So it would not hurt to play tourist a little while longer. His mother would approve of his staying longer, at least. She could hardly disapprove of his relationship with Sera—she had practically forced them together after all. Plus, if Tahir ever bothered to make an appearance, it would be an opportunity for all three brothers to catch up properly.
But his plans to run the idea past Kareef when they arrived at the palace would have to be deferred.
Akmal greeted them in the buzzing forecourt with the news that there was still no sign of Tahir, and that Kareef had taken himself down to Qais for the running of the Qais Cup. The fact that it apparently also had something to do with tonight’s wedding of Jasmine, Kareef’s former lover, surprised Rafiq—although Sera seemed strangely unaffected by the news.
‘I thought from what you were saying that Jasmine was a friend of yours,’ he said, as they retrieved their personal belongings from the car.
‘She is.’
‘Then how is it that you aren’t going to her wedding?’
‘Maybe I don’t enjoy seeing a friend forced to marry someone she doesn’t love.’
And the way the shutters slammed down over her features, as if she was trying to shut out something she’d rather forget, told him it was true. He grabbed her hand across the seat as she reached for her purse. ‘You never loved him at all, did you?’
Her eyes didn’t lift from the upholstery. ‘There was only one man I ever loved.’
And before he had a chance to digest what she had said, let alone work out how to reply, she’d slipped her fingers from his and disappeared in a glide of sunset-coloured silk into the palace.
‘Did everything at Marrash go to your satisfaction, Your Highness?’ asked Akmal, who had suddenly reappeared at his elbow.
Rafiq’s eyes were still on the doorway Sera had disappeared into. ‘Very well, thank you, Akmal.’ On all counts. Except one… He swung his head around. ‘Although I’m afraid we lost one of the cars.’
‘It broke down?’ The older man looked sceptical.
Rafiq grimaced. ‘More like got bogged down. The last time I saw it, it was up to the windows in sand.’
‘Sinking sands!’ Akmal’s eyes opened wide, and for the first time Rafiq saw the unflappable Akmal, the man who oversaw the goings-on of an entire palace with the calm confidence of a born leader, actually look shocked—as if the prospect of losing one of Qusay’s princes was clearly not on his agenda. ‘I will speak to the drivers. I must apologise—it is unthinkable that something like that should happen.’
Rafiq put his hand to his wiry shoulder. ‘They weren’t driving. It was my fault, Akmal. But we are all safe. It ended well—apart from the car, that is.’
The vizier bowed slightly, and regained his calm demeanour. ‘I am pleased to hear that.’
‘Oh, and Akmal?’ he said, suddenly remembering something else. ‘I need you to arrange something as soon as possible. But first, do you know if my mother is in the palace today?’ The older man nodded. ‘Good. Perhaps you might pass word that I’ll visit her after we’ve had our chat.’
Rafiq allowed himself a smile as he slung his overnight bag over his shoulder, waving away the offers of assistance.
Given Kareef was away, once his meeting with Akmal was finished there was little other choice left to him but to visit his mother. And if visiting his mother meant that he might also run into Sera, all the better.
An hour later, the Sheikha greeted him with a smile and a song in her voice. ‘My son, you are home. And how did it go in Marrash? You must tell me everything.’
Not a chance. He had no doubt she had already extracted what relevant details she could from Sera, and now it was his turn, so she could see if the pieces matched. It was a game they were playing, and who was he to throw the board into the air? At least until he knew exactly how much she knew…
‘It went well, Mother,’ he said, trying to deflect any underlying questions with an easygoing answer meant to show he had nothing to hide. The last thing he needed his mother knowing was that he had slept with Sera. Several times. And intended to sleep with her again. Several times.
‘And you have your contract?’
‘We made a deal, yes.’
She clapped her freshly hennaed hands together in delight. ‘You did? How wonderful! This calls for a celebration.’ The ubiquitous coffee pot made another appearance, and while his mother was busy pouring, Rafiq was busy checking out the doors. Which one led to Sera? Where was she?
He was about to take his cup when he remembered the small package he had brought. ‘I brought you a gift from Marrash,’ he said, handing it over. ‘Actually from Abizah, an old woman who refused to take payment. A gift for you, she said.’