The Secret Heir Of Alazar. Кейт Хьюит

even know exactly where Alazar was. The Middle East, he’d said.

      ‘I assist my grandfather,’ Malik answered. He sounded as if he was choosing his words with care. ‘With his various duties and responsibilities. He is...a man of some significance in Alazar.’

      ‘Oh.’ Perhaps that explained Malik’s dignified bearing. What was his grandfather? Gracie wondered. A diplomat? A businessman? A sheikh?

      A giggle nearly slipped out at that thought; she felt as if she’d fallen down a rabbit hole into an alternative universe of romance and adventure.

      And champagne, for the waiter was bearing down on them with a dusty, expensive-looking bottle and there was no opportunity to ask questions as he popped the cork with a flourish and then poured them two frothing glasses.

      ‘What shall we toast to?’ Malik asked as he handed Gracie her glass.

      Her mind emptied yet again. ‘To the future,’ she finally suggested, and then added recklessly, ‘To our future.’

      Malik’s mouth curved, and with his gaze not leaving hers, he raised the glass to his lips. ‘To our future,’ he repeated softly, and drank.

      Gracie followed suit, the bubbles zinging through her, tickling her nose and throat and making her want to laugh. The whole situation made her want to laugh—it was so incredible, so unbelievable. Then all laughter died as Malik lowered his glass and said in a low growl of a voice that pulsed with intent, ‘Do you feel what I do?’

      Gracie’s heart bumped in her chest like a suitcase down a flight of stairs and her hand was unsteady as she returned her glass to the table, barely touched. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I think I do.’ Even if it was crazy.

      Malik laughed softly. ‘I wonder if I am being fanciful. I do not even know you.’

      ‘No...’

      ‘And yet we have this chemistry.’

      ‘A connection.’

      Malik stared at her for a moment and Gracie tensed. Had she presumed...? ‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘A connection.’

      * * *

      Malik had barely touched the champagne, but he felt awash in it, every sense awakened and buzzing with life. When had he last felt this excited, this energised, this hopeful?

      The answer, Malik knew, was never. And yet...

      His gut tightened with apprehension. He knew that what he was experiencing with Gracie was temporary, only for a night, if that. His life was not his own to control or decide; it hadn’t been since he was twelve, taken from the schoolroom, from his books and model airplanes and the simple life as the second, the spare, thought to be unnecessary. His grandfather’s face had been hard, his voice harsh, as he’d explained. Azim is gone. You are heir now. Malik had barely been able to grasp his grandfather’s meaning, and yet in that one moment his life had completely changed. He’d gone from being a shy, bookish boy who had been left to his own devices to becoming the future Sultan, in the limelight, under the lash, closed off from all the things he’d enjoyed, deprived of the people he’d loved.

      But after ten years of resolute duty, surely he could have one evening. One woman.

      He leaned forward, needing to touch her, to feel her. Her skin was soft under his hand. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

      Heat flared in her eyes. ‘And go where?’

      ‘Anywhere.’ He didn’t care; he just wanted to be with her.

      ‘We could throw a coin in the Trevi Fountain.’ She shrugged, her hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes alight as her generous mouth curved in a smile that invited him to share in her joy and exuberance. ‘Let’s live a little.’

      Which was exactly what Malik wanted to do—all he could do. Live—a little.

      ‘All right,’ he said, and rose from the table. He paid for their champagne before heading out into the night, Gracie’s hand encased in his. He didn’t want to let her go until he had to.

      The plaza was full of people and music, and yet it felt as if they were in their own world as they walked by the fountain shimmering with lights.

      ‘Do you know the tradition?’ Gracie asked, her eyes full of mischief, and Malik shook his head.

      ‘You’re meant to stand with your back to the fountain and throw a coin from your right hand over your left shoulder.’ She mimed doing so, her arm reaching over her head in a graceful arc, and Malik enjoyed watching her.

      ‘And then what happens?’

      She turned around, smiling at him impishly. ‘Then you’re meant to return to Rome. But there’s another tradition...’ She stopped, biting her lip.

      Intrigued, Malik arched an eyebrow. ‘Another?’

      ‘That you throw three coins in the fountain,’ she explained, her voice low. Her face had turned fiery and she couldn’t meet his eye.

      ‘Three? What for?’

      ‘One to return to Rome, two for a new romance and three for marriage.’ She laughed, the sound a little forced. ‘Silly, isn’t it?’

      Deliberately Malik reached into his pocket. Gracie watched him with wide eyes as he turned so his back was to the fountain and then threw a coin over his head. It landed with a distant splash. Malik threw in another coin. Gracie sucked in a breath.

      His heart began to thud as he turned back to face her; she was staring at him, waiting. And so Malik did what he’d been wanting to do all evening. What he’d been needing to do.

      He drew her into his arms and kissed her.

       CHAPTER TWO

      THE TOUCH OF his lips on hers was like a jolt of electricity to her soul. Her whole body flooded with both awareness and need. Her lips parted and his strong hands gripped her shoulders as his tongue touched hers before sweeping into her mouth. Gracie sagged against him, overwhelmed.

      Malik broke the kiss, his breathing harsh and ragged as he gazed down at her. From somewhere, Gracie found a wobbly smile. ‘That was my first kiss.’

      Malik’s eyes widened, and then he gave a wry smile. ‘Mine, too.’

      ‘What?’ Shocked, she pushed herself upright, one hand clutching the edge of the fountain for support. ‘How is that possible?’

      ‘How is it not?’

      ‘But you’re so... I mean...’ She gestured vaguely to his impressive, muscled body. ‘You must have had...’ She trailed off, too surprised and embarrassed to put it into words.

      ‘I have lived a sheltered life,’ Malik stated quietly. ‘Out of necessity.’ He released a long, low breath. ‘Tonight is the first time I’ve had so much as a taste of freedom.’

      ‘But why...?’

      Malik shrugged. ‘There are reasons.’

      Clearly nothing he wanted to talk about tonight. Gracie was desperately curious, but Malik’s shuttered expression kept her from asking any more questions. ‘If this is your first night of freedom,’ she said recklessly, ‘then let’s make the most of it. It’s mine, too, in a way.’

      ‘How so?’

      Now she was the one to shrug. ‘My life has been pretty sheltered, too, living in a small town in Midwestern America. I’m the second youngest of six children, and it was always crazy and wonderful at home, but it meant we didn’t have the money for holidays or travel or even eating out. And in any case my parents have always been happy to live and die in Addison Heights. The state fair is the height of sophistication for them. I don’t mind, not really, but I’ve been waiting for adventure my whole