She knew all too well what it was like to have no one in whom you could confide, and Khal was in exactly the same position. For all the apparent strength and closeness of his family, he had always protected them from the truth. As sole ruler of Q'Adar, he wouldn't share his innermost thoughts with anyone. How sad and ridiculous that their different stations in life meant they could never be close, when they were so alike in so many ways. They had so much to offer each other, and all of that was to be wasted.
With a deep sigh, she turned to stare out of the windows at the harsh realities of a land undergoing change. But, even with all the upheaval she had experienced first-hand, she could see new Artesian wells, reflecting Khal's remorseless quest for water to feed his new crops. And even with her personal preoccupations she couldn't help smiling and pressing her face against the window to wave to a group of children who had gathered to watch the passing cavalcade. Khal's responsibilities seemed endless to her, and even with a council to help him he would make all the final decisions, decisions that would affect the future of all the children of Q'Adar.
They were shown into the VIP lounge where there was no possibility of Khal speaking privately with her, or even showing the affection towards Hana which Beth was certain he longed to do. However comfortable the lounge, it seemed a sterile place to say goodbye to someone you loved. There were so many people waiting to greet him, and as always Khal made each one of them feel special. He could be gracious and gentle and genial, with his warrior self completely hidden. But it was always duty for him-duty first, duty always, even now. No wonder his people loved him and trusted him to bring them the settled existence they had so longed for.
He came over at last and addressed himself first to the female bodyguard to whom he had entrusted Beth and Hana's safety. 'Take good care of them,' he said, glancing at Beth. As the woman assured Khal that she would, Beth held Hana closer, hoping beyond hope she had the courage to keep her dignity while Khal bowed to her in the traditional Arabian salutation before turning to go. She swallowed hard on her tears as he strode from the room, followed by his attendants. She felt instantly empty and lost. Her lover, her heart, had gone; half of her had been ripped away-the better half.
He took the small, fast car they had brought to the airport for him to drive, and pushed it to the limit along the seemingly endless desert road. He didn't want to think. He didn't want anything, or anyone. He needed space and privacy to lick his wounds like an injured animal. The pain of parting from Beth and Hana was unendurable. He had dismissed his bodyguards and outriders and now he needed only one companion-and she was lying deeply buried in the sand beneath her monument.
The Ferrari slewed to a halt in a spray of sand. Backing up carefully, he parked it at the edge of the stony track along which Beth had led her tiny group to safety. But he hadn't come to relive those memories, but to remember his sister and her bright, humorous eyes.
Those same eyes had held his gaze when she'd challenged him to exchange horses with her so she could prove herself the better rider. He'd been young and full of thoughtless energy then. He had laughed at her suggestion, and had sprung down readily from his mount. She'd had the better horse. He'd known it, and had longed to test it. It was a far faster horse than his, and though she'd pressed his stallion hard his sister had fallen behind him. He had been so suffused with triumph he'd punched the air, unaware that the desert had taken her. She had tried to cut him off and had veered from the track. She had been lost, sucked down into the treacherous quicksand, a silent and terrible death.
Since then he had never shared his thoughts with anyone, and had been closed off to feelings. He had embraced the responsibilities of Q'Adar with relief, if only because it had meant he would never have time to feel anything ever again. He had been so certain it would be enough and would bring him ease, but nothing could be further from the truth. He knew now that he only had one life, and must live it to the full as his sister had. He had always respected Ghayda's passion for life, and this half-life of his would have angered her, and did no honour to her memory. He had been so foolish, so blinkered and narrow-minded …
Resting his hand on the weathered stone, he watched the giant aircraft taking Beth and Hana home soar into the sky above his head. 'I love you,' he whispered to his sister, and to Beth.
Normally she felt a little glow of pleasure each time she slipped the key into the lock of her very own home. Growing up in a series of featureless institutions had made her intensely territorial, Beth supposed. But today she felt empty. Picking up the Moses basket, she carried Hana into the hallway and shut the door. The adventure was over. They had made a clean break from Khal at the airport, and now she had to get used to life without him.
She made a determined effort to force back tears when Faith emerged from the kitchen. 'What a wonderful surprise!' Beth exclaimed with genuine pleasure. 'I can't tell you how glad I am to see you. Does this mean your father's better?'
'Yes, it does,' Faith confirmed, giving Beth and Hana a joint hug.
It made things bearable. She needed friends around her to fill the empty spaces, though in her heart Beth knew those spaces would never be filled.
'Shall I take Hana upstairs for you and settle her?' Faith offered.
'I'll make us both a cup of tea while you do that,' Beth said, tenderly handing Hana over. She thought Faith looked happier than she had in a long time, and put it down to the worry about her father no longer troubling her. But Beth's smile faded the moment Faith and Hana were out of sight. She would never get used to life without Khal in it.
She made a pot of tea and then walked, pensively nursing her mug, into the sitting room … where she almost dropped it. 'Khal?' Her lungs contracted, and she had to steady herself with her hand on the back of the sofa. 'How on earth?'
'Did I get here before you?' he said, moving out of the shadows. 'I cheated.'
Even in Western clothes he was an incongruous sight in the small, neat room.
'Well, Beth … Aren't you going to say hello?'
The crease was back in his cheek, she noticed, and his gaze warmed her frozen lips. 'Hello,' she said foolishly. 'How?'
'You were in a lumbering passenger plane with a two-hour check in.'
'While you were piloting your own fast jet, and had VIP clearance.' she finished for him. She was just an ordinary girl in an extraordinary situation, Beth realised as Khal smiled faintly in agreement.
The crease in his cheek deepened. 'What's a jet between friends, Beth?'
'Friends … '
'I hope so.'
'Why are you here?' She spoke in a very small voice, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.
'Because we have unfinished business. And because I want you back,' he said after a moment.
'I can't … Not again-'
'Hear me out. I need you in Q'Adar. The country needs you.'
'Q'Adar needs me?' she said frowning.
'Wasn't it you who said that a country is more than a balance sheet?'
'But I'm an outsider; I don't know how to help.'
'You told me you had plans … The nursery, remember? And that was just the start, you said. You told me a country needs a heart. You are that heart-or you could be, if you wanted to be. And remember, I spent all my school years and most of my adult life out of the country, so I'm a stranger too. But I went back to Q'Adar, and I'm glad I did. The country needs strong leadership, Beth, or it will descend into chaos.'
'I wouldn't fall apart,' she said, eyes growing misty as she allowed herself to share Khal's dream for a moment.
'I know that. I also remember something else you said: a country needs more than strong leadership, it needs a human face.'
'But not my face.'
'Aren't you Beth Tracey Torrance? Aren't you the same girl who turned my world upside down? Well, Beth? Have you nothing to say? Have I found a way to silence you at last?'