Page 95 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

‘He has to know.’

‘Not yet.’ She shook her head again. ‘Not until I’ve gone.’

‘Violet? There’s no need for that.’

‘I’m not running away. If the police need to see me...’

‘No police.’

‘I just want to go home,’ she said. ‘As soon as possible. Can that be arranged, or should I do it myself?’

‘It can be arranged.’ Layla nodded sadly. ‘Of course.’

‘Thank you.’

She sat there for ages. Layla kept bringing tea, and even offered her some brandy.

‘I don’t like brandy.’ Violet stood. ‘I might go for a walk. Get some air before the flight.’

‘The pilot will be here in an hour, but you can still change your mind.’

‘I won’t.’

No, she’d spent a lifetime under a cloud of suspicion, and she was not living like that again. Furthermore, even as they’d made love last night, she’d known it was too wonderful to last.

She picked up the book, wanting to bury her face in something rather than actually read, just to see the next hour out.

She wandered blindly around the fragrant gardens, barely noticing the gorgeous blooms, wishing she’d known this morning that it would be their final goodbye.

Then she looked ahead and saw a man sitting beneath the shade of a tree and her heart stopped. For a tiny second she’d thought it was Sahir, but it was the King, sitting alone...

‘Your Majesty.’

‘This is my private garden,’ he snarled.

‘I got lost...’ She took a breath. ‘I’m leaving shortly. I wanted to say thank you.’

He huffed and waved her away. Only she found he didn’t scare her out here. Given where she’d visited her father, a pretty garden with one angry man really didn’t daunt her.

‘Leave me in peace,’ he snapped.

‘Of course,’ Violet said, and turned to walk away.

But then she looked at him, so upright and so rigid, so hostile.

So lonely?

‘I found something.’

‘I heard.’

He gave a mirthless laugh, and Violet knew he was referring to the jewels.

‘It’s a menu. I thought it might have been misplaced. I didn’t know if I should ask Sahir, or just ignore it, or...’

He looked over at her as she opened the poetry book and took out the folded card she’d slipped inside.

His hand was trembling a little as she handed the cream sheet of paper to him, and she swore that in those dark eyes there was the shimmer of tears. And then a smile had the years falling from his features, and the agony, and the grief...

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