‘Never,’ Leila said. ‘She has told me that the palace is better off without me. That the maids are happier now. She says that my father has taken up walking again in the evening...’
‘I’d take up walking if I was married to that lunatic,’ James said. ‘I’d be walking morning, noon and night and playing golf too, if I was married to her.’
‘You think he does it to get away from her?’ Leila frowned.
‘Hello!’ James said. ‘I’ll bet the maids aren’t as happy as Muriel,’ James nudged, and now she properly smiled.
‘She’s a wicked queen,’ James said. ‘A wicked, wicked queen. And when our daughter is born I’m going to read the fairy tales. You never have to hear her voice or see her ever again unless you choose to.’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise,’ James said. ‘And I don’t make promises that I might not be able to keep.’
‘I believe you.’
He understood now why it had been so impossible for her to believe in his love.
She simply hadn’t known what it was.
He kissed her right there in the park and there could have been twenty photographers around them, snapping away—neither cared, neither would notice.
Leila felt his arms wrap around her and the feel of his lips on hers and the caress of his hands on her head and back. His touch was for her.
Love more than existed, it was hers.
* * *
James hated Farrah.
More than Leila would ever know. James learned to speak her language and he sat with Manu for hours, working out best how to work through the latest problem that had arisen.
It was early August and their baby was due in two days’ time and still James had not been able to marry her. Despite polite letters, despite Manu and Zayn’s best attempts, they were blocked at each turn as they tried to get the necessary documentation.
‘I’m just going to ask her father,’ James said, and then he picked up the phone and spoke in Arabic, not with Farrah but with the king.
He kept it brief.
‘I need Leila’s birth certificate,’ James said, and he knew the drama that would be going on in the palace tonight because he had had the audacity to call. ‘If I am to marry her.’
He was met with silence.
‘If it isn’t here within a week, then I will call every day,’ James said. ‘Or I will write letters, or I shall email, or I shall write to your press. I hope the noise I make—’ Manu’s lips pursed because of course what James would do would cause offence, but James had been practising this on his own and he cleared his throat ‘—will not upset your wife too much and in turn cause too many problems for you?’
It came in the post a week later.
Two days after that he stood with Leila in Central Park and married her on the very spot that James had told her he was in love with her. Then they had a photo taken on the bench where Leila had used to sit, drinking coffee, and where he had found her sitting that night. Already they had so many memories.
It was the tiniest of weddings.
Leila wore a cream robe that was threaded with silks that were the colours of the changing trees around them and, as James had said it would be, her favourite place in the world was spectacular at this time of the year.
James wore a suit but not socks and though he had had his hair cut for the day, on Leila’s instructions he hadn’t shaved.
They just grabbed passing joggers who were happy to stand for the brief service that was so terribly important to them but especially to Leila, for she wanted to be married before the baby was born.
James had been on the wagon for a little longer than he’d expected to be and tomorrow Leila was being induced because the baby was overdue. It lay low in her belly and kicked its applause as they shared a kiss that some passerby would make a fortune with when they sold it to the press.
No, Spencer would not be pleased.
Care factor?
Zero.
They ate at her favourite restaurant and Habib made sure they had the very best table, but even with the best food and happiness on tap, Leila could not get comfortable.
‘Anything?’
‘Nothing,’ Leila said. ‘It’s been the best wedding I could have hoped for but now I just want to go home.’
When they got there Esther and Matthew were coming through the foyer and for once not arguing. ‘Esther! Matthew!’ James called out to them. ‘I’d like you meet my wife.’
The pride in James’s voice was unmistakable.
‘How wonderful!’
It was.
Leila felt completely at home and James never thought he’d be carrying his bride, let alone his very heavily pregnant bride, through any door, but it had never felt more right.