Modern Romance April 2017 Books 5 - 8. Кейт Хьюит
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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