Tamed: The Barbarian King

“Yes.” His voice suddenly hardened. “And I will be your neighbor. My home is but thirty kilometers from Umar Hajjar’s estate.”

She turned with an intake of breath at mention of her fiancé’s name. Oh God, how could she have already forgotten Umar? She was an engaged woman! She shouldn’t be looking at another man’s lips!

But she could not stop herself. Not when the man was Kareef, the only man she’d ever loved. The only man she’d ever taken to her bed. And until yesterday—the only man she’d ever kissed.

Umar had kissed her for the first time only after she’d accepted his marriage proposal. His kiss had been businesslike and official, a pledge to seal the deal when a handshake wouldn’t do. He did not seem particularly keen to sweep her immediately into bed, which was just fine with Jasmine. Their marriage would be based on something far more important: family. And she wasn’t just getting back her parents and sisters. She would finally be a mother. She would help to raise his young sons, aged two to fourteen.

“Do you know his children?” she asked thickly.

He nodded. “I am godfather to his two eldest—Fadi and Bishr. They are good children. Respectful.”

Respectful? They hadn’t seemed that way when she’d met them last year in New York—at least not respectful to Jasmine. The four boys had glared at her, clinging to their father and their French nanny, Léa, as if Jasmine were the enemy. She sighed. But who could blame them for being upset, when their mother had just died?

“I hope they’re all right,” she whispered. “I met them only once. His poor children. They’ve had a hard time. Especially the baby,” she added, looking away.

“They need a mother,” Kareef said softly. “You will be good to them.”

She looked at him with an intake of breath. He leaned across the table, his gaze intense in the candlelight. He was already so close, his knee just inches from hers.

“Thank you,” she said softly. Sadness settled around her heart as unspoken memories stretched between them.

“Didn’t you know she was pregnant, my lord?” the doctor’s voice echoed in her ears, from the dark cave long ago. “She’ll live, but never be able to conceive again…”

Remembering, Jasmine dropped her silver fork with a clatter against her china plate. Clasping her hands tightly in her lap, she tried to close off the memories from her mind.

“You’ve always wanted children,” Kareef said. There was a grim set to his jaw. “And now you’re to be married to Umar Hajjar. A fine match by any measure. Your father must be proud.”

“Yes. Now,” she whispered. She shook her head. “He’s never cared about my success in New York. He even refused the money I’ve tried to send the family, as his fortunes have faltered while mine have grown.” She lifted her gaze. “But I’ve always believed some corner of his heart wanted to forgive me. My success in large part came from him!”

Kareef shifted in his chair.

She continued. “When I first arrived in New York at sixteen, I had nothing. No money. My only friend there was an elderly great-aunt, and she was ill. Not just ill—dying. In a rat-infested apartment.”

“I heard,” he said quietly. “Later.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, feeling a surge of bitterness. “I worked three jobs to support us both. Then,” she whispered, “out of the blue the month before she died, I got a check from my father for fifty thousand dollars. It saved us. I invested every penny, and gradually it paid off. But if not for him,” she said softly, “I might still be an office cleaner working sixteen hours a day.”

He picked up his glass, taking a sip of wine.

Jasmine frowned, tilting her head. “But when I tried to thank my father for that money today, he claimed not to know anything about it.”

Kareef stared idly at the ruby-colored wine, swirling it in the candlelight.

And suddenly, she knew.

“My father never sent that money, did he?”

He didn’t answer.

She sucked in her breath. “It was you,” she whispered. “You sent me that money ten years ago. Not my father. It was you.”

Pressing his lips together, he set down the glass. He gave a single hard nod.

“The letter said it was from my father.”

“I didn’t think you would accept it from me.”

“You’re right!”

“So I lied.”

“You…lied. Just like that?”

“I intended to send you more every year, but you never needed it.” Kareef’s voice held a tinge of pride as he looked at her. “You turned that first small amount into a fortune.”

“Why did you do it, Kareef?”

He turned to look at her. “Don’t you know?”

She shook her head.

Reaching over the table, he took her hand in his own. Turning it over, he kissed her palm.

A tremor racked her body, coursing through her like an electric current, lit up by the caress of his lips against her skin.

He looked up at her. His blue eyes were endless, like the sea in the flickering light. “Because you’re my wife, Jasmine.”

Silence filled the blue room, broken by sudden booms of fireworks outside, rattling the windowpanes.

She snatched back her hand. “No, I’m not!”

“You spoke the words,” he said evenly. “So did I.”

“It wasn’t legal. There were no witnesses.”

“It doesn’t matter, not according to the laws of Qais.”

“It would never hold up in the civil courts of Qusay.”

“We are married.”

Through the high arched windows, she saw fireworks lighting the dark sky. Struggling to collect her thoughts, she shook her head. “Abandonment could be considered reason for divorce—”

He looked at her. “Your abandonment?” he said quietly. “Or mine?”

She sucked in her breath. “I was forced to leave Qusay! It was never of my free will!”

He looked at her. “I had cause to leave you as well.”