Entranced By Jasmine

Prologue

December, 2004

King Yasir’s palace in Ardala

Seize her!

The words stung her senses as the king’s guards invaded the inner sanctum of the royal harem. The others scattered fearing for their lives as they cowered and looked away.

She stood between the four women and a tall, intimidating officer.

What is the meaning of this? The sheik...

...Will not care. He’ll be dead soon enough, so you can save your breath.

Hearing this, the others gasped. What had she brought into the life they enjoyed? What had their sheik done to them by bringing a Westerner into the palace?

What about them? she asked.

What do you care? You came here to find out who was undermining the sheik’s government. You found me and I thank you for allowing me to finally come out in the open. Now, I need to know how you found out.

Found out what? she asked. I know nothing.

Liar, you are American Intelligence and you...

I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where’s King Yasir?

Don’t worry about him. He’s beyond your reach.

I want to see him.

No, he’ll be with Allah soon and needs to purify his traitorous soul. He wants nothing more to do with you.

I want to hear it from him.

No.

Then allow them to live. Please, they know nothing more than I do.

Shut up, infidel. Take her away! he ordered.

No, she begged as one of the guards grabbed her and roughly dragged her from the private quarters specifically designed for the king of Ardala’s harem. She fought him until the sound of rapidly fired gunshots caused her to freeze. She closed her eyes seeing the image of King Yasir’s wives.

No! she screamed, overwhelmed by Kedar’s cruelty. She felt faint, her legs weak. The guard dragged her down the hallway, then out of the private royal quarters and outside to a waiting car.

Forced onto the floor of it, the guard held her at gunpoint. She closed her eyes, grieving for the women she’d befriended since her arrival at the palace of Ardala’s ruling sheik, King Yasir Tarek. She wept over their needless slaughter and she mourned losing the king, a man she’d grown to love more than life.

Moments after the driver stopped, the guard yanked her from the car and dragged her to a building she had not noticed before, but then again, she had no reason to. She heard some commotion to the side and saw the king being hustled into another car. She tried to yell to him but a huge hand clamped over her mouth. Once inside, she gasped.

Why...

Come now. If I intend to rule Ardala as it should be ruled, I can’t have any of the king’s supporters or his regime alive now, can I?

She looked at Hashim, Ardala’s Prime Minister. Horror overtook her as she looked at the obvious results of Kedar’s methods.

Tell me what I want to know.

But I know nothing.

Liar, Kedar stated emphatically. Maybe Hashim can convince you to talk. He shoved her across the floor to where the king’s trusted advisor lay dying.

Kedar and his men left them, the lock on the door loudly engaged.

Hashim, my god, what have they done to you?

Don’t tell him anything. I know everything about you and anything you say will endanger our king.

You know about me?

Hashim weakly nodded.

Where is he?

I don’t know. I heard Kedar order his men to bring you both here.

I saw someone who looked like him being put into a car...

We must protect him. Kedar cannot be allowed to take over Ardala. You may be the king’s only hope.

But, Hashim...

I’m done in this life. I go to Allah but you still have a chance.

Is there anything else...

Tell Yasir he made the right choice. You’ve been good for him in every way.

What do you mean?

As his true wife.

But the others?

He never married them. His father decreed it but Yasir never went through with the marriage ceremonies.

But his father had to know.

He didn’t. His death confirmed everything in the people’s minds. His will left Yasir the throne and it will go to his child by any one of his wives.

But why did they remain with him if...

He gave them a good life in exchange for their silence.

His secret’s safe. Kedar had them murdered.

Hashim closed his eyes.

I am truly sorry.

The door burst open. She cradled Hashim’s head in her lap to help make him more comfortable.

Come here, woman!

She ignored the general’s command, refusing to leave the Prime Minister’s side. She cried out when Kedar grabbed her by her hair and pulled her away from the dying man.

Obviously, Hashim didn’t convince you to talk.

I...know...nothing... Ow! she cried out.

Kedar pulled her over to a set of shackles hanging from an overhead beam. Forcing her hands over her head, he locked her wrists into them, then pulled out a switchblade while circling his captive. Her trembling aroused him but he remained cold.

What do you know?

Nothing, I swear, she stated again.

He accused her of lying once more, then she felt her blouse tighten across her breasts as he pulled it. Ripping material sent chills through her as Kedar cut it, then shredded it, baring her back to him.

You Americans, no color to you. I don’t know what he sees in you.

She felt the blade as he traced her spine.

Tell me.

I swear I know nothing.

How did you find me out?

I don’t know what... she cried out as he pressed the knife into her skin.

She watched in horror as he went to an ornate box sitting on a desk. Opening it, he pulled out a finely honed epee. She closed her eyes knowing what the expert swordsman had planned for her.

Half an hour later, she hung, limp and nearly unconscious. He yanked her head back forcing her to look at him as she mumbled.

Tell me and I’ll let you lay down. What do you know?

Nothing, she whispered before jumping at the sound of a gunshot. She looked at Hashim, now at peace with Allah.

Well?

I don’t know what you want from me.

Hashim has paid for your stupidity and so has your sheik. Tell me what you know and how you found out I was behind the impending coup.

Nothing!

Take this infidel out to the desert and stake her to the sands. I want answers.

Yes, sir.

No...please...

* * * *

Burning pain woke her. She tried to open her eyes but the overhead sun blinded her. She moved her hand to cover her eyes but couldn’t. She felt the hot metal of the handcuffs around her wrists and panicked, though her weakened body didn’t show it as her mind raced. Hot crystals of sand embedded themselves in the open wounds on her back.

What do you know, American liar? a captain interrogated her.

Nothing.

Then you’ll remain here until you tell us. A couple hours in the hot desert sun with no water should loosen that tongue of yours.

She refused to tell them anything, especially if the information led to Yasir’s death. In a position where no one could help her, she made her peace and waited for death.

They taunted her with promises of water and freedom but she knew better. She mumbled as she became delusional. She sank into her own tortured world, ignoring everything, including the sounds of a hovering helicopter and gunshots. She lapsed off praying for Yasir’s life, her death and her soul.

* * * *

NO!

Jolene Winters sat straight up in her hospital bed onboard a naval aircraft carrier weighing anchor in the Persian Gulf off the coast of Ardala. A nurse tried to calm her, but couldn’t. Jolene’s eyes looked like they were held wide open by an unknown terror.

Please, relax. You’re in the hospital unit and you are safe.

Jolene didn’t hear her. She tried to cover her ears to shut out the gunshots and the screams but couldn’t since she had to fight wristlets holding her arms to the bed. Restraint made her hysterical because she had not regained her freedom, trading one set of shackles for another.

The hatch opened. A lieutenant commander went to her side, also trying to calm her.

Let me go, she demanded.

Not yet.

Who are you? she asked suspiciously.

He’s Lieutenant Commander Sean O’Brien, your doctor, a tall, red-haired man said in a comforting voice.

Dylan, please, you’ve got to help me.

Jo, you’ve been through a lot. You’ve been asleep for a long time.

What are you saying? What happened?

Chapter 1

Mid-October, 2004, Washington, DC

Three months prior

On the Mall in late September, a discreet meeting took place between an Under-Secretary of State and a foreign dignitary. Dylan Caine looked at the man and his associate through dark glasses trying to read their eyes. If he detected anything telling him this meeting was a ploy of any kind, he’d break it off in a heartbeat. All he saw was concern and true loyalty to a small emirate on the Persian Gulf.

Caine looked beyond Sheik Yasir Tarek, king of Ardala, and his Defense Minister, Rasheed, to check for anyone who might attempt to kill the ruler but saw no one or anything strange, though he didn’t let his guard down.

So, what you are telling me is that you suspect someone close to you will try to topple your government. Understanding this, I ask you why you come to me.

Your intelligence community is far superior than mine or the ones in neighboring countries. I don’t trust those around us because they would give anything to get our resources. There have been rumblings of outside support in this attempt and I have no idea where from.

I see.

If you could send an agent in to seek out this information...

I don’t have any actives who fit this...

I thought maybe a woman who could pose as my new American wife might be able to accomplish what I need.

I’ve read you already have several.

"Six to be exact and we never married. My father gave them to me and, to please him, I went through a marriage ceremony with them, only the bishop was a fake. My wives know this and have remained silent. They enjoy the life of a king’s wife and everyone is satisfied."

Quite a deception, Your Highness.

Yasir nodded.

I have several in mind.

I’d like to select the one, if you don’t mind.

Dylan agreed. For this scheme to be successful, his operative would have to be able to compliment the king in many ways. One name came to mind as being perfect but he would give the king his choice. He pulled out his cell phone to call his secretary.

Within half an hour, another agent handed Dylan a briefcase, then left them. Dylan opened it and removed the three files he requested.

Ann Wentworth is...

No.

Carol Greco is a...

No.

That leaves Jolene Winters.

She’ll do.

Are you sure?

Positive. I am staying at this address. Tell her to pack enough for several days. I need the time to instruct her in Ardalan ways so she will fit in.

Understandable. When...

As soon as possible. I must be back in Ardala by mid-October.

With all the upheaval you suspect, do you feel it’s wise to leave?

I annually vacation at this time of year and travel the world, usually in Western Europe. Had I remained, it would have sent up flags.

All right. I’ll have Miss Winters at your home by late afternoon. I want her to wrap up what she has before she leaves the country.

I appreciate this.

Yasir read her file, committing everything to memory. One strong advantage he had as a ruler was the gift of a photographic memory. In times like this, it came in handy. He returned the file to Dylan, then extended his hand.

Thank you, Mister Caine. You have no idea how grateful I am.

I think I do. Just take this as a word of caution. Jolene is my best operative and a close friend. If you hurt her in any way or she is injured in this, I will clear my desk of all my cases just to hunt you down.

Yasir nodded, then watched Caine walk away.

Your Highness, are you sure?

Rasheed, calm down, he told the dark-haired man as he looked into sad, dark brown eyes. She will be perfect.

But, sire...

It wasn’t a snap judgment, my friend. I felt something when I looked at her picture—something I sure as hell can’t explain.

* * * *

King Yasir Tarek of Ardala ascended to the throne of the tiny, oil-rich emirate in 1979 when his father passed on. Yasir continued to rule his sheikdom as he’d been trained to but in the process, he brought it forward into the new century.

Exports of other resources kept Ardala financially well-off and independent of the oil industry. Because of this, the Iraqis ignored their oilfields during Desert Storm. Yasir had been obsessive in this goal, one he attained and once he had it, he set a new one to keep it.

Yasir had been sent to boarding school in England at an extremely young age. Once he graduated his senior year of secondary school, he went to Oxford University, then Yale. During his college years, he went under the western name of Galen Crawford. The schools didn’t care as long as Galen’s name appeared on the checks, he kept his grades up, and behaved himself. To both institutions, Galen Crawford was just another rich kid going to their school to use on a resume. Only Galen fooled them and maintained a four point zero grade point average.

After he graduated with a master’s degree in business, he returned to Ardala and handed his father diplomas from both universities made out to His Royal Highness, Prince Yasir Tarek. One thing never ceased to amaze him—anyone or anything could be bought for the right price.

When Yasir turned twenty-four, his father presented him with his harem. Six beautiful women whose beauty agreed with the meanings of their names, all were lovely and brunette with dark eyes. Farrah—her name meant beautiful—joined Leyla—born at night—and Sabira—of great patience—with dark green eyes. Muna—desire; Qitarah—fragrant; and Zara—blossom—enjoyed blue eyes.

He agreed all of them were beautiful but he liked the western idea of a man choosing his own wife. His harem was a precious gift from his father but not one of them ignited anything within him. After a fake marriage, the seven of them settled into their lives. In public, they would show the world an Ardalan prince happily with one or more of his wives; while in private, he would treat them as cherished women without the official marriage hanging over his head.

If anything happens to me, you are all free to do as you please.

If his wives had affairs, they remained extremely discreet. As of this date, the ruse had worked. Now, he would take back another fake wife to his home to increase his harem while they tried to determine who wanted him dead.

He trusted the Under-Secretary’s selection. He had been able to tell the man’s choice by reading his movements. While Caine wore sunglasses hiding his eyes, his body language told Yasir everything he needed to know. Jolene Winters would be the perfect woman to take home to his sheikdom.

Yasir turned to Rasheed.

Shall we go back to the estate?

As you wish, Your Highness.

Rasheed, please relax. When it’s you and me, Yasir is fine.

Rasheed nodded. Until he became used to being on vacation, it felt wrong to be familiar with his king, the man he would lay his life down for without question.

They walked to their car and drove out of the U.S. capital into Virginia and the estate the king leased for his stay in America. As Rasheed drove, Yasir sat deep in thought, his head against the headrest. He pictured Jolene Winters—luxuriously full light auburn hair with natural blonde streaks, brown eyes and an earth-shaking smile. She would enchant his people while she helped him save his realm from a radical takeover.

Yasir smiled to himself—she would do fine.

* * * *

Jolene Winters sat at her desk at the State Department facing a pile of folders she had to go through. As an analyst, the stack should be easy to go through, except the anticipation of fieldwork overtook her. Her concentration shot to hell, she tried desperately to write her opinion on a list of figures.

Miss Winters, Mister Caine needs to see you in his office.

Thanks, she said, happy for the relief. She left everything and went into Dylan Caine’s outer office. His secretary immediately ushered her into his office, then closed the door as she left, a sign of how important this meeting would prove to be.

Dylan, what is going on?

I can see you’re excited about going out into the field.

Yes, I am and you know I can do it.

I hoped His Royal Highness would choose you because I think you’re right for this assignment but...

I’ll do my best, you know that.

I know.

Coming from behind his desk, he put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them firmly. She could feel his emotions because he usually didn’t show them like this, especially at the office.

Dylan, I can handle this, she assured him.

I know but if you can’t, get the hell out.

What’s wrong?

I worry about you. We’ve been friends way too long. I’d hate to lose you.

Dylan, trust me. I’ll be fine.

Do you have any questions?

No, I go to Ardala posing as the king’s new wife. I’m to find out who’s behind any possible coup attempts, tell him and come home. I know that’s simplistic but...

"You’ve got the idea. He wants you to go to his estate at this address so he can instruct you in the ways of his country. You’ll