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The Sultan’s black eyes narrowed. ‘And?’
She forced herself to say the words, to make him think that she had accepted the future which had been planned for her. A future which could now never happen, because what prospective royal husband would wish to take a bride who carried another man’s child?
‘I know that my place is here, Murat,’ she said quietly. ‘But before I immerse myself in the life which has been mapped out for me—could I not have an overseas trip?’
Beneath his silken headdress, Murat’s dark brows knitted together. ‘What kind of trip?’ he echoed.
Leila could hardly believe she’d got this far and knew she mustn’t blow it now. She thought about the tiny, forbidden life growing inside her and she drew in a deep breath. ‘You know that Princess Sara has a place in London?’
‘So I gather,’ said Murat carelessly.
Leila watched her brother’s reaction closely, but if he was hurt to hear the name of the woman he’d once been betrothed to, he didn’t show it.
‘She often writes to me and tells me all about the fabulous shopping in the city,’ Leila continued. ‘Many times she has asked me to visit her there. Couldn’t I do that, Murat—just for a few days? You know how much I love shopping!’
There was silence for a moment. Had she made her request sound suitably fluffy? If she’d told her brother that she wanted to go and see a photographic exhibition which was being launched, he would never have approved. He was one of those men who believed that shopping kept women subdued. Lavish them with enough stuff and it kept them satisfied.
‘I suppose that a few days could be arranged,’ he said eventually.
Leila gave a little squeal of joy—showing her brother the gratitude she knew would be expected of her—but it was with a heavy heart that she packed for her forthcoming trip. She thought about the terrifying secret she carried. About how humiliating it was to have to seek out a man who did not want her, to tell him something he would be appalled to hear.
Arrangements were made between the palace and Princess Sara, who Leila had known since she’d been a child. Sara had once been promised to Murat himself but was now married to Suleiman, and they had homes all around the world.
With a retinue of bodyguards and servants, Leila flew by private jet to England where they took over the entire top floor of the Granchester Hotel in central London. She was one step closer to Gabe. One step closer to sharing her news—and didn’t they say that a problem shared was a problem halved?
But then she remembered his cold face as she’d sat beside him at the banquet. She forced herself to recall the fact that he had never wanted to see her again. There was to be no fairy-tale ending with this man, she reminded herself sombrely. She looked out of the penthouse windows of her hotel suite, across a beautiful park alive with flowers—and a terrible feeling of isolation came over her.
She could see couples openly walking together—their arms looped around each other as they kissed. A young child chased a dog and, behind him, a woman wheeled a pram. Everyone seemed part of the world which lay before her eyes—all except her. And Leila couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so alone as she did right then.
Knowing she couldn’t keep putting off the dreaded moment much longer, she picked up the hotel phone and dialled Gabe’s office, her heart pounding with apprehension. She had to go through two different people before his voice came on the line, and when it did—he sounded distant.
Wary.
Terror gripped her as she realised she was about to drop a live grenade into his perfect life.
‘Leila?’
‘Yes, it’s me. How...how are you, Gabe?’
‘I am well.’ There was a pause. ‘This is a surprise.’
‘I imagine it is.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘Look, I need to see you.’
‘I thought we’d agreed that wasn’t such a good idea. And anyway, I’m back in England now and I’m not planning to return to Qurhah for a while.’
Leila stared out of the window. The child which had been chasing the dog had fallen over and a woman—presumably the child’s mother—was picking him up and comforting him. She realised how hopelessly ill-prepared she was to become a mother and her heart clenched. ‘I’m in England too,’ she said. ‘In fact, I’m in London.’
She could hear so much more in that second pause. She imagined his mind working overtime as he tried to figure out what the hell she was doing in England and why she was calling him. And if he asked her outright—would she have the guts to tell him on the phone?
