The Sheikh's Disobedient Bride

“Never?”

“I don’t want a husband.”

He let her go then and his dense black lashes dropped, concealing his expression. He was silent, assessing her, and the situation. “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

His tone had changed and she didn’t know if it was shock, or respect but either way it irritated her. Her life, her past, her relationships, and most of all, her sexuality were her business and no one else’s. Least of all a barbaric desert tribesman. “I’m thirty, not thirteen. Of course I’ve had relationships—and experience—but I choose to remain single. I prefer being single. This way I can travel. Explore. Do what I want to do.”

Tair continued to study her as though she were alien and fascinating in a strange sort of way.

Tally wasn’t sure she liked the look on his face. His expression made her nervous. Made her feel painfully vulnerable.

“Your parents—they’re still alive?” he asked.

She nodded, neck stiff, body rigid. She really didn’t know where he was going with this and didn’t want to find out.

“They don’t worry about you?” he persisted.

“No.” She caught his eye, flushed. “Maybe a little. But they’re used to my lifestyle now. They know this is who I am, what I do. Besides, they have other kids who supply them with grandchildren and the like.”

Tair refilled his cup of tea from the small glazed pot. “I shall find you a husband.”

“What?”

He nodded matter of factly before sipping his tea. “You need a husband. It is the way it should be. I shall find you one. You will be glad.”

“No.” Her head spun, little spots danced before her eyes. He wrong, absolutely wrong and she couldn’t even get the protest out. Instead she sucked in one desperate breath after another.

“Women are like fruit,” he said picking up a date, gently squeezing it. “Women need husbands and children or they dry up.”

Dry up? He didn’t just say that. He didn’t say that while squeezing a little date, did he? My God. This was a nightmare. This was worse than anything she could have ever imagined, and she’d imagined some pretty awful endings. Kidnapped, her photos stripped from her and now what? Married to a desert barbarian? “Let me go home. Please correct this before it turns out badly.”

“I will make sure you have the right husband. Do not worry.” His lips curved and she saw teeth, straight white teeth and thought this must be his idea of a smile. “Now eat. Berber men like women with meat on their bones. Curves. Not stringy like you.”

Tally went hot and cold. She felt wild, panicked. She couldn’t be here, couldn’t stay here. This was all wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Tair sighed, frowned. “You must at least drink the tea. You’re dehydrated. I can see it in your eyes and skin.”

Tally wasn’t a crier but she was close to tears now. How was she going to do this? Would she escape?

“You don’t like tea?” he persisted, the strain on his patience showing. “Would you prefer water?”

“Is it bottled water?”

His black brows tugged together. “It’s well water.”

“But not processed?” She’d only just gotten off of weeks of wretched antibiotics, antibiotics that were proved to be just as hard on her stomach as the parasite and food poisoning. Just remembering the forty-eight hours in the Atiq hospital made her stomach cramp. “You see I can’t drink water that isn’t purified. I’ve had problems—”

“You are without a doubt the most delicate, finicky female I’ve ever met.”

“I’m not finicky and not overly delicate—”

“Asthma, heat stroke, stomach ailments, dehydration—”

“I didn’t ask to be kidnapped! This was your idea not mine. If you don’t like that I’m so delicate, next time do more research before you kidnap a woman!”

He shook his head, expression grim. “You are not going to make it easy for me to find you a husband. Men do not like mulish wives.”

Mulish. Mulish, was she? Tally nearly laughed. That was rich, coming from him. “You know, you have a very good vocabulary for a desert bandit.”

“I like to read between making raids on towns.” He snapped his fingers. “Now drink. None of my men will marry a woman if she’s nearly dead.”

“I don’t want your men.”

“How you love to argue.”

“I have my own opinions and point of view, and contrary to what you might think, I’m not normally difficult. You just happen to bring out the worst in me.” She glared at him. “Until yesterday, I hadn’t had an asthma attack in years. The attack was thanks to you nearly suffocating me in that horrible bag of yours. I can’t believe you did that. It was terrible. Awful. I couldn’t breathe.”

“So I noticed.” His brow lowered, his expression dark. “But you were quiet at least.”

She covered her face with her hands, breathing in carefully, deliberately, doing her best to block out the smell of the mint tea, the peculiar sandalwood scent and smoke of Tair’s skin, and the intense heat already shimmering all around them. She couldn’t do another day in the desert. Not like this. Not with this man.

She was near tears and cracking. “Can you please go? Can you please just leave me alone?”

He didn’t answer. He was so quiet that after a minute Tally was certain he’d gone but when she lifted her head she saw him there, still seated across from her. He didn’t look the least bit sympathetic, either. If anything, his jaw jutted harder, his mouth pursed in a now familiar look of judgment and condescension.

“Drink your tea,” he said wearily. “This is the desert, and the heat is quite deceptive. You need to stay hydrated or you won’t live long enough to take another picture, much less visit Casablanca.” His dark eyes gleamed as he pushed a cup toward her face. “Which is overrated, if you ask me.”

Her eyebrows arched. Was that a joke? Was that flat tone and deadpan expression his idea of a joke? “I don’t trust the water,” she retorted, pushing the cup away. “And yes, I am thirsty, and I will drink. But it must be bottled water.”

“Bottled water?”

She ignored his incredulous tone. He didn’t understand the difficulties she’d had these past four weeks. She’d never had a cast iron stomach but it’d become particularly finicky lately ever since she picked up parasites from local water just outside Atiq. The parasites had her practically sleeping in the bathroom and she had no interest repeating that experience again. “Yes, bottled water. You sell it in the stores.”

A small muscle popped in his jaw as he gave her a ferocious look, one that revealed the depth of his irritation and aggravation. “And you see stores near by?”

“No, but there were stores back in El Saroush.”

“Are you suggesting I send someone back for bottled water?”

“I’m suggesting you send someone back with me.”

He sighed heavily and pressed two fingers to his temple. “You have the most tedious refrain.”

Her lips compressed. He might not realize it, but she was just as irritated and frustrated as he was. “I’ve only just begun.”

“I should just cut out your tongue.”

“You wouldn’t want to do that,” she flashed. “My new husband might not like it.”