Chapter Twelve
The helicopter landed and Liliana was taken to a building on the tarmac.
‘If I could have your passport, madam?’
‘Of course.’
There was no lining up at customs in Rafiq’s world. No feeding your passport into reluctant machines, or trying to find where to look at the camera. All that was quietly and discreetly dealt with.
There was no luggage, and in her far too tight skirt and her mother’s blouse and awful wedges, she must look quite a sight, but the attendant was far too polished to raise even the edge of her eyebrow.
‘The plane is just fuelling,’ the helpful attendant explained as she walked her through to airside. ‘It should be about an hour.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll come and knock when the captain is ready for you,’ said the attendant, opening up a door but not stepping in, just gesturing for Liliana to follow through.
And then Liliana realised why the attendant could not so much as step in.
A woman stood looking out of the window, and she turned and gave a tight smile as Liliana stood stunned.
‘Please,’ she said, ‘close the door.’
She did so. ‘Princess Yara.’
Yara was stunning,
She was draped in willow-green velvet, and had long, ebony hair that fell into curls, and it was completely overwhelming, worse than when she’d opened the door to her father’s wife.
‘Princess Yara, I would like to apologise…’ She paused, and only then did she notice there was another woman to the side, kneeling on a cushion with her head bowed.
‘If I had known that you and Rafiq, I mean Prince Rafiq…’ It really was impossible, but Yara nodded as if she accepted this conversation was indeed difficult.
‘Shall we sit?’ Yara suggested, and sat in front of her maiden, and Liliana took a seat opposite, grateful for the moment to gather herself.
She felt Yara’s eyes take in her outfit, and her blink of surprise when she saw her shoes, then she spoke.
‘It is a delicate situation.’ Yara paused for such a long moment, and Liliana didn’t know if it was an invitation to speak.
And she could not bear the silence. ‘I really am so sorry, I was appalled when I found…’
‘Please.’ Yara put up her hand to halt the slight tirade. ‘I am not here for an apology.’ She hesitated for another long moment and it would seem this very composed woman just did not know what to say, but then finally she spoke. ‘What has Rafiq told you?’
Liliana frowned. ‘He didn’t tell me about you—that’s the point.’
‘I meant, what has he told you since?’
Liliana glanced at the maiden, unsure how much she could say, and if she even wanted to reveal conversations between herself and Rafiq.
‘You can speak freely in front of Jasmine. Please, tell me what Rafiq has said.’
‘Not very much,’ Liliana answered, but Yara raised her brows in a gesture of disbelief.
‘That there is pressure from your families.’
‘Yes,’ Yara said and there was another long pause. This time Liliana didn’t fill it. ‘Did Rafiq tell you I am a botanist?’
‘No.’
‘Of course not, Rafiq would have no interest. I spend hours on my drawings. I have to go on trips to observe my beloved veiled orchid.’ She gave a slight helpless shrug.
‘Can you imagine discussing flowers with Rafiq?’ She gave a little laugh, a small ironic laugh which seemed to invite Liliana to nod and agree.
Except she could not, because her answer was ‘Yes.’ For indeed she could imagine discussing flowers with Rafiq.
He had looked at her fashion sketches, and they had spoken all day about his passion for horses.
‘Yes,’ she said again, ‘if flowers were my passion, then I could picture discussing them with him.’
Yara closed her eyes. Clearly this wasn’t going well, and there was another awful stretch of silence.
A dreadfully long stretch and, uninvited, Liliana filled it. ‘I shan’t be his mistress. I’ve already told Rafiq that.’
‘Prince Rafiq,’ Yara corrected.
Liliana felt her lips tighten, and she wanted to correct the princess, because if they were ever going to get anywhere then surely they had to drop the titles. She glanced to the handmaiden, wishing Yara would ask her to leave, but she just sat silently behind Yara, her hands resting in her lap.
‘Neither Prince Rafiq nor I want this marriage,’ Yara finally said. ‘The reason I was in London was to tell him that there was more pressure from my family.’
‘I see.’
There came a moment of relief, for Rafiq had not really been lying—well, not outright—and then the relief was removed when Yara next spoke.
‘I asked him to create a scandal.’
Liliana looked up. So too did her maiden, as if surprised by what Princess Yara had just said. ‘A scandal?’
‘I engineered this.’ Yara nodded, confirming her choice of words. ‘I wanted an excuse to delay the marriage. So, you see, Rafiq did nothing wrong…’
‘Really?’ Liliana offered a rather sarcastic response, dropping titles now, truly not caring, because finding out she had been a pawn in whatever games these two were playing really was the final straw.
‘I just wanted to clear things up. Rafiq is an honourable man. He was not cheating on me. There is no reason for you to apologise, and no reason for either of us to be cross…’
Liliana could have offered another cheeky ‘really’ but she had no more to say, and certainly she would not cry here.
‘I’m pleased to have cleared things up,’ Yara said, and her voice was a little shaky and Liliana realised the princess was also on the edge of tears.
She stood, ending the odd meeting, and for a moment Yara looked faint, as if she might have to sit straight back down, but her maiden helped her out from the greeting room.
Liliana was too stunned to even stand, but she did turn her head as they left and saw the maiden’s hand lightly touch Yara’s back. And in that second, she knew the two women were lovers.
It was the same touch she had given Rafiq that first night when she’d first seen his scars. That slight touch of support, if that was the right word, that moment of acknowledging the one you love’s pain.
Yes, love.
And it was then she accepted fully that she loved Rafiq, and that was why she could spend a day discussing pink horses with him. She loved him now, as she had loved him then.
As Yara did her maiden.
Or whoever Jasmine really was.
Yet, she’d been used all along.
Liliana hated what she’d found out. It had all felt so natural that night; that was what she’d loved about them…only it hadn’t been. Rafiq had been telling the truth when he’d said he had invented a persona. He had smiled into her eyes, said all she wanted to hear as they kissed for the camera.
She felt both angry and used.
And when those feelings remained, when they would not quieten or calm, when she sat airside, neither here nor there, the door opened and the most complex, best-looking bastard in the world—and the father of her baby, if indeed she was pregnant—stood there.
‘Liliana, I came as soon as I found out…’ For the first time she didn’t have to fight the instinct to run to him. Instead she fought not to slap him. ‘I had no idea Jasmine was going to do this.’
He’d met Yara on her way out, seen her crying, and for a moment he was sure she’d told Liliana her truth, and was so grateful.
‘Yara…’
‘I had to know for myself that you hadn’t told her…’
‘I haven’t.’
‘I came here to, I wanted to for you, I tried, but I’m sorry Rafiq, I couldn’t do it.’
That cold, slow-beating heart must have warmed a touch, because he actually felt the descent in his chest of a sinking heart as Yara cried. ‘I told her I was not cross, that you are an honourable man.’ She was sobbing. ‘But I could not tell her…’
‘It’s okay,’ Rafiq said.
They were standing on the tarmac and no doubt giving the ground staff hives at this very forbidden meeting, and so he nodded and walked off, and one of the staff gestured to the door.
Behind which was Liliana.
‘Thank you,’ Rafiq said.
He stepped in and she looked up, her face as white as porcelain and anger blazing in her eyes. She didn’t seem to want to hear that he’d had no idea Yara would arrange this.
‘You used me.’ She stood and walked towards him, and if he were not warrior trained, he might have been tempted to step back. ‘You used me,’ she said again, pointing at him with her finger.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Yara wanted a scandal and so you manufactured one.’
‘No!’ He was tempted to run out of the VIP suite and yank Yara back, but really what was the point? ‘I did not use you for even a second. I told Yara no when she requested a scandal.’
‘Liar,’ she accused. ‘Yara would do anything to stop it getting out about her and Jas—’
She had never been scared of Rafiq before, not when he’d pulled her into a car, nor when he’d fixed her with a glare.
Not even now, when he pushed a hand over her mouth and moved her to the wall.
‘Shh.’ He warned and wide-eyed she nodded, realising that her voice might have been rather loud.
‘Speak quietly.’ He moved his hand away, but his face remained so close she could feel his breathing.
‘Yara told you?’ His voice was an incredulous whisper.
‘She just told me she couldn’t bring herself to. ’
‘She didn’t have to tell me. Of course they’re together. Anyone could see it…’ She saw concern flash across his features. ‘I don’t mean anyone,’ she amended. ‘There was just a moment…’
‘Okay.’
‘Yara was upset. Jasmine reached out for her. I just knew. Women do,’ she sneered. ‘You wouldn’t recognise it if it was in your face.’
‘So why are you so upset?’
‘Because the two of you used me as some sort of pawn!’
‘Absolutely not. Can’t you see it would be terrible for Yara for this to get out? For her private life to be publicly dissected?’
‘Oh, but it’s okay for mine to be?’ She was starting to cry and trying hard not to, but felt so embarrassed at how easily she’d succumbed to his charm. ‘You used me,’ she accused again, ‘and I can’t bear that I let you. That I didn’t see.’
‘I was not using you,’ Rafiq said, ‘Liliana, you know what happened that night.’
‘I don’t know anything anymore. You lied to me. You should have told me.’