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Even her mother’s death hadn’t made Liyah wonder if she would ever truly know joy again. Melodramatic?
Maybe, but she loved Sayed and she didn’t care if it made sense. It didn’t matter that she’d always thought it impossible to fall so deep so fast.
She’d done it and wasn’t sure if her heart was going to survive the blow of losing Sayed.
And yet the temptation to leave without seeing him again was strong.
Only, she wasn’t that person, the one who hid from the hard things in life. Hena Amari had set a better example than that.
Taking the time to change into a dark teal dishdasha Sayed had found particularly alluring, Liyah mentally prepared for the discussion to come.
She brushed her hair out until it shone and then draped the hijab over it loosely, framing her face to its best advantage.
Okay, so maybe she wanted Sayed to be at least a little sorry to say goodbye to her.
Opening the door, Liyah jumped back with a surprised squeak at the sight of Sayed there already, his fist raised to knock.
“Surely the sight of me is not such a shock,” he said with one of the smiles she’d started to think of as hers.
He never offered that particular expression to anyone else that she’d noticed. And Liyah had been looking.
“You know this is the harem. You aren’t supposed to be here.”
“I am emir.”
“And you still have to maintain traditions. What, is there some kind of secret passage you use, or something?” She really didn’t think Sayed walked by the door guard without a qualm.
Dark color slashed Sayed’s cheeks above his closely cropped beard. “Yes, in fact, there is.”
“What? Really? Where? Show me.” She was perfectly willing to be sidetracked from the discussion they had to have.
He laughed and shook his head. “You are pretty irresistible when you’re all enthusiastic.”
“So, show me.”
“After we talk.”
All anticipation drained away and she turned from him. “Dr. Batsmati called you, too. I thought he would.”
“Actually, I haven’t spoken to the good doctor.” Sayed’s gaze probed hers, stripping her bare if he but knew it. “Is this rather depressed appearance because he told you there was no baby, or that you are pregnant?”
“I’m not depressed,” she lied.
“Uh-huh.”
She flopped down onto the settee, no longer concerned with presenting the best image of the “one that got away” and equally uncaring about the secrets of the palace.
Did any of it really matter? “I’m not pregnant.”
“And you are unhappy about that,” he said, as if feeling his way toward something.
She sighed, tempted to lie again, but the man knew her more intimately than anyone else living. He would be able to tell. “Yes.”
“Because?”
“Does it really matter?”
“Oddly enough, it does. You see, we are in something of a predicament.” He dropped a newspaper onto the open seat beside her. “If you are unhappy at the thought of never seeing me again, all may not be lost. If you’re simply feeling baby fever, that’s another thing. Although it could work to our advantage, too.”
