And now he was alone. Alone with his thoughts and all the freedom he had once craved. Freedom from the unrealistic and claustrophobic demands of something he had never asked for. He did not want her love—a love he was incapable of returning. And when she had told him she could not live that way he had let her go.
He had done the right thing by them all.
It was better this way.
He went to his office, but instead of distracting himself with the stack of paperwork which awaited his attention he found himself staring at the gold-framed photograph of his son, which Caitlin had taken. It had been shot soon after they had named Cameron’s pony and it had been his son’s first ride on Bunni. He had been beaming with pride and achievement and the look he had slanted at him had been all for his father. A look which had been conspiratorial and full of comradeship. And love.
And that was the photo which Caitlin had printed off and given to him in this golden frame. ‘This is my wedding gift to you,’ she had announced shyly.
He had felt choked—he wasn’t going to deny that. And yet he had resented the way she’d forced him to feel that emotion. Had it been that which had made him nod his thanks and turn away in a manner which some people might have described as churlish?
Turning away from the window, he began to pace the room, wondering how he could bear to endure what he alone had orchestrated. Yet this was all for the best. Those were the words he kept repeating, like a mantra. If he kept telling himself it would be better for Caitlin and Cameron in the long run, then wouldn’t that make his pain easier to bear?
But first he had to start believing it himself.
Sitting down behind his desk, he picked up his pen and pulled a sheet of paper towards him, not lifting his head or turning around to acknowledge the soft sound of the door opening behind him. Makim would quickly infer from his forbidding demeanour that he was not in the mood for conversation, or interruption. The way he felt right then, he couldn’t imagine talking to anyone ever again.
He heard the sound of the door closing and still he ignored it.
‘Kadir?’
It was a soft voice. A familiar voice. The voice which had murmured softly into his ear or cried out his name more times than he could bear to remember and Kadir cursed the tricks the mind could play. But he would not be haunted by her memory. He could not let himself do so—for that way lay madness.
‘Kadir?’
The voice was a little louder now and Kadir froze, then turned round to see Caitlin standing there, still wearing the tweed skirt and blouse she had changed into before leaving for her flight.
Alarmed, he dropped his pen and rose to his feet, black fears like crows crowding swiftly into his mind. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong.’
‘Then...’ He tensed, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face for clues. ‘Why are you here?’
Why was she here? It was a question Caitlin had asked herself over and over during the drive back here and she still wasn’t sure if she had come up with the right answer. The only thing she had known was that she couldn’t go through with taking a sobbing little boy all the way back to Scotland. A little boy who had spent the entire journey to the airfield asking for ‘Papa’. This might not be the best course of action—for her—but it was certainly the right thing for Cameron and she needed to cling on to that.
‘I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t go back,’ she said. ‘Cameron was missing you so badly already. He didn’t want to leave.’
‘He didn’t?’
The look of surprise and relief in his eyes was so raw that to see it felt as if she were invading a part of him he had never intended to show. And Caitlin realised then, as she had suspected all along, that Kadir could feel emotion. Just not for her. ‘Mothers are supposed to put their children first,’ she said. ‘That’s something my own mother never did for me, n
or yours for you—and maybe it’s time to redress that balance. I have to think about what Cameron needs—which is to stay here and grow up with you.’
‘But I saw the royal jet flying westward.’
‘I dispatched Makim to bring his hamster back here. The air-conditioning in the palace means he should be fine.’
He was shaking his head. ‘I don’t understand.’
She could see that. It seemed she was going to have to spell it out for him.
‘You told me you didn’t do love, or, rather, that you couldn’t do love. At first I didn’t want to believe it because it didn’t suit me, but gradually I came to accept that what you said was true. How could I fail to? You went out of your way to show me that you meant it. You made sure you pushed me away and kept me at arm’s length. You rejected all my attempts to grow closer. After our honeymoon, it was like you shut down completely.’
‘That much is true,’ he said flatly.
It was a blank admission and one which sounded devoid of regret, but Caitlin hid her unrealistic sense of disappointment and continued.
‘But you do love your son, don’t you, Kadir? You love him so much that it’s a gift to watch you together—it’s wondrous. Yet you were prepared to let him go. You were prepared to sacrifice your own feelings to do what you felt was the best thing for Cameron—and me. And sacrifice is a form of love. In fact, it’s possibly the greatest form of love there is, because it’s totally lacking in ego, or self-interest.’