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And he was equally certain he did not want her to leave, though he knew she was right to—he did not want her whiling away her days in thehammam.
His father would never consider her a suitable bride, and neither would the palace elders.
Love was not part of the plan for a future king.
Ilyas had never once doubted his future.
That he would be king had been decided before conception. He had been born for just that after all.
And every day of his life he had planned for it.
Yet today it felt like nothing more than painful duty because he wanted to cancel the car and summon the jet and whisk them both away.
Ilyas rarely took a day off, but a holiday away from the palace with Maggie, watching her pale skin turn bronze, teasing her into submission...
He looked at Maggie, all set to leave, and couldn’t help himself asking again for more time.
‘What if we went away for a few days?’
‘Where?’
‘Anywhere.’
He offered her heaven, but she had already checked the small print of his offer.
‘No, thank you.’
One day, hopefully not too far from now, she would try to fathom just how it felt to be so drawn to someone while at the same time knowing she had to leave.
Maggie had learnt not to get upset at goodbyes.
They had all been a rehearsal for this morning, for it was by far the hardest goodbye of her life.
He walked her out through a large doorway to an area where the car waited to take her to the airport.
There were other cars too, some leaving and some arriving, like a very exclusive taxi rank, as the palace and its people went about a busy working day.
She would miss this for ever.
He saw her right to the waiting car.
‘Thank you for kidnapping me,’ Maggie said, making him smile.
‘And thank you fornotbeing Suzanne.’
That made her laugh just a little.
He had made her laugh and he craved more of that sound. No, humour was not his forte, yet he was discovering it just to see more of her smile.
‘Ilyas...’
He turned briefly at the sound of his name and so too did Maggie.
It was her first sight of the king.
Maggie knew that it was him, just as she had known, when first she’d seen Ilyas, that he was a leader. King Ahmed was walking with some of the palace elders; perhaps that was how he did his business, Maggie mused.
He was as dismissive of Maggie as his wife, the queen, had been, for he paid no attention to her, just spoke in Arabic to his son and then went to walk inside.
