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The Sheik's Arranged Marriage

Год написания книги
2018
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“We should talk about the marriage,” he said. “If we approach the situation logically, we should be able to find some common ground. Each getting what we want, that sort of thing.”

“All right.” Heidi glanced around, then pointed to a small bench tucked into a vine-covered alcove. “Although it’s going to be tricky to each get what we want when neither of us wants to be married.”

“We’re both reasonably intelligent adults. We’ll manage.”

She settled onto the bench. “I have to warn you, Jamal. I’m more than reasonably intelligent. Actually I get quite impatient when I have to deal with stupid people.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Not that I meant to imply you were stupid.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“I’m sure you’re quite bright. For a man.”

He sat next to her. “Do you want to change the subject before you dig yourself a deep pit?”

She sighed. “Probably a good idea.” She wiggled on the stone bench, then turned to face him. “So, what do you want from our marriage?”

He thought for a moment. “I want to be friends.”

“Oh, that’s good. All right. Friends. What else?”

“We’ll have to have children, but I think we should wait. Get to know each other better.”

Heidi’s eyes widened behind her glasses. She cleared her throat several times. “Yes, that would be wise. Waiting, I mean. Children are something of a strain on a relationship. Or so I’ve heard.”

Whatever else might happen, she had the ability to make him laugh, Jamal thought in relief. Although he was careful not to let her see that he was amused. He knew she wouldn’t understand. Heidi was so innocent as to be an anachronism. But he didn’t mind that. When the time was right, he would be patient with her.

The thought of making love with her was intriguing, and he found himself caught up in wondering what she looked like without her dreadful clothes. From the little he saw of her body, she seemed to have all the right parts. Despite his reputation for being a ladies’ man, he didn’t insist on physical perfection in his women. He preferred enthusiasm and humor to a perfect pair of thighs.

“I want to keep working,” she told him. “I love what I do, and I’m only just getting started. You won’t get all Neanderthal on me and insist I keep our suite clean or anything, will you?”

“The palace has servants for that. You may do as you wish with your day. Although there will be some official functions that require your presence.”

She pressed a hand to her stomach. “Don’t talk about that. It will make me more nervous than I already am.”

“You should know what to expect. Don’t worry. Fatima and Dora will help you.”

She nodded. “Yes, well, I’ll think about that another time. There is another matter.”

She paused just long enough to let him know she was embarrassed by whatever it was she was about to say.

“Go on,” he prompted.

“You won’t like it.”

“Say it anyway.”

“All right. It’s about your women. I would prefer you didn’t have any.”

He knew what she was getting at but he pretended ignorance. “Any what?”

“Women. Mistresses. Lovers. Whatever you want to call them. You have a reputation, Jamal. I won’t be made a fool of.”

“I see. You want exclusivity.”

Color flared on her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. “I expect you to respect me and our vows.”

“What about my animal passions? Will you be able to satisfy them?”

“A-animal passions?” Her voice quivered. “I—I guess I can. Perhaps you could provide written instructions beforehand so I’ll know what to expect.”

He coughed to hide a laugh. “No problem. I’ll have my secretary type them up.”

“As we’ve already established, I’m very bright. I’m sure I can study them enough to be able to satisfy your…well…you know. And if the act doesn’t seem overly appealing to me, I’ll simply endure.”

Her words cut through him like a knife. His humor faded, as did his good mood and any hope that this marriage might be better than his last.

Without wanting to, he remembered his beautiful young wife standing naked in front of him, her mouth twisted in disgust as she stared at his arousal. “You’re an animal,” she’d said. “I don’t understand why I have to endure you touching me all the time. I hate it, and I’m not very fond of you.”

He pushed the memory away, but the feelings it evoked remained.

He rose to his feet. “I will not trouble you more than necessary,” he said through gritted teeth.

Heidi frowned. “Jamal, what’s wrong? What did I say?”

“Nothing but the truth. Come. Let us tell my father and grandmother the good news.”

“All right.”

Heidi still sounded troubled, but she trailed after him. He hurried, wanting to get the announcement over quickly. As soon as the congratulations were finished, Fatima would whisk Heidi into the harem where she would stay until their wedding day. They would not be allowed any time alone between now and then. The thought of not seeing her was a relief. If only he never had to see her again—ever.

Chapter Four

“I ’m going to hyperventilate,” Heidi announced as she stood in front of the full-length mirror in the harem. She stared at her reflection and knew this wasn’t really happening.

Fatima paused in the act of smoothing out the creamy white robe that covered Heidi as effectively as a shroud. “Hyperventilate. Is that too much oxygen or not enough? I can never remember. One requires breathing into a paper bag, while the other means you should put your head between your legs.”

Dora sat on a chair, arranging the folds of the headpiece. “By the time we get it figured out, Heidi will have either passed out or healed.”

Heidi tried to smile at the joke, but she couldn’t. The sense of being trapped was too strong to escape, even for a minute. She was really and truly going through with this—she was about to marry a stranger.

She certainly looked the part, she thought with amazement, studying the person in the mirror. That woman was as much a stranger as Jamal. The white robe covered her from the top of her collarbone to the tips of her toes. In back, it fanned out like a bridal-gown train. Instead of being neatly contained in its usual tidy bun, her hair was long and loose, falling nearly to her waist. Fatima had lined her eyes with kohl and added color to her lips, which emphasized both features in a way that was oddly attractive, Heidi thought, but also unfamiliar. Then there was the matter of her hands and feet.

She lifted one hand and stared at the henna on her fingers and palms. The intricate patterns were traditional in an El Baharian wedding, as in many parts of the world. They marked her as a bride. For as long as the stain lingered on her skin, the bride was considered on her honeymoon. She would not be asked to participate in any household chores.

For Heidi the fading of the henna wasn’t going to make much difference in her day-to-day life. As a princess, she wouldn’t do any cooking or cleaning. But for regular women—the loss of the henna was a time of sadness. The magic of the honeymoon then faded to just a memory. Heidi actually managed a smile as she thought of the great lengths women would go to keep their henna from disappearing.
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