by Avery Laval
Her eyes widened, at this final bit of information, impressed that his small region had found a profitable way to be caretakers of the earth.
Khalid turned to her for a moment. “It will be a long drive if you refuse to speak.”
She laughed bitterly. “You’re allowed to ice me out whenever you see fit, but I don’t have the same right to sit in silence after you mistreat me?”
“I hardly mistreated you.”
“You forbade me from visiting my home.”
There was a moment’s pause. When he spoke again, Khalid’s tone was softer. “That was rash. Surely you realize I’d let you spend time with your family. I’m not a monster.”
With that, Marissa’s temper boiled over. “Surely I know? Surely I did not know. You may not be a monster, but I’m definitely not a mind reader. I only know what you say to me. And I take what you say to me seriously. If you say I can’t see my family, or say I don’t deserve respect—when I may be carrying your child—I will take that seriously.”
He was silent.
“Well?” she demanded.
“I believe I can see your point,” he said at last. “I will temper my rhetoric.”
“Good idea,” Marissa snapped in reply. “Maybe you’ll find that if you temper your rhetoric, I’ll temper my, well, temper.”
“Agreed,” said Khalid. “Now, if the air is clear, perhaps I could resume my endless lecturing on the main exports and gross national product of Rifaisa?”
Marissa exhaled. “Well, fine. I must admit I’m interested. And besides, you do seem very passionate on this subject.”
“I am. As heir, it’s all up to me—for my grandfather still manages much of the old-school politics—to be a steward for the future.”
“It seems like you’re doing a good job, if all these green jobs you talk about are coming to fruition.”
“And Madden Construction?” he asked. “Is it satisfying work?”
“Satisfying, yes,” Marissa conceded. “Passion-inducing, though? Not yet.”
Khalid made a soft sound of understanding. “Passion counts for a lot.”
Maybe too much, thought Marissa.
For a little while, they were both silent. After a while, when they made it outside the city, Khalid began again to point out landmarks. Clearly, he couldn’t resist the subject. He told her about the red dunes she would soon see, the harshness of life between cities in this barren land, and the surprising amount of wildlife to be found within the desert expanses. As he talked, Marissa watched the landscape grow more and more foreboding, the roads grow more treacherous, and felt the age of the place she was in, the mystery it held.
He was quite the expert on the country—obviously he had studied its natural and political history with the same vigor that he’d always brought to his work, only now it was much, much more personal than any job he’d had before. His eyes seemed lit from within as he pointed out first one thing, then another. He wove stories of the warring sheikhs who had laid wreckage to the area and then left, declaring it too foreboding. His own distant ancestors had pressed through the desert a thousand years ago and found the gleaming beaches and one perfectly shaped cove, yet unclaimed, ripe for a port. He told her of his grandfather’s epic love for the daughter of a rival sheikh that had brought a lasting peace to the area for the past sixty years, even after her death.
The stories made the travel pass, and when the neighboring sheikh’s gardens came into sight, Marissa looked at her watch in wonder. “Is this it already?” she asked.
“This is it. The oasis of Sheikh al Fulan. Let me get your door.”
The moment their feet hit the heavily landscaped earth, they quickly became caught up in introductions and greetings. She met the sheikh they had come to see, his various aides, and countless family members, who all greeted her warmly, if slightly curiously. They were sent up to luxurious rooms and left alone to clean up for lunch. They all reconvened in an elaborate dining room laden with mezze, small dishes of spreads and vegetables that each looked more delicious than the last. Marissa felt her stomach rumble at the sight. She was ready to dig in when the French doors of the dining room sprang open and a woman appeared, tall and stunning and dressed to impress in a long bias-cut silk dress and a diaphanous matching scarf wrapped around her head and neck. Her arms were heavy with gold bracelets. She looked familiar.
Their host stood. Khalid and the other men did as well. Marissa knew at once this was no assistant here to announce an important phone call. “Nuriyah!” the host exclaimed and then added something further in Arabic to the rest of the table, who nodded and smiled. Then he gestured at Marissa and switched to English. “Ms. Madden, my daughter, Nuriyah. Nuriyah, meet Khalid’s university friend from America.”
Nuriyah. The name clicked into place, and Marissa leaned back in her chair as if blown by a great wind. So this was the sheikh’s daughter. Khalid’s ex-wife.
She nodded to Marissa and ran to kiss her father’s cheek adoringly, before she turned to Khalid. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said in perfect English. “It was the only day I could make it up to see my family, with my busy schedule in the city. And when Father said you’d be our guest, I thought it would be great to catch up!” She was breathless and wide-eyed. Beautiful.
Khalid reached over to take her hand politely. “Always a pleasure,” he said with a smile that seemed genuine.
Nuriyah took the empty seat directly opposite Khalid—right next to Marissa, so that she could feel the thousand-watt smile coming off of her through the entire meal. They were probably playing footsie under the table, she thought with a jealous pang. While the mother of his child—maybe—sat just inches away, trying to concentrate on a plate of taramosalata.
Wait, Marissa thought. You’re being ridiculous. Rather than get stuck in some jealous frenzy, she turned to Nuriyah and asked her about her work in PR, and began a conversation with her about marketing that was as friendly as could be. Nuriyah was a perfectly nice person, and a fine conversational partner, and though Marissa would have noticed they had differing interests even if Khalid hadn’t already told her so, there was nothing wrong with her mind. The woman was intelligent and knew what she wanted from life, thought Marissa. She would never have let Khalid tell her what to do or where she could or couldn’t go, no matter the circumstances. No wonder they’d split up so quickly. Marissa realized that under the right circumstances, she and Nuriyah might have become friends.
After dinner the group moved to a beautiful poolside patio, where they found three little girls making the most of the large shallow pool, especially the fountain of water that sprayed over into it and caused endless opportunities for splashes and squeals. As the adults sat and drank a strong bitter tea unlike anything Marissa had ever tasted, she watched the children’s antics with amusement, while Khalid and the sheikh settled into low-toned private conversation.
“They’re my nieces,” said Nuriyah, gesturing to the pool as she slipped so gracefully into the seat nearest Marissa’s. “Daughters of my older sister.”
“Adorable girls,” Marissa commented.
“Aren’t they?” Nuriyah replied, pride in her voice. “This is the best way to enjoy children, I think, as an auntie. I get all the holidays and happy occasions. But when they cry, it’s not my problem.”
“Opting against having children must be difficult here.” Marissa gestured at Nuriyah’s father.
“It’s certainly frowned upon in our culture, but my father supports me. He has plenty of grandchildren now.” Nuriyah examined Marissa. “Do you want children of your own, Marissa?”
“I do. Someday.” With those words, Marissa finally admitted to herself what she had been afraid to face for the last several days: A part of her hoped she was pregnant. She certainly didn’t want to be stuck in a marriage with a man who drove her mad with desire and frustration at the same time. But did she want to be a mother? Oh, yes. She had wanted it three years ago, but she’d been afraid to face trying again af
ter she’d lost the baby. She’d been too petrified to even dream of motherhood.
Now, if she were in fact pregnant, it would be a fait accompli. The decision would have been made for her, and she would have to stare down the fears she had developed since the accident. She would have no choice. Only now she would be facing them much more alone than she’d imagined. With a man who couldn’t love her by her side.
As though she could read minds, Nuriyah turned her head to Khalid and laughed. “I’m sure he’s told you that’s why we didn’t work out,” she said lightly, with a tip of the head toward her ex-husband. “Our differing views on children.”
Marissa said nothing, shocked by Nuriyah’s frankness.
“It’s too bad,” Nuriyah went on. “Everything else was so good, if you know what I mean.” She winked, and Marissa felt her stomach tighten. “They just don’t make men like him every day. But he wants a family, and I don’t. We simply weren’t in the cards. Who knows what the cards hold for you.”
Marissa paled. The conversation had turned too personal. Too quickly. She suddenly rose to her feet. “The sun,” she said, feeling ridiculous since they were sitting in the thin shade of a patio umbrella. “I think I’ve gotten too much sun.” Luckily, she was so flushed from stress she felt sure it would look as though she were developing a sunburn, despite the thick coat of sunscreen she’d wiped on that morning.
Nuriyah stood too and put the back of her hand to Marissa’s flaming cheek. “You poor thing. Let me take you to my room and make you a compress.”
Marissa forced a grateful smile, but all she wanted was to escape this conversation. Then, out of nowhere, Khalid’s voice cut in.
“Ladies,” he said, approaching from where he’d been sitting with Nuriyah’s father. His eyes were locked on Marissa in a way that made her swallow hard. “It’s getting later in the day, and I promised Marissa a trip to see the beaches. She studied marine biology in school, did she tell you?”
Marissa tried not to choke as he delivered such an outlandish lie.
“She didn’t mention it,” said Nuriyah, not hiding her skepticism. “Such a departure from corporate marketing.”
Khalid shrugged. “She’s full of surprises,” he said dismissively. “Would you mind lending her a shade umbrella? She’s looking a little flushed. Sun getting to you, Marissa?”
She nodded, still not daring to speak a word.
“Of course,” said Nuriyah. “If you’ll give us a moment, we can all go down together.”
Khalid shook his head. “Not necessary. Stay here, enjoy the pool and your beautiful little nieces. I know how you love children, and you have such little free time to visit, as you said.”
Marissa gave Nuriyah a look over her shoulder as Khalid led her away. Khalid hardly seemed to notice. He was already slipping his arm in Marissa’s, calling to a pair of nearby bodyguards that it was time to go.
9
Khalid wasn’t sure exactly why he’d rushed to Marissa’s aid when he’d seen her getting upset while talking to Nuriyah. He figured Nuriyah had said something to upset her, as Nuriyah had often infuriated him, and he wanted to dash to Marissa’s rescue. After Marissa had blistered him with her words in the trip up here, he wanted her to look at him with kindness again. Damn it, he wanted to earn her smile.
But as they bumped along in the Range Rover, navigating the sand and gravel trails that were the only way to reach the isolated beaches, he saw no smile. Just trepidation. Damn that wide-eyed face of hers.
“What’s wrong, Marissa?”
“Why did you do that?” she asked. Of course she couldn’t leave any subject unspoken. Of course he loved that about her.
“Do what?”
“Rescue me from Nuriyah?”
Khalid laughed at her choice of words. “First you tell me you could raise a baby all on your own, and now you need rescuing from a meek Rifaisi woman?”
“She’s hardly meek, as you surely know. And I didn’t need rescuing from her, exactly. I needed rescuing from the thought of a loveless marriage.”
Khalid said nothing. If only she could know how much the opposite frightened him.
“So tell me, once and for all,” Marissa pressed on. “Why did you show me that small kindness? Why did you lie to Nuriyah, desert your meeting, and whisk me away?”
Khalid lightened his foot on the gas as the road grew more and more uneven. He noticed that she was gripping the door handle tightly, but somehow managed to keep the rest of her body loose. She was a natural at off-road travel, he thought curiously. Lucky for her. Aside from the city and the major thoroughfares, the roads in Rifaisa were catch as catch can. There would be a lot of bumpy travel if they were married. Every day would be as off-kilter as this one.
“I lied to her because I can,” he said, deciding not to divulge these disorienting feelings until he could better understand them for himself. “It’s one of the perks of being a prince. I’m never wrong.”
Marissa looked at him hard. Then she seemed to let the subject go. “You’re wrong all the time,” she shot back. “It’s just that no one has the guts to tell you so.”
“Lucky I have you here, then, wouldn’t you say?”
Marissa practically growled, but there was good humor in his voice. “Lucky for you. Not so lucky for me.”
He laughed, and finally, finally, he realized the true reason he’d pulled her away today. Because he’d wanted to be alone with her. Would it be so bad? she’d asked him. And he was beginning to think maybe it would not.
“Anyway,” he said quickly, hoping she hadn’t noticed the flicker of recognition on his face, “I was ready to go to the beach, and I thought it was better if you were with me, rather than left to be interrogated by the old sheikh and his daughters. They’d have you confessing to our situation in minutes. And where would that leave me?”
Even with his eyes focused on the road, he could feel Marissa staring at him for a long time after he spoke, probably trying to read him, figure out if he were telling the truth. Which of course he wasn’t. At last she exhaled, and he found he too had been holding his breath. “You’re probably right,” she said. “All they would have needed to do is threaten me with more of that awful tea.”
“You mean qat? You didn’t drink it, did you?”
“I couldn’t take more than a tiny sip,” she said. “I’ve never tasted anything like it. Thankfully.”
“That’s because you can’t get it in the States. It’s a narcotic. Thank goodness you didn’t drink much. It can’t be good for the baby.” As soon as the words were out, he wanted to smack himself. “The hypothetical baby,” he amended.
But it was too late. He’d already given away his own mind. Now she had to know that part of him was wishing for the baby.
Marissa cleared her throat. “Maybe it’s time we think of a better term than ‘hypothetical baby,’” she said, her voice as relaxed as her body despite the uncertain terrain. “We may know within the week. The tests they have now are much faster than the ones they had even three years ago.”
“How do you know that?” he asked.
“I’ve been doing some research online. I also discovered that over-the-counter pregnancy tests aren’t available in Rifaisa.”
“We’re a progressive enclave with an American-born prince, but we’re still smack dab in the middle of the Arabian Peninsula. It’s why I work so closely with both Jana and Amid. She is the most qualified, but much of my business takes me places where she simply cannot attend.”
She nodded. “Even so, it’s a predicament in terms of finding out the situation while maintaining our privacy.”
“Is your period reliable?”
She laughed, and Khalid couldn’t resist sneaking a peek from the road to catch that glimmer that made its way to her bright eyes. “Think of the scandal if the old sheikh could hear us now! But yes, yes, it’s pretty much clockwork. It’s just that stress has a way of knocking a woman off-kilter. And I have been under a bit of stress.�
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He twisted his lips. He had been a little heavy-handed with her. But then, this was the same woman who had concealed her first pregnancy.
“If you’re late,” he said with conviction, “even by a day, we’ll speak to my personal doctor. I trust him to be discreet. At least long enough to make arrangements.”
“Arrangements for a wedding, you mean.” Her voice sounded shaky. “Couldn’t there be some other way?”
Khalid’s shoulders slumped. “Unless you’re willing to leave the baby here and sign away your maternal rights?”
She gasped. “No!”
“That’s what I thought. Then no. I am already once divorced. There is only so much the people will tolerate. If you bear my child, you will be my wife.” He hated the way the words sounded on his lips. Almost like a life sentence. He stole another glance away from the road and saw that all the earlier sparkle had gone out of her eyes. She looked utterly defeated.
“I’m sorry this is happening, Marissa,” he said, forcing his own frustration out of his voice. “I know it’s not what you want.”
She sighed, a big motion that caused her shoulders to rise and fall slowly. “I’m scared, Khalid.”
“Scared?” It took a moment for him to understand what she meant. When he did, a twinge of sadness passed over him. “Because of what happened the last time?”
“Yes. If I am pregnant, how will I keep the baby safe? What if something happens?”
Khalid cut her off, unwilling to let her put herself through the doubt, the recrimination no one deserved. Without thinking, he let his hand slip to her knee reassuringly. “Let that be my concern. I will keep you and the baby safe.”
Marissa looked down at the spot where his hand touched the fabric of her skirt and fell silent, as if she were drinking in his words. Then she looked up at him, her round eyes shining. “It’s not how I imagined it,” she said at last. “But if I am—if we are pregnant, I will be happy to be a mother.”