At the sound of men’s voices, loud and strong, Dahlia left the rack of clothes she was sorting through and went over to the window.
Downstairs, Kofi and Abdalla practiced hand to hand combat with a long stick in each of their hands. Today was Kofi’s first day back since he left town for a meeting in a region north of Jouba a couple of days ago.
Kofi moved with swift agility, looking as lethal as his leonine title suggested. Abdalla, big as he was, moved fast, as well. Both men were shirtless, their muscular bodies glistening with sweat, but her eyes remained riveted on Kofi. She licked her suddenly dry lips.
The tendons and muscles in his arms grew tight as he circled the bigger man, seeking to strike first. Three lines of tiny, evenly spaced circles stretched across the upper plane of his back. The raised skin, implemented during a scarification ceremony, indicated his warrior status.
She hadn’t spent much time alone with Kofi before he left town. They ate dinners with the king, formal affairs at a long table in an ornate dining room in the king’s quarters. Afterward, while she and Noel went back to the apartment, Kofi remained with his father. She assumed they talked late into the night. He never knocked on her bedroom door to say good night.
Which was an interesting part of their marriage—separate bedrooms. They were separated by a short hallway, a secret passageway at the back of her bedroom, behind a wall. One day she’d have to get a map to see where all the other passageways and secret rooms were hidden in the palace.
Similar to the rest of the palace, bright colors adorned her room, along with hand-painted textiles and decorative touches such as handmade furniture carved with intricate designs from trees native to the country. The floor near her bed was covered with a plush, camel-colored accent rug she enjoyed losing her toes in, currently occupied by Noel and his toys.
Their living quarters were located on the second floor in the east wing. The entire apartment was the size of a large penthouse, and the palace itself was so huge the first couple of days she’d been tempted to leave a trail of breadcrumbs to find her way back and forth.
And, she was overwhelmed by all her responsibilities, which made her tired and cranky. Every day, someone needed her attention for one task or another. Did she want to change the paint on the walls in her office? Ready to choose the fabrics and furniture for Noel’s room? There were also numerous introductions. She met Imani, Kofi’s cousin, and other members of the family who lived in the palace or stopped in to meet her and “our young prince,” as they called Noel.
Dahlia froze and caught her breath as Abdalla swung low at Kofi’s leg. Kofi deftly slid out of harm’s way and doubled back, twisted his club and struck Abdalla in the arm.
“You shouldn’t worry.” Mariama, her maid, came to stand beside her in front of the window. She’d been so engrossed in the performance below, she didn’t hear the young woman come in.
“Looks rather dangerous,” Dahlia murmured.
“Prince Kofi is a skilled boxer and an expert in the African fighting arts Dambe and stick fighting. He will land as many blows as he takes.”
Dahlia turned away from the window because she couldn’t stomach watching the men hurt each other.
Tomorrow they took engagement photos, so she sorted through the outfits Lisette, one of the stylists, brought to the palace. Speak of the devil, the petite, dark-haired French woman waltzed into the room with a container filled with scarves.
“I knew I’d left something in the car.” She plopped the see-through box on the bench in front of the bed. “What about this?” She held up a red and green scarf and pulled a cream pantsuit from the rack. “And this?”
Dahlia tilted her head to the side. “What do you think?” she asked Mariama, who now sat on the side of the bed.
“I like whatever you like, ma’am.”
She was young, with large doe eyes and short-cropped hair, only nineteen, and obviously grateful for the position of working with Dahlia. Her deference at times embarrassed Dahlia, but she worked hard and was clearly trained well.
“You can be honest with me, you know,” Dahlia said.
Mariama smiled shyly.
Dahlia sighed. “Maybe the pantsuit. Yes, the pantsuit.”
“And what about this, for an evening event?” Lisette pulled another article of clothing from the rack. A black, strapless gown covered in hand-sewn beading.
“It’s beautiful,” Dahlia said dully. At some point she needed to sit down with the social secretary and schedule events, which included attending functions with Kofi that were already on his calendar. Yet another task on her to-do list.
“It would be perfect for one of the formal dinners. You should try it on.”
Unaccustomed to having extra people around all the time, Dahlia took the dress into the dressing room, which was literally the size of her old apartment, but only contained the clothes and shoes she’d brought from the States. Lisette’s job was to increase her wardrobe, put matching outfits together, and fill the closet with high fashion clothing, some of which hadn’t hit the runway yet.
Dahlia slipped on the dress and stepped into the bedroom. “Well, what do you think?” she asked, doing a quick twirl.
“Pretty, Mommy,” Noel said.
Dahlia blew him a kiss.
“Noel has good taste. You look lovely.” Lisette knelt in front of her and folded up the hem. “I think we can go a little shorter here, no?”
“I think you’re right.”
Lisette held the hem in place using pins from the cushion attached to her wrist and then got to her feet. “Bon. Let’s see what other goodies we can find.”
They went through all the clothes, pulling out the must-haves and leaving the discarded choices on the rack. Accessories and shoes were also set aside. By the time they were on the last two dresses, poor Noel had fallen asleep on the rug.
“I’m not sure about this one.” Dahlia came out of the dressing room in a blue dress and turned her back to Lisette.
Before the woman could pull up the zipper, Kofi’s deep voice said, “I’ll take care of that.”
Her stomach contracted. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him approach from across the room. As usual, he exuded power and confidence, this time in a dashiki shirt and matching pants.
Lisette drifted out of his way and Mariama went to stand against the wall, hands clasped in front of her.
“This dress is exquisite,” Kofi said quietly. He’d taken a shower, because she smelled the pine-fresh scent of soap, and the unique scent of his cologne—a proprietary blend created just for him. The same one he’d worn years ago.
His hand rested on the zipper at the base of her spine, and Dahlia held her breath, intensely aware of the intimacy of the moment, and kept her hand pressed against the bodice of the expensive gown to keep it in place.
“I think it might be a little too small,” she said.
He didn’t move right away to zip her up. Instead, he brushed his knuckles along the skin of her lower back.
Dahlia tried to edge away without being too obvious, but Kofi held her fast by tightening his grip on the dress. Lucky thing, too. Her trembling legs might not have taken her far.
“What are you doing?” she murmured in a hushed voice to ensure neither the stylist nor Mariama could hear.
“Zipping your dress,” Kofi said calmly.
“Are you sure?”
His knuckles continued moving up her spine, causing the flesh of her back to tingle and every hair on her body to stand on end.
“Be patient,” he whispered.
Her body warred within itself, part of her wanting to pull away, the other part wanting to succumb to the sensations he evoked.
Finally, he did as he said he would do. He slowly slid the zipper into place, securing the dress against her body. Hugging her curves, it drew tight around her ass and left nothing to the imagination. Dahlia turned to look at him, smoothing her hands over her hips, when she noted the darkened pupils of his eyes.
“I like this one very much,” he said louder, turning to the stylist.
“Me, too. Would you like to see the last one, Your Highness?” Lisette draped a red dress over her forearm. The Grecian-inspired design cinched over one shoulder.
“Yes, I would,” Kofi said, his voice lowered to a deeper timbre.
“I can show you later,” Dahlia said.
“I’d like to see it now.”
They stared at each other, in a sort of standoff.
“I could help you get dressed,” Lisette said, her gaze shifting between the two of them with uncertainty.
Dahlia couldn’t continue to argue without making a scene. “I’ll take it to the dressing room.”
Lisette helped her with the zipper and Dahlia slipped back into the dressing room. Taking a deep breath, she put on the dress.
When she stepped back into the room, Kofi was seated on a chair, his right ankle crossed over his knee and speaking into one of his cell phones. When he caught sight of her, he said something quickly in his native tongue and hung up.
Dahlia knew she should twirl around to show off the dress and how it looked on her from all sides, but she couldn’t move. His eyes riveted her in place, his gaze smoldering as he regarded the way the fabric molded over her full breasts, cinched below them by the intricate beading, and then fell loosely to her ankles. The red color flattered her exposed shoulders and arms, and when Lisette pulled back and pinned up her hair, she felt regal and elegant.
“Voila!” the French woman said excitedly. “Red is her color, no? She looks absolutely ravishing!”
Without taking his eyes from Dahlia, Kofi said, “Leave us.”
Without a word, Mariama scooped up the sleeping Noel, and she and Lisette scurried from the room, a knowing smile at the corners of the stylist’s lips.