One Dirty Scot

by Donna Alam

  Chapter Nine

  What a difference a day can make . . .

  Tonight I can’t sleep. Restless limbs pull me from the bed to sit curled in an armchair by the window where I’ve opened the blinds. Across the darkened room, Kai lies in an enviable sleep, the sheet pulled across his waist and tangled between his legs, now slack with slumber. One slender bare foot pokes free from the twisted bedding.

  It’s strange how sleep can strip the intent from a person. Moonlight kisses. Mouth softly pouting. The carelessness of just being, of just lying there. But it’s subterfuge, really. A sleeping ruse, because beneath the sheet lies a man capable of calculations. A man with a will of steel. A man so confident in his decisions, he thinks nothing of riding roughshod over whatever stands in his way. Lying there, draped in no more than those fine, pale wrappings, he looks so innocent. When in reality, asleep or not, the man is ruthless.

  I bet even in his dreams he wins.

  Yesterday evening seems a lifetime away. Yesterday evening was all about mutuality; coming together, being together, and for a short while, I thought today would be the same.

  It doesn’t feel so right now.

  I glance down, realising I’m creasing the papers in my hand. Not that it matters, they’ve already been screwed up into a ball. Right before I’d chucked them at him, my fit of temper ignited like a match by his superior calm.

  Pressing the papers between my thigh and palm, I attempt to smooth their rumpled state.

  Contract. Nikhar. Mahr.

  The words jump from the top page, the knot in my stomach tightening and a wash of anger prickling against my skin. It’s too dark to read with any great success, not that I need to at this hour. Besides, I already know what the papers contain.

  ‘How could you?’ I’d yelled just a few hours ago, overcome with a sense of fury that burned me outside and in.

  ‘You’ve read it,’ he’d answered, his tone indifferent. ‘Was there anything contained not to your advantage? Anything really to complain about?’

  Millions of things, it turned out.

  ‘It’s normal that the bride take no part in the wedding contract. She doesn’t even have to be present at the wedding. That, habibti, is what a wali is for; to represent.’

  ‘How could you expect me to place my future in the hands of someone I don’t know?’

  ‘And we’re back to the heart of the matter,’ he’d replied in a steely tone. ‘Your lack of trust.’

  Things spiralled from there; his assertion that the papers had been drawn to my advantage offered me no comfort at all. He’d coldly reminded me, that as a lawyer he’d managed the contract on my behalf, then had it signed by another lawyer, who’d agreed that he’d played me fair.

  When I’d yelled his was a conflict of interest, he’d just laughed in the haughtiest vein.

  ‘You do realise,’ he’d said, ‘your high horse has no legs.’

  So I’d sworn at him again. Lots.

  I level my gaze on Kai’s sleeping form, distaste twisting my expression. I begrudge him his careless slumber. How can he sleep when I stare at him so hard? How hasn’t he burst into flames?

  Neither of us was prepared to back down at that point when, though too late to claim discretion as the better part of valour, Kai said he was going to bed. He’d offered to take a bed in another room, and I swear I felt a tiny tear in my heart. Injecting my voice with some of his calm indifference, I’d replied that it wouldn’t be necessary. That though I hated what he’d done, I didn’t hate him. After all, hadn’t I married him this very afternoon?

  His body had seemed to relax at that, and we’d retired to opposite sides of the bed, a wall of anger and hurt creating a no-man’s land of the mattress in between.

  ‘Go to hell.’

  It was the last thing I’d said. He’d switched off the lamp, making as though to reach out to touch me, his progress freezing, his arm suspended in mid-air. I couldn’t really see him with any clarity, though there was sufficient light for me to notice his shoulders drawing tight, his spine stiffening. I’d thought for a moment he might grab me—coldness turning to fury, arguing turning to sex. I’d thought it, just for a moment, my heart misfiring, both panicked and eager at the prospect. But then he’d exhaled heavily, turning his shoulder, using his cold and urbane tone to great effect.

  ‘The company would undoubtedly be better there, wife.’

  Wife.

  Yes, I’m his wife. And today I’d signed my wedding contract blind when I should’ve seen the papers well in advance.

  I raise my hand to wipe away angry tears, moonlight highlighting the absolute rock on my finger. A ring that screams money, because it turns out, the box hadn’t contained jewelled nipple clamps at all.

  So we’d had a wedding, but not how I’d imagined.

  And a wedding night I’d now sooner forget.

  Turning my hand, I make a fist of fingers, slowly releasing the middle digit in the direction of the bed. Childish, yes. But that’s how I feel; impotent, though my anger burns internally. It’s painful, this disillusionment. I never would have imagined he’d serve me this kind of turn.

  Kai turns, murmuring in his sleep, an arm flung out almost as though seeking me, though I could be fooling myself. And it’s with no small amount of irritation, I realise I’m still staring at my ring.

  With a sigh, I pull my laptop onto my knee, and for want of a better pastime, I type.

  Dear Niamh,

  Congratulate me. I’m married. Dramatic, I know.

  No, I know it isn’t April. But does it still make me the fool?

  No bullshit. Really. I got married today. Even if it feels kind of weird to say it. Okay, type it, but you know what I mean.

  Yes, I know I’ve got a fair bit to explain—see, I can almost hear you from all the way over here! Anyway, the long and short of it is, Kai followed me to Aus. Then asked me to marry him. I said yes, and before you get all arsey, I would have said yes no matter when or where.

  And that, I realise as I type, is true. Today may not have been my choice of wedding, but my decision to marry him I don’t regret.

  The how . . . that’s another thing. They do say the devil is in the details, and in this case, the devil is in the bed across the room.

  Hey, but in getting hitched, I feel like I’ve won lotto.

  And not in the way you’d think.

  I bagged my man and became independently rich!

  A million dollars in the bank, more to follow. And he wonders why I’m pissed.

  I shit you not. In marrying Kai, I received a hefty wedding gift from him, a sort of reverse dowry, only I get it instead of Geoff. It’s mine to spend however I like.

  Providing I stay faithful to him. Under the proviso’s set out in our marriage contract, infidelity leads to the return of this money, and an instant divorce.

  No million dollars for passing Go and no returns.

  As he’d pointed out, he’d included reciprocal terms, the magnanimous bastarding shit. I get those same rights if he’s caught shagging around—not that he was honour bound to offer them, he’d pointed out as my yelling reached fever pitch. As it turns out, by this marriage, he didn’t even have to offer me the right of seeking divorce—on any grounds. Apparently, a woman’s right to divorce needs to be written into the contract; it isn’t a given. Unfuckingbelievable, along with guaranteeing me half of his wealth should it be proved he’d been unfaithful.

  I feel like I’ve just signed the lease to my life, but that isn’t even it—it isn’t the reason I’m so angry my skin burns. He dictated the terms, and they’re generous , but I just signed the fucking thing without even thinking. Without even realising. Without Kai suggesting I take a moment to read.

  The man railroaded me, and I don’t care if his intentions were fair. It’s the reason I can’t sleep, along with wondering if I know Kai at all. And that I was stupid, that I didn’t even ask. What does that say about me? That I’m too trusting? Blinded by love? Just an
idiot? I’d assumed I was signing on the dotted line, consenting to being wed, like you would for any ceremony. I could’ve been signing away my life, and it wasn’t until later, driving home in the car, my hand still in his when I’d realised what he’d done. What I’d done. Words and duplicitous figures running across the page, the realisation that I’d been duped.

  Does it matter that it reads like it does? The money, the privileges?

  Does it fuck.

  I think you’re probably asking who buys a bride, and whether they’re sold by the kilo or pound. Probably wondering what the refund policy is, too.

  Jokes aside, it seems I couldn’t refuse, that the practise is more than just a tradition. It’s a requirement of the ceremony, so I can’t complain. Yeah, right. But though the practice is normal, I’m pretty sure the amount is not, but I guess Kai doesn’t do anything half-arsed or small.

  Apart from me, maybe.

  Anyway, as an indelible facet of the nikah ceremony, according to Kai, I don’t get to refuse. And no, I didn’t misspell that. Nikah’s nothing to do with unmentionables.

  So I got married today. But not in a church, or even by civil ceremony. And I wore a very cute Alannah Hill maxi dress. But it wasn’t a wedding dress, not as I’d imagined. And although my hair was covered, it wasn’t by a gauzy, white veil. Our wedding was officiated by a cleric from the local mosque.

  The wedding itself was short, though not without a certain ceremonial aspect; words spoken, promises made. All good.

  The ‘rents weren’t invited. My choice. It didn’t seem like the right thing to do. I know; I’m a wuss. But I didn’t want to give them more cause for worry or complaint, feeling a great deal of CBA. (I’m sure that doesn’t shock you, that I can’t be arsed with their drama.) They’ve both met Kai, by the way, and if they don’t exactly approve, they’re keeping their thoughts to themselves. Mostly. Bonus, hey?

  So, in the absence of Geoff, ostensibly to give me away, the bloke officiating the ceremony acted as my representative, or wali, though he wasn’t stupid at all. (Just in case you didn’t catch that, that thing there was a joke.) Anyway, he was lovely, gentle, and more than willing to explain anything he thought I might not understand.

  Which is more than I can say for Kai.

  During the ceremony, I was more or less offered to Kai, with a few religious sentiments, Kai then accepted, and contracts were signed.

  And that’s where I went wrong. Blinded by love, or just a joke?

  And bada-bing-bada-boom, we were hitched.

  It was different. What else can I say? I won’t say I wished you’d been here because it was over and done with pretty quick. It would’ve been a long way to come for a few minutes; some paperwork, a few words and that was about it. Plus, we’re doing it again once we get to Dubai.

  Wanna be my Maid of Dishonour? I draw the line at a bachelorette party of topless waiters and headbands made out of condoms, FYI.

  Raising my head, I glower once more at the bed and wonder if I can contrive to get a male stripper in Dubai.

  So this time around, no wedding bells, no rice throwing and no fancy wedding bash. We’re saving all that for when we get back. Mum and Geoff are flying out, and even though they say they’re “happy” I’m settling down. I’m not sure if that means they like Kai, or like his cash.

  Pretty sure they won’t be happy to find I sort of got married already, so you’d best keep that to yourself.

  Anyway, we leave soon, so you can strangle me when I get back.

  See you on the Doobers side, mate.

  X

  As I type the final line, it occurs to me that in his own calculating way, Kai has offered me tangible evidence of his commitment. By standing to lose half his wealth, he’s sending me a sign of his commitment and fidelity. I can understand his motives, but not his methods, at least not right now. He should’ve spoken to me first. Explained. Shoving the contract under my nose? That was manipulation. I could’ve been signing anything. But if I’m honest with myself, I don’t know which makes me angrier; his actions or my own stupidity.

  I stare at my laptop screen, my finger hovering between delete and send. The latter wins in the end and probably for the best.

  I force myself back into bed. I can’t sit in a chair all night, and I still can’t quite bring myself to sleep in one of the other rooms, because despite everything, I don’t want to be apart from him.

  My back is towards Kai as I begin pulling the sheet free from under his hip, when his body surges from the bed, pulling me to him.

  ‘Are we still fighting?’ In the moonlight, his eyes appear as black as the night sky.

  I sigh and unthinkingly turn and rest my chin on his chest. I nod, though the truth is, the fight seems to have seeped out of me.

  ‘In that case, I’ll go back to sleep. Oof, that wasn’t why I bought you that ring.’ He links his fingers with mine, preventing me from jabbing him again.

  ‘Then why did you?’

  ‘Don’t poke people with rocks, sweetheart. Especially when they were bought to convey love.’ His grasp tightens, loosening just as quickly. With a protracted sigh, he tips his chin so his head falls back against the pillows. ‘I didn’t plan it this way. I bought a ring with the intention of proposing to you. The rest of it . . . I wish we could’ve done it some other way.’

  ‘Married a day and you already have regrets.’ My tone is peevish. ‘I’m not a puppy you can take back to the pet shop, you know.’

  ‘No, you’re a kitten whom I’ve put on a pedestal.’

  ‘No one asked you to.’

  ‘I wanted to. Want to.’ His voice betrays his regret in the darkness. I’m pleased he can’t see my face, because despite my earlier combustion, I’m still hurt. ‘I knew you’d kick up a fuss.

  ‘You shouldn’t hide things. Ever.’

  ‘I knew you’d try to refuse. Negotiate at the very least.’

  ‘That’s no excuse. You can’t force people into doing what you want by hiding things.’

  ‘I thought I could talk you around.’

  ‘Well, you can’t. It was wrong, Kai, and I don’t want your money. And I hate that you didn’t explain.’

  ‘But it’s required. Money, gifts, gold . . . any of those.’ He sighs, and I realise I’ve resumed my rant.

  ‘Not that amount of money,’ I add softly.

  ‘Maybe not,’ he agrees quietly. ‘But I want you to have that and more. I know how much you deplore the differences between our financial states.’

  ‘I do not!’ I answer indignantly, my voice rising again.

  ‘Yes, you do. You see it as a something between us, something separating us. Keeping us apart.’

  ‘I don’t want your money,’ I reply, despite his acknowledgement hitting a raw nerve.

  ‘Well, that’s okay because now you have your own.’

  ‘You’re a pain in my arse.’

  ‘Because I talk sense?’

  ‘Because you’d argue black is white and sell snow to Eskimos all without breaking into a sweat.’

  ‘I think you’ll find the correct term is Inuit. You married a lawyer. Don’t expect to win any arguments, sweetheart.’

  ‘Then we won’t argue.’ I slide my arm across his chest for a one armed hug. ‘I just won’t speak to you instead.’

  Lifting his head from the pillow, in the dim light he peers down at me, teeth gleaming in the moonlight. ‘Is that a threat?’

  ‘A promise.’ Beneath me, his chest rises and falls as he sighs. ‘Like I want you to promise you won’t hide anything from me.’

  ‘I promise I won’t.’ I’m not at all sure I believe him as he brushes his lips against my head. Especially when he thinks he’s right. ‘Try to get some sleep.’

  Wrapped in his arms, I do.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘I don’t know why you couldn’t stay longer.’ Mum’s hands reach as though to embrace me, settling on straightening my scarf instead. It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes, half e
xpecting her to bend down and tighten my shoes, maybe ask me if I’ve remembered to pack a hankie today, before tucking hers into my sleeve.

  ‘Come on, love.’ Geoff takes her still fluttering hands in his. ‘Kai’s got to get back to work.’ Hmm. Someone’s been asking Mr. Google questions. Can you say net worth, Geoff? ‘He can’t be expected to keep Kate in the style she’s accustom to or else!’

  Despite his gruff, jovial tone, I glower at him, stopping short of reminding him that I work myself, and that I’ve done so since turning fourteen. God deliver me from parental perdition at the airport. It was bad enough spending the whole day with them; my mum in high fidgets, not missing a passive-aggressive opportunity to dig in her pearl-handled paring knife. Kai and Geoff bonding and seeming to retreat into some kind of manly-man-hour while dinner was being prepared by the little women serfs.

  Norman Rockwell-esque, it was not, especially as my expression during said meal resembled a smacked butt.

  ‘But we’ve barely seen you.’ With a high-pitched sniff, Mum wipes a stoic tear from her cheek.

  ‘Come on, Mum. When I lived here, you barely saw me, either.’ Because you do my head in my.

  ‘Shush now, Cynthia,’ Kai says, sliding his arm across my shoulders. ‘There’s no need to be upset. You’ll be with us in a few weeks.’

  ‘They will?’ I ask, panic flaring under my ribs as I peer up at him.

  ‘Yes, for the wedding,’ he replies meaningfully. Lifting my hand, he kisses it, his eyes alight with the knowledge that I’m nervous he’ll inadvertently tell them we’re already hitched. That and my patience is wearing paper thin.

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ Oh, shit.

  My eyes catch the glint of light sparking from my right hand; my beautiful round-cut diamond, surrounded daisy-like by more brilliants. It’s a little Art Deco and a lot fabulous. My thoughts immediately turn from my ring to those of our wedding, my stomach twisting uncomfortably. It’s not so much the thoughts of the wedding itself, the Dubai leg, that is, though it’s not something I’m in any hurry to experience. Especially as technically, we’ve already done the deed. But it’s the thought of our return—confronting all I left behind. The trouble ahead.