‘And if...if there were any children?’
Sabir looked even more uncomfortable.
‘Sadly, they could not be publicly recognised, but they would know their father.’
No, they would not. She would not be a party to that. Hiding sweet, blameless babies away like dirty little secrets. No matter how much she loved their father.
She buried her face in her hands as a wave of something like grief tore through her. Was this how her mother had felt? Was it this agony that had made her give up on life and drink herself to death?
But she was not her mother. She was stronger. She could survive on her own and she was definitely worth more than a life lived skulking in secret.
She’d decline Khaled’s shameful offer because Lily Marchant was done with being second-best.
She lifted her head. ‘The flight to Greece—can it be rearranged to take me home to London, instead?’
Sabir’s expression brightened. ‘Yes, Miss Marchant. It can.’
‘And how soon can I leave?’
‘As soon as you wish it.’ He stood, purposeful and efficient Sabir again. ‘I’ll make the arrangements at once.’
‘You won’t get into trouble?’
He sent her a rueful look. ‘You must let me worry about that, madam.’ He was at the door when he turned back to her. ‘This recent offer notwithstanding, His Highness is a good man.’
She gazed up at him. ‘I’m going to miss you, Sabir.’
‘And I shall miss you, and how the Prince has been with you here.’
Her mouth lifted in a small, sad smile. ‘Impossible, you mean?’
‘No, madam. Alive. More alive than I have ever seen him.’
A lump of raw anguish knotted her throat. ‘Look after him for me, won’t you?’ she whispered.
Nonsensical though that was, Sabir, bless him, answered as if it mattered. ‘Always. You have my word on it.’
With that he gave her a low bow that she’d only ever seen him use with the King and Queen. The highest mark of respect he could bestow upon her. And that little kindness helped bolster her resolve more than he knew, because as he left, taking with him her last link to his master, and her world turned empty and grey, she almost ran after him, to tell him she’d changed her mind. But that bow reminded her that to some she was worthy of respect. Worthy of more than a life lived as man’s plaything. However exalted the man himself might be.
Khaled’s royal head gear still sat on the sofa beside her. The crumpled white cloth and the roped circlet taunted her. To think a few hours ago she’d imagined their owner might be about to make her his princess! What planet had she been living on?
She stood, leaving them where they lay. They were meaningless to her now.
George’s promised car would be waiting.
Let it. She was leaving anyway. What did it matter how? He had spies who’d informed him that she and Khaled had been together last night. Let him find out she’d left in the same underhand way.
She wandered to the window, to gaze one last time at the dazzling view—another thing she knew would haunt her dreams in the years to come—and to wait for Sabir’s call.
It took her a few seconds to register that the soldiers patrolling the dunes today were much closer than usual. Almost in the palace grounds. Several of them were moving together and crouched low. That wasn’t normal either. Was this an exercise?
Icy fingers crawled along at Lily’s spine. The men were masked, their weapons raised.
What had George said? A foreign national getting caught up in this would be inconvenient? Was this what he’d meant? Was he launching an attack on the palace itself?
The security in this part of the Family Wing was minimal, to allow everyone their privacy. If they’d already got past the perimeter guards, how easily might those men below reach the Royal Court itself?
In the next breath, Lily was sprinting along the veranda. She had to warn Sabir and the rest of the staff.