"Hmm. That's a good question. Well, the first thing I suppose I would look for is beauty."
For some reason, his response stung her more than she thought it would. Of course men would say they were looking for beauty, but she wasn't sure how many of them would say it so bluntly and so baldly.
"Beauty?"
"Oh yes. The woman that I marry will need to be a beauty. After all, she is the one who will be bearing my children, and I do feel a certain responsibility to give them every advantage they can have in that regard."
Bedelia eyed him skeptically. "So a beautiful spouse is just so your children turn out well?"
He winked at her. "Well, maybe not just for them. I am a man with a man's needs, after all. I think a beautiful woman could keep me from straying the way a plainer one would not."
"I think you're the one that needs to keep yourself from straying, not her," Bedelia said tartly. She couldn't imagine the woman that Jahin might find someday, but she suddenly felt a deep and visceral sympathy for her.
"If you say so. And of course the woman I marry must be composed and suited for the social events I attend, both for work and for pleasure. I expect her to have...let's say, her own charity or some kind of work, but I also expect her to be well aware of what I am doing so that she can speak about it convincingly."
"And I suppose you will also know about what she is advocating for?"
"I'm sure I will," he said negligently. "I imagine we will choose it together."
"So she's allowed to be invested in something that you choose together, but not at the expense of your own passions and interests. That sounds like a splendid deal."
Jahin shot her an amused glance. "Let us be fair, it is not like I am asking for all of this for free. I am prepared to give her the life that she wants, one where she will never want for anything, surrounded by beauty, wealth, every advantage..."
Bedelia wanted to fight him for a moment, to tell him that there were women who did not want such a life, no matter how much he promised them. Then she sighed, because there were probably women who would be more than happy with a life like that.
"It doesn't sound so happy for me," she said, stopping to look at a few hand-carved toys that a woman was selling from her stall. They were ingenious little things, slightly crude but very lovely.
"So what would make you happy?" Jahin asked, a teasing note in his voice. "What would make you realize that a man was the one for you, and that he was the one you wanted in your life for the rest of it?"
"Well, I was going to say that it should be obvious, but after our talk, I'm not sure it is," she said with a wry grin. "It's not something I have ever thought about...but I think in general, I want a man who is honest, who has a passion in his life, but who makes me...the most important part of it. Because that is what I would do for him. I would make him the most important part of it, and I want someone that I could look at who I would be proud to do that for. And I want him to be proud of me."
Jahin tilted his head at her. "That is very broad."
"Well, we don't all have lives like yours," she said with a shrug. "And isn't that better anyway? If I tried to be with a man who wanted to direct my activities, who expected me to be beautiful every moment of the day..."
"That's not what I said--"
"You might as well have. If I had to be with a man who thought so little of me, I would never be happy, and in fairly short order, I believe I would start to make him very unhappy as well. That is not a thing that anyone wants, I believe."
"That is what you truly want? In your heart of hearts?"
She smiled a little, because she supposed she deserved to be caught out. "Well, yes. But it sounds like you're asking if I want more. And if I am honest with myself, I do. I want...romance as well. I guess I want a fairytale."
She shook herself.
"It's dangerous to want things like that in real life," she said, looking up at him. "I know that."
"Do your hands know that?"
She looked down, startled, and realized she was holding a little wooden figurine of what looked like a young woman, her headscarf and tunic elaborately painted, who held a beautifully detailed bouquet of red and white flowers in her hands. The look on her face was mysterious; her tiny red smile seemed to hint at secrets that she would keep.
"She's lovely," Bedelia said, and Jahin nodded.
"That's Meelia, the flower girl," he said. "Her betrothed went off to war, and she said she would water a valley with her tears. She cried so much for his loss that she blanketed the valley with those white flowers she is holding."
"Did...did he come back?"
"Some stories say yes, some say no. When he comes back, they are wed in a glade full of white flowers, and when she weeps with joy, the flowers come up in red instead. When he doesn't, we say that she is the reason we still have white flowers today."
"Oh, then I am glad that this Meelia got her betrothed back," Bedelia said, pointing at the red flowers mixed in with the white.
She started to put the little toy back, but Jahin stopped her. As she watched, he pulled a small handful of notes out of his wallet and handed it to the vendor woman, who gaped at the amount and tried to protest. Jahin only grinned, told her that it was fine work, and pulled Bedelia away.
"Oh, you shouldn't have..." Bedelia protested, but he shook his head.
"Take it," he said, his voice oddly tender. "For someone who wants a fairytale of her own, it will serve as a good reminder of what you might have someday."
"Do you think I'll have that?" she asked without meaning to.
He glanced down at her, and she wondered if there was something wistful in his copper eyes.
"I certainly hope so," he said.
Chapter Three
Jahin meant to walk the foreigner girl--Bedelia, her name was Bedelia--back to the hostel where she was staying and leave her there. The horse fair was only heating up, and there were still things he wanted to do. The lines might have closed at dark, but there were deals to be made in the light of the numerous bonfires, as well as people he only saw once a year to greet and laugh and drink with.
However, while he did meet some people and did get some information, he did it all while pulling Bedelia along with him. She was fascinated by every aspect of the horse fair, and he had certainly never met a foreigner before who was so fascinated by stud rights and the intricacies of Muneazil equine bloodlines.
When the sun had nearly set, however, he could tell that she was flagging. A little guiltily, he remembered how he had dragged her all over the fair, especially after she had suffered such a shock earlier. It was no surprise that she had gotten quiet, even if she continued to look around her with all the avidity of a small hunting bird.
There was something a bit odd about it, he decided. When he’d met her, he would have said she was quite plain. He liked his women dark and lovely, often as tall as he was with forms that were as graceful as willows. She was shorter than he was by almost a foot, curvy in a way that was attractive but usually not to his taste, and unlike any woman he had spent much time with. However, despite these things, he still found himself sneaking glances at her more often than he had ever thought he would look at a woman like that. There was certainly something compelling about her, and that was why he asked her to dinner.
"I don't want to impose," she started to say, but Jahin had gotten fairly good at fending that off.
"You never want to impose, and I will never let you impose," he said crisply. "We are agreed. I am asking you to dinner as my guest. I would enjoy your company, and I think you would enjoy mine, so yes or no? You are the only thing that is stopping us."
She laughed, and a part of him responded to that. He wanted to hear that sound more and more, and to his delight, she nodded.
“All right, if you're sure?”
“I am always sure,” he said with an expressive grin. “Come on.”
This wasn't the capital or Dubai. As much as some part of him wanted to s
ee what she would make of delicacies from around the world, he contented himself with taking her back to the small tavern where they had first spoken.
“I don't think this place has changed much in the past few decades,” he said with a wry grin. “Muneazil does have more to offer, but right now, this is the best that I can do.”
She laughed again, that lovely bell-like sound, and Jahin couldn't help but lean in a little closer.
“I think that if people have been enjoying it for such a long time, then I am not one to question it. What do you want to get?”
There was a pot of simmering goat stew on, and despite Jahin's doubts, it turned out to be amazing, rich and dark and spiced enough to make both their eyes water.
Between bites of bread and drinks of milk, they still managed to talk, and Jahin was slowly putting together a picture of a woman of a kind that he had never met before.
“I'll admit, you are a bit of a novelty,” he said after she enthusiastically told him about her high school job of delivering newspapers. “Women who want to work are a bit of a rarity where I come from.”
“Oh, well, I'm really not much of a rarity at all. I mean, I don't always want to work. Sometimes, I get up first thing in the morning, and all I really want is to crawl back into bed! No, I do enjoy the work, I do. It's just that sometimes, I really have to work to find the joy.”
“I see. And you find that worthwhile?”
She looked at him as if he had said something insane. “Of course I do. Otherwise, what's the point?”
Jahin laughed, shaking his head. “I work hard to make sure my concerns are taken care of, and the work I do is challenging and enjoyable, but most of the women that I have known, especially the ones as young as you, want to do very little.”
“Or that's what they show you. Or that's what they're offered, and they do not know that there is a more fulfilling time waiting for them.” She shrugged. “I've known plenty of people like that, and when they are actually offered a chance to make a difference, they seem more than happy to take it.”
“I envy your idealism. Are there many like you where you come from?”
She looked faintly insulted at that for some reason, but then her face took on a strangely melancholy cast.
“I'll be honest, I feel alone a lot,” she confessed. “I... Everything I do makes so much sense to me. Leaving Iowa made sense. Coming to Muneazil to do research makes sense. Heck, even wandering into the lines today made sense until something horrible happened. But when I reach out and try to find people who are like me... It never seems to work out. No one seems willing to...to meet me on my own terms, let alone give me that fairytale that we discussed earlier.”
She ended her sentence blushing slightly, and for some reason, that made Jahin ache. She might not have been to his usual taste, but she was still lovely, and it seemed as if every moment in her presence, she only grew lovelier. Why in the hell wouldn't she be found by someone with half a brain who could value her and love her as she craved?
He started to say something of this sort, but then there was a commotion at the door, and to his surprise, he recognized the two men who had entered. In the same moment that he recognized them, they spotted him and made their way to the booth that he and Bedelia were sharing at the back.
“Sheikh Jahin! A pleasure to see you here tonight!”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bedelia's head come up at the title. A part of him felt a strange sadness at being revealed for himself. There had been a part of him--not a large part, but a real part--that had liked speaking with her on his own terms, without titles and the usual flustered admiration getting in the way.
His friends, who were in Masir for the same reason he was, made their departures after paying their respects, and the silence between him and Bedelia stretched out like sticky candy.
“Well?” he asked, unable to bear it any longer. Jahin looked up to find Bedelia watching him with those large green eyes, and her expression was surprisingly thoughtful.
“So I take it that wasn't some kind of exaggeration?” she asked. “You truly are a sheikh?”
“That's the kind of exaggeration which could have gotten you executed just a hundred years ago,” he said with a wry smile. “And yes. I am Sheikh Jahin Abdul Kattan, sheikh of Muneazil, its first Lord and Protector.”
He was expecting stuttering awe or some kind of flailing, but Jahin wasn't expecting her eyes to go wide as if she had seen something wonderful and beautiful.
“That's amazing!” she blurted out. “What is it even like being you?”
Jahin blinked. “I'm sorry?”
“I mean, that means that your family's been ruling this country for centuries, doesn't it? And you're related to Addas the Lawmaker, and to Hela, who fended off the hordes of foreigners from her tower...”
Jahin couldn't stop himself from laughing out loud.
“Only you,” he said, shaking his head. “Most people want to ask about the wealth or the power. You want to know about the fairytales.”
“They were real people,” she protested, and she paused when he reached out to take her hand.
“They were real people. Their blood runs in my veins, and I am proud of that every day. But their stories are more real than they are at this point, and I find that I am completely unsurprised that you are gravitating towards their stories.”
She was quiet for a long time, and then to his surprise, when he looked up, Bedelia had a serious look on her face.
“I need to tell you something,” she said. “I'm not sure if you're going to like it or not.”
“And what is that?”
“I'm working for a writer back in the United States. He writes these...ugh, he writes these terrible books about a spy or something, and they're full of the worst action scenes. He's having me research Muneazil for him, and...I am having such a good time with you, but I don't want it to come out later that you thought I was...that I was mining you or something. Really. I'm not.”
Jahin had to shake his head at her earnestness.
“Thank you for telling me that,” he said, amused. “But believe me when I say that I wouldn't have taken it so personally. Hell, the woman who used to do my mother's manicures, her daughter tried to tell stories to tabloids all the time.”
“And your mother wasn't hurt?”
“Oh, she was very hurt. She had watched that girl grow up, after all. But the Abdul Kattan line has a great deal of power, and when we want to quell gossip, that is absolutely something that we can do.”
“I'm not worried about whether you stop me or Mr. Miller or not,” Bedelia said with a shrug. “I just didn't want you to be hurt.”
She was saying something else about the history of his family, but Jahin found that he wasn't listening.
What was this girl, anyway?
***
FOR A LITTLE while, Bedelia had gotten to have at least a small fraction of her fairytale. However, a part of her had always known at the back of her mind that the clock was ticking on it, just as Cinderella must have known. Cinderella had been told from the beginning that her time as a princess would end when the clock struck twelve, and she had simply been grateful that for a night, she had gotten to live out her fondest dreams.
Still, there was a small part of her that protested when Jahin offered to walk her back to the hostel. She wanted to ask him if there was a chance that they could see each other again, a chance that perhaps they could have another day like this one. However, she knew that wealthy men, especially wealthy men who ran whole emirates, didn't waste their time on women who weren't drop-dead gorgeous and apparently obedient to their husbands' wishes.
After such a dreadful beginning, the day had turned out to be one of the most enjoyable ones she had ever had, and she was sorry to see it go. No matter how much she had liked it, however, Bedelia was not going to sour things by making an issue of it.
“Well, this is me,” she said at the gates of her hostel. “Thank you for w
alking me back; you didn't have to do that.”
“I'd have worried that you were getting into trouble if I hadn't,” Jahin said with a slight smile.
It was still startling how good looking he was, but a part of her had grown used to it. She didn't think she would ever become immune, but she was beginning to see him as just a regular person, albeit a very handsome one.
“I should probably hop inside,” she said with real regret. “They're going to lock the doors in the next hour and...”
“You don't need to.”
She blinked, looking up at him. “Um, I guess you could order them to keep them open, and they would listen to you, but there's really no need for that, is there? I mean, I'm here, and I'm pretty sure we've exhausted all of the options for fun in Masir at this point...”
“Not all of them,” he said, and to her shock, he took her hand again.
No, she had not become immune to him at all. A few moments ago, she had been enjoying their time together, laughing with him as if they had known each other for years. Now in the fading evening light, there was an edge of hunger to him that called to something dark and primal inside her. There was risk and danger here, and the shock that traveled from his body to hers just through his touch was unlike anything she had ever felt before.
“Jahin...”
She couldn't say any more before he pulled her close, cupping the side of her face in his free hand. Bedelia only had time enough to realize that his hand was wonderfully warm before he dropped his lips to hers in a kiss.
She had kissed men before, of course. They had all been fumbling things that left her wondering what all the fuss was about. She had even wondered more than once whether she was frigid and cold, unable to respond to others the way the world told her she should.
With one kiss, however, Jahin told her that this was certainly not the case.
His kiss was fire and fury, igniting a response from within her that made her heart beat faster. Suddenly, with a single gesture, he changed something inside her, and all she wanted was to learn more about it. With a wild abandon she had never felt before, Bedelia threw her arms around him, dragging him close and tilting her head up so she could feel the kiss more clearly. She might have started out as shy and nervous, but soon she was boldly exploring the kiss, learning and craving more with every moment.
Sheikh's Virgin Love-Slave Page 12