‘In the circumstances it will be a small wedding. You won’t want the pomp and bother of traditional festivities.’
Annalisa’s lips curved in a mirthless smile. If she married the man of her dreams she’d adore a big wedding. But the man of her dreams was a mirage who’d been the centre of her world for a few short days. Now he was no more. The real Tahir had no interest in her except for a light amusement.
‘Annalisa? I asked if there’s anyone you want to invite.’
She turned to meet his searching look and silently shook her head.
‘No one? I know your parents are dead, but isn’t there someone to support you?’
‘Apart from my uncle?’ Annalisa swallowed a clot of bitter regret. ‘I’d rather do this alone.’ At his steady look she felt compelled to explain. ‘I was close to my grandfather but he died recently too. The rest of my family are on the far side of the country. They aren’t like Saleem, but…’
But she didn’t know how they’d react to her news. Better to break it to them after the wedding.
‘My father and I were a team. We were always busy in the community and knew everyone, but there were no really close friends.’ Except scientists and scholars scattered around the globe.
At his quizzical look she shrugged. ‘There are people I could invite, but no one close. I live in a rural area bound by tradition. It was fine for me to help my father heal people, or represent them by lobbying for services, but I was different. I dress and speak differently. I was allowed freedoms my peers weren’t.’ She breathed deep. ‘For all I was born and bred there, I never fitted in.’
A pang of familiar longing pierced her. The yearning to be wanted and appreciated for herself. Her father and her grandfather had, but they were gone.
‘You’re alone.’ Tahir’s voice held a curious note. Not gushing sympathy, but an understanding she hadn’t expected.
‘Hardly alone. I told you I’ve got cousins galore, all wanting to organise a wedding for me with some local man.’ Her words petered out. That was in the past. What would her relationship with them be now?
‘And you are marrying a local man.’
‘What about you?’ She needed to divert her thoughts. ‘Will all your family and friends be here for the wedding?’ The idea of facing resplendent royal relatives and VIPs petrified her. She was enough of an outsider already.
‘Hardly.’ The single word held a bitterness so deep she stilled.
‘But you’re the King,’ she prompted, glad to talk about him instead of herself.
‘I’m the prodigal, the outsider,’ he countered, with a twist of his lips that held no humour. ‘I haven’t been in Qusay for eleven years. Since my father banished me for scandalous behaviour.’
Banished? She hadn’t read that in the press reports.
His father. The father he’d dreamed about. The one Tahir had imagined, in his delirium, beating him.
Surely that had just been a disturbing fantasy? Yet his sombre expression distressed her.
‘You didn’t know?’ he murmured, watching her face so closely she was sure he read her every thought.
‘No.’ She couldn’t imagine being cut off from the people she loved. ‘But you must have kept in contact with your family, even if your father…’
At the look on his face her words disintegrated. Hauteur froze his features in an expression of disdain that she hated.
‘There was no contact. My brothers didn’t know where I was, and I was too busy feeding and clothing myself for a long time to make many long-distance calls. Once I got on my feet there seemed little point. The split was a fact.’
Annalisa’s head spun. He’d been exiled and completely alone since…when? Eleven years ago he’d have been only eighteen.
‘But you have money.’ She gestured helplessly. This didn’t make sense. ‘The media loves reporting your wealth.’
‘Not as much as it loves reporting my misdeeds.’ He leaned back and thrust his hand through his dark locks. Suddenly he looked unutterably weary.
‘I left with nothing.’ He rolled his shoulders as if to relieve an old stiffness. ‘I built wealth through luck at the gaming tables, a talent for finance and sheer hard work. I’m sure no one was more surprised or disappointed than my father when I prospered instead of conveniently disappearing or dying.’
It was on the tip of Annalisa’s tongue to protest. But what sort of father exiled his son? Or inspired tortured dreams even after eleven years?
She clenched her hands, wanting to reach out and soothe the pain in Tahir’s eyes, so at odds with his severe countenance. But she wasn’t naïve enough to give in to the impulse. She didn’t have the right. He wouldn’t thank her for guessing at his hurt.