The King had laughed. ‘I thought the same thing about your mother. But she thrived on it. Lily reminds me of her. The same strength and courage.’
‘She told me I should forgive myself.’
‘A wise woman. You should listen to her.’
He’d nearly lost his father twice now, and still he’d never told him, never said...
‘I’m sorry, Papa. I never meant to hurt Faisal.’ His voice had cracked. ‘He was my brother.’
‘Oh, my boy, my boy,’ his father had said, gathering him up. ‘I’ve always known that.Always. But you would never let me close enough to tell you. We’ve worried for you so, your mother and I. But Lily’s brought you back to us. So marry her. She’ll make you happy.’ He’d chuckled. ‘And she’ll drive you crazy, and challenge you in ways that no one else can.’
Hadn’t she already done that? Forcing him to see his frailties and errors. Loving him in spite of it. Making him stronger.
Quietly, almost to himself, Khaled said now, ‘My father is right. My mother understood from the start. I just never knew this was how it could be.’
Faisal was gone. Nothing could alter that. But to live a half-life as penance was an insult to his memory. This was the debt he owed his brother and his father: to live the best life he could.
It was time to forgive himself and embrace all that life had to offer.
To embrace love.
He raised his head, looked into the eyes of this incredible woman and felt a seismic shift, a sense of absolute rightness. Suddenly the words were easy.
‘I’m yours,’ he said, simply. ‘I’ve been yours since the day you first put your hand in mine and led me out of that library. Perhaps I didn’t know it then, but I know it now. I love you, Lily. Whatever stupid, dishonourable offer I made in the past, don’t let that blind you to the truth. I’m in love with you, and I will be to my last breath.’
Whatever reaction he’d expected, it wasn’t the one he got.
She dissolved into tears—great, heaving sobs that shook her whole body.
Completely flummoxed, he did the only thing he could think of. He carefully scooped her up and placed her in his lap.
She clung to his shirt as the tears rolled on. ‘I’m sorry. I never used to be such a crier, but these days I can’t seem to stop.’
He dug a handkerchief from his pocket and presented it to her. ‘These are happy tears, though, aren’t they?’
The relief, when she nodded, was indescribable.
She blew her nose, then said uncertainly, ‘You really want me?’
‘Habiba, I’ve been out of mind these past few days, because I thought you’d kicked me out of your life for good.’
‘I was just scared,’ she whispered.
‘Me, too.’
‘You were?’
She looked up at him. The violence of her ordeal was still reflected in the bruises to her skin and the shadows in her eyes, but to him she’d never been lovelier.
‘Petrified. I knew I was in trouble from the moment you stepped out of that dressing room.’
She gave a weepy chuckle. ‘I knew the minute you took your shirt off.’
‘Shameless!’ he said in mock outrage, pulling her close again, with her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest.
She sighed in contentment and his heart swelled. But there was more for her to know—more pain he’d have moved mountains to spare her if he could.
‘There is something else...’