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She was no fool. The Prince being found in her rooms would be scandalous.
She ran her hands through her tangled hair, tightened her wrap, then cracked open the door.
On the other side, his expression grave, stood Sabir.
‘Miss Marchant, forgive me. I must urgently find His Highness.’
Should she to lie to his secretary? ‘He’s... He’s...’
‘Here.’
Khaled emerged from the bedroom, almost dressed, pulling on the gauzy blackbisht, his face just as shadowed. ‘What is it?’
The secretary entered the suite, quietly closing the door behind him.
‘Sir, it’s your father. He collapsed in his rooms twenty minutes ago.’
Lily gasped, her face lifting to Khaled’s.
A muscle flexed in his jaw. ‘How bad is it?’
‘The doctors don’t know yet, sir. He’s being helicoptered to hospital. The Queen is with him.’
The noise Lily had heard. Not the departure of happy guests but Bassam, that kind, wonderful man, being rushed to Emergency.
‘Your mother asks that you follow with the Princesses,’ Sabir said.
Eleanor was gathering the family. She must fear the worst. Lily’s heart ached for them. And for the man beside her most of all, with that terrible new fear in his eyes.
‘How can I help?’ She laid a hand on his arm. ‘Shall I come with you? I could be with the girls?’
‘No, it wouldn’t be appropriate.’ He dismissed her offer without a glance, but then, on a shuddering breath, snatched her close, kissing her brow, softening the blow. ‘But thank you for your kindness. Stay here. I’ll send someone to you later. There are things between us to discuss.’
He offered only that cryptic comment. So she pressed her hands to his chest, giving comfort in the only way she could.
Until he was gone, striding away, and Sabir, with a bow, closed the door after them.
It was three in the morning—hours before the palace would be up—but going back to sleep would be impossible.
Lily perched on her bed and slid a hand into the tangle of sheets. Still warm from their bodies. Hers melted at the memory of what they’d done together, how he’d unravelled for her.
There are things between us to discuss.
A stunning notion had her on her feet, pacing the room. Was she seriously imagining Khaled might propose to her? How wrong to be thinking of her own happiness when Bassam might be fighting for his life. But she couldn’t help it. Last night had changed everything.
Khaled kept everyone at a distance. Even his family. He’d woven a near impenetrable barrier about himself. But when he’d sunk into her that final time there had been such a fragile joy in his eyes she’d known he’d surrendered an essential piece of himself to her.
For now, she’d wait as asked, and pray that Bassam would recover.
She showered, dressed, set her suite to rights. A servant normally did this, but today she resorted to housekeeper mode, needing to be busy.
She found a TV documentary about the Nabhani coastline. Two hours passed during which she stared at a screen filled with dolphins and whale sharks and took in almost nothing.
The sky lightened and early-morning sunshine poured in through her windows, filling the room with a brightness and hope she desperately clung to. A teary-eyed servant arrived with a breakfast tray, but no news.
The palace staff were waiting. Like her.
She nibbled on fruit, sipped tea, but had no real appetite. She was too worried for Khaled, desperate to be with him, to comfort him, support him.
