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Heat spreads through my cheeks. His finger at my lips drops lower, pressing to the flesh between my clavicular.
“The woman was indeed the Sheikh’s be’darzi, but whether or not she’d born the Sheikh a son could not be proved.”
“Nor disproved.”
He nods. “That was then. Now we have DNA testing. Your father’s was done when he was a teenager. He carries none of the same links as my family. None. There is no way he is connected to the ruling line.”
I want to reject that, and yet there’s something about Zahir that I – strangely – trust. I believe he is an honest man, and that lying to me would be beneath his dignity.
“Regardless of this, the family continued to be one of the most powerful in Qabid. Wealthy and influential, and the cult around them grew. My father, or his father before him, should have acted sooner, but each generation tried to reason first, and then to ignore.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
His lips tighten; his smile is dismissive. “There were reasons, and I have not doubted, even once, that I acted in my country’s best interests.”
His powerful certainty rushes through me and I shiver again, but this time, it’s easy to understand the reason for the response. I have become used to my father’s version of events, and I’ve never doubted them. I still don’t, and yet hearing Zahir speak, something of his feelings seep through me, so I’m torn for the first time in my life. Again, I feel that whip of betrayal, as though I’m letting down my father.
“It’s unfortunate that your actions wounded my dad permanently.” I’m pleased that the words emerge clipped with disapproval, but less so when his eyes show surprise and his expression tightens over, resuming a look of cold distance.
I feel as though I’ve lost something very special. My heart swoops and squeezes.
“It could not be avoided. You should go back to bed.”
Chapter 4
Amy
ANGER BURSTS THROUGH ME. “Is that the way our marriage is going to work, Zahir?” The words are soft with accusation. “If I say something you don’t like, will you simply banish me for a time? Or if I really offend you, might you exile me too?”
I’ve gone too far. Something flashes in his eyes and I feel tension emanating from every bone in his body. “Why do you seek to goad me?”
I blink, caught off guard by his question. “I don’t.”
He moves closer, our bodies now brushing. “You do.” He rubs his thumb over my lower lip, quickly, not gently, just like the kiss at our wedding. “You like to fight with me.”
“I don’t like to fight with anyone.”
“Then why push me this way?”
He moves his finger to my chin, tilting my face to his.
“Because you were pushing me away,” I snap, and then wish I hadn’t. The admission is far too revealing. I cover it with cool impatience. “You didn’t like the questions I was asking, or maybe you didn’t like the reminder that my father is who he is, but you dealt with that by attempting to send me back to the tent, as though I’m some troublesome girl you can no longer be bothered with.”
His eyes lance me with the directness of his stare. “On the contrary, Amy, I want to bother myself with you very, very badly.” His intention is clear. My heart thumps and my knees tremble. “Particularly when you are cross with me. Sending you back to the tent was for your sake, not mine.”
I’m dumbfounded. Staring up at him, silently, I wait for the words to make sense, but they don’t. I’m at a loss. “I don’t understand.”
“The virgin act again?”
I shake my head. “I never said I haven’t had a boyfriend before.”
His features tighten into a mask of something I don’t understand. Nothing is making sense. The ancient night watches us, and I wish it could offer some explanation for how I’m feeling.
“But I’ve never known anyone like you,” I continue weakly, blinking my eyes away while my face stays willingly captive to his grip. “The men I’ve dated in the past have been so different to you. Quiet and intelligent, well-read, cerebral.”
