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Lucinda nodded with an abrupt movement. At least she didn’t have to worry about this if she was to take his word. His word was worth something, she reckoned. His statement made her much better. But she still believed she’d be lonely in love, while he never spoke of his feelings. He might hold none for her after all.
Mid-afternoon their carriage entered the village of Gretna Green. Tariq found an inn for them to stay and requested a blacksmith for their wedding, which would take place in the inn’s hall. Traditionally blacksmiths performed weddings for the elopers and provided witnesses for the occasion.
The inn keeper took them to their room upstairs, cosy and small. Tariq left her to go care for his horses. Alone in the unknown room, Lucinda, sat on the large bed, mind absent. About to take one of the greatest steps of her life. And how different she imagined it’d be. She motioned to her bags and took fresh clothes to dress. The enormity of this hit her full in the face, making her edgy about it. She accepted it for love. She’d take whatever came her way without regrets. Her life would change completely, new home, new country, new culture. It’d be a challenge to take it on fearless. Excitement and a sense of awe took her. Her mood improved with the prospect. She undressed her dusty travel garment and folded it on a chair. Refreshed, she dressed the one she had brought for the ceremony.
A while later a knock on the door brought the inn keeper’s wife to call her to the hall. Tariq would wash and dress downstairs. She climbed down, heart pounding in expectation. In the hall, her heart stopped. Tariq stood there, in his white kaftan and sirwaal, ghoutra and igal on his head. Which made him taller and more magnificent than ever. She’d missed him in his country’s attire, she realised.
Tariq’s attention followed her into the room in amazement. She wore the red embroidered tunic he’d given her in the desert. With the veil wrapped as a bride in her country, held by hair pins. The mixed fashions made her dazzling. He couldn’t help smiling as he absorbed her beauty. They hadn’t talked about what they’d wear for the special event, it simply happened. It showed how bonded they’d become. He extended his hand to take hers.
The blacksmith, the witnesses, the innkeeper and his wife stared at them in surprise. As if people right out from the Crusades had passed through the threshold; strange and appealing at the same time. They formed a fetching couple, they concluded.
Lucinda took the hand he offered and came to stand by his side. They stood through the wedding in solemn composure listening and speaking their vows with utter seriousness, eyes locked together. Papers written, signed, copies delivered, the deed was done. It would not be undone. Ever.
Much later, bath taken, clothes changed, Tariq and Lucinda sat in the inn’s dining room eating the delicious roast duck prepared by the cook. A candle burned on their table and few other people ate in the room.
Lucinda admired as the candle played in his eyes, giving it a more intense colour. Those eyes intent on her did not leave a shred of doubt as to what went behind them. She shivered with anticipation.
Up in their room, the fire cracked in the fireplace and the flames tinted the room in warm shades. Lucinda sat by the window, in her chemise, looking at the night in the hills. Light passing clouds veiled the starred sky now and then in a cosmic dance. Husband. The word rolled in her mind. Her husband walked around in black breeches and white shirt in their wedding night room. There would never be a more impressive man in this entire universe.
Said impressive
man had just finished arranging something in his baggage. He turned and cast a careful glance at her. Here, in their wedding night, he walked on thin ice, not knowing how to deal with this quiet, distant woman who had just become his wife. Mrs Al-Fadih as the blacksmith had referred to her. He strode to where she sat.
“You’ve been this moody since we left London.” He stopped just inches from her. “Why is that?” Maybe this came a little too harsh, he admitted to himself. He didn’t want to give an impression of hostility, but she pushed him to the edge, for pity’s sake!
Her pepper-mint enormous green eyes lifted to him, and she abruptly stood up. The fire lent a hot glow to her eyes and a copper hue to her loose hair. She glared at him, her temper rising. Much better, he praised silently. He preferred her rebellious and full of life.
The tension and the doubt of the last few days took their toll on her. Her self-control cracked and frustration blew high. “Because you don't love me, because you'll discard me when you've had your fill!” Voice harsh, eyes hard, uneven breath. “That's why!” Her upper body slightly bent forward, hands on her waist. She was fury incarnated.
At first, Tariq did not make sense of what she meant, but it hit him in a second. He took her by her shoulders and brought her close; their bodies clashed together. “Who said I don't love you?” Eyes narrowed, his brows pleated, jaw ticking. “I love you like I will perish tomorrow!” His velvety voice hot.
She became so stunned by his revelation that her lips went agape. “I—I—”
“Discard you?” What kind of man did she think she married? “When even a couple of days away from you is like hell?”
Shock and a fiery happiness burned inside her. “You love me!” She breathed, finally finding coherent words. Her hands finding support on his chest, lest she melt down in a puddle.
“Of course I love you, you stubborn woman!” Their fast breaths mingled. “Only in my country we don't keep on saying it like the silly milk-sops you know. We act, we demonstrate in our everyday lives!”
“Oh, is that so?” Like a dumb ninny, she found herself incapable of saying more complex sentences. Her heart swelled with overflowing emotions.
He merged his fingers in her soft hair and pulled her head to him, kissing her ardent. Their lips glued together for long moments, savouring one another. “Why do you think I seek you in bed like crazy?” He demanded on her lips. “This is the only way to express how desperately you've taken my heart!” His arm locked her tighter. “Have you ever heard of a man so distempered while touching a woman?”
A naughty glint entered her eyes. “I love your distemper!” Her hands revelled in his obsidian sleek hair. “In fact I love all of you, you irritatingly autocratic man!”
“Irritating, is it?” His eyes smiling as he hauled her in his arms and carried her to bed.
She gasped with the movement. “Yes, and irresistible, magnificent, maddening!” she stated as he set her on the bed, coming over her and her legs entwined around his.
“Hm… Such a high praise will make me full of myself.” He teased as his fingers lowered one side of her chemise and his mouth found her breast.
She groaned, sneaking her hand inside his open-necked shirt. “As if it’s something new for you.” She mocked weakly.
“But I have reasons for that.” His fingers rolled her nipple, tantalizingly. “I’ve married the most desirous, blistering rebellious woman in the kingdom!” His lips captured her other breast.
“You don’t tell me.” She moaned at the sensations he provoked in her.
“Oh, yes, and the most beautiful, most intelligent and determined, too.” He bunched her chemise up her legs.
