Modern Romance April 2017 Books 5 - 8. Кейт Хьюит
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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.
IT WAS ANOTHER BRIGHT, hot day when Gracie, Sam and Malik headed out to explore the city of Teruk. Malik had smiled in approval at Gracie’s modest sundress and headscarf, and Sam had rolled his eyes.
‘You’re really taking this “when in Rome” thing seriously, Mom,’ he said.
‘That’s right,’ Gracie answered lightly. ‘Don’t you forget it.’
After spending several hours staring up at the ornate ceiling last night, her mind going in useless circles, she’d decided to let the day speak for itself. There was simply too much to process from what Malik had said to what he hadn’t said, and without knowing everything all she could do was worry. What place would she have in Malik’s life? What would Sam’s life look like? Would he go to school? Could he still be a regular little boy? And if she lived in Alazar, what on earth would she do?
By sheer determination she had pushed the questions aside and eventually dropped off to sleep, only to wake up this morning and have them crowd in again. It took another big effort to stop from worrying them over like a dog with a well-chewed bone, but now, after a pleasant breakfast of pastries and coffee with both Sam and Malik in the palace’s splendid gardens, she was looking forward to exploring the city—and spending time with Malik.
Malik was in good spirits, dressed in a more casual thobe, his skin bronzed and gleaming against the cream linen, chatting to Sam about the history of Teruk as they were driven into the city. Sam was soaking it all up like a sponge, his curiosity as insatiable as ever.
Gracie sat back and enjoyed the view of the ancient cobbled streets and wide, sweeping squares, many with fountains in their centres, as she half listened to Malik talk about a resounding victory against the Ottoman Empire in the thirteen-hundreds, when the soldiers of Alazar camped in the mountains and ate their horses when they’d run out of food.
‘We are a strong and independent people,’ he said, with a hand on Sam’s shoulder. ‘We always have been.’
‘And stubborn?’ Gracie teased, and Malik gave her an answering smile.
‘That, too.’
The palace was in Teruk’s old city, although Gracie glimpsed a few glittering skyscrapers in the distance. Malik followed her gaze. ‘Mainly banking,’ he said. ‘I am trying to promote industry and trade with the West.’
‘And is it working?’
‘Yes. Alazar has been very traditional, but any country must adapt to keep up with the times.’
‘So where are we going exactly?’ Gracie asked. ‘What are you showing us?’
‘A little slice of life in Alazar. The city’s university, one of the oldest in the Middle East, and then the park and a school and the marketplace. I hope you will enjoy it.’
‘I’m sure I will.’ Already Gracie found she was enjoying being out and about; all the new and different sights were both interesting and invigorating, the sense of adventure she had, out of necessity, had to suppress stirring to life once more, enough to keep her earlier concerns at bay.
A few minutes later the car stopped in front of a large, ancient building with three sets of Moorish arches and lavish mosaic-tiled floors.
‘This bit is a museum now,’ Malik explained. ‘But the university is still active, with a thousand students.’
‘Men?’ Gracie guessed, and Malik smiled in rueful acknowledgement.
‘Mostly men, but we have had a few women gain admission in the last few years. It is something I am pushing to see much more of.’
‘There are schools for girls?’ Gracie asked, and Malik’s smile deepened.
‘I thought you might ask me about that.’
They toured the university, poring over ancient manuscripts and artefacts that were both beautiful and exotic. A lecturer at the university, who spoke flawless English and gave both Gracie and Sam a warm welcome, ushered them to a courtyard filled