Page 82 of Sheltering You

A long time passed before he said, “You’re married.”

“Yes.”

“You’re some man’s second wife?”

“Yes.”

“Your father married you off to some grandfather. Some…pervert”—his voice was rising—“so you could⁠—”

“Shh. Please. I don’t wish for Rabie to hear.”

Derrick clamped his mouth shut.

“It is done,” she said. “Sometimes, in our culture, when a man has no heirs and is able to provide for two wives, then⁠—”

“You agreed to this?”

His question had irritation filling her voice. “Sometimes, Derrick Wright, you are very dimwitted.”

He blew out a breath. “Of course you didn’t agree. Of course. I’m sorry. It was a stupid… But that man… Your husband…” Derrick jabbed his fingers into his hair and pulled. “He was with you, and you’re carrying his kid, his heir…” The word held malice. “If he comes after you, I’ll kill him.”

A terrible, awful part of her would like that very, very much.

Because then she would be free.

But Khalid was her husband. She should feel something for him besides this hatred that simmered inside. What she felt was wrong. She knew that. God commanded wives to respect their husbands. She had prayed many times for God to help her do that, to even love Khalid, but how could she love a man who planned such evil and cruelty?

Perhaps if he’d treated her as anything but a toy and an incubator for his child, she might. Good women loved their terrorist husbands not because they were terrorists but because they were loved in return. But Khalid didn’t love Jasmine. He didn’t even know her. He’d never tried to know her, had never treated her like anything more than a slave.

She was accustomed to that from her father, from her uncle, from others in her life. She’d rarely been treated as more than a slave.

But from the man who shared her bed? The man who thought he owned her body and could do with it as he pleased?

She loathed him.

There were days that, if not for her faith in Christ, she’d have put a blade through his heart. Even if it meant her own death. And after she learned she was carrying his child, she’d longed for her own death. She’d longed for the child’s.

It was wrong. She knew it was wrong. Sinful. Horrible. Evil. But those feelings would not go away, no matter how hard she prayed.

Some days, she believed God had rescued her from Khalid.

Some days, she wondered if she’d compounded her sin by running from her husband. What was the greater sin? To disobey her husband and run? Or to raise a child to become a killer?

Derrick reached across the space and took Jasmine’s hand. “It’s not real, you know.”

Had she been so lost in her own thoughts that she’d missed something? “What is not real?”

“The marriage, of course.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was already married to someone else. He’s a bigamist. That nullifies it.”

“No, it⁠—”

“And it wasn’t your choice. If you don’t agree, it doesn’t count.”

“Marriage is not a game, Derrick. You don’t get to…to make up rules and declare they are true. You don’t get to decide the rules at all.”