Prologue
“Ican’t go to Gharb Havilah,” Gabrielle Taylor repeated, this time with more emphasis. “I simply cannot go.” She cleared her throat and sat up straighter, eyeing her professor directly, willing her to accept her refusal without explanation. But one look at her narrowing gaze, and she knew it wasn’t going to be so easy.
Not for the first time, Gabrielle wished that her head of department was a stereotypical Oxford University professor—absent-minded and with a less than firm grip on the college’s finances. Instead, it had been her luck to have someone intent on turning her Oxford college into a profitable institution.
“Gabrielle, I’ll do you the courtesy of speaking plainly. If youdon’ttake this consultancy at Gharb Havilah, if youdon’tgo to the palace and do what’s required, you will no longer have a place at this college. In fact, not only willyounot have a place, nor will precisely four of your colleagues. We cannot afford to keep our present number of staff without this funding. Verygenerousfunding, I might add.”
Gabrielle swallowed, trying to moisten her suddenly dry mouth. “There must be some mistake.” As her professor leaned forward across the desk, she realized it was her who’d made the mistake.
“No mistake, Gabrielle. The college has been running on empty for years, supported by the coffers of other more prosperous colleges. Weneedthis grant, and youwillget it for us.”
She nodded, realizing she’d been cornered. She had nowhere else to turn. This college had been her home, her savior, her whole life, since well, she never thought of what went before—it was still too painful. And to return to that? She leaned forward, gesturing impotently. “But you don’t understand.”
The professor shook her head impatiently. “You’re right, I don’t. You’ve told me nothing that would suggest a return trip to Gharb Havilah wouldn’t be appropriate, no, wouldn’t beidealat this point in your career. You lived there for the first eighteen years of your life and on and off since. You know its culture, its artifacts first hand, as well as the people.” She sat back in her chair and threw her hands in the air. “Come on, Gabrielle, what could prevent you from returning there?”
She should tell her.Now. She sucked in stuffy, over-heated air, and tried to grasp at reasons, at words, but only one thing entered her mind and refused to leave—the image of a man, a man who she’d loved so much that she’d walked away from him. She looked up into the gray eyes of this Oxford don and knew that there was no point in telling her. There was no way that those eyes would be swayed by love. But, apparently, although she couldn’t convey the truth, she’d managed to convey her resignation to her professor.
“Good. Then we won’t hear any more about the matter. Make your travel arrangements with my secretary, sort out your personal life, and be in Gharb Havilah in one month.”
“A month? Is that all the notice I get?”
“And how much do you need?” The professor’s sarcastic tone was barely concealed. “Your rooms at the college will still be here when you return. You have no pets, no dependents. Maybe you have a man, or woman, to whom you’re close?”
Gabrielle shook her head vehemently. She’d made sure she had no ties, especially of the heart. Because you couldn’t love someone if your heart was broken. It was as if the edges of her heart had cracked and sealed over, never to heal—cooled by her academic work, cauterized by her loneliness.
“Good. Then that’s settled. You’ll fulfill the requirements of the contract to the letter.”
“But I’m an archaeologist. What doIknow about public relations?”
“They obviously believe you know something.” The professor scrolled through the contract on her laptop. “Here it is. They wantstories, apparently. Stories around the artifacts about which you are the foremost expert.” She crossed her arms and turned her steely gaze upon Gabrielle once more.
“Stories?”
“Stories. Make them up if you have to, but fulfill this contract because otherwise there won’t be a job for you to return to.”
“And it’s for only a month?”
“One month. The contract ends on the day of the country’s bi-millennial celebration. I’m sure you’ll be able to make up stories for one month?” She snapped her laptop shut—a cue for Gabrielle to leave. “There’s money at stake, and there’s the future of the college at stake. It depends on you. Don’t let me down.”
Gabrielle’s mouth was dry with fear as she left the office. It wasn’t until she was the other side of the office door that the full force of her repressed emotions washed over her. She leaned back against the closed door, suddenly feeling faint.
“Are you okay?” the professor’s secretary asked. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
Gabrielle nodded. “Yes,” she replied ambiguously. She walked past the secretary, who was apparently reassured that Gabrielle was okay. But Gabrielle was far from okay, because she’d been confronted with a ghost—a ghost from her past, a ghost she’d hoped she’d never see again, a ghost she’d had no choice but to leave twelve months earlier.
Chapter 1
King Zavian bin Ameen Al Rasheed checked the clock, picked up another report from the pile, and continued to dictate to his secretary. But his mind refused to focus completely on his paperwork. A part of it drifted to the image of a woman—long blonde hair, and eyes that could wound at a thousand feet. But now, instead of imagining her amid the spires and steeples of Oxford, wondering what she was doing, he knew what she was doing. She would be putting away her laptop—he knew there was no way Gabrielle would miss working on an uninterrupted twelve-hour flight—and doing up her seat belt as the plane prepared for its final descent into Gharb Havilah.
He fell silent and turned his head to look out the window, up into the white-hot sky of a June morning, and imagined he could see her plane. And her on it, her eyes moving to the window, seeking out her first glimpse of Gharb Havilah after twelve long months.
“Your Majesty?”
He turned back to his secretary. “Yes?”
“Did you wish to complete your response to this report?”
He looked down at the papers and tried to refocus. He had no idea where he was, which was exactly why he needed Gabrielle in Gharb Havilah.