Читать книгу Modern Romance April 2017 Books 5 - 8 - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 19
ОглавлениеAS SOON AS Gracie asked the question, she wished she hadn’t. It made her sound needy, when she wasn’t. She was just...confused. Yesterday Malik had kissed her and then asked her to be open to all the possibilities. Maybe she’d misread the situation entirely, which she’d done before. The thought made her feel both humiliated and hurt.
Malik’s mouth compressed and his gaze flicked to Sam splashing in the water. ‘This is not the time for that particular discussion.’
‘When, then?’ Gracie demanded. ‘I mean...’ she lowered her voice to an accusatory hiss ‘...it doesn’t matter to me. But you have no business kissing me the way you did when you’re getting married in a couple of months!’
Malik’s nostrils flared. ‘I am not getting married in a couple of months.’
‘What... You’re not?’ Now she felt completely wrong-footed. ‘But you are engaged.’
‘I was.’
‘Hey, are you going to swim with us?’ Sam called.
‘I would like that very much,’ Malik answered. He gave Gracie a quelling look. ‘We will have this discussion at another, more appropriate time.’
Feeling both chastised and frustrated, Gracie nodded and went to find her swimsuit. A few minutes later all three of them were in the pool, swimming and splashing around. The sight of Malik in a pair of navy-blue swim trunks was enough to steal Gracie’s breath; she’d forgotten how magnificent his body was, all bronzed, lean, tapered muscle.
As he roughhoused with Sam, she noticed marks she didn’t think had been there when she’d last seen him shirtless—a scar on the side of his torso and another by his knee. They looked as if they had been serious injuries, and she wondered what on earth could have caused them.
What kind of life had Malik been living these last ten years or, really, his whole life? He’d shared intriguing details, hints at a lonely childhood and an adulthood devoted to duty that gave Gracie a sorrowful twist even as she wondered if Sam—if she and Sam—could bring a new joy into Malik’s life.
Not if he’s engaged.
The reality, Gracie knew, was she’d been half imagining some ridiculous happily-ever-after among Malik’s possibilities. She hadn’t articulated it to herself until she’d heard Malik was engaged and realised what a fantasyland she’d been subconsciously living in.
Of course Malik was going to marry someone else. Some modest, traditional woman who’d most likely been brought up to be a sultan’s bride since she was a baby. Of course he would have other children with that oh-so suitable wife. Of course Sam would only ever be on the periphery of his life, and she even more so. The realisation should not have brought the tearing sense of grief and loss that she so shamingly felt. Malik had been back in her life for only a few days.
But he never left your heart.
‘So what’s it like to be Sultan?’ Sam asked when they were sprawled on loungers after swimming. Another staff member had brought fresh pomegranate juice and a plate of sticky, delicious pastries made with honey and studded with nuts.
‘Hmm, that is an interesting and difficult question.’ Malik leaned back in his lounger and Gracie tried not to stare at the perfect musculature of his chest beaded with sparkling droplets of water. She remembered how hot and hard and satiny his skin had felt against her palm. ‘It’s busy, I suppose, and sometimes it feels pressured. But it is also very rewarding to serve my people, and to help to improve their living conditions.’
Sam nodded seriously. ‘And you get to live in this palace.’
Malik’s eyes glinted with humour as he nodded back. ‘Yes, there is that.’
‘Do you mind?’ Sam asked. ‘The pressure? Everyone looking up to you and stuff?’
‘Sometimes. But I have found ways to deal with it.’
‘How?’
Gracie leaned forward, curious to hear Malik’s answer.
‘Well,’ Malik answered slowly, ‘if I’m feeling worried about something, I try to find a way to relax. I walk or swim or sometimes I read.’
‘And here I thought you didn’t have any hobbies,’ Gracie teased. Malik inclined his head in acknowledgement.
‘I believe you had suggested needlepoint.’
‘Read? I like to read,’ Sam said. ‘What kinds of things do you read?’
Gracie was intrigued to see a faint blush appear on Malik’s cheeks. ‘To relax, light mysteries.’ He gave Gracie a wry and almost embarrassed look. ‘I find whodunits are a pleasant escape from reality.’
A gurgle of surprised laughter escaped her. ‘Nothing beats a good Agatha Christie.’
‘Exactly.’
She eyed him appraisingly for a few seconds. ‘I didn’t know that about you.’
‘I suspect there are many things you don’t know about me,’ Malik said quietly.
A few minutes later Sam went to investigate the suite’s selection of DVDs and Gracie and Malik were left alone.
Nerves fluttered like trapped birds in her chest and she took a sip of juice to steel herself to ask the question that she needed to, even if she’d rather chat about books or banter about hobbies. ‘So, are you or are you not engaged?’
‘I am not.’ Malik folded his arms across his impressive chest, biceps rippling. ‘As I said before.’
‘But the woman who served us said the royal wedding was in a couple of months. I don’t think she got the memo.’
‘I was engaged,’ Malik clarified, ‘and I broke the engagement today.’
Gracie was silent for a moment, absorbing this fact. ‘Why did you break it?’ she finally asked.
‘Because of you. And Sam.’ Malik met her gaze directly, his expression serious, composed and very determined. Gracie shrank inwardly at the hardness she saw in his eyes, even though she didn’t know why it was there.
‘But why would you...?’
‘Because Sam is my heir.’ Malik paused, his gaze fierce and dark and unrelenting. ‘He will be Sultan of Alazar after me.’
For one ludicrous second Gracie pictured her impish son in robes and a crown, a jewelled sceptre in his hand, like some kind of Halloween costume. ‘Whoa. Whoa.’ She held up one hand, fighting the urge to give in to a sudden fit of hysterical laughter. ‘What are you talking about? Sam can’t be your heir.’
An eyebrow arched. ‘Why not?’
‘Because...’ She shook her head, her mind spinning. She’d imagined all sorts of scenarios, but she hadn’t expected this. ‘You’re only what? Thirty-two?’ A terse nod was all the confirmation she got. ‘You could still marry and have children,’ she said, even though she didn’t enjoy pointing out that particular fact. ‘You don’t need Sam to be your heir.’
Malik didn’t speak for a moment. His shuttered gaze rested on the desert and mountain vista visible through the arched windows. He’d placed his hands flat on his thighs, so Gracie could see his long, tapered fingers, and her body remembered how those hands had felt, finding her secret places. How loving and thorough they’d been. She banished the memory, refocusing on his face. Not helpful now, Gracie.
‘Two months ago I was in the desert,’ Malik said, which seemed apropos of nothing. Gracie stared at him, waiting for the blanks to be filled in. ‘I became ill and ran a high fever. Being far from any medical facility, I had the fever for several days.’ He stopped, looking down at his hands, his expression still closed. Gracie was just about to ask what any of this had to do with her and Sam when Malik raised his gaze and stared at her bleakly. ‘Four days ago I learned that the fever had made me infertile. Sam is and will always be my only child.’
The words hit her like hammer blows. She blinked, trying to take it all in. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last, meaning it utterly, because that had to have been devastating to discover. Malik inclined his head briefly.
‘Thank you.’
‘That news must have been...’ she shook her head slowly ‘...hard.’
‘Yes.’
‘And your fiancée...?’ Gracie ventured. ‘Did she...?’
‘That is why I terminated the agreement. I doubted she would want to continue, considering my state. A woman’s joy and pride is her children, especially in a country like mine. But in any case Johara and I barely knew each other. We have only met twice.’
That shouldn’t have made her feel better, but it did. And yet... Sam was his only child. His heir. The dazed feeling evaporated like mist. ‘No,’ she blurted.
Malik’s dark eyes narrowed. ‘No?’ he repeated softly.
‘No. Sam is—He can’t be some sultan. The idea is ridiculous. He’s a fifth-grader who’s only left Illinois twice. He can’t... He isn’t prepared. I don’t want him to be prepared. I don’t want to put that pressure on him...the pressure you were just talking about.’
‘I will prepare him.’
‘It’s impossible,’ Gracie insisted even though she felt as if she were already sliding down a slippery and inexorable slope. Eventually she’d land at the bottom with an almighty thud.
Malik was silent for a long, tense moment, his hard stare seeming to take her full measure. ‘Improbable, yes,’ he said at last. ‘Unbelievable, even.’ His gaze pinned her in place. ‘But not impossible.’ There was steel in his voice, in his eyes, and Gracie came up against it hard.
‘And if I refuse?’ she asked in a low voice. ‘If I say no to all of this and take Sam back to America...’
Malik narrowed his gaze to silver slits. ‘Is that a threat?’
‘It feels like you’re the one threatening me.’ How had they got to this place? Moments ago she’d been berating herself for embroidering some fantasy that involved her, Malik and Sam forming some version of happy families. Now they’d reached this terrible precipice, and Gracie had no idea how far the drop was, or how hard the landing. It was as if a kaleidoscope had turned, shaking everything up and creating an entirely new and unwelcome picture. Sultan. She wasn’t ready for that, not for Sam, and not for her.
‘There is no threat,’ Malik stated. ‘But there is the reality that Sam is my heir. Sam’s legacy is the sultanate of Alazar. You cannot deny him his heritage. Indeed, I do not think you would even wish to.’
Gracie swallowed hard. ‘You can’t just spring this on me, Malik, and expect me to accept it instantly, no question...’
‘Gracie.’ Malik’s voice turned gentle, tugging at her. ‘Surely this did not come as a complete surprise. You must have realised something of this.’
‘No.’ She shook her head, the movement almost violent. ‘No, I never thought... I imagined that you’d have Sam to visit, or maybe come to Illinois...’ She trailed off, because even to her those scenarios now sounded ludicrous. Malik didn’t belong in Illinois. She couldn’t expect him to simply slot into her life...and yet he was asking her to slot into his. ‘I don’t know what I expected, but not this. I mean, will the people of Alazar even accept Sam? They sound so traditional and he’s American. You’ll be springing this on them as much as on me, and they might not like it. They might rebel like they did before.’
‘True. He will have to be introduced to my people very carefully.’
‘And what about his life back in Illinois...?’
‘I have no intention of cutting him off from his family,’ Malik interjected swiftly. ‘There can always be visits.’
Visits. Gracie stared at him, shocked at just how much Sam’s life—and hers—had changed. Utterly. Irrevocably. And resistance felt futile. Malik leaned over and rested one hand on her bare knee.
‘I realise this is a surprise. But you must see it is the right way, the only way.’
‘I must?’ Because she didn’t know what else to do, she railed against his autocratic tone. ‘I don’t think I must do anything. I came for a two-week visit.’ Gracie heard her voice becoming high. ‘And at the end of two weeks, I’m taking Sam back to America. That’s what we agreed on.’
Malik withdrew his hand. The gentleness she’d seen so briefly in his eyes had vanished. When he spoke, his voice was soft and yet as lethal as a blade. ‘Do not threaten me, Grace.’
‘I’m stating facts—’
‘Then I shall state one, as well. Did you even look at that document you signed ten years ago?’
Gracie stared at him, her jaw slack, her mind scrambling. She pictured the paper Asad had shoved at her, her quick, desperate scrawl. ‘Yes,’ she managed. ‘It said that I couldn’t contact you or anyone in Alazar ever again.’
‘It also said,’ Malik informed her, ‘that you acknowledged me as the child’s father, and gave me permission to take him to Alazar should I require his presence.’
‘What?’ Gracie gaped at him. ‘But I didn’t read that—’
‘Perhaps you should have been more careful,’ Malik replied, ‘before you took your payoff.’
She recoiled, stung by his sneering words as much as this new, unwelcome revelation. Malik took a deep breath. ‘I don’t want to fight you,’ he said.
‘But you will if you have to?’ Gracie finished. ‘I get it now. All the nice stuff, all the smiles and kindness and the...the kissing...it was just you manipulating me to get what you want.’ Malik didn’t reply and Gracie clambered off the lounger, feeling sick. ‘At least now I know the truth.’
Malik’s face was closed as he said, ‘It isn’t like that, Grace.’
‘How is it, then?’ she demanded.
‘I admit, the circumstances are less than ideal and there is much for each of us to adjust to. But consider Sam for a moment. Consider the legacy he has been given, the privilege.’
‘You never seemed to think it was a privilege,’ Gracie retorted. ‘I remember back in Rome you said you chafed at the restraints of your duty. You didn’t even seem like you wanted to be Sultan.’
As soon as she said it, Gracie knew she’d gone too far. Malik’s mouth compressed, his features pinched. ‘I will always do my duty,’ he said in a low voice, and she realised she’d actually hurt him with those words. ‘As Sam should do his. Do you know how important securing the sultanate is? My country has been unstable for years. Ensuring my dynasty is crucial, not just to Alazar, but to the whole region, and even the world. You might think I am being melodramatic, but I assure you I am not.’
Gracie stared at him, his eyes blazing icy fire, colour slashing his high cheekbones. ‘But he’s just a little boy,’ she whispered.
‘And he will not be Sultan for a long time, God willing. But his place belongs here, with me.’
‘And what about me?’ Gracie asked, her voice a thread of sound. She had a sudden, horrible vision of Sam living in Alazar, while she came in for flying visits. She was the one who would have the visits, instead of her son. ‘Where is my place, Malik?’ Her voice throbbed with both fear and fury.
Malik’s gaze did not waver as he answered. ‘Your place is here, as well,’ he said. ‘With me.’
* * *
Malik watched as Gracie processed this information. Her face was flushed, her eyes flashing gold, her damp hair tumbling about her shoulders in unruly ringlets. She looked magnificent.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked unsteadily. ‘Are you going to stash me in some room in the palace? The harem?’
‘Actually,’ Malik said mildly, ‘this is the harem.’
‘What...?’
‘Did you know harem actually means forbidden place...?’
‘Oh, great!’
‘Because it is sacred. It is for the women’s privacy and modesty, not to keep them imprisoned.’
She folded her arms, defensive, fearful and yet still coming out swinging. ‘That’s just a fringe benefit, then?’
‘You are not imprisoned, Gracie,’ Malik said quietly, although he knew that was not quite the truth. He could not let her leave Alazar. Not yet, anyway. If she chose to leave after they were married, she would be leaving Sam, and he knew she would never do that. She was a prisoner, in that sense, and he felt an uncomfortable twisting of guilt in his middle.
Of course, at some point it had had to come to this. Peel away the flattery and the kisses, delightful as they were, and the reality was they had to marry no matter what. He could dress it up with flattery and flirting and seduction, but that hard reality would never change. He couldn’t care what she thought. Her feelings didn’t matter.
‘Listen,’ he said, and Gracie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘Give us all a chance to adjust. Let me show you my country, my people, and keep an open mind. There is so much good you could do here, Grace.’
‘Good...?’
‘Let’s the three of us go on a tour of Teruk tomorrow,’ Malik suggested. ‘I will show you the city’s sights, its heritage. And we can spend some time getting to know one another.’ The more he spoke, the more he liked the idea. He needed Gracie to relax and open up...and he knew he’d enjoy being with her. Already he could see her starting to soften and he reached for her hand. She didn’t resist although he could tell she’d thought about it and so he tugged her towards him. ‘You are tired and jet-lagged and so much has been sprung on you. Relax tonight with Sam, and tomorrow let’s spend the day together. The future will take care of itself.’
‘You make it sound so easy,’ Gracie grumbled, but with each tug on her hand she was coming towards him, until she was standing before him, her hips bumping his.
‘Maybe this can be easy,’ Malik murmured. He tucked a few strands of hair behind her ears, unable to resist letting his fingers trail along her neck. He felt a tremor go through her and he dropped his fingers lower, to her breastbone, his fingertips skimming the tops of her breasts. Another tremor went through her.
‘There is so much we could enjoy,’ Malik murmured. ‘So much we could do together...’ He pressed his mouth to the curve of her neck and felt Gracie sag against him.
‘Don’t...’ she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed. ‘I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to weaken my resistance...’
‘Is it working?’ he murmured as he moved his mouth lower, over the damp swimming costume, his tongue teasing the aching peak of her breast. Gracie groaned aloud.
‘This isn’t fair,’ she muttered, and Malik let out a ragged laugh.
‘Fair? Do you know what you do to me, Gracie? You haven’t even touched me and I’m on fire.’ He brought her hand to his chest so she could feel the thud of his heart. Without even trying, she was able to seduce him. A dangerous notion he would have to keep in check.
Gracie’s eyes widened and she pressed her hand harder against his chest. ‘I’m scared, Malik.’
Her admission, so honestly given, undid him in a whole new and disturbing way. He covered her hand with his own. ‘Why be scared?’ he asked softly. ‘This could be an adventure, Gracie, just as you always wanted. The greatest adventure of all...for both of us.’ As he said the words, he saw her face soften, the tentative hope light her eyes. He knew he was saying what she wanted to hear, but, unsettlingly, he believed it.
Half an hour later Malik left Gracie and Sam resting in the harem while he went in search of Asad. Gracie had made no promises, but he thought he’d defused the worst of her resistance. She had agreed to sightsee in Teruk with him and Sam tomorrow, and Malik hoped she would begin to realise the possibilities she could have here.
And as for him...? The idea of stashing Gracie in some distant palace as Asad had once suggested was repellent to him now. He wanted her with him, in his bed—and in his life, Sultana to his Sultan. As for these feelings she awoke in him...this protectiveness and affection and desire... Was this what his father had felt for his mother? Was this a weakness, a canker that would work its way through his heart and soul and leave him empty and powerless?
No. He would not let that happen. A convenient marriage, he determined, could still be an enjoyable one. There was nothing to keep him and Gracie from enjoying all of its benefits...without risking their hearts.
Asad was resting in his bedroom, and Malik paused on the threshold of the spartan chamber—his grandfather had always eschewed personal luxuries or even comforts as a sign of weakness—and observed the elderly man lying propped up in bed.
Asad lifted one claw-like hand as he gestured to himself. ‘As you can see, I am incapacitated today.’
Malik sketched a bow of obeisance. ‘I am sorry to hear it.’
Asad let out a rasping laugh. ‘Are you? Or are you pleased that the crown will soon be on your head, the sceptre in your hand?’
Malik kept his expression neutral as he replied, ‘You are not as ill as that, I hope.’
‘I have cancer,’ Asad said flatly. He looked away, his chin jutting out, his lips pursed. ‘I’ve known for several months. There’s nothing the doctors can do. I’m too old for treatment.’
Shock kept Malik from replying for several seconds. He’d known his grandfather was elderly and becoming more frail, but he had not guessed it was as serious as this. ‘I am sorry,’ he said at last. ‘Truly.’ He realised he meant it—Asad was the only family he had, the only parental figure he’d really known. Their relationship had been marked by hostility and harshness, but it had still been a relationship. It had mattered. Asad had stayed when his father had left, had chosen to leave him, to retreat from life because of a broken heart.
Asad lifted a bony shoulder in a shrug. ‘We all must serve our time and accept our due. I am not afraid of death.’ He turned back to pierce Malik with a dark and forbidding glare. ‘But I wish to have the succession firmly in place before I leave this earth.’
‘Of course.’
‘The boy is here?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the mother?’
‘Yes.’ Malik said nothing more; he did not want to talk about Gracie with Asad.
‘I wish to meet him.’
‘Of course, in time. He does not yet know I am his father.’
‘Why not?’ Asad demanded before gesturing to his wasted body. ‘As you can see, there is little time to lose.’
‘This must be handled carefully for the sake of the crown.’
‘You are too soft,’ Asad scoffed. ‘You are already soft on the boy, I can tell. Just like your father.’
Except his father had not been soft with him, not really. After those few foggy memories of childhood, his father had maintained his distance—and then left completely. As for the boy... Yes, perhaps he was soft on Sam. Because he knew what being hard felt like and it had done nothing but embitter him. Still he resisted the implication, the criticism. He’d heard it far too often, been mocked and berated for being soft. He would not be soft, not when it mattered. Not with Gracie.
