mean someone in the royal family has lost theirs?”
“Maybe. I found it … accidentally. Could it be a fake?”
“Why don’t you go do something else for a little while, then come back and I’ll have answers for you.”
Rashad spent the next hour discussing plans with the engineers drafting designs for the new processing plant. Being an engineer himself, he gave his input before returning to Hasan’s lab. The goldsmith gave him a speculative look.
“The medallion is twenty-four-carat gold, but the minting technique with respect to the dyes and style indicates it was made somewhere between 1890 and 1930, give or take fifteen years. I couldn’t duplicate what was produced back then.” He shook his head. “I have to believe this is not a fake, nor is the chain.”
“So,” Rashad murmured, “unless someone lost their medallion during that time period, the only other explanation I can come up with is that the family goldsmith at the time could have made an extra one in case of loss.”
“But that practice has always been forbidden,” Hasan reminded him.
“That’s true.” Hasan’s word was as good as the gold he’d been working with for the last forty years. Rashad’s mind shot back in time, making a mental list of every royal male child born within that time period who was now dead. No word of a lost medallion had ever reached his ears.
Rashad knew that no member of the family could ever willingly part with his medallion, and they took them to their graves. Rashad’s thoughts ran full circle and led him to the conclusion that the medallion must have been stolen off a dead body at the time of burial. Only family members could be in attendance at this sacred time, so that meant a member of the family had been holding on to it all this time….
For what purpose? And why had it suddenly surfaced around the throat of the stunning blonde American? Had she come specifically to attract Rashad’s attention and infiltrate his inner sanctum? Certainly she’d done that!
Such an elaborate scheme for her to glean information could only have been perpetrated by his uncle’s family, desperate to discover any information they could, which they could then use against Rashad’s own family. Amazingly it had backfired because of catastrophic circumstances beyond anyone’s control.
She’d been blown off course all right. Yet in a miraculous way she’d succeeded in penetrating his fortress in a way no enemy had ever done. Someone had coached her well, otherwise why had she held back in her description of the medallion?
Not only hadn’t he learned her secret yet, it was possible she’d been equipped with a picture of Rashad from the beginning and had recognized him all along. If that were true, then the woman sent to spy on him was the cleverest actress alive to pretend she believed he was the head of security.
Rashad didn’t like what he was thinking. Because of his strong attraction to her, it twisted his gut. He threw back his head in frustration. “You’ve done me an invaluable service, Hasan. I won’t forget.”
“It’s always a pleasure to serve you, Your Highness.”
With his business done, Rashad flew back to the palace. After he arrived, he heard from a trusted informant who’d done some digging for him. “What have you learned?”
“She flew into El-Joktor day before yesterday.”
The entry visa stamped in her passport had verified as much. She’d only had a one-day trek into the desert. Mustafa assured him they’d met no other caravans en route, no other contacts.
“Upon arrival in El-Joktor, she stayed at the Casbah alone.”
The Casbah? When there were modern hotels with amenities, why did she choose a two-star hotel in a poorer quarter of the city, once fashionable but no longer popular for close to many decades?
“Her papers are in order. She has no known occupation, but has been living in the apartment at the Montreux address belonging to an American named Celia Melrose Bancroft, seventy-five, recently deceased.”
Had Lauren Viret lied about being the woman’s granddaughter? Perhaps she’d been a very well-paid companion. After the woman died, had she gone looking for another kind of benefactor, this time a male? Or had a certain male found her? Was it possible?
“Do you wish me to probe deeper, Your Highness?”
“Not yet. You’ve done well.”
What had Rashad’s father taught him repeatedly from childhood? If the camel once gets his nose in the tent, his body will follow. With the help of the elements, Mademoiselle Viret had virtually been swept inside his tent and delivered into his hands.
Dinner with her first, away from all eyes. He needed to learn all there was to know about her. Despite everything he knew or suspected, he needed to be alone with her.
AFTER ARRANGING FOR A MEAL on the patio next to the flower garden, Rashad showered and dressed in another shirt and trousers. As he was on his way to the other wing of the palace, Nazir rang him. “Your Highness? The American has just asked me for an outside line from the palace. Should I allow it?”
“Yes.” The palace’s control center used a satellite tracking device. Later Rashad would check on the numbers she phoned. He bounded up the stairs and kept walking along the passageway until he reached the connecting hall to the garden suite. After knocking, he let himself in and discovered her seated at the desk in the sitting room. She spoke on the phone in French as impeccable as his own.
The minute she saw him approach, she ended her conversation and put down the receiver. “Good evening, Rafi.” There was a huskiness in her voice, letting him know she was pleased to see him, even if she hadn’t wanted him to know the nature of her business on the phone.
He was shaken to realize that even though elaborate preparations had been made long before she’d set out for Al-Shafeeq on a special mission, the connection between them was real … and rare.
“I’m glad to see you looking more rested.”
She nodded her blond head. “I took a nap after you left.”
Rashad thought she looked good enough to eat. She was still dressed in the clothes she’d worn earlier. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
If it was a lie, he didn’t care because he sensed she wanted to spend the evening with him. During the short flight back from Raz, the thought of being with her tonight was all that had consumed him. This kind of instant attraction was different from anything he’d ever known in his life, taking him completely unaware.
“I arranged for us to eat dinner together. How do you feel about that?”
She made a betraying motion with her hands. “If you’re free, I—I’d love it.” The words fell from her lips with satisfying speed … unrehearsed, unguarded.
“It’s waiting out on the patio.”
Her beguiling features lit up in pleasure. “I haven’t seen the flowers yet.” As she got up from the desk, the action drew his attention to her softly rounded figure. He didn’t like it that whether she was dressed in a hospital shift or western clothes, the heavenly mold of her body made it impossible for him to look elsewhere.
“Does this mean you’re off duty?” Her breathing sounded a trifle shallow, alerting him to the fact that she wasn’t in control of herself, either.
“More or less.”
“In other words, you’re like Dr. Tamam, always available if needed?”
He smiled. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“He came by a little while ago to check