day, his father had demanded Asad be allowed to come to Geneva at least one weekend per month throughout his childhood.
Though Asad was not supposed to know it, his mother cried when he left—each and every time.
Still, Asad had fought against more frequent visits, even at the earliest age. He was sure now that his parents had been hurt by that, but then the choice to leave the Sha’b Al’najid—and him, their son—had been theirs.
Regardless, they had been so different from the soulless couple who had given life to his beautiful geologist.
His parents’ choice had cost them. Of that he was certain, despite the fact he was equally certain he could never have made that choice himself. The thought of letting Nawar go had been thoroughly untenable from the first time he held her, despite the fact that they shared no actual blood tie.
An inexplicable protectiveness burning in his gut, Asad kept Iris by his side during the rest of the feast, thoroughly enjoying her reaction to his family’s way of celebrating.
Badra had always found the ways of the Sha’b Al’najid provincial and never hesitated to say so. The youngest, spoiled daughter of a neighboring country’s king, she had rejected Asad’s first proposal, saying she would never marry an ignorant goatherd.
Asad, who at eighteen had herded the animals only to learn lessons his grandfather said could not be taught with words, was hugely offended. And equally intrigued by this beautiful, spoiled creature who thought she was too good for him.
Any among the women of his people, or those he had met visiting his parents in Switzerland, would have been more than honored to receive such an offer of marriage. Badra, who was a year his senior, had unaccountably turned him down.
She couldn’t have conceived a move more suited to garnering his interest and determination to woo her successfully.
They’d met during a trade negotiation between Asad’s grandfather and Badra’s father. As was custom, the negotiations had occurred in the home of the king wanting his grandfather’s services in moving goods between his country and those nearby.
Asad had found the city-bred and sophisticated young woman fascinating. Besides, she was a princess, and as a future sheikh, he should marry a woman of such standing.
Asad allowed himself a small, bitter smile at his own naïveté and arrogance.
Badra had not been impressed with his pedigree, thereby cementing his interest in her. Then and there, he had determined to win her hand. He would attend university and build his tribe into a people others would envy.
And that the Princess Badra would want to belong to.
So he’d gone to university and graduate school, all the while working to build his family’s business interests with the help of his father and grandfather. When Asad returned to his desert family permanently, he was determined to do so with Badra at his side.
The only stumbling block to that outcome had been his growing affection for his lover, Iris Carpenter. But a man of considerable will, Asad had forced himself to cut her out of his life and pursue his original goal. It was what was best for his people.
Badra’s father would make a powerful political and business ally, the innocent and protected Badra a beautiful and admired lady of his people.
He shook his head. He’d been a fool.
Asad had not been in the least surprised when she accepted his second proposal. He’d assumed her father had convinced her of the advantageousness of the match. It was on Asad’s wedding night that he’d discovered the true reason for Badra’s capitulation.
Far from the innocent virgin he’d expected to bed, Badra was well versed in the art of sexual encounters.
She was also pregnant. Which he had realized when she woke the next morning nauseated in a way he had witnessed only among the pregnant women of his tribe.
He’d demanded to know the truth and she’d admitted everything amid floods of tears.
She’d had an affair with a married man who had seduced her from her innocence and now carried the man’s child. She said she was terrified of what her father’s reaction would be if he found out. Claiming to always have a soft spot for Asad, she said she’d learned her lesson and had eagerly accepted his marriage proposal.
She didn’t think she was doing him any true harm, as she’d discovered the babe’s sex was female. He would not reject a daughter simply because she had come to be as the result of her mother’s ignorance and naïveté, would he?
She played to Asad’s view of himself as a modern man who knew how to straddle the old world and the new. And he accepted her explanations and perceptions of him because his pride would not allow him to do otherwise, swallowing her words like a camel at an oasis after five days in the desert.
Though he had not forgotten the contempt she’d held for him at eighteen, he believed she had changed her views. He even accepted the role his own pride had played in the current circumstances. He’d been adamant he would marry this woman and no other. She would not reject him, the lion of his people.
He had put himself forward as her unknowing savior and he could hardly withdraw from the field at this point.
Badra claimed she’d broken it off with the married man when she agreed to become the lady of the Sha’b Al’najid, but he’d had his doubts—unspoken and unacknowledged. However, he’d made his vows just as she had. With that truth firmly in the forefront of his mind, Asad had directed his considerable will toward making his marriage with Badra work.
His doubts had come to fruition a month after Nawar’s birth when Asad’s head of security in the newly created command center had informed him of communications between Badra and her former lover.
But the knowledge of her continued perfidy had come too late. Asad loved his daughter and would not lose her to her mother’s selfishness.
He had not realized until much later, in a discussion with his sister during her first pregnancy, that Badra could not possibly have known the babe in her womb was a girl on their wedding night. Not unless she’d had an amniocentesis, which she had not. Badra had been a consummate liar.
And for the sake of that woman and his own pride, Asad had let go of his friendship with the one woman whose loyalty and integrity had never once come into question.
Unlike Badra with her deceits and machinations, Iris would always put others first. It was in her nature to do so. Knowing more about her past, he found that trait even more worthy of admiration.
FOR the second night in a row, Iris found herself walking with Asad toward her room at bedtime. It was much later this night though, the last of Asad’s guests having just left.
“There is one chamber you have yet to see in my home,” he said as they reached her door.
She’d spent the last hours of the party wrestling with what to do about Asad and had come to a decision.
One thing
