Modern Romance April 2017 Books 5 - 8. Кейт Хьюит
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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 the east wing, and given whatever they desired. He hoped they’d been able to amuse themselves in his absence, and that Gracie hadn’t started to worry as he knew she was prone to do, considering the circumstances.
He heard splashing as he entered the enclosed harem where his mother had once resided. It had been empty for decades, and it brought a faint smile to his face to hear the sounds of fun and laughter, as well as a pang for the distant days he barely remembered, when his mother had been alive. When he’d felt part of a family.
Sam was swimming in the pool, with Gracie sitting on the side, her bare feet dangling in the water, her long golden-brown hair falling in tumbled waves about her shoulders. She’d taken off the headscarf and Malik couldn’t say he missed it. He loved her hair.
She glanced up as Malik entered, the smile sliding off her face.
‘Hello.’ She sounded cool, reserved. Malik hesitated, discomfited by the sudden change in her expression.
‘You have been comfortable?’
‘Fine, thank you.’
Why so cold? he wondered. What had happened? ‘And your quarters are pleasing?’
‘How could they not be?’
Malik came closer, trying to untangle what was going on as well as to suppress the spike of irritation he felt at her inexplicable distance. ‘Then everything is well?’ he asked after a moment.
‘Fine,’ Gracie answered, her voice brittle. ‘Except...’ She took a shuddering breath, her golden-green gaze now full of hurt and accusation. ‘I just wondered when you were going to tell me about your fiancée.’
AS 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