A Royal Wedding(61)
But she thought about it now, sitting up straight in the bed, her heart in her throat and what remained of the fairy-tale shattering all around her like glass.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THREE days later, it was definitely September, Lara was most assuredly and unhappily pregnant, and more important, she’d finally woken up from the spell she’d been under ever since Adel Qaderi had appeared in that supermarket parking lot back in Denver. She was so wide awake it actually hurt.
She buckled herself into the plush seat in the private jet, willing herself to keep her emotions under control. She did not look out the window as the plane began to taxi down the runway. She did not glance back as the plane soared into the air, clearing the spires and parapets. She knew the country was spread out before her like a canvas, and she refused to indulge in one last look. She reached over and pulled the shade closed, as if she could block out the last few months as easily.
It was one thing to fall under Adel’s sensual spell. She wasn’t sure how she could have resisted him, once he’d looked at her with that passion simmering in his dark eyes. But it was something else entirely to bring another child into another loveless marriage. Hadn’t she spent the whole of her life paying for her parents’ marriage? Wasn’t she still? Her hand crept over her still-flat belly. She could not do that to a child. She would not do it.
Her time in Alakkul might have felt like a dream, her dream, but it had also served to open up her eyes to the uncomfortable truth about her childhood—and her parents. She shut her eyes against another rush of emotion that threatened to suck her under. The truth was that her mother had stolen her away from her father, and had deliberately made Lara believe the worst of him. Another truth was that her father had not come to claim her, nor tell his side of the story before he died—not in twelve long years. Her mother had poisoned her against King Azat, all the while hiding the truth about the funds she’d taken and her own infidelities. The King, meanwhile, had sold his only child into a convenient marriage, to serve his own ends.
It didn’t matter which parent she looked at, because the truth was blindingly clear to her either way. She had never been anything more than a pawn to either one of them. She certainly wouldn’t inflict that same kind of life on her child. She’d die first.
Because as much as she’d claimed to hate King Azat to please her mother, and in many ways she had, the truth was that she’d yearned for a normal family like any other girl. She’d wanted a father and a mother.
And she’d missed Alakkul, too. And Adel, her first love. She did not know how she would manage to shove all those memories aside as she’d done before—but she knew she’d have to do it, somehow. The precious life she carried inside of her could never know the deep pangs of longing she felt for that cool, bright valley, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the world. Or the deeper yearning for a hard-faced man with eyes like rain and gentle hands. It would fade, she told herself. Someday, it would fade.
She let her head fall back against the cushioned headrest, and pretended she was unaware of the tears slipping from her eyes to trail across her cheeks. She would forget him. Again. The truth was that their chemistry had been so unexpected that she’d allowed it to confuse her for the whole long summer. It had only served to conceal the truth. Adel did not want her. He wanted King Azat’s daughter. He wanted the throne of Alakkul. She could have been anyone, as long as he had gotten both of those things.
She was still nothing but a pawn. A strategy. A convenience he happened to be attracted to. And she knew with a deep certainty that her child deserved more. Much more.
Her heart might seem to break into more and more pieces with every mile she flew away from him, but she would lock that up with all her memories and put it away. She would do it, somehow. For her child, if not for herself.
Lara came awake slowly, confused. It took a moment or two to realize that the plane was on the ground, instead of in the air, and was rolling along the tarmac. Frowning, she pulled up the window shade nearest to her, but all she could see were streaks of rain against the window, and splotches of light in the dark. A terminal, perhaps—but where?
“Excuse me?” she called, twisting in her seat to seek out the hovering air hostess. “Where are we? What’s going on?”
“It is nothing, Your Majesty,” the woman said, her voice soothing, her smile calm. “The plane has been diverted to deal with a slight mechanical issue. A hotel suite has been secured for your use, and you should be on your way again in the morning.”