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It was one of those threats that gave me this idea. If sixteen years of prosperity and peace hasn’t been enough to quell the Hassan threat, then nothing will. Nothing except, perhaps, unifying our families once and for all.
It will not be true unity. She’s a Hassan and cannot be trusted. But once we have children, the prospect of lasting peace becomes much more likely, and I will do all that’s in my power to bring that about. I am risking everything on the hope that she will be so motivated by love for her father and love for her child that she will never act out against me.
Let’s hope I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life.
“Where are we going?” Her eyes don’t meet mine and for a minute I wonder why she’s so uptight? Yesterday she came into my office filled with fire and spirit, fighting with me in a way I’ve never had from anyone before. Today, she’s silent and submissive. I had half expected her to quarrel with me at the wedding, but there was nothing. She’d signed the contracts first thing in the morning, and that was that.
“Not much further.”
Her nerves are making me uneasy. She’s not what I expected. I’d seen photographs of her, and knew that, with respect to looks, she took after her mother more than her father, but I still wasn’t prepared for the shimmery gold of her hair or the deep azure of her eyes. Her skin is pale compared to mine but has a honey gold tan that speaks of a life spent mostly outdoors. She’s slim without being slender, her breasts round and full, her hips making my hands itch to reach for them.
Having a baby is something we must do, but I hadn’t expected to enjoy the prospect of making her pregnant. It’s all I’ve been able to think of since yesterday.
She pushes back in the seat, closing her eyes, and that’s far preferable to the way she’s been looking at me, as though if she looks hard enough I’ll disappear into thin air.
Usually, when I come out here, I ride my horse. The journey takes longer but the feeling of the sun on my back and the wind rushing over me is elemental and essential. I contemplated suggesting it for this trip, but she’s not used to our climate. She might be a Hassan but there’s no need to be cruel to her. She cannot help her birthright.
Ten minutes later, I cut the engine, pulling up on the edge of the oasis, turning to face her. She blinks open her huge blue eyes, looking first at me and then straightening with a sense of alarm, looking out of the window of the Range Rover.
I watch as she inspects the setting, her lips parting in surprise at the beauty of this place. The oasis itself is large and a deep shade of green, surrounded on all sides by spiky palm trees. Set in the midst of them is a large tent made of cream-coloured canvas. The sides have been pulled down, but inside is a full desert home. This is my sanctuary – a place I come when I need to be truly alone. Given the nature of our marriage, it felt like the best place for us to honeymoon as well.
“It’s beautiful,” she admits grudgingly, her throat so dry I want to offer her water.
“Yes.” I step out of the car and breathe in the fragrance of the clay-filled water, the heat on the breeze, before striding around and opening her door. She’s still sitting there with a frown on her face, looking at the tent.
“It’s not what I expected.”
I reach across Amy, unbuckling the seatbelt. It’s not a necessity but impatience is making me ache to touch her once more, even in a peripheral sense. My wrist brushes her thigh and she startles; again, I wonder at her inexperience. Except I’ve had reconnaissance undertaken on her for years; I doubt there’s much about her I don’t have data on, including her love life. She’s not a virgin. So why is she acting like she’s never been near a man before? When I kissed her this morning she responded as though I was the man she’d been waiting for all her life. Whatever she might wish she felt, her body betrayed her.
“What did you expect?” She doesn’t move and nor do I. My body frames her, trapping her in the car. She stares up at me, her lips parted, and up close like this I can see her delicate pulse point at the base of her throat firing so I want to press my finger to it and feel the throbbing beneath my thumb – proof of how fast her heart is racing. I want to kiss her again. What we shared this morning was just a prelude – a taste of what it will be like between us.
“A hotel somewhere.” She bites down on her full lower lip. “A room in your palace.” She fixes me with a level stare. “Your harem.”
My smile is instinctive. The idea is very, very tempting. “I do not have a harem.”
“Really? I’m surprised.”
I brush my thumb over her lower lip, unable to resist. Her breath judders out. “I’ve never needed one.”
Her lips twist cynically. “Bragging about your sexual prowess?”
“Is that necessary?”
Her eyes drop away from me and desire sparks in my bloodstream. It might be an act, but it’s working. Her ingenue affectations are speaking to some ancient, primal part of me, that aches to go all caveman and throw her over my shoulder, dragging her into the tent and showing her every inch of my sexual ‘prowess’ right now.
The realisation I want her to that extent lights a warning beacon inside of me. There are many reasons to tread with care here. I need this alliance – she was right about that yesterday. I am aware of what she wants from me, and how badly, and that gives me a bargaining chip, but ultimately, I need her to stay married to me to finally put to bed the disastrous fringe groups who seek to stir up civil unrest.
Then there’s the fact she’s eleven years my junior, and considerably more sheltered and innocent. I do not like her family but I know I will hate myself if I sacrifice my own morals and behave unscrupulously towards her. We need boundaries and I need to make sure she feels in control, at least when it comes to our physical relationship.
Amy
He pulls away from me and I stifle a groan. He was so close, I’d honestly felt like he was going to kiss me, or more, and I’m not going to lie to you, more than half of me wanted that desperately. The kiss in the church had awoken a need in me and while I’m terrified of answering that need, I’m far more afraid of ignoring it.
What is wrong with me? I didn’t come to Qabid to sleep with my husband! That’s not what our marriage is about. So why can’t I stop thinking of him naked?
Grinding my teeth together, I step out of the car, pulling my handbag over my shoulder.
His look is mocking. “Whatever you have in there, you will not need it now.”
