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Or so he’d said. She didn’t feel married. She didn’t feel anything at all but sleepy and numb.
Jemma slid her legs from the bed and slipped on the white robe she’d seen draped over a chair before she answered the outer door.
It was Mikael.
“Good afternoon,” he said.
She tucked a tangled strand of hair behind her ear. “Afternoon?”
“It’s after two.”
“Is it? I can’t believe it.”
“I’ve ordered coffee to be sent to you, and then you’re to join me for a late lunch in the east pavilion. Don’t be late.” He turned and walked toward the door, but Jemma followed.
“That sounds rather rude, Sheikh Karim,” she said, following after him. “Is that how you speak to all your women?”
He glanced at her. “I’m accustomed to being in charge.”
“That’s fine, but you don’t need to be quite so aggressive. A little kindness and courtesy can go a long way.”
“I thought I was being kind and courteous by sending coffee to you.”
“Yes, but then you ruined it by ordering me to join you, tacking on a warning not to be late. It would have been much nicer if you’d simply asked me to join you in thirty minutes.”
“Kings do not ask, Jemma. They command.”
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t marry a king. I married a man. That is, if we are truly married...”
“We are married. Quite married. As married as one can be in Saidia,” he said, cutting her off, and walking back toward her. “But if it takes our consummating the marriage to feel married, then so be it. Tonight I will take you to my bed and there won’t be any question in your mind afterwards.”
“That’s not what I want!”
“How do you know? You’ve never been in my bed. I think once you are there, you’ll like it very much.” And then he was gone.
* * *
The next half hour seemed endless to Jemma. He was planning on consummating the marriage tonight?
But she didn’t even know him.
She couldn’t imagine having sex with him.
He couldn’t be serious.
And yet here she was, in the Kasbah, being waited on hand and foot, so she didn’t doubt him anymore. He wasn’t a man who made jokes. He meant what he said, which meant...
He intended to bed her tonight.
Jemma’s clothes from last night had been washed and dried and returned to her. She dressed in the short skirt and blouse, and then slipped her feet into her high wedges. Her hair was wild, a thick tangle of waves from falling asleep with it still wet, and she subdued the waves as best as she could, pulling the long mass into a ponytail and then adding some fat silver bangles to her wrist and simple silver hoops to her ears. Not very fancy but it was the best she could do.
And then the maid knocked on the door. She’d returned to escort Jemma to lunch, leading her through the maze of hallways and halls to a door that led outside to a beautiful walled garden shaded by palms with a tiled fountain in the center of the courtyard.
Mikael was already there, waiting for her.
“I recognize those clothes,” he said.
“It’s all I have with me.”
“I had some gowns put in your wardrobe.”
“I didn’t see them,” she answered, aware that she hadn’t looked, either.
He was silent a moment, studying her. “We need to talk, but you also need to eat, so we shall sit, and eat, and talk and hopefully become better acquainted so this wedding night will be more...comfortable...for you.”
She made a soft sound of protest. “I don’t think eating and talking will make anything about tonight comfortable. I can’t believe this is real. Can’t believe any of this is happening. I didn’t say any vows. I didn’t agree to anything.”
“You didn’t have to. I claimed you and that was all that was needed. My word is law.”
“That makes for a very quick and convenient ceremony.”
“The ceremony might be quick, but the honeymoon isn’t. We will stay together here for sixteen days before we return to my palace in the capitol.”
“You don’t even like me. How can you contemplate bedding me?”
His lips quirked. It was as close to a smile as she had ever seen from him. “You are not an unattractive woman, Jemma. And I’m sure you are quite aware that a man can desire a woman without engaging one’s emotions.”
“So when you bed me tonight, it will be without tenderness or passion.”
“If you are worried about the act itself, you needn’t be. I am a skillful lover. I will take my time and be sure to satisfy your needs. It wouldn’t be a proper honeymoon if I didn’t.”
A proper honeymoon.
A proper honeymoon was the trip to Bali with Damien. They’d already booked their air and hotels when he’d broken it off. She’d planned a wedding that hadn’t taken place. And now she was married without a wedding and trapped here for a honeymoon she didn’t want.
Her eyes burned. Her throat ached. Jemma blinked and looked away, across the courtyard, to the splashing fountain. The water danced and trickled and it amazed her that the water could be so light and tinkling when her heart felt so heavy and broken.
“I don’t want to be pleasured,” she whispered, reaching up to brush away a tear before it could fall. “I don’t want any of this.”
“You will become less resistant to the idea as time goes on.”
She choked on a hysterical laugh as she glanced at him. “You think?”
He shrugged. “I imagine for you, being from a Western culture, this is terribly strange, but it is not as strange for me. I hadn’t ever expected to marry for love. I’ve known all along that my bride would be from a different tribe. I just didn’t expect it to be...yours.”
“The despised Copelands.”
“Fortunately, you are no longer a Copeland, but a Karim. You’ve left your family and are now a member of mine. You have a new name. A new start. And new responsibilities. I think it will be good for you.” He gestured to the table in the shade. “We can talk more, as we eat. Sit—” he broke off, even as her eyebrows arched.
His lips curved grimly. He gave her a slight bow. “Forgive me,” he drawled, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “Let us sit. We should try to be comfortable.”
She didn’t like his tone, and she hated the situation. Nothing about this was right. She would have gladly picked jail or house arrest over being trapped with him. “I can’t eat. I’m too upset.”
“Then I shall eat, and you can watch, because I am hungry.”
“And you wonder why I’m not excited about this honeymoon.”
“Yes, I do wonder. By choosing you as my first wife, I’ve made you a queen. You are wealthy beyond measure. That should please you to no end.”
“I’ve had money. I don’t care about money. I care about kindness, and decency. Strength. Compassion. Integrity.”
“I have all that, too, so you’re in luck. Now, let’s eat.”
“You are not compassionate.”
“I am, for those requiring compassion. But you, my queen, do not need my compassion. You are doing an excellent job feeling sorry for yourself already.”
She exhaled in a quick rush. “You lack sensitivity, Sheikh Karim.”
“Possibly, as well as patience. Particularly when I am hungry.” His dark gaze met hers and held. “But you are only making this more difficult for yourself. Fighting me, fighting the marriage, fighting to accept that we are married and that this marriage is real. I take our vows very seriously.”
“What vows? I said none!”
“I claimed you, I’ve married you,” he said, “and so it is done. Now sit. Before I carry you to the table myself.”
Reluctantly, unwillingly, Jemma took a seat at the low table inside the shaded pavilion kept cool by overhead fans.
She hadn’t thought she could eat, but the first course of chilled soup settled her stomach and she was able to eat some of the grilled meat and vegetables in the second and third courses. She felt better with food, calmer and less jittery. But even then, she was in shock. She thought she’d be in shock for quite some time.
There wasn’t much conversation during the meal, which was fine with her. Instead Mikael studied her from across the table as if he were a scientist and she an animal he was observing.
He was the animal, though.
Maybe not an animal. But he was the one that was untamed and unpredictable. The very air around him seemed to snap and crackle with energy and tension, making the soft afternoon light dangerous, mysterious, while her heart raced and her pulse drummed, too thick and quick in her veins.
“Saidia is nothing like your country. Saidia is still essentially tribal in culture,” Mikael said, as the last of the dishes were cleared away and he rinsed his fingers in a bowl of hot scented water and dried them on a soft cloth before sending the bowl and towel away. “I expect it will take you time to adjust to our culture, but you must keep an open mind. Our customs will be foreign to you but there is a reason for everything, and value to everything we do.”
