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‘I’d say that’s not much of a basis for a marriage,’ she said, before she could think better of it. She wanted to grab the words back when he sent a sharp glance her way.
‘What did you say?’
‘I said, I don’t think that’s much of a basis for a marriage,’ she managed, knowing she’d said it now, so no more harm could be done by explaining herself. And anyway, she was tired of worrying about saying or doing the wrong thing constantly. Perhaps if they talked more, he’d realise she was doing her best. ‘A shared love of horse racing, that is… And…’ She coughed to dislodge the sudden blockage in her throat. ‘And chemistry.’
His brows drew down as he approached the traffic lights at Hyde Park Corner. The Corinthian columns of Wellington Arch at the centre of the roundabout and the galloping horses of the bronze statue on top looked particularly imposing illuminated from beneath as the dusk descended over central London. But it was nowhere near as imposing as the silence in the car or the man beside her. Orla’s pulse accelerated and the weight in her belly grew. She could sense his disapproval again—seemed she was getting very good at noticing that much about him, at least—but she refused to apologise. Being timid and self-effacing was not a good way to deal with Karim Khan, she decided, because it only gave him more power. And made her feel more useless. If she was going to get through tonight without making some major faux pas she was going to need his help… Instead of his disapproval.
‘I would have to disagree,’ he said at last, finally breaking the agonising silence. ‘Chemistry was the only element that compelled my father to marry all four of his wives.’
His father had been married four times!
Shock came first, followed by a strange ripple of regret as she acknowledged the bitterness in his tone. No wonder this man had such a jaundiced view of love and relationships if that was his role model.
‘Well, you might say that proves my point, rather than disproves it,’ she countered.
The lights changed and he drove past the arch.
‘How so?’ he asked, as he shifted down a gear to accelerate around a delivery truck and make the turn onto Piccadilly.
‘Perhaps if he’d considered more than chemistry when choosing a wife, he might not have had four of them.’
The minute the comment had left her mouth his lips drew into a tight line.
She wanted to bite off her tongue. Why couldn’t she learn to keep her opinions to herself? Starting an argument with him was hardly the way to go here.
And his father’s four failed marriages were not her concern, any more than the bitter disillusionment in his tone was when he’d spoken of them.
But to her surprise, instead of telling her to mind her own business, his lips relaxed and he said, ‘A good point. Although incorrect where my father is concerned.’
‘How is that?’ she asked, trying not to flinch when he sent her another assessing look.
Maybe he didn’t want to talk about this, but she needed to know this stuff if she was going to pretend to be in love with him tonight with any degree of success.
Although her own parents’ marriage had ended tragically, she could still remember the intimacy between them. Whenever they were together, it was the small possessive touches, the jokes only they shared, the secret looks they sent each other when they thought no one was watching, that announced their love, so much louder than any outward show of emotion or desire.
She suspected, from what Karim had just told her about his father’s marriages and his scathing reaction to the L word yesterday, he would be unaware of how a connection like that manifested itself, so it would be up to her to fake that part… And there was no way she could do that if she didn’t find out more about him. So surely the avid thundering of her pulse as she waited for him to give her an answer to her question was totally justified.
He sighed as if the question was an inconvenience rather than an intrusion, but when he spoke, she could hear more in his voice than impatience and it made her heart beat even harder.
‘My father’s reasons for marriage were two-fold: sexual gratification and the production of male heirs. Only two of his wives managed to achieve the latter—my mother and my younger brother Dane’s mother—but he grew bored with them all after a few years, at which point they were always discarded.’
The bland, almost bored tone as he described a man who sounded like an arrogant, entitled monster shocked her. But then the car crossed Piccadilly Circus, and the red and gold lights from one of the junction’s illuminated advertising hoardings highlighted the tension in his jaw.
Was he really as unaffected by his father’s behaviour, or just very good at hiding it?
‘He doesn’t sound like much of a husband… Or father,’ she commented.
‘He’s not.’ His lips twisted into a hard smile. ‘But the only wives who suffered were the ones who made the mistake of believing he wanted more,’ he added.
Did that include his mother? It was hard to tell from the flat, unsentimental tone.
‘What about his children?’ she asked softly.
He let out a harsh laugh. ‘Dane and I survived without him,’ he said.
He sounded unmoved, almost amused by the suggestion any child would need a father—she found his attitude unbearably sad. No wonder Karim Khan could view a relationship as nothing more than a business deal. But didn’t every child deserve a father who cared for them as a person—as well as simply a means to continue their legacy? As difficult as it had been to watch her own father change after her mother’s death, allowing the grief and eventually the gambling to destroy all their lives, he had loved and nurtured her and her sister once. What would it be like never to have that support?
The silence stretched between them a
