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Chapter Seven
Brenda rose the next morning and rubbed at the back of her neck. Between the shitty arrival with Abir mocking both she and Jamsheed, and the long flight, she felt as if most of her muscles were locked up. Standing, she arched her back too, trying to crack the stiffness away from all of her joints. Then her eyes spied the so-called outfit laid out on the vanity table beside her king-sized bed.
“Jazmina!” she hollered, impressed when the older woman hurried in from the salon in under a minute.
The older woman pushed her errant braid back behind her ear. “Yes, Ms. Mckann?”
“What is that?”
“It’s traditional,” Jazmina said, a grin playing on her lips. “These lightweight pants and bandolier top will be far more comfortable for you for today’s activities than any pair of jeans or t-shirt you’ve packed.”
Brenda picked up the pants, which honestly reminded her of M.C. Hammer or Princess Jasmine, except for their gossamer-like top sheath of fabric and bright jade coloring. “This can’t be practical.”
“But it is traditional, and it’ll be close to one hundred and twenty degrees today. You’ll need something light to be out in.”
She frowned. “And where are Jamsheed and I going? Doesn’t he need to look after his father?”
“The team of doctors can watch him for a few hours, and I think you both need some fresh air after everything Abir said to you.”
“I’m confused about half of what he said. I thought that Jamsheed was next in line for the throne?”
Jazmina bit her lower lip. “He is, miss, but things are very complicated. It’s nothing you need to worry about during your camel ride and picnic today.”
Her eyes widened. “A camel ride?”
Jazmina nodded and tapped the fabric of the bandolier, which was also a creamy jade, but at least it was plain, no coins or metal bangles adorned it. “They spit, you know. Do you want your own clothing to be ruined?”
Brenda flinched, thinking that over. “I don’t think I’d like that, no.”
“Assuredly not. I think you’ll find the traditional clothing of Zomelia quite comfortable.”
“It’s definitely colorful,” Brenda agreed before taking both pieces and slipping into the bathroom. “I’m just not sure it’s my style.”
“Maybe,” Jazmina said on the other side of the door. “That’s the point. This is an adventure, a chance for you to reinvent yourself. I know so few women ever get that, especially after our young ones are born. Today, miss, you can be anything you want.”
Brenda thought about that as she slipped her sleep shirt over her head.
That sounds great, but I’m still not sure who I want to be, especially after Abir was so awful. What am I really doing here?
But it was hardly a question to ask Jazmina, so Brenda hurried on getting ready for her outings so that maybe some long overdue answers from Jamsheed would give her a clue.
***
When she walked out to meet Jamsheed, it was far later than she assumed. She slept in until about one o clock in the afternoon, which made sense considering her exhaustion and jet lag, and then it had taken time to be prepared for the date. There was intricate braiding or her hair, kohl to rim her eyes, and precious baubles of gold and pearl to weave in through her hair. By almost four o’clock Zomelia time she was ready, and now was rushing out to the stables in the back where both the royal steeds and the royal camels were kept.
She expected Jamsheed to be in traditional robes, something similar to what Abir had greeted them in yesterday, but he was not. Instead, the sheikh greeted her in plain dark wash jeans and a plain green cotton shirt. He looked far more American currently than she did with her hair done up and a veil covering every part of her face besides her heavily-made-up eyes. On the other hand, as she walked to the already saddled camel, the wind was blowing hard. Without the veil and flowing clothes to protect her, the grains of sand might have really dug into her skin.
Jamsheed smiled the moment he saw her, that same beaming grin that had lit up his face on the London Eye. This was the look that had won her over, the one that had tempted her into coming to a foreign land, the one that said he saw more in her than just a maid or a middle-aged mom. He saw her, and she was trying to remember the last time a man had. Maybe never, and men of her past had only faked such an expression, and she bought it. But she never would never be so naive again. Not now that she’d seen someone show such faith in her—and lust for her.
“You look amazing. I’m going to have to give Jazmina one hell of a raise. I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful, my phoenix,” he said, passing a hand over her hair as she came to stand next to him. His hand hovered over the soaring eagle pendant in her hair, one adorned with real emeralds that shone vibrantly in her locks. “Yes, she’s also earned a vacation.”
Despite everything that had clouded her mood from Abir, Brenda couldn’t help breaking into a face-splitting smile. “Are you saying that she didn’t have good raw material to work from?”
He reached down and spread his palm over the exposed skin of her abdomen, a five inch wide strip that the bandolier couldn’t cover. She had to grimace a little at his choice. One of her hated spots were the stretch marks she had from her pregnancy over twenty years ago. Yes, they faded over the years, but she didn’t have an unmarred stomach anymore; nothing like some of the lovely models he’d been with even in the last month.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, trying to get back to her teasing mood. “I’m sorry.”
