“Well, he didn’t.”
“Not through his own choice. And then there’s the fact that, after his marriage didn’t happen, he chose not to contact me. You don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to make a reasonable deduction that he’s not interested in me.”
“Or that he believes any advance from him wouldn’t be welcome. And then there’s his family history. Come on, Luce, you know what happened to his mother. He adored her and she just retreated, left him to it because she couldn’t handle life in Sitra. He’s terrified if he marries someone from outside his country, the same thing would happen. And he can’t do that to someone he loves.”
“Someone he loves…” she repeated faintly.
“Look, all I’m saying is, give him a chance. When you get to Sitra and see him—”
“I won’t be seeing him. Maia’s made arrangements for me to stay in an apartment in the city. I won’t be going anywhere near the palace. He doesn’t even know I’m going to Sitra.”
“When you see him,” Alex continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “give him a chance.”
“I gave him a chance, Alex,” she said quietly, “and he didn’t take it. He doesn’t want me.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Perhaps I should rephrase it. He might want me—I don’t know—but he won’t have me. End of story.”
“Not yet it’s not.” Alex grinned and walked back inside the cabin.
The heat hit Lucy like a wall as she left the airport terminal and she was thankful she’d bought a lightweight abaya and nijab. With her dark hair, tan and kohled eyes she hoped she’d fit in and, from the way no one was looking at her, she did.
As she walked toward the small taxi rank she passed a luxurious car whose driver stood, hands on hips, scanning the people leaving the flight with great care. She recognized him; he was from the palace. She put her head down and kept on walking. The thought that Razeen might have been alerted to her return and had sent the driver to collect her, briefly flashed through her mind. But she kept on walking. He’d made it clear he didn’t want her so why on earth would he have sent someone for her?
She jumped into a taxicab and gave him the address in the city she’d been given. Within ten minutes they were crawling through the busy, closely built old quarter. He parked outside one of the merchant’s houses and pointed. After collecting the key from the family who both lived and worked in the shop downstairs she went up the rickety steps to the first-floor apartment.
It was surprisingly beautiful—the furniture was obviously expensive—and great thought had been given to every detail: from the fully stocked refrigerator and cupboards to the bed, which was made up in snowy white linen. She trailed her hand along the highly polished table and opened the windows wide.
The views were amazing. The city spread out before her, its roofs, arched windows and peeling walls, all soft ochre and terra cotta, like so many daubs of water color paint on a canvas. Beyond the tumble of buildings lay the bay. She felt if she reached out she’d touch the blue, and feel the cool water. Just seeing the sea again made her feel more comfortable. The sound of the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer echoed over the city and the spicy aroma of coffee wafted up from the cafe below. It was perfect. And she always had to share perfect.
She reached for her phone and found a message from Maia. All was well and she’d be arriving in the city later the next day. Lucy softly blew out a tense breath. She was nervous for Maia but was reassured by her breezy message.
And a day to herself would give her a chance to visit Aakifah and her family. Maia had received one brief, formal letter from Aakifah letting her know that a doctor had called and given them the medicine her sister needed. Not only that, but clinics had been set up around the city where treatment was provided free and research was being conducted into some of the more common ailments. Maia hadn’t needed a letter from Aakifah to know this would happen. She knew Razeen wouldn’t let her down; she knew he wanted to do the absolute best for his people, no matter what the personal cost.
She rubbed her chest with the heel of her hand. It hurt. No matter what she told Alex, Razeen’s rejection of her hurt bad. Even overseas he’d haunted her mind every minute of every day. But here, surrounded by the sights and sounds of Sitra, it was more intense. The smell of the coffee reminded her of the taste of it on his lips; the glittering turquoise of the sea reminded her of making love to him in the surf: his body, so strong and lithe, holding her against him. She turned away from the sea. She had to get out. She swept up her bag and walked across to the door when the sound of a bell ringing loudly in the apartment stopped her in her tracks. She went down the stairs slowly and paused, before she lifted her shaking hand to the lock and opened the door wide.