘I WANT TO drive that car!’ Layla’s slender finger pointed to a low silver sports car that gleamed in the morning sun as they passed an intersection.

  ‘You can’t drive,’ Zahid said, but he did smile—it was nice to see Layla so excited and animated. Her face was up against the blacked-out window as she watched the world go by unseen, fascinated by it all.

  ‘When can it just be us?’ she asked. ‘I am tired of all the formalities.’

  ‘Soon,’ Zahid said. ‘Once we are at the hotel things will be more relaxed.’

  ‘We can go shopping then,’ Trinity added.

  ‘Just Trinity and I?’ Layla checked with her brother who, after a brief hesitation, nodded. ‘Good.’ Layla smiled. ‘I want a red dress, red shoes, red…’

  Her list went on until they were at the hotel.

  Soon the Ishla royals and their retinue were taking up the entire top floor. There were guards at the lift and Layla paced her suite nervously, waiting for Trinity to come and take her shopping.

  ‘Let me do your hair again,’ Jamila offered.

  ‘My hair is fine,’ Layla said. ‘You can go and rest in your room now.’

  ‘I will wait for Trinity to get here.’

  ‘You are dismissed, Jamila.’ Layla said.

  All Layla wanted was to be alone with her thoughts and to go over her plans for a minute or two before Trinity arrived.

  Reluctantly Jamila went to her adjoining room. Layla looked at the lock on the door that stood between them and wanted to turn it.

  She wouldn’t have to turn it, Layla reminded herself.

  A few hours from now she would be free!

  Layla looked down at the streets below. Soon she would be down there amongst the noise and people.

  She could see yellow taxis everywhere.

  It was going to work!

  ‘Enter,’ Layla said when there was a knock at the door.

  ‘Layla, you have to open it from the inside!’ Trinity called.

  ‘Oh!’

  Fancy that.

  Layla was ready to go, but Trinity seemed to have other ideas.

  Zahid’s last words to Trinity had been, ‘Watch her.’ She looked at Layla, dressed in a long silver tunic and jewelled slippers. Her black hair had been taken out of the bun and was loose and glossy. Her absolute beauty would turn heads everywhere they went.

  ‘Would you like…?’ Trinity hesitated—she was still very new to being Zahid’s wife, and sometimes she simply didn’t know how to speak to Layla, who was so different from Trinity’s serious, rather more grounded husband. ‘Would you like to borrow some of my clothes to wear while we go shopping?’ Trinity offered.

  ‘Borrow?’ Layla screwed up her nose.

  ‘I’m just concerned that in what you’re wearing you’ll stand out and people might stare.’

  ‘But I always stand out,’ Layla said, ‘and people always stare. Come on—let us go shopping. I have been looking forward to this for a long time.’

  They passed the guards and took the elevator down, and then stepped out onto the hot, busy street. Layla was more than used to heat, and walked quickly ahead.

  ‘Slow down,’ Trinity said. ‘There’s no rush.’

  They wandered into boutique after boutique, but Layla was not really looking at the clothes—instead she was wondering how she could shrug Trinity off, for she was watching Layla like a hawk would watch its prey.

  ‘I would like to try that,’ Layla said, pointing to an ice cream shop.

  ‘Sounds good.’

  Still Trinity clung to her, and Layla’s impatience was increasing. Yes, the ice cream was refreshing, but would Trinity ever just give her five minutes to be alone?

  ‘Where to now?’ Trinity asked once they had finished their ice creams.

  ‘I might go for a little wander,’ Layla said casually.

  ‘Layla…’ Trinity swallowed. ‘Zahid said that I wasn’t to leave you alone.’

  ‘I am not a baby,’ Layla said, ‘I am twenty-four…’

  But she went to cross the road without so much as looking and Trinity grabbed her back just in time.

  ‘You have to wait for the lights to change before you cross.’ Trinity pointed to the traffic lights as they turned green and they started to cross. ‘I’m not leaving you alone, Layla. You can take it up with Zahid this evening if you want to, but for now…’

  Trinity’s voice trailed off as they walked across the road and Layla looked to where Trinity’s eyes had been drawn.

  Perfect!

  ‘Oh, look,’ Layla said, walking over to the window of the baby boutique that held Trinity in its spell. ‘Oh, Trinity, look at these sweet clothes—there is nothing like this in Ishla…’ From Trinity’s rapt expression, Layla knew her chance to escape was surely about to come. ‘Let’s go in.’

  They did just that.

  It wasn’t just clothes on display but teeny-tiny shoes and socks, and little cashmer
e baby blankets too, and of course, the assistant told Trinity, they’d be only too happy to ship to Ishla.

  ‘Why would you use a ship when we have a plane?’ Layla asked, but Trinity wasn’t listening—instead she was gazing at those little blankets and had the lost look in her eyes that Layla recognised from her cousins who had had babies.

  Layla slipped outside unnoticed, pulling an envelope out of her bag as she did so. If Trinity saw her Layla would say she was just stepping out for some air.

  On the street there was a yellow cab driving towards her, and Layla put up her hand as the clips she had watched on her computer had shown her she should.

  It obeyed!

  The driver did not get out and open the door for her, which made Layla cross, and she was glad that the window was wound down as the driver asked her where she wanted to go for it was a very smelly car.

  Layla gave him Mikael’s address. ‘I need you to hurry.’

  She did need him to hurry, for Trinity was racing out of the boutique.

  ‘Layla, wait!’ she shouted.

  ‘I shall be fine, Trinity.’ Layla threw the letter she had written in Arabic out of the window and shouted instructions to Trinity as the taxi pulled away. ‘Get Zahid to read this and do not tell my father.’

  She refused to feel guilty for ruining their honeymoon. Okay, maybe she felt a little guilty—but, Layla reminded herself, Zahid had had this sort of freedom for close to two decades when he had lived in England. Trinity had had it all her life.

  Layla just wanted a week.

  * * *

  Mikael’s day had not improved—not that he let anyone know it. He sat with his face impassive as he listened to the closing arguments from the prosecution barrister, who boo-hooed where Mikael had been expecting him to. A couple of members of the jury were even in tears. But then the prosecution hit him with an argument Mikael had not foreseen.

  Deliberately Mikael refused to reach for his notes or react.

  He just noted it in his head.

  Tomorrow his response would be savage.

  Tomorrow he would use every letter of the law that he had at his disposal.

  ‘I’m gone, aren’t I?’ his client said before heading back to the cells.