Chapter Twenty-Four: Unwanted Memories
Mary couldn't get Maxie out of her mind. All through the sweltering hot summer, the young royal had a busy schedule, touring hospitals, nursing homes, and schools all over the north of England. Yet whenever she had a moment alone, in the back of an air-conditioned limousine or soaking in a hot bath at the end of the day, Princess Mary found herself battling memories of unwanted passion. Maxie was trouble, and she knew it. The tough London street girl didn't want a relationship. She had said so herself. Yet Mary's innocent young body still ached with longing.
And so did her foolish heart.
"Well hello there, tiger! I hear you're really making a success up North." Jamil Khan's soft voice was always warm and reassuring. And he sounded friendly and cheerful even over the telephone.
"Huh? Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I'm trying. Hey, what time is it?" Lately Mary felt like she never knew whether it was day or night. Last evening had been the hospital fundraiser, a gala event with swarms of photographers and press, and the event had run late. Mary didn't remember much beyond smiling and posing for pictures with an endless stream of local dignitaries, keeping her royal mask firmly in place till the end and finally falling into bed. She was still sleeping soundly in her hotel suite when the cheerful clamor of the telephone jarred her awake the next day.
"It's not late," Jamil Khan said quickly. He always got how Mary was feeling, even when she was sad or cross or just too groggy for conversation after a very late night. "The reason I called, actually, is because I'm in town on business and your hotel is right around the corner. I thought the two of us might have lunch."
"Lunch?" Mary got a sinking feeling in her stomach. She was certain she'd had a tea or something scheduled for the morning. Rolling over in her luxurious hotel bed, the princess stretched and yawned. She saw leaden gray skies and a steady, heavy rain. Had her morning event been cancelled due to the weather? Would the summer downpour provide relief from the sweltering heat? Either way, Mary sensed it was long past breakfast time.
"You've been working hard," Jamil Khan gently reminded her, his warm voice making Mary feel both protected and appreciated. "You need your rest, and you deserve a quiet day all to yourself. While you were catching up on your sleep I called the palace, and persuaded your people to clear your calendar for the rest of the day. Why don't you meet me downstairs in about an hour?"
"All right," Mary said, carefully setting down the telephone and climbing out of the rumpled bed with a thoughtful look on her face. Her royal instincts were on the alert. Her father King Henry and her stepmother Queen Jane had pushed her into visiting the north. But now they were giving her a day off to spend with Jamil Khan. He was her dear friend, the one boy she trusted. Yet he was also the son of an incredibly wealthy Asian billionaire.
"You look amazing," Jamil Khan said, greeting her in the plush hotel lobby with a warm smile and a kiss on both cheeks.
"Thanks," Mary replied, her cheeks tingling from the firm imprint of his lips. She felt a bit jittery about the formal lunch date, fearing it might lead to something serious. But in the limousine Jamil Khan was his old self, teasing and joking about all the mischief they'd gotten into as children. Mary was soon laughing her head off, her blue eyes sparkling as they found a quiet back table at the fancy restaurant and drank a toast to old times.
"I wish we could spend more time together, Mary," Jamil Khan said, when they had done clinking their glasses. "We've always made a good team, on the tennis court and in our charity work."
"I know it," Mary said, smiling at him. Jamil Khan was so gentle. He always looked out for her, and was amazingly thoughtful and considerate. He really was the most precious friend she had ever had. "But you know, Jamil, a royal can't always do what she likes or be with the people she cares about the most. The royal life comes first and we have to accept that."
"Are you trying to ward off a marriage proposal?" Jamil Khan asked. "That's why I brought you here, in case you haven't guessed. Your father, King Henry, has given full approval. I may not be a royal, but my father's Pakistani billions could prop up the British monarchy for a long time to come. Not that either of us cares about that side of it. We would never marry for money."
"Certainly not!" The slim, dark-skinned billionaire's son was smiling, and Mary couldn't help smiling back. She and Jamil Khan were on the same wavelength in so many ways. Marriage to him made perfect sense. Yet when she tried to picture the wedding night Mary's mind drew a total blank. All she could pull up were unwanted memories, sinfully exciting pictures of Maxie making love to her on a rumpled little bed in a shabby East London flat.
"Are you all right, Mary?" Jamil Khan asked gently. "You can always say no if you want to. We'll still be best friends. Always."
"Always," Mary echoed, in a husky voice. She felt a wave of guilt wash over her as Jamil Khan drew out a priceless diamond ring.