Penny Jordan Tribute Collection

‘There is only one reason Rashid married you, Petra,’ he repeated. ‘And that is quite simply that he loves you.’

‘If that is true then why has he never told me so himself?’ Petra asked emotionally, reluctant to allow herself to trust what she was hearing.

‘Have you told him of your love for him?’ her grandfather challenged her gently.

Biting her lip, Petra had to confess that she had not.

‘But you do love him?’ her grandfather persisted.

Petra could not bring herself to reply. She could see that her grandfather was frowning.

‘If I have misjudged your feelings, Petra, then you must say so,’ she heard him telling her with gentle firmness. ‘Much as I like and respect Rashid, you are my granddaughter. If you have discovered that you do not love him, if you are in any way unhappy, then you can come home with me now and I shall speak to Rashid if you wish.’

Petra’s eyes darkened with emotion.

‘I feel so confused. There is so much I… I believed… I thought…’ She stopped and took a deep breath. ‘I thought that Rashid married me because of the financial benefits our marriage would bring him,’ she confessed, blurting out her despair.

‘The financial benefits?’ Her grandfather looked bemused. ‘Petra—’ he began, but Petra stopped him, rushing on fiercely.

‘Saud told me everything, Grandfather. You mustn’t be cross with him. He didn’t realise that I didn’t know there was a… a plan to have me marry Rashid—whether I wanted to or not! Saud hero-worships him so much that he thought I would be pleased… thrilled. I know all about… everything. Even my godfather seemed to think it was a good idea. So much so that he abandoned me here without my passport so that I couldn’t leave…’

‘Petra, Petra. My dear child. Please! You are distressing yourself so unnecessarily!’

Petra fell silent as she heard the pain in her grandfather’s voice. ‘Come and sit down here beside me,’ he commanded her gently.

A little reluctantly she did so.

‘You are right in thinking there was a suggestion that you and Rashid should meet one another, and that it was felt that… that you had a great deal in common—but you must understand that a suggestion was all it was, made more in jest than anything else. Saud obviously eavesdropped on that conversation and leapt to incorrect assumptions…’ He frowned. ‘You may be sure that I shall have some strong words to say to him about his behaviour and his actions in passing on his totally unfounded assumptions to you. As you say, he greatly admires Rashid… But I can assure you that Rashid immediately insisted that what was being suggested was totally out of the question. Rashid has far too much pride, too much of the same spirit I can see so clearly in you, to ever allow anyone else to make that kind of decision for him,’ he told her ruefully.

‘As for your godfather.’ He gave a small rueful shrug. ‘He is a statesman and a diplomat—who knows what such men think? Intrigue is their bread and meat. If it does not exist then they create it!’

Petra had to acknowledge that there was some truth in his assessment of her godfather, even if his description of him leaned towards the slightly over-cynical.

Shaking his head, he continued, ‘After losing Mija there was no way I would ever want to repeat the mistake I made with her. There was only one reason I wanted you to come to Zuran, Petra, and that is because you are my grandchild and because I longed so much to see you!’

‘Grandfather, I know that you and Rashid are in business together,’ Petra persisted. ‘And that he is dependent on the patronage of the Royal Family! I know that there were diplomatic reasons…’

Petra stared at her grandfather as he started to laugh.

‘Why are you laughing?’ she demanded, offended.

‘Petra, Rashid is a millionaire many times over in his own right, from the inheritance left to him by his father. We do have business interests in common, yes—and indeed the Royal Family are great admirers of his work—but Rashid is dependent on no one’s patronage!’

Shaking his head, he added huskily, ‘Petra, I did your mother a terrible wrong, but the price I paid is one I shall pay to the end of my days. There is never a sunrise when I do not think of your mother, nor a sunset when I do not mourn her loss.’

Petra blinked, her eyes wet with fresh tears. Instinctively she knew that her grandfather was telling the truth.

‘Are you still feeling unhappy? Do you want to come home with me now?’ he asked her. ‘I shall speak with Rashid for you, if you wish. The decision is yours, but it seems to me that it would be a pity if two such well-matched people should lose one another through a simple matter of pride, and lack of communication and trust.’

Her grandfather made it all sound so easy!

‘No… No, I do not wish you to speak to Rashid,’ she answered him.

‘I… I… can do that myself…’

The smile he was giving her made her colour self-consciously.

‘It isn’t for me to interfere, but you are my granddaughter,’

he told her gently. ‘It seems to me that you and Rashid are very well suited. You are both strong-minded, you are both proud, you share a spirit of independence; these are all good things, but sometimes such virtues can lead to a little too much self-sufficiency—claimed not because that is what a person necessarily wants but because they believe it is what they have to have in order to protect themselves. I think that both you and Rashid are perhaps afraid to admit your great love for one another because you fear the other will think you weak and in need.’

His intuitive reading of her most private and hidden feelings astonished Petra.

Part of the reason she had fought so hard to resist her love for Rashid had been because she feared its intensity. Could it be true, as her grandfather had implied, that Rashid felt exactly the same?

She was, she recognised, still trying to come to terms with the fact that she had made such an error of judgement in assuming why he had married her. But he had made no attempt to defend himself to her, had he? Out of pride? Or because he didn’t really care what she thought? And he had deceived her about who he really was!

‘Sometimes in life we are tested where we are most vulnerable. There are many ways of being strong, many reasons for being proud,’ her grandfather was continuing gently. ‘Only you can decide whether or not your love for Rashid is worth fighting for, Petra—whether it means enough to you for you to take the risk of reaching out to him, openly and honestly. Rashid has already taken that risk by marrying you. It is his way of saying how much he wants to be with you. Remember he has married you in free will and of his own choice. Perhaps it is now time for you to take your risk!’

Silently Petra absorbed his words. He had given her an insight into the workings of Rashid’s mind and heart that she had not previously contemplated, and the possibilities springing to life from that insight were giving her an entrancing, an intoxicating, an impossible to resist picture of what they could share together.

‘I have additionally been instructed to give this to you,’ her grandfather continued, changing the subject. He handed her a beautifully decorated piece of rolled parchment and a flat oblong package.

Petra frowned. ‘What is it?’

‘Open it and see,’ he said with a smile.

Hesitantly Petra did so, her glance skimming the letter written on the parchment and then studying it more slowly a second time, before she turned to the package and quickly unfastened it.

‘It’s a letter from the father of the little boy—the one at the stables,’ she told her grandfather. ‘He has written to thank me and he has…’ Her voice tailed away and she gave a small gasp as she studied the contents of the package.

‘It’s ownership papers for a… a horse… a yearling…’

‘Bred out of the Royal stables,’ her grandfather supplied for her. ‘They are very grateful to you for what you did, Petra. You saved the life of a very precious child… and at no small risk to your own.’

‘But a horse!’ Petra was overwhelmed.

‘Not just a horse,’ her grandfather corrected her with a smile. ‘But a yearling whose breeding means that he may one day earn you, his owner, the Zuran Cup!’

From the balcony of the Presidential Suite Petra could see down to the beach. Race Week and all its excitement and busyness was over. She and Rashid had said goodbye to their last guests and in the morning they were due to leave the hotel for the villa.

Rashid’s horse had come in a very respectable fourth, and Petra’s grandfather had teased him that he might soon find himself in the position of having his wife’s horse competing with his own.

There had been no opportunity for them to be on their own together since the night Rashid had made love to her at the villa, or for Petra to raise the subject she was desperately anxious to talk to him about.

According to her grandfather, Rashid loved her!

On a sudden impulse Petra left the suite and hurried towards the lift.