"My wife admires your serving staff. Very well trained." Chayton said, "She would like your permission to speak to your wife."

The Emir turned to study his wife. Her scowl brought a frown to his face. Speaking Arabic instead of his British accented English, he sounded like he was scolding her. She lowered her eyes and slipped out of the grand ball room.

"She will bring my second wife to speak to you. Her behavior this evening has been less the exemplary. I will have a room prepared to give you privacy." He snapped his fingers and a beautiful young man came forward from the sculptured bronze doors.

I needed to find out more about him, he didn't seem like most men I knew at all. Perhaps this was an opportunity, to figure them out. He wasn't the only one dressed in colorful historical costumes like those in the movie Arabian Nights.

I supressed my trembles. This place seem more like a disguised prison than a home. I didn't want to be separated from Chayton, but it looked like I had no choice.

"Escort this lady to the women's parlor please," the Emir ordered. "Then make certain Lady Ishira arrives there as well."

"When will you bring Lady Alyana back to me? She is precious to me," Chayton inquired.

"We will give them thirty minutes. More than enough for them to discuss the acquisition of skilled serving staff. Our source provides well trained people to many discerning employers across the world. In the meantime, we will continue our discussion."

I wondered if there was trouble in this Arabian paradise. There appeared to be some domestic strife. The culture here was so foreign I was at a loss as to acceptable behavior. Other than keeping my eyes down unless addressed by the Emir, and appearing like a trophy wife, we didn't get much of a hint from our dossiers.

My thoughts wandered to their multiple wife lifestyle, and the rumors that a man could shed one just by repeating I divorce you a few times in front of a witness. I had no idea if the barbaric practice was still a part of law here. Rumors and whispers weren't exactly reliable.

"Lady Alyana, come with me please."

It was a boy's voice coming from a man's body. Strangely hairless, his face was a shade of caramel, between cream and café au lait. His eyes, deep brown, were old souls, a total contrast from his preadolescent demeanor. Yet when he grasped my elbow there was steel in his grip. There was no way for me to wander away from him.

What a strange form for a prison guard to take. Or was he merely a strange type of security guard. I had to admit it wouldn't do for me to get lost in this palace. It reminded me of the great Moorish architecture in Spain, the Alhambra. The mosaic walls and floors were incredible, and I couldn't begin to comprehend the amount of labor building it took.

The young man pushed through another bronze door and bowed to a young woman who was hugely round with her pregnancy. Her garments were made of silk, a rich deep red bordering on the burgundy of the finest red wines.

"Welcome Alyana. I am Ishira, second wife of the Emir. You wish to know about our serving women." She spoke as she wrote on the pad of paper to her left on the low table in the center of the room. She sat of a large pillow, and I settled on the second one in the room, with no other choice other than to stand. I assumed this would be considered rude.

"Yes, thank you, they are exquisite and skilled. I would love to have access to the same for my home," I stuck to the script in my head.

"I've written down the contact information for the agency the first wife uses to obtain our servants." Ishira spoke perfect British English stressing the word obtain subtly, and I wondered about her background.

She tore the note of the pad quickly folding it. When she handed it to me, she said, "The walls have ears, so I will tell you I came from India. The Emir and I fell in love at Oxford. I am his match, his love. She is his duty to the nation of Emirates. An arranged union between two of the seven. She runs the household and the eunuchs who guard us, and holds the power of her brother over us."

I shuddered at her words. "I shall thank the Emir for allowing me to speak to you."

"Let your husband do it. You have already attracted the first wife's attention."

Again, the way she stressed her words made my skin crawl. My thought that this was as much a prison as a home came back unbidden and with force.

"I have no understanding of your ways. Thank you for your advice."

"Are you staying with us in Abu Dhabi?" she asked.

"For a few days. We will continue our tour of the Middle Eastern countries soon. Jordan, Qatar, and Omen are next and then we are continuing into Pakistan and India."

"Your husband, he seems to be an important man," Ishira's statement hinted at curiosity, and perhaps more.

"He's very kind, and yes, he runs quite a large business. I expect the Emir will be interested in some of his products."

"I will have Judar take you back to the ball room. Keep your eyes down as much as possible, it is safer. You are an exquisite woman and I hope intelligent as well." She rang a tiny silver bell I hadn't noticed until she picked it up.

I made a careful show of placing her note into the tiny clutch purse I carried. With only my cell phone in it, along with some lipstick and a package of tissues, I felt naked without a weapon. I looked up when the door swung open and my escort extended his hand to help me to my feet.

"Come." It was his only word, and I obeyed, hoping he would take me back to Chayton. I couldn't wait to see what Ishira wrote in that note. I don't think the name of the agency they used was all that was in it.