“A little. He didn’t talk much about his home although I knew he missed it very much.”
“And we missed him. We wanted him home very much but Zahir was unable to persuade him to return.”
“No. He…” Anna trailed off instinctively wanting to talk with Fatima about Abduallah, tell her all the past that only she knew and that she desperately wanted to share with his family.
“There is no need to explain. Zahir said that Abduallah wouldn’t return because he was happy where he was.” Fatima shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. All I know is that he was not like Zahir and Zahir did not understand him. But,” she inclined her head, intimately towards her, “we women do. And Matta? I was surprised…” Her voice tailed off.
Anna looked at her warily, noting the curiosity in Fatima’s eyes. So at least one member of Zahir’s household suspected. Probably the only one, judging by the way she watched those around her.
“Well, it’s complicated...”
Fatima touched her on the arm. “I did wonder and I mean no disrespect by my doubts. It was simply a feeling I had about Abduallah but it was obviously unfounded. I can see Matta is truly my nephew. But come, enough of this I am letting my tongue run away with me.” Fatima nervously sipped her water, suddenly realizing that she’d gone too far.
Anna put out her hand on Fatima’s and squeezed it. “It’s OK. I’m not offended. I appreciate your honesty; I understand your doubts but you are right, Matta is, truly, your nephew.”
“Yes, of course he is. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“Forget it. Tell me about yourself. Why did you come back here? You were living in Riyadh were you not?”
“Yes. For ten years until my beloved husband died but he left little money and three children. Zahir insisted I return home.”
“He seems to make a habit of that.”
Fatima looked surprised at her implied criticism.
“Because he is sheikh; because he protects and cares for his family and people. My life has been far from easy and he has always looked after me, even if from a distance. You are in safe hands.”
Anna searched the care-worn eyes and smiled, moved by the directness of this woman whose sadness was countered by a happy nature very different to her elder brother’s.
“I am glad you are my sister. It’s good not to feel alone any more.”
Fatima looked shocked. “Alone? But you have your family in the United States, you had Abduallah and now you have Zahir.” She laughed. “I cannot believe you feel alone.”
“Believe me,” Anna half-whispered turning to Fatima completely, “my family is not so numerous as yours, nor so close. And Zahir, well, he’s a busy man.”
“For you, no.” Fatima bent her head to speak confidentially to Anna. “I have never known him stop working—until now. He was at war for much of his youth. And then when peace came, he had to ensure we became wealthy once more. It was just how it was. It’s only now, with you, that I’ve ever known him to take time away from his business.”
“I guess he wants to make sure I don’t go anywhere.”
“And where would you go? Why would you want to? No, he wants you. See how he looks at you.”
Anna looked up and caught Zahir’s gaze. His dark eyes were focussed on her, watchful as always, but they held a different quality tonight. She tried, but couldn’t look away. Perhaps it was the glow of the candles that gave his expression a seductive warmth. Or perhaps it was her own need for reassurance in these alien surroundings among strangers. Whichever, his gaze, while still heated, didn’t sear tonight but rather enveloped, wrapped around and held her like the warmth of a desert breeze once evening had fallen.
The gentle touch of Fatima’s hand on hers broke the spell.
“You see? You have nothing to fear about loneliness, ever again.”
Anna was shocked at Fatima’s words. It had been her need to break the connection with her family that had driven her hard for independence and freedom. But now, the tentacles of family and relationships were slowly winding their intrusive bonds around her, drawing her closer to them. She sipped the iced water, relishing its chill effect down her body, trying to calm the rising panic.
Was there no way out of this palace that was a fortress; was there no escape from this family whose sense of loyalty and duty bound them together; was there no avoiding this man who called to her as surely as he called to his falcon, demanding capture?
“I hope you will allow me to help you in the coming week, in the lead up to the wedding.”
“Wedding.” Anna repeated softly, feeling the iron doors close with a clang behind her. Her mind turned to the way the falcon had shivered with excitement at Zahir’s touch, accepting his command.
“Zahir has organized it of course but I would be happy to help you personally to prepare, if I may? You only have four days now.”
“Four days?”
“I’m sorry, you did not know?” Fatima looked anxiously over at Zahir. “Oh dear. He will not like that I’ve told you then.”
“Well it’s good someone has.”
By the way Fatima was looking at Zahir she could see that Zahir was accustomed to his family doing everything he said, obeying his every wish, anticipating his every demand. No wonder he thought he could do the same to her. Well that was one tradition she could definitely do without.
“An oversight, I’m sure. But there is no need to be anxious, all will be ready on time. Zahir instructed preparations to begin a month ago. Ample time to have everything arranged. He is so organized.”
Organized wasn’t the word that sprang to Anna’s mind. He’d only proposed yesterday. She’d only said “yes” yesterday. But he’d organized the wedding months ago. He’d been so sure.
“Zahir controls everything around here doesn’t he?”
Fatima shrugged. “Of course. As I say, he is the sheikh. So, tomorrow, I will wait upon you, as tradition holds.”
“And we do everything by tradition?”
“Naturally. It is tradition for a reason—because it works.” She smiled sympathetically. “You will become accustomed to our ways soon. Everyone does things by the ways of their country.”
Anna shook her head. “Not me. I do things my way.”
Fatima shook her head gently. “Not any more, Anna. Now it is our way. Don’t fight it. It is a good tradition you are following after all. You are marrying your dead husband’s brother. That is good. It helps strengthen the family ties. I just wish my poor husband had an available brother. But still, I am here with Zahir, with my family. And he is a good man.”
A good man. The words rang in her head. They seemed so far from the truth. He was a hard man, a controlling man—a warrior living in a civilized world. He was a magnetic man. But good?
The rest of the evening flowed by in a stream of small-talk and pleasantries. All Anna’s fears of rejection and mistrust evaporated before the genuine interest and warmth of Zahir’s family. By the time coffee was served, Anna discovered to her surprise that she’d actually enjoyed herself. Discovering more about the al-Zaman family, she’d come to understand a little more about Abduallah—and Zahir.
Suddenly Anna was aware that a quiet had descended. She looked up to find Zahir had risen and stood facing her.
“Come, Anna. We must leave. We have business to attend.”
“Now?”
He smiled tightly. “Yes, otherwise I would not have mentioned it.”
She smiled at Fatima and, bidding the others goodnight, followed Zahir out of the room and into the corridor along which the flames of huge torches flickered, sending shafts of light into its lofty heights.
“Business? What business?”
“You will see. It will give us time to talk also.”
“You haven’t exactly appeared over-eager to talk to me so far.”
“I think you can reasonably assume that I’m angry.”
“And I think I can reasonably assume that you’re always angry.”
“No. Only when people are unforgivably rude. You were late. It is unforgivable to be late.”
“Matta was over-tired. I needed to be with him to settle him down.”
“You needed to be here. To do your duty.”
“My duty is to my son.”
“Your son needs to toughen up. You will be my wife now. Your duties are wide-ranging: they are to the family above all, they are to respect our culture, our ways, me.”
“You’ll have to forgive me.” She couldn’t help a sarcastic tone creeping in. “My ways are different to yours. I have no sense of duty to my family.”
He stopped and opened a door. “No. Of course you wouldn’t.”
Anna stepped inside the library filled floor to ceiling with books. Above them a mezzanine floor made the most of the high ceiling by providing another layer of book shelves. It smelt of old books, leather and strong coffee. Apart from the books the room was dominated by a large leather-topped desk, in front of which Zahir pulled out a seat for Anna.
She sat down but she didn’t wait for him to take control.
“I understand we are to be married at the end of this week.”
“Yes.”
“Were you going to bother telling me?”
“Of course. It is not a subject for idle chatter, although my sister obviously believes so. It is business. And that is why I wished to meet with you now. To complete the paperwork.”
“Marriage equals paperwork. Interesting.”
“No more unusual than your own marriage.”
“At least I played an active part in that.”
“Here. You need to sign these.”
“What are they?” She didn’t bring them to her nor attempt to read them.
“A pre-nuptial. If you leave within five years, you forfeit everything.”
“And that’s traditional Bedu culture is it?”
His eyes glittered. “No. In traditional Bedu culture the woman becomes a property of the man. But we no longer live in the Dark Ages—”
“Could have fooled me. I thought that was what you wanted—to own me, to do what you wanted with me.” She felt her breath quicken.
“I have no interest in a one-way transaction. That will give me no satisfaction. I want you willing; I wish to enjoy your enjoyment.”
A memory flashed into her mind: of his fingers touching her lips as they sucked in ragged breaths, of his eyes watching her face intently as she climaxed and of how, only then, did he come to his own intense climax. She breathed in sharply and willed herself to focus.
“Transactions, business. This is what it all comes down to with you isn’t it?”
“Yes. Never think it is anything else.”
“I wouldn’t. I doubt you’ve an ounce of genuine feeling or affection in you.”
He gazed coolly at her for one long moment before continuing. “Why do you fight this, Anna? Here, take the papers and sign.”
“I’ll read them first.”
“Then do so.” He rose and walked over to an intricately carved cabinet. On top of it was a small stove heating a coffee pot. Two small cups sat beside it.
“Coffee?”
“No thanks.”
She leant over the desk, one hand propping her chin as she read through the papers and tried to ignore the fact that Zahir was two feet away from her and watching her closely.
She didn’t have to concentrate hard; the papers were as familiar to her as a daily newspaper. From her law studies at Cornell she knew that he’d been more than fair to her in the pre-nuptial agreement. She’d entered this marriage with no assets and, if she divorced after five years, would leave an extremely wealthy woman.
But she didn’t care about wealth. Could she sign her life away? But it wasn’t about her life was it? It was about Matta. In the past twenty-four hours she’d discovered that Matta was home. That this was the best place for him to grow up into the man she knew he could become. She’d been worried about Zahir’s harsh influence. But even that view had changed since she’d seen Zahir in his own environment with the people around him who cared and respected and admired him. And the way he was with Matta.
A vision of Matta’s joyous face, as Zahir had swooped him up and placed him on his shoulders, would be imprinted in her memory forever, made all the more vivid by the acute fears that had preceded it.
She had to do her best for her son and if that meant signing her life away in order to be able to watch him grow up, then so be it.
She signed and pushed the papers away from her.
“No questions?”
“I know these documents, I studied them, I know the implications. I’ve already agreed to them in spirit. There, now you have it in black and white.” She rose from her chair. “So if that’s all, I’ll go to bed.”
“No. Not quite all. You haven’t read the other set of papers.”
She looked down in surprise. She’d assumed they were nothing to do with her. She’d assumed the only thing Zahir wanted was the pre-nuptial agreement. And he’d got that.
She didn’t move but narrowed her eyes and looked up at him suspiciously.
“What are these about?”
“Read them and see.”
She flicked them open and read.
Wide eyed she simply stared at him. Her heart thudded and she could feel the heat of excitement flood her body. Her hand trembled as she folded them lengthwise again and sat down, unable to believe what she’d just read, unable to say a word.
“I’m sorry. I thought that this would be something you would want.”
He’d mistaken her lack of speech for displeasure. But still she couldn’t trust herself to speak.
“You don’t wish to complete your legal studies at Riyadh and Paris?”
“Of course I do.” She wouldn’t have recognized her voice if she hadn’t felt her breath against her lips.
“Then why do you look as if I’ve just struck you?”
“Because you have.” How could she convey her absolute shock at his offer for her to complete her law degree? The arrangements he’d made to have her come to Qarawan had all been on his terms, as had his taking of Matta from her, his anger with her, his desire for her—all had been on his terms. Now this.
This was for her.
“To appease your conscience?”
“I have nothing to appease my conscience about. I have done the best for everyone in getting you and Matta here. It is how our society operates. I had to do whatever it took to bring you both home.”
“And this is what you want?”
“Of course. I want you. I’ve been clear about that all along. But I want you to know that your life doesn’t end here. It goes on—with me. It goes on—with Matta. It goes on—with your studies.”
She looked down at the papers once more, not trusting herself to look into his eyes. She could feel the tears pressing against her lids. She shook her head. He came and stood beside her. She could feel his strength like a drug. All she had to do was reach out and take it. It would make her feel whole again. Something she hadn’t felt since she’d last slept with him. She wanted him to touch her. She willed him to touch her.
But he didn’t. He was so close that she could feel the heat from his body. She could see his hands flex, as if to control their movement—his skin rich and warm and tantalizing.
Whether he knew it or not, he’d reached the only part of her that was still vulnerable—the hopes and dreams ingrained in her since childhood. He’d reached that vulnerable part and broken down all the other defenses that she’d built against a direct line of attack upon her. She’d never anticipated that he’d do such a thing.
“Take the papers. They have all the information you need. I have arranged for you to study by correspondence. But you will also need to travel.”
“But Matta?”
“He may come with you, visit you if you are to be away for a while. But it hardly seems sensible if you will be focussing on your studies. He may as well be here with his fami
ly.”
She nodded and looked back down at the papers.
“You won’t need to attend the university in person immediately. Matta will be settled by then.”
“He seems pretty settled already.”
“Of course.”
“And that’s down to you. You’ve made him feel welcome, at home here. Thank you.”
“He is of my blood. This will always be his home. No need to thank me.”
“And thank you for this. It’s the first time that, well…”
She felt his touch then upon her hair and closed her eyes, feeling the smooth slide down the length of her hair like a gift of all she could desire.
“You have nothing to thank me for. It is you who will do all the work.”
“But you thought of me.” How could she tell him that no-one had ever respected her thirst for education, her need for independence, her hopes and dreams before.
He took her hand and pulled it to his lips.
He frowned. “And this is unusual?”
“You must know it is.”
“But your own family—they may have been dysfunctional but surely they cared for you?”
“Possibly. But they cared for their own brand of escape more.”
He considered for a moment. Frowned. “You were strong, then, not to choose the path of your mother and your brother.”
“Strong? No. Just different. Their lives scared me. And I was good at school. I had choices.”
“Everyone has choices.”
“No. They didn’t.”
His hands caressed her arms lightly. She could feel his breath on her skin; she could smell coffee and the earthy scent of his aftershave, a blend of leather and amber, creating a heady mix that made her feel dizzy with longing. He leant forward. She closed her eyes, her mouth softening readying for his touch. She felt his lips upon her forehead. The press was gentle; the touch lingered for one long moment, enough for her to want more. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest, once. Then he drew away.
“Come. It is time for bed.”
As if in a dream she felt his hand lightly draw her to him as they left the library, heading back to their private quarters. Moonlight flooded the corridors, slanting its beams across the passageways, revealing a gentle magic to the imposing palace, a seductive magic.
The Sheikh's Bargain Bride (Desert Kings) Page 4