Modern Romance April 2017 Books 5 - 8. Кейт Хьюит
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done a lot for this country,’ she said quietly as they got back in the car.
‘There is always more to do. And unfortunately my position has been more about dealing with military concerns than matters of education or business.’
‘Is that what you’re more interested in? Education and business?’
Malik shrugged. ‘It is my duty to be interested in all of it.’
They left the university to explore Teruk’s park on the outskirts of the city, a huge green space with surprisingly modern facilities for sport and leisure.
Gracie watched as Malik and Sam played an Arabic version of boules, rolling stone balls down a manicured lawn with grass like green velvet. With their dark heads bent together, it was impossible not to see they were father and son. She wondered if the security guards watching discreetly from the edges of the park noticed. When would Malik tell Sam about his future? When would he tell her about hers? Because more and more she was realising her life was truly in Malik’s hands...she could and would try to exert control, but it felt like fighting against the tide.
Seeing him smiling now, tousling Sam’s hair in a gesture of unusually easy affection, Gracie wondered if something could work between them all. If they could be a family of sorts. The possibility felt both outrageous and overwhelming. What was she really thinking? Hoping for? She was afraid to articulate it even to herself.
When Malik had mentioned possibilities, love definitely hadn’t seemed like one of them. Even when he was smiling or laughing—or kissing her—he seemed closed off, as if he was hiding part of himself from her. And did she even want love? Love was so risky. Her one experience of anything close to it had just about devastated her. Could she really be contemplating trying again—and with the same man who had hurt her so badly before? It sounded like insanity.
Malik glanced back to smile at her, and Gracie’s thoughts scattered. She couldn’t think of anything sensible when he looked at her like that.
After the park they stopped at a modest building on a side street near the Old City. A smiling woman in Western dress and a headscarf came out to greet them, making obeisance to Malik before she turned to Gracie with a smile.
‘His Highness mentioned that you had a particular interest in the education of Alazar’s girls and women. I am so glad to hear it.’
‘He...did?’ Gracie threw Malik a questioning glance, but he merely smiled blandly. Uncertainly she followed the woman into the building. It took only a moment for her to realise it was a girls’ school, and she spent a happy hour watching lessons, talking to teachers in a mixture of pantomime and broken English, learning about the strides they were making in education.
‘That was really interesting,’ she said when they were back in the car and Sam was busy looking out of the window at a market square full of people, from snake charmers to a dentist with a basket of pulled teeth by his feet. ‘Thank you for arranging it.’
‘I’m glad you enjoyed it,’ Malik returned. ‘You certainly looked like you did,’ he added, a smile in his voice. ‘I have not seen your eyes sparkle so much since Rome.’
Gracie laughed, discomfited and yet flattered, too. ‘Thank you, I think.’
Malik leaned towards her. ‘There is a place for you in Alazar, Gracie.’
Her heart felt as if it were lurching up into her throat. ‘Yes, but what kind of place?’ She looked away, not sure she was ready to hear the answer. ‘We can’t talk about this now.’
‘No,’ Malik agreed. ‘But soon. Very soon.’
His implacable tone gave Gracie a shiver of apprehension. Were his words a promise or a threat? She wasn’t ready to have that conversation, not when she didn’t know how she felt herself.
As the day progressed, Gracie turned what Malik had said over in her mind. Was there a place for her here? Could she get involved, maybe even make a difference in a way she hadn’t been able to in Addison Heights, championing the schools for girls, perhaps pioneering special needs education? The thought intrigued and excited her in a way little had in the last ten years. She had a place in Addison Heights, but it sometimes felt small and limited, with few prospects beyond working her part-time job and being the Jones kid who had messed up. Could things be different in Alazar? Could she recapture the young girl she’d once been, full of hope and crazy dreams?
‘Do you think your people will accept an American?’ Gracie asked when they were seated on the roof terrace of a café overlooking the square, glasses of refreshing mint tea placed in front of them. Sam was practically hanging off the side, a security guard hovering nearby, trying to glimpse the sights in the market square below.
‘I think in time,’ Malik answered. ‘Admittedly some of my people will have to be dragged into the modern age kicking and screaming, but I still intend for it to happen.’
‘And what of your grandfather?’ Gracie asked, lowering her voice even though Sam wasn’t listening. ‘I see what you’re doing, Malik. You’re showing me that I could have some sort of life in Alazar. While Sam is Sultan-in-Training, I could involve myself in charitable works, have a purpose, maybe more of one than I do in Illinois.’ She sighed, her gaze on the minarets in the distance. ‘And honestly, it’s almost tempting. Coming here has made me realise how stuck I’d become back home.’
‘It is not a waste, to be a good mother to Sam.’
‘No, but he doesn’t need me as much as he used to. I was starting to think about other things, getting my teaching certificate...’ She blew out a breath. ‘I don’t know. I think I was starting to feel stymied. And maybe eventually Sam would, too.’ She gazed at her son, who was drinking everything in. ‘He’s loving being here.’
‘So far it has been nothing but a holiday,’ Malik pointed out. ‘But I hope he will welcome his place here, in time.’
The thought made Gracie’s heart squeeze. ‘When will you tell him?’
‘Soon.’ Malik paused. ‘My grandfather told me yesterday that he has cancer.’ His gaze rested on the melee in the square below. ‘I believe he will only live a few months, if that.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Gracie said, and Malik sighed.
‘There is no love lost between us.’
‘But he is still the closest thing you have to a parent. No matter what, it is a loss.’
‘Yes, that is true.’
She took a deep breath. ‘So what does that mean for me? And for Sam?’
Malik turned back to look at her. ‘Sam’s position as my heir must be secured as soon as possible.’
‘Secured?’ A frisson of alarm skittered along Gracie’s spine. ‘How?’
Malik glanced at Sam and then back at her, his expression set. Gracie felt a stab of fear. He looked so determined. ‘By being legitimised.’
‘Legit—But how?’ She didn’t like to think of Sam as illegitimate. It was such a nasty word, a terrible concept. And yet for an heir to a throne, it was the unfortunate reality.
‘How does any child become legitimate?’ Malik asked in that implacable tone Gracie was starting to know well. ‘By his parents marrying.’
The words fell into the stillness like stones into a pool, creating endless ripples. From the marketplace below someone let out a shout, and as if from a great distance Gracie heard a babble of Arabic. She refocused her stunned gaze on Malik.
‘Are...are you serious?’ she stammered.
‘Never more so.’
Once again he’d completely shocked her, even as part of her acknowledged that she couldn’t really be that surprised. Had some part of her wondered or, heaven help her, even hoped this would happen? That Malik would find a way