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“Goldilocks,” Tarif slotted in. “Do you seriously not know that?” And then to Khalil, he said with a sigh, “You could have saved us all the worry by telling us you were simply waiting for your favorite toy.”

“I agree with your choice.” Malik’s tone was approving.

“And since we all know how you prefer horses to women, I’d say that’s a huge compliment, coming from you.” Rayyan’s tone became musing. “It’s a pity she’s not even of noble blood, but still, I can see the advantages of marrying someone like her—-”

“Enough.”Khalil’s tone was exasperated. “I haven’t even said anything.”

The other sheikhs stared at him.

And then Altair said simply, “You didn’t have to.”

“We’re not blind,” Tarif said with a roll of his eyes.

Malik gestured to the woman who had just walked past them, her arm looped around her father’s. “And that’s her, isn’t it?”

“Harper Griffiths,” Rayyan murmured. “But the real question here is – do you think she will agree to marry you?”

****

“YOU’RE VAIN AS EVER, Dad.”

“And you’re too young to be a nag.”

Harper let out an unladylike grunt, the sound making her father frown, which she pretended not to notice. The truth was, she didn’t really think Howard was vain. Rather, he was an immensely proud man, and even though it had been almost a decade since he had left the army, he was still unable to fully accept having to limp for the rest of his life, much less make use of a walking stick.

And especially not now, Harper thought.

Usbue Min Al-Abtalor Heroes’ Week was one of the kingdom’s most important holidays. As Ramilians took pride in their dedication to history, the nation and its people always went all out in celebrating the lives of its heroes, both known and unsung. Her father, having saved the life of a beloved Ramilian general, was one of those heroes, and it was for this reason that one week each year, Harper and her father flew from their tiny, government-provided home in Syracuse, Nebraska to the kingdom of Ramil.

Peeking at Howard’s face, Harper saw her father’s slight grimace, and her lips pressed together in an effort to hold her tongue. Howard might be willing to use his walking stick back at home, but never here.

Not in the one place he could pretend he was what he used to be, and he was still able to do what he loved.

“Stop staring at me like you’re thinking I’m about to keel over.” The words came out in a low, grumbling tone even as Howard’s gaze remained straight ahead.

“You’re wrong,” Harper answered, also without turning in Howard’s direction. “I’m not just thinking it. I’mwaitingfor it to happen, and it will happen if we don’t at least stop and give your leg a rest.” With that said, she forcibly dragged her father to the closest vacant cocktail table.

Relief flashed in Howard’s eyes as he leaned against the wall and rested his injured leg.

Told you so,Harper thought.

Howard glared at her. “I know what you’re thinking.”

She ignored that, saying, “You need a glass of water.”

“Stop babying me.”

Harper turned around, hoping to catch the eye of one of the roaming servers, but then a hush fell over the vast reception hall, and when everyone actually came to an abrupt standstill –

He’s here,Harper thought dumbly.

A moment later, a palpable wave of excitement stirred the crowd, and her worst fears were confirmed.

Shit.

Tiptoeing and craning her neck, Harper saw Khalil Al-Atassi steadily making his way through the crowd, pausing every so often when some of the guests came up to him to extend their greetings. At thirty-two, he was the kingdom’s youngest Emir Sheikh in history, and in the short time he had been king, he had also been recognized as the kingdom’s most progressive leader.

Even without a crown or the royal headdress, he was every inch a sheikh, the air about him masterful and noble, and his loose, white thobe accentuating the powerful breadth of his shoulders and his commanding height.