and nothing could change that. He could give her space, time to heal, to stop being afraid, to trust.
If she ever would.
He couldn’t, Khaled realised with a growing sense of desolation, give her more than that.
What little they had. Resolutely Khaled placed the queen back on the chessboard. What little they had would have to be enough.
LUCY was relieved to leave Dubai. Ever since their conversation the night before, a new awkwardness had risen up between her and Khaled. Funny, she thought without a trace of humour, how confidences shared could create such tension, such stiff formality. Weren’t they supposed to bring you closer?
Yet as they took the royal jet back to Biryal she’d never been more aware of the yawning distance between her and Khaled.
He was as solicitous as ever, yet with that damning, cool remoteness that she despised. That made her afraid.
What are you thinking? What are you wanting?
Do you love me?
The questions crowded on her tongue and she bit them all back, staring mutely out of the window instead.
They sat in silence for most of the flight, the only sound the shuffle of Khaled’s papers as he bent over his work.
By the time the plane touched down in Biryal, Lucy’s already taut nerves were starting to fray. The sight of yet another crowd of clamouring journalists in front of the plane made her groan aloud. ‘Is it always like this?’
‘It will die down,’ Khaled replied in an implacable tone. ‘They are just curious because you are new and because…’ he paused ‘…I have been out of the limelight for quite a while.’
‘And your marriage has brought you back into it?’
‘Yes.’
Lucy glanced at him, saw the careful, hard, expressionless mask he’d worn since last night, and suddenly asked, ‘Khaled, will life ever be normal for us?’ She couldn’t elaborate or explain, couldn’t tell him how wonderful ‘normal’ sounded right now. It encompassed a whole range of emotions: comfort, safety, love.
Love… That one was off-limits.
‘I don’t know,’ Khaled replied after a moment, his voice bland to the point of coolness. ‘I suppose it depends on what you consider normal.’
Back at the palace, Lucy and Khaled found Sam in his favourite haunt, the pool, with Dana. He ran out of the water, hurling himself at both of their legs.
‘Sam, watch Khaled’s suit.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Khaled interjected as Sam pulled a mutinous face.
‘I thought he was Daddy now.’
Lucy swallowed, her gaze sliding to Khaled, and she saw him swallow, his eyes bright with unshed tears. No matter what was or wasn’t between them, there was something strong, right and good between Khaled and Sam. She smiled and tousled Sam’s damp hair. ‘You’re right; I forgot. And I suppose Daddy doesn’t mind if his suit gets a bit wet.’ The word sounded funny and thick on her tongue, and came out awkward and uneasy.
Khaled glanced at her sharply, and Lucy felt despair curl around her heart once more. They related to Sam, through Sam, and that was all.
How could they have thought this kind of marriage was good for anyone?
It certainly didn’t feel good to her.
They left for London three days later. They spent the night at Lucy’s house, although after the Biryali palace—not to mention the royal suite in Dubai—it felt small. Too small.
Khaled made it feel small, Lucy realised. He was so big, so present, so much—too much for the little rooms, her little bed. It was a double, but they couldn’t lie in it without touching. And, now that this tension had sprung between them once more, Lucy wasn’t sure that was a good idea.
Yet even so her body craved it, needed that physical reassurance, the comfort and thrill of his caress. Khaled, however, chose not to give it; as soon as the lights were off he rolled over onto his side, away from her. Lucy lay there, staring into the darkness, and wondered what he was thinking. She wanted to ask, yet was afraid too. Always afraid.
What would he say? she wondered bleakly. Would he admit this marriage was a mistake, that they should live separate lives? Would he lie and say he was thinking of nothing? Would he tell her brusquely it was none of her business? Or was he even asleep, completely unconcerned with her state of mind?
She had no idea, and it hurt. It hurt because she loved him. How had she hidden from it for so long? She’d denied it with every fibre of her being even as her heart had cried out to be heard.
She loved him, and she didn’t want to. Didn’t want to open herself up to the pain, the possibility of rejection. He wouldn’t leave, perhaps, but he could cut her out of his life, his heart.
He could not love her back, and living with that day in and day out would be far worse than if he were never there at all.
The next few days were a struggle for normality. They moved to a luxury hotel in the centre of London for both security and comfort; Sam returned to nursery, and Lucy to work. She made arrangements to reduce her hours and eventually only work for a few months out of the year. Khaled busied himself with his own pursuits, promoting Biryal’s tourist industry, acting as a diplomat and visiting dignitary.
Yet despite all these activities Lucy was ever conscious of the aching emptiness in the middle of their marriage, in her own heart.
Khaled remained remote, completely inaccessible, and she responded in the same way. They didn’t talk or even chat, except for when Sam was present, because then, Lucy realised, they were a family. Alone they were simply two strangers sharing the same space, the same bed.
A week after their return to London, Lucy was invited to a party to celebrate one of the England team’s recent victories.
‘Bring Khaled,’ Eric told her, his voice distant, as it had been since their return. ‘I’m sure he’ll enjoy his old stomping ground.’
Lucy smiled, feeling sick. Wouldn’t he just? she thought. The trouble was, she wouldn’t.
She mentioned it to Khaled that night, as they got ready for bed. ‘There’s a party tomorrow night, for the England team,’ she said. ‘We’ve been invited.’
Khaled stilled in the act of loosening his tie. ‘Have we?’ he said at last, his voice neutral. ‘How nice.’
‘Do you want to go?’ Lucy asked, half-hoping he would say no. Khaled smiled; there was an edge to it.
‘Why not? I’m hardly one to miss a party.’
‘Right,’ Lucy agreed. She watched as Khaled finished shrugging off his clothes,
