A Whisper of Disgrace

EPILOGUE


THE AL-DIMASHQI PALACE shone in the late-afternoon light, rising up from the stark landscape like a beautiful fairy-tale castle in the distance and Rosa peered out of the car window with a fast-growing feeling of excitement. She had been longing to visit the desert kingdom of Zahrastan and now the moment was here at last. She could see turrets and domes and the tantalising glimmer of water in among the rose gardens and she gave a little sigh of anticipation.

Kulal squeezed her hand. ‘Nervous?’ he questioned.

‘A bit.’ She turned to look at him. ‘I’m terrified your brother won’t like me.’

‘What’s not to like?’ His eyes were soft as he studied her. ‘You are the woman who has tamed the tear-away sheikh. The proud Sicilian beauty my people are longing to meet.’ He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. ‘And the woman who has captured my heart so completely.’

‘Well, when you put it like that.’ She brushed her fingertips over his mouth, but her next words were hesitant. ‘And how do you feel about coming back, Kulal? I mean, really.’

Kulal was quiet for a moment while he considered her question. This was his second trip to Zahrastan in as many months. The first time he had come alone and it had been a trip of necessity, not of pleasure. He had gone to the hospital in the capital, where his mother had been taken following her fall. Assiduously, he had forced himself to read through all the records and then had spoken to the medical director, who’d been a very junior doctor at the time.

Vividly, Kulal remembered flying back to Paris. He remembered the hopeful expression on Rosa’s face and the way it had become wary when he told her that the tests had proved inconclusive. That he still didn’t know whether his mother’s death had been caused by the fall or by some pre-existing condition. But that it was okay. He’d told her that too. It was all okay. The past had happened and there was nothing he could do to change it. All he had was the present—the glorious present, with his loving wife, who had taught him so much, by his side.

‘I feel joy,’ he said simply. ‘And gratitude. That in finding you, I could find myself and learn to live in a way I never thought possible. And I’m looking forward to the celebrations.’

‘Me too,’ she said. ‘Though I’ve had my reservations about the guest list.’

‘Well, don’t. I utterly forbid it. And I don’t know why you’re giggling like that, Rosa—because I do!’

He tightened his hand around hers. They were here in Zahrastan because the king wanted to throw a big party for his brother and his Sicilian bride. Kulal’s former fiancée, Ayesha, would be there, with the Tuscan nobleman she had surprised everyone by marrying after Kulal had ‘freed’ her from their engagement. His lips curved. How life could constantly surprise! Rosa’s family had also been invited and most of them were coming. There would doubtless be friction, though hopefully the august surroundings of the Al-Dimashqi palace might inject a little calm into the sometimes overexuberant nature of the Corretti clan.

And if it didn’t? If there were noisy scenes and tears, and make-ups and break-ups? So what. What would be, would be. Kulal had learnt that there was much in life he couldn’t control. He’d learnt that taking a risk was sometimes as necessary to life as breathing itself. He touched his hand to the gleaming crown of his wife’s dark hair and smiled as he bent to kiss her.

And he’d learnt that love was the most necessary thing of all.

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