SARA HADN’T EXPECTED Farhan to be at the airport when she arrived back in Huban, and he wasn’t. He’d slipped out of bed while she was still asleep to go to the airport, and waking up without him beside her had left her feeling lonely and afraid.
She’d hoped to talk to him about what they were going to do next. Yet, in the light of day, her fears regarding Farhan’s reaction had waned, seemed unwarranted. Yes, the revelations of the day before had come as a shock, but did they truly sound the death knell to their marriage? Did they have to?
Even the thought of her grandfather’s story getting out didn’t frighten her the way it perhaps should. Yes, she was the only one in love, but they’d grown so close, was it unreasonable to hope one day he might love her in return?
He himself had said arranged marriages were traditional in his family, and that was what they had. Couldn’t they, somehow, make it work? Even his assertion that he didn’t want children didn’t deter her from her optimism. If, in time, he changed his mind, or even if he never did, Sara knew Farhan was the one man for her. The night before she had been resigned to leaving him. Today all she wanted was to stay, forever.
If that made her contrary, so be it.
“Crown Prince Farhan is still in theatre, Your Highness,” Kavan said, as he ushered her to the black SUV he usually drove. “He’s asked me to take you back to the palace, and inform you he might not be home in time for dinner.”
“Thank you, Kavan,” she said, wondering why Farhan hadn’t texted as much.
“And King Uttam has requested you meet with him at four o’clock, in his office.”
That was new, and she doubted Farhan knew about it, since he definitely would have texted.
“I’ll be there,” she told Kavan, who informed her he would advise the King’s aide-de-camp Joseph Malliot.
No doubt King Uttam wanted to discuss her finding her grandfather, and she only just stopped herself from nibbling on the side of her fingernail, as she wondered what he would have to say.
It was obvious that while Anupam Raj had been a respectable man, he was definitely not royalty. Perhaps Uttam would resent mingling her blood with the royal line, now that they knew for sure who her mother was.
When she got back to the palace and was greeted by a wriggling ball of brown fur, she knew her hopes for a future with Farhan weren’t misplaced. For him to have had Coconut brought to Huban for her spoke volumes about his character and, she thought, how much he cared about her happiness.
Later that afternoon, when Joseph ushered her into King Uttam’s office, she found it empty, a red macaw in a cage the only occupant. As the bird seemed to try to attract her attention, Sara noticed the French doors opening into a private garden were ajar, and she walked over to look through them.
There was her father-in-law, seated on a bench, smoking a thin cigar. He saw her in the doorway, and waved her over.
“Please don’t lecture me,” he said, his stern lips twitching at the corners. “I used to smoke these things all day, every day, but have cut down to one a week.”
He patted the bench beside him, and Sara dutifully sat, turning slightly so she was facing him.
“With that amount of restraint, couldn’t you find it in yourself to quit entirely?” she asked, although she wanted to smile, seeing Uttam so relaxed.
“I didn’t want to,” he replied, then took a puff. “Life is short and should, whenever possible, be enjoyed. I know my family worries about me after my health scare, but carrying the burden of rule makes me testy. I think I deserve a little treat every now and then.”
“Well, kudos to you for cutting back that much and not just starting up again. Most people couldn’t do it.”
His chin tipped up and, in that instant, Sara saw once more the resemblance between father and son.
That definitely was where Farhan got his arrogant look but, with Farhan anyway, she knew it wasn’t really arrogance that made him look down that nose of his. He did it when he was in any way unsure, or perhaps embarrassed, and trying to hide it.
“A royal must have a strong will, and do what is right, no matter how difficult that may be. Farhan has learned this, as I think you have already also.”
He sounded so snooty Sara was at first taken aback and then had to suppress a giggle. Luckily, the King was studying the end of his cigar, not looking at her, and didn’t notice.
Uttam fussed with his cigar for a moment, relighting it when it looked as though it might have gone out, and then, wreathed in fragrant smoke, said, “I heard about your discovery while in the south.”
“Yes,” she replied cautiously.
“I remember Anupam Raj well. He was still in government service when we came here in the nineteen-sixties. A respectable man, who must have mourned as much for his daughter as Queen Nargis did when Bhaskar disappeared.”
“Yes,” she said again, not knowing exactly where the conversation was going.
“Farhan has informed me that Anupam will be coming to live here, in the palace, to be close to you, as his last living relative.”
That she hadn’t known. She’d thought perhaps Farhan would find a nearby nursing home, where she could go and visit him whenever she wanted, but her heart lifted to know he’d be even closer.
“I would appreciate you allowing that, Your Majesty,” she said, trying to be as formal as she could, hoping Uttam wasn’t going to refuse.
He gave her a stern, sideways glance.
“Of course I will allow it. Neither you nor he had anything to do with your parents’ decisions, and shouldn’t suffer for them.”
“Thank you.”
He inclined his head slightly, before continuing, “Your parents, your father in particular, did a great wrong to my family, but now you have the chance to make it right.”
A bubble of resentment rose in Sara, and she was forced to bite the inside of her lip not to answer back. He’d just said neither her grandfather nor she were responsible for what had happened, but now it was on her shoulders to fix it? How unfair could you be?
Luckily, before she lost control and responded, Uttam went on.
“The important thing now is that you give me a grandchild. Only then will it be safe to tell the people who you truly are, and they will know Bhaskar’s line continues, to one day rule the country again.”
Again she had to bite back a retort, annoyed by the arrogant way he demanded she bear a child, as though it were no more than telling her to cross the grass and pick him a flower. Did he not know how Farhan felt about having children? The urge to tell him, to lay it at his feet in spite, was almost overpowering.
Unaware of her resentful thoughts, Uttam said, “I was not always the best of fathers. Believe me, I’m fully aware of that fact, and now, in my old age, regret time not spent with my sons.”
He gazed out over the gardens, his face as stern as ever, but Sara heard the undertone of sorrow in his voice and her anger faded, as he continued, “You know the saying? There are three things in life you cannot recover: the word after it is spoken, the moment after it is missed, and the time after it is gone. It is indeed true.”
In that moment Uttam wasn’t a king, just a man searching his soul for answers, haunted by the past and all its attendant pain.
“Yes,” she replied. “It’s very true. But there are still time and moments to come, words yet to be spoken.”
In the silence that fell between them, broken only by birdsong, her own ghosts stirred, and she wondered if Uttam’s did too.
The King seemed to shake off his momentary melancholy, reaching over to pat her hand.
“My consolation is I know Farhan will do much better as a father, and as a king.”
Cautious, but resolved, she replied, “Perhaps, Your Majesty, those are words you might say to him. Ones neither of you would regret?”
He turned his stern gaze on her and she saw the pain in his eyes fade to something softer, more contemplative.
“Perhaps you’re right, Sara, although old habits die hard.”
“That’s true too, sir, but sometimes we have to forge new ones, for the benefit of ourselves and others.”
Uttam smiled, and Sara was amazed. Farhan really was the spitting image of his father, right down to the gorgeous smile.
And how stingy they were with them.
“My son is lucky to have you at his side. You’ll make a good queen one day, and bear me strong grandchildren. That’s imperative. With my health not being the best, I’d like to see my future heir before I die.”
Taking that as dismissal, she rose. “I hope that day is a long way away, sir.”
To her surprise, Uttam rose too, and bent to kiss her on one cheek then the other.
“No doubt Farhan feels the same way too,” he said, in a jovial manner, turning her toward the French doors inside. “All he really wants to do is be a doctor. I hoped to let him do it as long as possible, away from the royal responsibilities we all find so onerous, but my health cut his time away short. He has much to learn, though, so it’s a good thing he came back when he did, and didn’t wait until he had to take the throne himself.”
Did Farhan know that was why his father had let him return to Australia? Somehow she doubted it. When Farhan spoke about his father telling him to go back after Ali died, she’d heard deep pain in his voice, a diminishing of the proud self-confidence she associated with him. Hopefully, hearing the real reason, and that his father was truly proud of him, would take away the last vestiges of hurt and constraint between father and son, or at least help to bring them a little closer.
Although, dealing with two such proud men, it might not.
Uttam strode around his desk and pulled out his chair as Sara reached for the office door handle, and she had her back to the King when he said, “I was happy to hear that you refused to consider my offer of financial compensation for giving Farhan an heir. It showed good character.”
She froze, not sure she’d heard the King correctly, and said without turning around, “Excuse me, sir?”
Uttam went on, as if he hadn’t heard her question, “I would have been willing to pay twice as much to secure peace in our country, but it is better that you do it out of duty rather than financial gain.”
“Yes, sir,” she murmured, suddenly cold inside.
It reminded her forcefully of why she was there, how Farhan had viewed her when he’d found out about her. How he’d been sure that giving her money would be the way to get her to agree to his deal. He hadn’t known the money, while welcome, had been only a small part of the reason she’d said yes.
But maybe he had, when he’d said she should consider the lump sum her inheritance from Bhaskar. In doing that, he’d made her feel she wasn’t selling herself to him but, in fact, would be entering into a mutually beneficial arrangement.
Besides, it was different now, wasn’t it? Now that he knew her? Surely he could see the money wasn’t that important to her? Sure, she’d paid off her student loan, arranged to buy her parents a house and cover the upkeep, but the only other expense she’d taken on had been paying for Nonni’s nurse.
Yet as she made her way back to their apartments, telling herself Farhan must, by now, know her better than to think she was in it only for the money didn’t really help. Uttam’s final words had dimmed the bright flame of confidence only just lit that morning.
Farhan didn’t get back to the palace until late that evening, but he found Sara waiting up for him. He’d texted earlier to say there was a patient he wanted to monitor a bit longer than usual, a woman who’d undergone a bilateral salpingectomy, but who also had a history of dangerously high blood pressure that didn’t respond as expected to medication.
“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” he said, holding himself in tight control, refusing to give in to the temptation to go over and kiss her, the way he’d gotten into the habit of doing.
“I couldn’t sleep anyway,” she replied. “Too much excitement over the last couple of days, perhaps. And I wanted to talk to you.”
She looked tousled, as though she’d lain down and got back up again, cozy in her plush robe, her legs tucked up under her, Coconut lying across her lap. Farhan’s heart contracted, his stomach ached, and he knew his decision to let her go was the right one.
He’d always planned to. Even on the days when he’d seemed to think almost exclusively about her, he’d reminded himself she wasn’t meant to stay. That she’d be leaving sooner rather than later.
Meeting Mr. Raj had simply accelerated the timeline. If she didn’t leave soon, his father would want to tell the people about her origins, and then she’d be trapped. Or, at least, her leaving would be more difficult.
He hadn’t planned to discuss it with her tonight, had convinced himself to put it off for a while longer, but now, seeing her, wanting her so badly, he knew it had to be soon.
As Farhan lowered himself into an easy chair, he asked, “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head.
“On the contrary. I wanted to thank you for Coconut, and for arranging for my grandfather to come and live at the palace.”
“How did you hear about that?”
“It was your father who told me.”
Surprised at the mention of Uttam, he frowned. “You went to see my father?”
“He invited me and, of course, I went. It was an interesting talk. Do you know he let you stay in Australia as long as he did because he knew all you wanted was to practice medicine? He knew once you came home, you’d get bogged down by your position as Crown Prince and all the royal duties you’d have to take on.”
Now it was shock making his eyebrows rise, even as he struggled to maintain a neutral expression. How was she able to get his father, who never spoke of personal matters, to open up that way?
Then her words struck home, and he only just stopped himself from gasping as his breath caught in his throat. Could that really be the truth? It was almost unfathomable, unbelievable. Yet he knew his father never said anything he didn’t mean, so...
Desperate to change the subject, unable to discuss it further, he pulled himself together and said, “But I’m sure he didn’t summon you to talk about my time in Australia. What else did he have to say?”
“He wanted to make it plain he expected me to quickly produce an heir, so he could tell the people about who my father was.”
Another blow to his composure, which was becoming increasingly difficult to hold onto. Rising restlessly, he strode across to the sideboard and poured himself a finger of Scotch.
Now, more than ever, he was aware of the need to let Sara go, before it was too late.
If it wasn’t already.
Memories of the night before rose, unbidden, into his head. The rush of emotion when she’d turned to him, wanting his comfort; the immediate arousal, as she’d made her delicious intentions known. Her shadowy form above him, the sensation of being enveloped by her sweet, hot body.
His desire for her didn’t rise slowly, like smoke, to fill him. It was, instead, as though a hidden volcano released all its lava at once to rush through veins and sinews, burning all thoughts but those of her from his head.
He couldn’t be trusted to do the right thing, to stay away, to keep his distance. It all had to end.
Taking a swallow of Scotch, he found the strength to turn and face her before he said, “Well, if my father is getting involved, perhaps it’s time to put an end to this game, and have you return home.”