was still spinning. ‘No, thank you.’
The man bowed again and left them alone, the doors clicking shut behind him.
‘Are we actually staying here?’ Sam exclaimed. ‘This is amazing.’
‘I...I guess so.’ Four doors led off the courtyard, each through intricate Moorish arches. Gracie felt her spirits lift as her curiosity was piqued. ‘Maybe we should explore.’
‘Definitely,’ Sam agreed, and together they went through one of the arches. It led to an elegant salon with louvered shutters open to the fresh, orange-blossom-scented air. Gracie took in the low divans scattered with silken pillows, the bouquets of fresh flowers and bowls of fruit. It was a lovely, peaceful place, and she could picture herself curled up on one of the sofas with a book. With Malik.
Sam tugged on her hand and they went through the other rooms—a bedroom with a huge king-sized bed and a gorgeous en-suite bathroom. The sunken marble tub was the size of a small swimming pool.
Through the next door there was a swimming pool, with a sauna and whirlpool and a small private gym. The final door led to another bedroom, just as sumptuous as the other.
‘Is this all for us?’ Sam asked in a near whisper.
‘It seems like it.’
Gracie heard the sound of a door opening, and she turned to see a smiling young woman coming down the corridor that must have led to the rest of the palace. Gracie smiled back, trying to quell the disappointment that it wasn’t Malik.
‘Good afternoon. It is my pleasure to serve you,’ the woman said. ‘My name is Leila.’ She dipped a small curtsey and then hurried about, fetching them glasses of juice, insisting they needed to sit down and relax.
‘Would madam like some spa treatments?’ she suggested. ‘A massage or facial to relax?’
‘Oh, wow.’ Gracie hadn’t had a spa treatment—ever. ‘Thank you...um...maybe later.’
‘Something else to drink, or to eat? Whatever you would like...’
‘Can I have ice cream?’ Sam asked impulsively.
‘Sam...’ Gracie interjected.
‘Of course,’ the woman said easily. ‘What flavour?’
‘Um...Rocky Road?’
‘Of course.’
Gracie felt as if they’d entered some twilight zone where your every wish was granted. Had she inadvertently sold her soul?
Maybe.
‘Excuse me, but could you tell me when Ma—um...the...that is, His Highness Malik al Bahjat is going to be back?’
The woman’s face clouded briefly. ‘I am afraid I do not know. He is in a meeting with his fiancée’s father.’
His what? Gracie blinked. ‘His fiancée?’ she repeated slowly.
‘Her father, yes. The wedding is in a few months.’ The woman’s smile was restored. ‘We have not had a royal wedding in many years.’
‘How exciting,’ Gracie managed. She couldn’t untangle the feelings that were snaking through her, but none of them felt good. From somewhere, she managed a stiff smile. ‘Please offer His Highness my congratulations.’
* * *
Tension banded Malik’s temples as he strode into one of the palace’s formal salons, where Arif Behwar waited. He wanted to be with Gracie, and the last thing he’d needed was hearing that not only was Asad ill and bedridden, but his fiancée’s father had paid an unexpected visit and was waiting for him.
‘Arif.’ Malik inclined his head in a greeting. ‘This is a surprise.’
‘As was news of your trip to America, and the fact that you returned with a woman and child,’ Arif returned tersely. ‘Considering you are to marry my daughter in a few months, I am naturally concerned.’
So they hadn’t been able to fly under the radar after all. Malik carefully closed the door behind him. ‘What did you hear?’
‘Just that. You flew very suddenly to the States, and just as suddenly returned. Who is she, Your Highness?’ The honorific was bitten off and flung at him.
Malik’s mouth compressed. He had wanted to postpone the news of who Gracie and Sam were until things were more secure. Until he was married to Gracie and Sam was legitimised.
‘I am afraid,’ he said carefully, ‘my situation has changed.’
Arif’s scowl deepened. ‘In what way?’
‘I can no longer marry your daughter.’
‘We had an agreement—’
‘I have recently discovered I am infertile.’ The news, so starkly given, silenced the older man. It made Malik’s stomach clench unpleasantly, as well. Infertile. Would he ever get used to that? How would Gracie react? The one thing he would never give her was children...or his love. And knowing her, she might want both. His resolve hardened into a metal ball in his gut. He would simply have to convince Gracie of all the things he could give her...and that they would be enough.
‘Infertile,’ Arif repeated after a long, tense moment. ‘What will this do to our country?’
He was, Malik noted, more concerned for Alazar than for his daughter Johara. ‘Nothing, I hope. My infertility is a recent occurrence, due to a fever I sustained in the desert.’ He paused, debating how much to reveal even as he acknowledged that one of his top government officials needed to know the truth. ‘The boy I arrived with today is my son.’
Arif’s eyebrows rose. ‘Your son? Your bastard, you mean.’
Cold fury rippled through him. ‘Do not insult my heir.’
Arif ignored him. ‘And the woman? That is his mother?’
‘That,’ Malik informed him in a tone of silky menace, ‘is soon to be the Sultana.’
Arif stepped back, shocked. ‘You intend to marry her?’
‘Of course.’
Arif’s face twisted. ‘The Bedouin will rebel. They will not want a Western sultana, and what of a Western sultan one day—’
‘They will accept. They will have to accept.’ Malik spoke flatly, brooking no disagreement. This was going to happen. He would make sure of it.
‘You do not know what you are doing, Your Highness,’ Arif said.
‘I am doing what I must,’ Malik answered, ‘and that is all you need to know.’ With a terse nod he dismissed the man.
A few minutes later, thankfully free of his former fiancée’s father, Malik went in search of Gracie and Sam. He’d given instructions for them to be taken to the more private and secure quarters in
