CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Y OU ’ VE BEEN THROUGH WORSE .
Violet repeated this to herself over and over.
The world wasn’t scary without Sahir.
It wasn’t impossible either.
She just didn’t like it as much.
She refused to limp through the week. She smiled and chatted with the regulars at the library, and told everyone about Grace’s incredible wedding—oh, and although she didn’t share the location, or the company she’d kept, she told them about her horse-riding lessons and made her colleagues laugh,
She’d changed her mobile number at Heathrow and regretted it already, but it was done.
She checked online all the time. To see if there was any gossip from Janana...anything...
Nothing.
It was her final day of work and she pulled on a tight skirt, and a dark blouse, and somehow she felt strong.
But also sad.
Especially when she saw some drooping tulips in the window of the local florist.
They look like me...
There was a place inside her that could never quite be healed. This loss hurt more than anything else ever had, and she hoped she would never hurt more, but she was above all tough.
And she was loved.
Mrs Hunt was dabbing her eyes. She knew the decision to let Violet go had been impossible.
‘Don’t cry.’ She hugged her wonderful boss. ‘I’m going to be fine.’
Her heart was pummelled but her spirit was strong. She’d ended the lease on her flat, applied for new and exciting jobs, and made Persian Love Cake for her own party.
She even gave a little speech.
‘I don’t want to leave, but the truth is if I hadn’t been pushed I’d never have gone,’ Violet said. ‘Which means I’d have ended up watching you all leave...’
It wasn’t a very good speech, but today it was the best she could do.
‘I love you all—and thank you.’
And that was that.
She dragged the ladder to the poetry section, determined to find something at least similar to the book Anousheh had had.
She couldn’t find anything like it, though, and close to tears, halfway up the ladder, she felt herself sway slightly.
‘Careful.’
She felt hands on her hips, and any other touch would have made her jump. But never his. Always his touch felt steadying, as if it were a part of her...as if it was helping her right herself.
‘Slowly,’ Sahir said, guiding her down the steps and turning her to face him. ‘You are very pale.’
‘I’ve been on a diet.’
‘Diet?’ He frowned. ‘Why?’
‘A health kick.’
‘So healthy you faint up ladders?’ he scolded.
He was all shaved and suited, and she had to force herself to look at him. ‘I didn’t take those jewels.’
‘I know that.’
She blinked.
‘Had you not dumped your phone, you’d know that.’
‘I honestly didn’t—’
‘Violet, stop. I’m not here about that. I would like to invite you to dinner.’
‘No, thank you.’
‘You are refusing?’
‘Yes,’ Violet said. ‘We’ve had a big lunch for my leaving...’ But she refused to lie. ‘I’m saying no because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering if you are in London, or if you might drop in... Anyway, it won’t matter soon. I’m moving.’
‘I shall always seek you out.’
‘Kidnap and stalking...’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Are you married yet?’
‘No.’
‘Engaged?’
‘We don’t have engagements.’
‘Oh, that’s right—no romance. So, is there a wedding planned?’
‘Not yet.’
And she was weakening...wanting to know. ‘Has your bride been chosen?’
‘I am not discussing such issues here,’ Sahir said. ‘Let’s have dinner later. There is a car outside that will take you home to prepare.’
‘Hardly spontaneous...’
‘I want to dine with the woman I first met.’ He looked down at her drab skirt and blouse, and then to her pale cheeks and lips. ‘Not her shadow.’
‘Her shadow,’ Violet said, ‘is the sexy one.’
He smiled, and it was such a treat to see it, such a contrast to the severe man she’d met.
‘Very well, I’ll come to dinner—but not at your house. I won’t be hidden.’ She stared at him.
‘Oh? So what happened to private and intimate?’ He shrugged. ‘Very well, we shall dine at the Savoy.’
She gasped. ‘I didn’t mean that fancy.’
‘You’ve said you want to dine there, so now is your chance.’
‘I don’t want your car picking me up. I’ll take a taxi.’ She stared at him. ‘There and back.’
With her time at the library for ever over and tearful goodbyes said, running eternally late, she dashed home to her little flat. There she hurriedly peeled off her skirt and blouse, then stood in the bath and used the overhead shower.
There was but one dress, and it was possibly too much even for such a luxury hotel—unless it was for a ball of course. But the restaurant...?
And yet she loved it.
And it was hers now.
The purple rental dress that she would keep for ever.
Maybe she’d end up doing the housework in it, but tonight it was calling to her.
‘Come on,’ she said, taking the gorgeous gown out of the wardrobe. ‘We’re going out. One last time.’
She dressed it down. Belted it and wore pretty flat sandals. Kept her hair loose.
She saw Sahir as she entered the restaurant, and he stood as she approached his table.
Her first instinct was to run to him—to somehow leap across the tables and rush to the man her heart desired.
Her second instinct was to run in the opposite direction. To flag down a taxi and race home. Because, yes, he made her feel strong—and yet somehow he weakened her too. She was terrified of capitulating...of agreeing to tonight, tomorrow, to a whole lifetime, even...
‘Sahir.’
She took a seat and tried not to meet his eyes, yet she felt the seductive pull of him flood every pore. She saw a beautifully wrapped gift by her plate and recognised what it was. She tried to ignore it.
Even as his raised hand told the waiter to wait for a moment she recalled the heat of his palm on her skin, the touch of his fingers... And not just the intimate touches, but the way that hand had held her own.
She met his eyes. Today, so many things had ended. And while she might not have wanted them to...
‘You haven’t opened your gift.’
She would have liked to be strong enough to refuse it, but amongst all her regrets was one that she had no memento of their time together.
It was wrapped in silk and tied with gold cord, but she saw it was the book of poems and she held it to her face and inhaled it, shivering with delight.
‘Thank you.’ She put it on the table, but then changed her mind and put it in her bag, along with the silk and the cord. ‘I don’t want to spill anything on it.’
‘Of course not.’
Violet put down the menu. ‘Can I say something?’
She couldn’t order and make it through a meal, just carry on eating, flirting, falling a little more under his spell.
She knew she was strong, but part of knowing your own strength was knowing your weakness—and Sahir would be hers for ever.
‘I don’t want to be your mistress.’
‘Violet...’
‘Please.’ She put up her hand now, just as he had done as he told the waiter he did not want any interruptions. ‘I knew you’d come. Maybe not today, but some day. But perhaps I’m being unjust. Maybe when you marry...’
She wanted him to be the man she wanted for herself.
The heat of the candle had her moving her hand, but he singed it with his fingers, and now she could touch him. She felt his lovely cheek and strong jaw.
‘I don’t steal.’
‘Violet, please can we not—?’
‘Please let me speak, Sahir.’ She was finding it hard enough to articulate. ‘I do have a compass, but not north and south... If I was your second wife, or whatever, it would be stealing. I believe a heart belongs to one person, and I couldn’t do that to another woman. It would be taking something that wasn’t mine, just because I want it, and it would hurt her. Anyway, I’m sick of being second best.’
He said nothing.
‘I think I should go,’ she said.
‘Dine with me.’
‘No.’ Violet shook her head. ‘Because then I’ll forget all my own rules and we’ll end up in bed. You know that. I know that...’ She glanced over to where Layla and Maaz sat. ‘They know that.’
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Can I speak now? Uninterrupted?’
‘I won’t stay.’
‘You had your chance to speak,’ he said.
She glanced over and waved to Maaz and Layla. ‘Am I to be kidnapped again? Will they not let me leave?’
‘You can leave any time. I just ask that you hear what I have to say. Although I would prefer us to have this conversation in private. I have a suite here...’
‘I’m not falling for that. Like your massage.’ She shook her head. She knew if she went to his suite they’d tumble into bed. And then she’d love him even more. And... ‘No.’
‘Why don’t we just have dessert?’
She nodded, and stared at the menu, but then he spoke with the waiter and the gorgeous velvet folder was removed.
‘I hadn’t chosen.’
‘Violet...’ He sighed in exasperation. ‘I’m trying to have a serious conversation.’
She’d hoped to sneak a copy of the menu, use it as a bookmark. But of course she couldn’t tell him that, so she nodded, and stopped thinking about strawberry tarts and lemon meringues—oh, and chocolate and chestnut terrine.
‘After that first night, when those images of us were briefly aired, my father saw them. He knew that his son was in love...’
She looked up.
‘We barely knew each other then—’ she attempted.
‘Violet,’ Sahir interrupted. ‘We might not have realised it, but my father did. Aadil had alerted him to the threat, and then I called, requesting a week off.’ He reached for her hand. ‘I think by the end of that week perhaps we would have caught up with the same idea?’
She stared at his face, right into those eyes, and it was like watching a door open. It was as if she was being invited in—as if the noisy restaurant had disappeared and they were alone in the desert, or in a garden in London, or even her tiny flat.
It mattered not. They were in love...
‘My father panicked...knew the danger. Because it is completely forbidden. A ruler can only...’
‘I know the law.’
‘My father...’ He looked at her. ‘He, more than most, knew the difficulties ahead if I broke that law.’
She wouldn’t tell him what his father had shared with her, Sahir realised, and he was so proud of her for that.
Violet frowned as the waiter came over, carrying a silver tray. He removed the cloche and lit up the dessert so it danced with blue fire.
‘I’ll give it a miss,’ she said, and gave him a smile.
‘You don’t want dessert?’ asked Sahir.
‘I don’t like fruit cake, or pudding, or anything...’ She went to grab her bag. ‘I really must go.’
‘Well, I asked the chef to prepare it especially. Apparently, it was my parents’ favourite treat when they were in London...’
‘Oh?’ Violet said airily, as if she didn’t already know.
‘Now...’ He took a jug and poured a very generous amount of cream over the dessert, and then scooped up some brandy butter with a silver spoon and held it out.
She reached forward, took the spoon in her mouth—because at least a mouthful of pudding would stop her from being indiscreet.
Oh, dear.
She loathed brandy, but this tasted of rum—and she hated that even more. It was so thick and rich, and he was watching her chewing it, forcing it down, and then taking a drink of water...
‘Here,’ he said, taking another scoop, still watching as she grimaced for a second time. ‘Violet, I know you and my father spoke.’
Thank goodness her mouth was full. She kept chewing.
‘I know.’ He nodded. ‘My father was stunned that you hadn’t told me.’ He took her hand. ‘I wasn’t. I was proud. Violet, he panicked because he’s unwell...’
He stopped. And as his eyes lifted Violet saw agony. She knew then just how serious this conversation was, especially with Layla and Maaz so close.
‘Perhaps we could speak in private,’ she said.
‘Thank you.’
She was shaking as he led her out, and yet still she did not want to break the King’s confidence, unsure just how much Sahir knew.
‘We’re not staying in the same suite they did...’ he told her.
Her eyes widened. ‘I’m not staying at all,’ she corrected. ‘We’re just talking.’
‘Of course.’
He opened a door, and the second it closed behind them she turned frantic eyes to him.
‘The King is okay,’ he said. ‘Although last week they thought he needed surgery.’
‘Where?’
‘On his brain.’
She started to cry.
‘Violet, it’s going to be treated with radiation, and the tumour is very slow-growing. We pray he’s going to be okay, but I couldn’t come to you straight away.’
‘Of course not.’
‘I had to sort things out.’
‘I know.’
‘Come on.’
She walked into his suite and never before had she felt as if she was coming home. Here, in a hotel she’d never been to, for the first time in her life she felt as if she were home.
There were pale pink tulips in vases... And on the television screen there she was—standing on his balcony, her dress shimmering in the morning sun... And there was a trolley with the entire dessert menu laid out on it... And then she gasped, because on the mantelpiece there was a photo of her, with Sahir standing behind her, watching her.
‘I’ve never been on someone’s mantelpiece.’
There were little pieces of her everywhere.
‘My favourite tea,’ she said, and smiled, opening the jar.
‘In case you decide to stay a little while.’
‘I’m too needy to be a mistress. And I’m not just being moral—honestly, I’ll be the most dreadful, demanding...’
‘I only want you,’ Sahir told her. ‘You come first.’
Those words stopped her from speaking, from breathing. It was as if a terror she hadn’t even known had left her.
‘Hold out your hand.’
‘Stop it.’
She wasn’t sure this was happening—especially when he told her to place her palm up.
‘Here...’ He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out not a ring, but a vial. In her palm she felt a cold sensation. Opening her eyes, she stared at the small heap of orange sand from his land.
‘You pour it back into my palm,’ Sahir said. ‘If you want this to continue.’
‘If I want what to continue?’ Violet frowned.
Oh, what the hell?
She poured it into his palm and ground it in. And then she threw it away and kissed him, because those lips were irresistible.
‘Violet...’
He moved to peel her back, but their time apart meant that was impossible, and he kissed her back so hard, so deeply, that she was sinking. And then she was being carried to a bed and kissed again. And it still felt like home because soon she was being made love to, her violet gown ruched around her waist and pulled down at the top, being kissed all over...
Being made love to by Sahir was what made it feel like home.
‘You made me wait a week...’ She smiled over to him.
‘I had to source this.’
He reached over and opened a drawer. She saw a gorgeous polished wood box with a beautiful clasp.
‘Purple diamonds are very rare.’
‘Violet,’ she corrected.
‘Violet diamonds are even rarer.’
The ring was absolutely exquisite, almost in the shape of a heart, and he slipped it on her finger. But she was crying, and a little cross.
‘You put me through hell for a week to get this? You could have called the library, or...’
He kissed her nose.
‘It’s complicated when a prince chooses his bride. I had to go to the desert for deep reflection—even though my decision was already made. Even though the council already approved.’
‘The council approves?’
‘They know I will not hide, and they know I will not take this lightly, so they agreed I could select the sand for our wedding.’
‘I don’t understand...’
‘The sand you just threw...’ He kissed her mouth. ‘We have to find every grain.’
Her eyes widened.
‘Will you marry me, Violet?’ He put his hand up before she could answer. ‘Before you say yes or no, know that if you accept then one day you will be Queen.’
‘On one condition,’ she said.
‘It’s a yes or no answer.’
‘On one condition,’ she said again, and stated her demand.
‘That’s never happened before.’ He shook his head as she lay there silent. ‘I can’t see it working...’
‘I can,’ Violet said.
‘Very well.’ He nodded.
‘Then I would love to be your wife.’