He laughed softly. “I did not mean that, though it is true.” He laid his hand over Olivia’s. “Aliya is a lovely girl and will no doubt make someone a very good wife. But that someone will not be me.”
What was she supposed to say to that? He’d done the right thing by Aliya, but doubtless there would be another woman, another Saqati woman who would understand the traditional expectations. A wife who would have the right ancestry, the right faith, and the right attitudes to be acceptable to his people. A woman who wouldn’t expect love from her husband, only prestige and wealth.
“Olivia.” He turned her hand over and lifted it to his mouth. Gently, he pressed a kiss into her palm.
“No, Khaled.” She couldn’t let him do that to her. She needed to make a clean break now.
“No?”
“I fly back to Aberdeen tomorrow. It’s over.”
“More over than it was yesterday?”
She pulled her hand away. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Why, Livvy?” He bent his head close to hers and spoke quietly.
“Your life is here now.” She shook her head. “And I’m going home. We should never have begun this. One night, it was supposed to be. A week of foolishness and fun, you said.”
“I have responsibilities. Life cannot all be foolishness.”
“I know,” she said, furiously blinking away an unwelcome tear. “Life for you is your duty, and for me, it is my career. We can’t just have fun whenever we choose. Yesterday, I… I was trying to say good-bye.”
“I see.” He moved a little further away from her on the bench. “That was quite some good-bye.”
“I’m sorry. I thought once you had decided not to sign the contract, you would understand that there would be no need for any further contact between us. You said it yourself, Khaled, I cannot be your wife and I don’t think anything else is possible between us now.”
“No further contact,” he said quietly. “You don’t want me to touch you anymore?”
“No.” She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, so that she didn’t reach out to touch him.
“I see.”
“What will happen now?” she asked a few moments later. “Does your father have another woman in mind for you?”
Khaled sighed. “I expect there will be another parade of eligible Saqati women. Dinners, parties, trips out in the royal yacht.”
“And then you will choose the one you want?”
“No.”
“No? I don’t understand.”
“I already know who I choose.”
She turned away, biting her lip fiercely to prevent sudden, unbidden, tears from flowing. Of course he did. He must know every woman in Saqat. Of course he would know who he wanted to be his wife. It made no difference who it was, since it was not going to be her. Only… it was hard knowing that the man she loved was going to marry someone else.
“Will you do one more thing for me, Livvy?”
She eyed him cautiously. “What’s that?”
“My father would like to talk to you.”
“And what your father wants, he gets.”
He looked at her in some surprise. “He is the emir. It doesn’t make him a bad person.”
“I know. I’m sorry, I just don’t know what he wants to talk to me about.”
“There is only one way to find out.” His mouth creased into a tiny smile. She knew she was being unreasonable.
She let him lead her back into the grand stateroom through the arched entrance and to the emir’s raised chair. She was surprised when the emir immediately dismissed his son with a cursory wave and invited her to take the chair at his side. She had supposed that Khaled would remain with them for the courtesy conversation.
“How do you like my country, Ms. McInnes?”
“Very much indeed, Your Highness.” Small talk she could manage.
“It is different from your England.”
Olivia smiled politely. “I am Scottish, Your Highness. But yes, it is very different.”
The emir’s eyes narrowed. “Scottish? Then you are not an Englishwoman?”
“No,” she agreed, wondering why it should matter.
“Ah, I see.” The emir’s eyes alighted on his son. “I see it now. He is a good man.”
“I know that, sir.”
“Too good for his own good sometimes.”
“I think…”
“Yes, child? What do you think about my son?”
“I think he will never choose the easy path in life.”
The emir nodded and sighed. “You are wise, Ms. McInnes. Tell me, which would you choose: to be happy or to be good?”
A few yards away, Khaled was talking to a pretty Saqati woman with dimples in her cheeks and dark hair that tumbled over her shoulders. Good, wide, childbearing hips too, Olivia observed with some malice.
“I would choose to be happy, sir.”
“And I would choose to be both, but I am old and wise enough to settle for somewhere in between. I hope you will be very happy, my dear. Very happy indeed.”
It didn’t seem at all likely, not while Khaled was choosing from a whole nation of women that didn’t include her. She took another glass of champagne from a passing waiter. If she had to watch him flirt with someone else, she didn’t have to be sober while she did it.