a forced marriage will not help the kingdom. The days of such archaic arrangements are over.’
‘Nonsense. Banish her to a remote palace—’
‘This is the twenty-first century,’ Malik cut him off. ‘Do you think the Western world will do business with a country whose queen is in exile, simply because she is American?’
Asad glared at him and silently fumed. Malik knew his grandfather knew he was right—he just didn’t want to admit it. ‘I am wooing her gently,’ he stated. ‘It is necessary. If that makes me a fool in your eyes, then so be it. I will do what I must to secure my country’s future as well as my throne.’
Sketching the briefest salaam, he turned on his heel and left the room.
Was he a fool? The question was like a fly buzzing about his brain as he returned to his private office, constantly annoying him. He’d spoken the truth to Asad, but only part of it.
He was enjoying his time with Gracie, necessary as it was. He was glad to get to know her as well as Sam, but he was conscious that he could not stay in such pleasant limbo for ever. He couldn’t let himself weaken, or let his feelings for Gracie and Sam cloud his judgement. He needed to keep a distance between him and Gracie. He also needed to set a date for their wedding—but to do that he required Gracie’s cooperation.
He found her on a bench in the gardens, a book opened on her lap, her face tilted to the sun.
‘You look peaceful,’ Malik remarked as he joined her on the bench.
A shy smile of pleasure lit her face and she closed her book. ‘I feel peaceful, surprisingly.’
‘Why surprisingly?’
‘Because this is still all so strange, and I am very aware that the future is uncertain.’ She eyed him, and Malik gave her a guarded smile.
‘Where is Sam?’
‘One of your staff took him to play boules. He’s loving it here.’
‘I am glad.’
‘But this can’t last for ever,’ Gracie pointed out. ‘In some ways it feels like the calm before a storm. I want life to go on like some endless holiday, but I know it can’t.’
‘No,’ Malik agreed. ‘It can’t.’ It was the perfect segue into talking about his own plans. ‘I will need to make an announcement soon, about Sam.’
Gracie’s eyes widened and her teeth sank deeper into her lip. ‘Already?’
‘Considering my grandfather’s health, time is of the essence. I thought we could go away, the three of us, for a few nights. I want to show both of you the heart of Alazar. We can talk to Sam about who I am. Who he is.’
‘That seems like a good idea,’ Gracie agreed cautiously. ‘But what happens after that?’
‘I will announce Sam to my people.’ He paused. ‘After we have married.’
‘Oh, really?’ Her eyes flashed. ‘What happened to me making a decision?’
‘Gracie, you must see the inevitability of this. Sam cannot be my heir if he is not legitimate. I am trying to be as patient as I can, and I think we’ve both enjoyed this week together. But we must move ahead.’ Asad’s words echoed through him and he finished, his tone flat and final, ‘We will marry as soon as we return from the mountains.’
‘What a romantic proposal.’
‘You know I am not romantic.’
‘I also know I don’t want to be bullied into a marriage,’ Gracie snapped. ‘You have to give me time, Malik—’
‘I have given you time.’
‘Without an actual choice! What is the point in that?’
Malik sighed, his patience at an end. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘At least pretend I have some say in the matter,’ Gracie answered sarcastically. ‘Really, sometimes I wonder how much of your kindness is real and how much is an act simply to get what you want.’ Her breath came out in a rush, her expression turning bleak. ‘I don’t know if I can live like that.’
Malik felt himself tense. In his impatience, he’d gone too fast, run too rough. ‘We can be happy together, Gracie. I know we can.’
‘Then wait and see if I come to the same conclusion,’ Gracie answered quietly, her eyes still troubled. ‘Can you at least give me that courtesy?’
Everything in Malik howled no. He wanted to make Sam his in the eyes of Alazar, but just as much he wanted to make Gracie his. But he knew enforcing his will now would backfire badly. ‘Malik?’ she prompted, her voice soft and sad. Wordlessly he nodded.
‘THERE IT IS.’
Malik leaned forward, one long, lean finger pointing out of the window of the helicopter towards the palace perched incongruously on a mountaintop. ‘Palace of the Clouds.’
‘Wow.’ Gracie leaned forward as well, taking in the magnificent sight. The palace was a maze of rocky walls and tall towers, its foundations built directly onto the mountain, its turrets and minarets seeming to touch the sky. ‘How on earth did they build it?’
‘With much hard labour. It is eight hundred years old,’ Malik said. ‘Built by the Sultan for his favourite wife.’
Gracie arched an eyebrow. ‘How many wives did he have?’
‘I believe around six hundred.’ Malik grinned. ‘In that way, we have already moved forward.’
‘What a relief.’ The banter was light, but it still sent a frisson of alarmed awareness through her. She knew Malik was clinging to his patience for her to make a decision about their marriage. And really, it was no decision at all. She understood how little choice she had, and yet she needed to be sure in her own mind—and her own heart.
In some ways she felt as if she’d been moving inexorably towards this since Malik had appeared again in her life, but in another way... Marriage. Being the wife of a sultan. Living in Alazar. And more worrying...being married to a man who had as good as promised not to love her. Were the things Malik had said he could give her enough? Was she willing to relinquish any hope of loving and being loved for the sake of her son’s legacy?
‘Your father only had one wife, though, didn’t he?’ she remarked, remembering what he’d said earlier about his father living the fairy tale—the fairy tale he didn’t want.
‘Yes. As I said before, he only had one wife, and he loved her very much.’
There was a subtext to his words, to the cool tone he’d unconsciously adopted, and it was one Gracie didn’t like—that Malik’s father might have loved his wife, but Malik had no intention of loving his. She’d been trying to come to terms with that reality, but it was hard.
