Their horses were happy to reach level ground. Elan launched into a spirited description of the newest Arab mare on his ranch back in Nevada. “Women aren’t like mares, little brother.” Elan pulled up his horse and stared at him again. “They don’t like being told what to do. They need to make up their own minds.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Of course he didn’t love Dani. He barely knew her. They had great chemistry, no doubt. Unbelievable sex, hell yes. Interesting conversation, for sure. Enjoyable companionship, yes indeed. But love? He didn’t even know what that was.
“Then don’t approach her father. If you do, he’ll think you’re serious. And if you don’t love her, you’re not serious. Shall we gallop on this flat land?”
“Sure.” His mind whirred with confusion as he urged his horse faster, until the gray mane was flying in his face. Why were matters of the heart so much more complicated than corporate affairs? Since coming to Oman he’d already come up with three viable new business plans, each of which excited him equally. On the other hand, there was only one woman on his mind.
“Race you there!” Elan called back, pointing to a lone frankincense tree in the desert.
Whipped on by his own competitive instincts, Quasar charged forward until they were neck and neck, their powerful horses speeding across the desert, hooves tapping out a quiet drumbeat on the sandy soil. Pursuing Dani was all wrong. He didn’t want to hurt her again after what she’d suffered in her marriage.
When his horse passed Elan’s, Quasar let out a yell into the desert air. A whoop of triumph that also contained a howl of frustration at the situation he found himself in with Dani. The sex they shared was insane. He could talk to her about anything. He craved her company when he wasn’t with her. And everyone, including her, thought he should stay away from her.
So why did he want to ignore them all and take matters into his own hands?
* * *
“Good news, my darling.” Dani’s father arrived home that evening in an uncharacteristically festive mood. She didn’t remember ever hearing him call her darling before. It struck a note of alarm in her heart.
“What, Dad?” She took his briefcase and put it in its place under the hall table.
“Samir Al Kabisi came to my office today.” He was beaming. Dani froze. This was the man who’d told her he was still potent so her needs would not go unmet. “He made a generous offer for your hand in marriage and you’ll be happy to hear that I accepted.”
“What?” She knew the custom of mahr, in which the husband offered a certain sum of money to his bride. It was a tenet of Islam intended to protect women by making sure they had money of their own in case they needed it. But these days it was customary for the man to make his offer of marriage to the woman herself, not her father, wasn’t it? And how could her father possibly accept without asking her? Her heart pounded and her breathing grew unsteady. “I’m not marrying him.”
“Don’t be foolish, Dani.” Her father’s cheerful expression had barely altered. “It’s an excellent offer and he’s a good man. He owns his own firm and could comfortably retire tomorrow if he wanted. He’s the chief supplier of nuts and rivets in the gulf region.”
“But I’m not in love with him.” Her voice was shaky. She knew her father couldn’t make her marry this man, but her refusal was bound to cause a rift between them.
“Love grows. It’s a silly modern fashion to try to fall in love before you’re committed.”
“I’ll never love him. He’s too old. I’d make him unhappy as well as myself.”
Her father’s expression darkened. “Daniyah, I’ve been very indulgent with you since your unfortunate return home. You tried to do everything your own way once, and the results were disastrous.”
She didn’t deny it.
“Now it’s time for you to listen to the wisdom of your father and an older generation, when life was simpler and people were happier.”
She couldn’t argue and say that her parents’ marriage wasn’t happy. She suspected it wasn’t but since her mother wasn’t alive to agree with her, she could only speculate. “I’m not opposed to marrying again, but it needs to be someone I can grow to have feelings for.”
“Samir is a kind man. He hosts a party at the orphanage every year during the Eid holiday.”
“I’m sure he’s lovely, but those aren’t the kinds of feelings I’m talking about. We’re both adults here. If I’m to share a bed with my husband I must have some attraction to him.”
Her unruly brain conjured an image of Quasar next to her in bed, languid, his tanned, muscled body against the white sheets, eyes shining in semidarkness.
“Daniyah, I’m shocked at you. Discretion is an essential quality in a woman.”
“I have to speak the truth. I’ve survived one bad marriage and I’m not willing to take a chance on another. You’ll have to tell Mr. Al Kabisi that I refused his kind offer, or I’ll go tell him myself.”
Her father clucked his tongue, his good humor utterly gone. “A father does not expect to endure the burden of his daughter returning home in middle age.”
Stung by humiliation, Dani drew herself up. “I’m hardly middle-aged. I’ll find a job.”
“As an art historian?” He snorted. “You should have studied something sensible, as I always encouraged you to. You could have been an engineer, or a chemist, or even an architect, but no, you had to study something foolish and whimsical with no career prospects, almost as if you intended only to be a rich man’s wife.”
Tears stung her eyes. “Art is my passion.”
“Fishing was my passion, when I was a child. I did not, however, choose to become a fisherman. If I were still inclined to pursue it, I’d fish simply as a hobby.”
She had to admit his words made sense. She’d been so blinded by the cheerful attitude that everyone should follow their bliss, which had prevailed at the small New Jersey university she’d attended. “You’re right. But I’ll find something. I’ll work in a shop.”
He looked doubtful. “At least take the night and think it over. You’ll be very comfortable with Samir. He has a spacious house only a few streets away and he drives a Mercedes.”
“I won’t change my mind,” she whispered. “I have a headache. I’m going to go lie down.” She’d skip dinner and help herself to something later when everyone else had gone to bed. She couldn’t face sitting around with three male Hassans looking skeptically at her every move.
Not for the first time she reflected that maybe she should have stayed in New Jersey, where at least she wouldn’t have elderly suitors shoved down her throat. But how? New Jersey was very expensive. She had no job and no place to live, and she could hardly return to live with her aunt, who had four daughters and now considered her to be a bad influence. Her self-esteem had been shattered by her ex-husband and she no longer believed herself capable of supporting herself and living independently. At the time she’d seen no other option than to run home with her tail between her legs.
Now that she’d had the time and distance to regain some perspective, she could see that coming home actually left her in a worse position. Her employment prospects were dimmer than ever, and she had another domineering male to answer to.
In her bedroom she lay on her soft bed and gazed up at the high ceiling with its ornately carved wood beams. This house she’d grown up in was grand by Omani standards. She’d always been well provided for and treated like a princess, at least by her indulgent and warm mother. She’d seen little of the world outside the filigree wooden shutters and had imagined it to be a brilliant and exciting place similar to the one she saw on American television shows. In college she often felt like the star of an upbeat sitcom where anything was possible. When her future husband, Gordon, had arrived on the scene, she’d assumed she was the heroine of a romance being swept off her feet by h
is insistent pursuit.
As her marriage progressed she’d realized she might be starring in a future episode of Law & Order instead. As her husband’s psychological abuse ratcheted up slowly into verbal abuse, and he began to pound his fists on the table or the wall, she knew she’d be next to feel his wrath and she’d finally come to her senses.
Hot tears leaked from her eyes as she reflected on all the foolish dreams she’d had. And now Quasar had come into her life as if to mock her with the kind of romance and passion she couldn’t really hope to enjoy, at least not for more than a few stolen sessions.
Noise from outside her room made her jerk her head up from the pillow. She heard raised male voices, and one in particular made her breath catch in her throat.
She could almost swear that was Quasar’s voice.
Dani climbed off the bed and hurried to her bedroom door. The house was one story, centered around a hallway, and if she opened her door the men would likely see her. The voices seemed to be coming from the direction of the front door.
“I know exactly who you are,” her father was shouting. “Your whole family has played a part in the plot to deprive my heirs of their birthright.”
What? Dani pressed her ear to the door. Now she was desperate to hear the other voice. It couldn’t be Quasar, could it?
“Mr. Hassan, I come with nothing but the utmost respect for you. You may not be aware that I have lived in the States for many years and have little to no involvement in my family’s affairs. I certainly have played no part in the lawsuit between our families.”
Dani’s chest rose and fell rapidly. It did sound like Quasar. But it couldn’t be, because she’d explicitly told him not to come here. And if it was Quasar, they’d be talking about her. And they weren’t. She had no idea what they were talking about.
She frowned and turned back toward her bed. Obviously she was losing her mind if she thought some random man who came to the door must be her lover. When she wasn’t with him, thoughts of him haunted her day and night. His image always seemed to hover at the edges of her consciousness, taunting her until she could see him again. He’d talked her into letting him pick her up at the house tomorrow. He’d convinced her that repeatedly meeting out in public was getting too risky and it was wise to mix things up a little, so she’d given him her address.
Her chest—and other parts of her—tingled with excitement at the prospect of seeing him again and spending another languid afternoon in their remote and luxurious love nest.
But what on earth was going on in the foyer?
“I curse the name of Al Mansur and I will never let one of those sons of dogs anywhere near my daughter!”
Dani froze; the word daughter struck fear into her heart.
“I’m not here as a representative of my family or anyone else. I come simply as a man of honor seeking your approval to meet and talk with her.”
Now she was sure that the voice was Quasar’s.
She crept back to the door, blood pounding in her head, and pressed her ear to it. Oh, how she wished there was a keyhole to peer through!
“My daughter is spoken for. A man has just today asked for her hand in marriage, and I have accepted his offer.”
“Surely Dani must have a say in the matter.” Quasar sounded shocked. As well he might. She hadn’t mentioned her father’s plans to him. “She’s an adult woman, not a young girl who doesn’t know her own mind.”
“She’s made up her own mind in the past and it proved to be a bad idea. She understands that I have only her best interests at heart.”
Dani could stand it no longer. She tugged open her bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. “What are you doing here?” she heard herself ask Quasar. She stood, staring at him. He looked oddly regal in traditional Omani attire—it was the first time she’d seen him in it—but she was furious with him for going against her wishes.
“You are a respectable Omani woman, and I am a respectable Omani man, and it is customary for me to meet your father and ask permission to court you.”
“Permission is not granted!” growled Dani’s father. “And I do not give you permission to place your accursed feet in my house. What do you have to say for yourself, Daniyah? Have you encouraged the attentions of this reprobate?”
She swallowed. “I...”
“She has done nothing whatsoever to encourage my attentions. I simply noticed that we both share a taste for books, and a brief discussion suggested that we have some interests in common. I would like to get to know your daughter better.” Quasar turned his gaze to Dani, and those deep blue eyes seemed to hold her in a trance.
“I didn’t ask you.” Her father scowled at Quasar. Then he turned his attention to her. “Daniyah, have you spoken with this man?” She’d never seen her father so angry. His eyebrows stood on end like little furry animals, and his lips had grown white.
“Yes, Father. I have spoken with him.” If he had any idea what else she’d done with him, he’d probably have a heart attack on the spot. She couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t either incriminate her or enmesh her in a lie she’d later regret.
“Your daughter’s conduct has been unimpeachable.”
Dani stood rooted to the spot. That was a very subjective view of her conduct, which by any traditional standards was shocking in the extreme.
“If you don’t leave my house right now, I’ll call the police.”
“Sir, let me beseech you. I’m happy to simply exchange a few words with your daughter here in your house, under your watchful eye.”
Quasar seemed totally unfazed by her father’s apoplectic rage. If anything she thought she saw a twinkle of humor in his eye. Which, under the circumstances, really ticked her off. He’d taken no personal risk coming here. If her father hated him, who cared? He was going back to the States and would soon forget the whole affair.
She, on the other hand, would have to live with the repercussions of this ill-starred visit for the rest of her life. “You really should leave.” She found herself speaking coolly, looking directly at Quasar. How could he have totally disregarded her wishes? She’d told him not to come. Who did he think he was?
“If Daniyah wishes for me to leave, I shall leave.” He swept a bow in her direction. The chivalrous gesture would have excited her if she weren’t almost as angry as her father. Quasar nodded to the older man and apologized for alarming him, muttered a traditional goodbye and left, striding confidently in his long white dishdasha.
Dani wanted to sag with relief as he disappeared out of sight, leaving the front door open to the gathering dusk. Instead, her instincts told her to turn and run.
Her father calmly and quietly closed the door. “What is the meaning of this, Daniyah? You are not in Hackysack.”
“It’s Hackensack.”
“I don’t care what it’s called. You are in Salalah now. You can’t strike up a conversation with any Tom, Dick or Harry who happens to stroll past you in a shop! You must have encouraged him to give him the confidence to come knock on my front door. Do you have any idea who this man is?”
She shook her head mutely. She didn’t, really. It was hard to believe she’d never even asked his last name. It hadn’t been relevant. And maybe she hadn’t wanted to know. It would have made their relationship seem more real, and then it would hurt more when it turned out to be a dreamlike interlude, as she knew it ultimately would.
“Quasar Al Mansur is the youngest son of Hakim Al Mansur.”
The name sounded vaguely familiar. She’d never paid much attention to local society gossip but she suspected he was some kind of oil-rich sheikh.
“Hakim is mercifully no longer on this earth, but his sons continue to refuse to recognize our family’s ownership of the old Fabriz property. They tricked my father into selling it for a few thousand rials when it was
simply a mediocre fishing spot. Now it’s worth millions as prime waterfront investment property, and they’re maintaining that the pathetic deal he was forced into is valid.”
“If it was his father’s doing, Quasar probably wasn’t involved at all.” After she’d spoken she realized she sounded as if she were defending him. Her best course was to pretend she barely even recognized him.
“I’ve had a lawsuit pending against the Al Mansur family in one form or another since the eighties. I haven’t won yet, but I haven’t lost, either. Salim Al Mansur has been itching to build one of his accursed hotels on that property for years, but he hasn’t been able to because the title is clouded by my lawsuit.” A look of satisfaction crossed his face for a moment. “It’s only a matter of time until my rights are legally recognized and the property is returned to our family. Your brothers deserve to reap the riches that can be sown there, not those grabbing Al Mansurs, who already have more land and money than they know what to do with.”
Dani blinked. She’d known the family was wealthy and powerful, but it was just her luck that the first man she fell for would be her father’s sworn enemy.
She wanted to go back, lie on her bed and continue crying. But that wouldn’t solve any problems. “I won’t see Quasar behind your back.” The resolution was easy to make. He’d deliberately ignored her plea that he not come here. He obviously didn’t care about what she thought and had run roughshod over her own thoughts and wishes just like her ex-husband would have. She was done with him.
“But I won’t marry Samir Al Kabisi, either.” She screwed up her courage. “I’m not ready for marriage again, Father. It’s too soon. I’m sure he’s a nice man but I’m also sure that any attempt to match me with him would lead to disaster for myself, disappointment for him and further damage to my reputation. I’m sure you don’t want that.”
“Indeed I do not.” His eyebrows were starting to subside a little and color was returning to his pursed lips. He sighed. “Things were so much easier in the old days when a girl listened to her parents.”
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