It wasn’t until he was at Cambridge that his friends talked about going to Mehkar on holiday, that Gila with its white marble and endless man-made lakes, was nonstop entertainment. His friends never understood why Dal wouldn’t want to go on holiday to an exotic desert country famous for its hotels, restaurants, shopping and nightlife.

“I had no idea Gila was so big,” Poppy said after a moment.

“There has been a lot of new development in the past twenty years. The people of Mehkar love their sports, and their toys.”

“Sophie’s friends used to come here for the polo tournaments.”

“But not Sophie?”

“No. She always said she wanted to visit. Mehkar was on her bucket list.” Poppy gave him one of her reproving looks. “But you should have known that, though. You were her fiancé, and engaged forever.”

“Not forever, just five and a half years.”

“Which is pretty much forever to a twenty-six-year-old.” She continued to frown at him. “If you didn’t discuss travel, and bucket lists, what did you discuss?”

He didn’t immediately reply. The jet was dropping lower, and faster, a rapid descent, which meant they’d be on the ground soon before making the quick transfer to his helicopter, and Poppy would be making the transfer with him, too.

“Sophie and I didn’t talk a lot. But I think you know that,” he said as the wheels touched down in an impossibly smooth landing. They were still streaking down the runway, but soon they’d begin to slow.

“You can’t blame her,” Poppy answered. “Sophie wanted to be closer to you. You just wouldn’t let her in.”

And that was also probably true, he thought, but he didn’t want to continue discussing Sophie. Sophie was part of the past. She’d chosen a different path, a different future, and it was time for him to focus on his future.

The jet turned at the end of the runway and began the slow taxi toward the small, sleek, glass and steel terminal.

“Women feel close through word and language. We bond through talking—”

“I’m not ready for another lecture on emotions,” he interrupted firmly in the authoritative voice he used when he needed to redirect Poppy, and he needed to redirect her now.

“I’m trying to help you.”

“That may be the case, but I’m not in the right frame of mind to be presented with my overwhelming failures as a man.”

“You’re not a failure. But you could work on your emotional intelligence—”

“Poppy!”

She pressed her lips together, her expression defiant, and he drew a deep breath, trying to hang on to his patience.

“I thought you said you had only sixteen days to find a wife,” she said in a small but still defiant voice.

Where had this new Poppy come from? She was beyond stubborn, and while he appreciated persistence, now was not the time. She had no idea how unsettled he felt. It was difficult returning to Mehkar. He was already dreading getting off the plane and transferring to the helicopter. Mehkar represented his mother and his carefree summer holidays with his brother at Jolie. He’d never truly dealt with their deaths. He’d just stopped thinking about them and now he was thinking about them and it wasn’t a good day to be feeling overwhelmed.

Dammit.

Why had he thought that going to Kasbah Jolie was a good idea?

How had he thought this could be positive?

He shouldn’t have come. He should have stayed put at Langston House and weathered the media storm and focused on wooing Poppy there. Instead, he was here, jumping from the proverbial fire into the frying pan.

Dal could see the helicopter ahead. He also saw the cars and the crowd and the royal security details. The black helicopter wasn’t just any helicopter but the royal Mehkar helicopter, the elegant gold crest as familiar to him as his mother’s face and name. His heart thudded, his chest tight and hard as he battled memories and a past that gave him nothing but pain.

Maybe one day he’d be able to remember his mother without feeling the grief. Maybe after he’d spent a week at Jolie he’d be more peaceful when he thought of Mehkar. In his teens he used to dream of the summer palace and gardens, and when he woke up, his lashes would be damp and his stomach cramping as though he’d swallowed glass.

All through his twenties he’d continued to miss his mother profoundly.