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knew when she was listening to a biased story. ‘This is what your father told you?’

      ‘Yes. I met her once though when I was a teenager. I was in Paris on an officer training course and she was at a party I was invited to,’ Jaul told her grudgingly. ‘She came right up to me and said, “I understand you’re my grandson. Are you as stiff-necked and stubborn as your father?”’

      ‘So, your grandmother did try to see her child again,’ Chrissie worked out wryly from that greeting. ‘In other words she wasn’t quite as indifferent a mother as she was painted to you. Most probably your grandfather wouldn’t allow your grandmother to see her son again because she walked out on their marriage. Have you ever thought of that angle?’

      Jaul hadn’t and his jawline clenched like granite because that particular family story had long been an incontestable legend set in stone and he couldn’t credit that Chrissie had already come up with a likelihood that had never once occurred to him. ‘There were grounds for his bitterness.’

      ‘Such as?’ Chrissie was receiving a twist of satisfaction from needling Jaul even if it was only about old family history. Why? He was wrecking her life again. He owned her, just as he owned their son and daughter. There was no leeway for misunderstanding in that clause in the contract, no wriggle room for a screamingly naive girl who had been so in love she hadn’t foreseen a future where she might have children and end up alone and abandoned. She knew she would never forgive herself for being that stupid and that short-sighted about so very important an issue as the right to keep and raise her own babies and live where she chose.

      ‘Lady Sophie’s desertion made Tarif a laughing stock. In those days saving face was everything for a ruler but there was nothing he could do to hide the fact that she had left him.’

      ‘And no doubt he never forgave her for that and kept her from her son as punishment while brainwashing that same child into a hatred and distrust of Western women,’ Chrissie filled in with spirit, her disgust palpable. ‘Don’t forget I met your father and I was left in no doubt that he saw a woman like me as a curse on his family name. Knowing how he felt, why on earth did you marry me? No, scratch that, don’t answer me. I know why you married me.’

      Fine ebony brows pleating, Jaul was recalling their final argument in Oxford. She had wanted him to take her out to Marwan with him, had protested the secrecy he had insisted on and had implied that his attitude bore a closer resemblance to shame than secrecy. But that was untrue. He had known that without preparation and forewarning his father would react badly and he had flown home intending to break the news of his marriage in person. Sadly, he now knew that he should have made the announcement much sooner and had he done so he was convinced that everything that followed would have happened very differently.

      ‘You don’t know why I married you because you never have known what I was thinking,’ Jaul boxed back cool as ice water. ‘In reality, I was trying to protect you but, unhappily for both of us, I went about it the wrong way.’

      A lift door whirred back in the hall and the nanny, accompanied by a young woman in Marwani dress, appeared, each bearing a beaming drowsy twin back to their mother.

      ‘I’ll leave now.’

      ‘I want you to stay,’ Jaul decreed.

      ‘Listen.’ Chrissie rested a hand daringly on a muscular brown forearm as she stretched up to him to whisper, ‘For now, I’m staying with my family. I’ll do what I have to do only when you leave for Marwan. When is that happening?’

      ‘I have to return within twenty-four hours. I have already released the photos taken at our wedding at the embassy to the press at home.’

      Chrissie lost colour. Only one wretched day of freedom left? Only one day more to be with her family and savour her independence and liberty to do as she liked. ‘So you expect me to...what?’

      ‘Close down your life here in the short term. Your family will naturally be welcome to visit and stay with us whenever they like.’

      ‘Then it’s about time you met my father,’ Chrissie pronounced abruptly, a rueful expression in her eyes for she doubted that Jaul would enjoy the experience. Her dad was chock-full of prejudices, against foreigners, rich people and royalty to name only a few, and Brian Whitaker was not diplomatic about hiding the fact. Jaul deserved that meeting as she had not deserved hers with his late father, Lut. ‘He’s coming down to London tonight to visit us.’

      * * *

      On the way back to her sister’s with the twins, Chrissie was recalling the day she had met King Lut, remembering the clammy break of sweat on her skin when she had finally grasped the alarming truth that the angry older man, dressed exactly as though he had stepped off a desert film set, was actually her father-in-law. He had not even spoken to her in English. Throughout another older man had stood anchored to his side translating his every furious gesture and bitten-out word and yet Jaul had once told her that his parent spoke fluent English. Possibly the King’s temper had prevented him from finding the right words in her language, the horrible, hateful words that had never left her once he had assured her that their very marriage had been completely unlawful...

      ‘It was not a proper marriage. It was never intended to be more than a casual affair and Jaul wants to be left in peace. It is over between you now that he’s back in Marwan. He does not want you living here in his English home, nor does he want to hear from you again. Please do not embarrass him further by visiting our embassy. My son plans to marry a decent woman from his own culture and who will marry him if you cause a scandal?’

      There had been a lot more along the same lines, Chrissie recalled unhappily, every word aimed at ensuring that she accepted just how unimportant she was and how unfit she was to be Jaul’s wife. She had been a sexual fling, nothing more, an intruder in his apartment, an embarrassing visitor creating scenes at the embassy, in short a woman pitifully clinging to a man who no longer wanted her. Her pride had been crushed and her heart broken because she had loved Jaul with all her heart.

      And now it seemed that her life had turned full circle, she reflected as the limo whisked her back to her sister’s home. She knew that Cesare and Lizzie would support her if she chose to fight Jaul for the children but she could not help recalling that even Cesare had urged her to be cautious in her dealings with Jaul, because Jaul had more power and influence than the average non-resident father. In other words even her powerful and extremely shrewd brother-in-law had been doubtful of her chances of winning such a custody battle.

      And there were two menacing sides to her dilemma, she acknowledged wretchedly. If she fought Jaul it would turn bitter and nasty and then what would happen if she ultimately lost the custody battle? How much would Jaul allow her to see of her children in the hostile aftermath of such a conflict? She shivered, clammy and cold inside as she pondered that very realistic question. Hadn’t she already had the warning of learning what had happened to Jaul’s British grandmother, Lady Sophie? From what she could establish that poor woman had never got to see her child again, at least not until he was an adult and too locked into his prejudices and hostility to listen to the other side of the story. Chrissie reckoned that if she wasn’t careful she might fall victim to the same heartbreak and lose her children altogether.

      Her other concern was the sheer selfishness of plunging Cesare and Lizzie into that same conflict with her. Lizzie was pregnant again and the very last thing she needed was added pressure and anxiety. A court case would be nerve-racking and would attract the sort of publicity that her sister and brother-in-law abhorred, for in spite of their wealth they led quiet, private lives. However, if Chrissie plunged into a divorce and custody battle with Jaul, the press were sure to pick up on it because an Arab king’s secret marriage to an Englishwoman would be all too newsworthy to ignore. No, she couldn’t possibly risk exposing her family or her children to that kind of intrusive publicity. They all deserved better from her, she conceded heavily. After all, she had chosen to marry Jaul and the consequences were hers to deal with. Why should anyone else pay the price?

      

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