nodded with a warm smile. “Through the kitchen. I will show you the rest of our humble home, if you would like?”
“Oh, yes, please.”
The tent dwelling was anything but humble, the private compartments all endowed with the same level of luxury as Iris’s room, if not a plethora of furniture that might make their twice-a-year resettlement difficult. Or at least, Iris assumed Nawar and Fadwa’s was, but she had been unable to see for herself as the child was settling into her nap.
One thing she did note was that the single women’s quarters that housed Asad’s daughter and distant cousin were actually smaller than the apartment Badra had commandeered for her own use and that Iris would now use.
When she said as much to Genevieve, the other woman shrugged. “Perhaps when Asad marries again, his wife will reapportion the sleeping quarters again. So long as she does not attempt to change my and Hanif’s room, I will be content.”
“Is he thinking of remarrying then?” The thought of Asad taking another wife sent a shard of pain that absolutely should not be possible straight through Iris’s heart.
“But naturally. Though he has not set his sights on any woman in particular.” Genevieve led the way through the inner kitchen and outside. “Enough time has passed since Badra’s death though, I think.”
“How did she die?”
“In a plane crash with her lover,” Asad said with brutal starkness from behind Iris.
His arrival taking her by surprise, she jumped and spun to see him standing with an old familiar arrogance, but an only recently familiar harsh cast to his features.
Genevieve tutted at her grandson. “Really, Asad, you needn’t announce it in such a manner.”
“You think I should dress it up? Pretend she was simply vacationing with friends as the papers reported?”
“For the sake of your daughter, yes, I do.”
Asad inclined his head. In agreement? Perhaps, but the man wasn’t giving anything away with his expression.
“What do you think of my home?” he asked, dismissing the topic of his unfaithful wife in a way that shocked Iris.
The Asad she had known at university would never have been so pragmatic about such a betrayal.
Forcing her own mind to make the ruthless mental adjustment of topics, she said rather faintly, “It’s fantastic.”
“You like your room?” he asked, the stern lines of his face relaxing somewhat.
She tried to keep the hesitation she was feeling from her tone. “Yes.”
“But?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Didn’t you?” Asad’s tone was borderline cutting.
“It’s just that, well … it’s kind of big for just me, isn’t it? I mean, it’s gorgeous, but I could set my lab up in the room and still have plenty of room to spare.” She felt guilty about that fact, though she wasn’t sure why.
Not to mention, it was right next to Asad’s room. That in itself was enough to cause immeasurable anxiety and probably sleeplessness on her part.
One of his now rare but gorgeous smiles transformed Asad’s features. “That will not be necessary. You and your coworker have already been assigned quarters for your tests.”
“Thank you.” What else could she say?
“I will do all that I can to make your stay here a pleasant one.” The words were right, but the look that accompanied them sent an atavistic shiver down Iris’s spine.
She turned to take in the charming courtyard created by the surrounding tents. Jasmine and herbs in pots decorated with bright mosaics made the space seem anything but desert austere. Despite the heat, other women cooked over open campfires, their curious gazes sliding between their sheikh’s guest and the watch they kept over children playing in the communal area.
“I had read that the tents are grouped by family ties. Is that true here among the Sha’b Al’najid?” Iris asked.
“It is,” Asad answered while his grandmother conferred with the woman cooking what Iris assumed was to be their dinner. “The dwellings around us are those of the family closest to my grandfather’s predecessor. Had my grandparents had more children, it would be their tents that occupied these spots around the sheikh’s home.”
It must have been a great disappointment to the elder couple to have only had one child, but Iris kept her lips clamped over the much too personal thought.
“Come.” Asad took Iris’s hand and placed it on his arm. “I will show you the rest of our city of tents.”
“Do you have the time, really?” she asked, trying to tug her hand away to no avail.
His other hand held it implacably in place and his dark gaze told her he wasn’t about to let go. “I have made time. The law of hospitality is very important among the Bedouin. Not to show you proper consideration as a guest in my home would be unacceptable.”
“There’s that word again.”
A tiny lift at the corner of Asad’s lips could have been a smile of amusement, but he was such a serious man now. She could not be sure.
“The way of life among my people is thousands of years old. Some things are considered absolute.”
“Like hospitality,” she guessed.
“Yes.”
“But your home is not as traditional as it appears.”
“No.”
“You are not afraid of change.”
“I am not, though I do not seek it for its own sake.”
“You want to keep the Bedouin way of life viable coming into the next generations.”
“You understand me well.” His hand tightened on hers. “You always did.”
“No.” If she’d really understood him six years ago, she never would have deceived herself into believing what they had was permanent.
“Perhaps you understood me better than I did myself.”
“Oh, no. We are not going there.” She tried to yank her hand away again.
But he held on. “Be at peace, aziz. We will shelve the discussion of our past friendship for now.”
If only he was simply talking about friendship. She’d become friends with Russell since he started his internship, but Iris was under no illusions. When he returned to university, if they never spoke again, she would not be devastated.
Not like after she’d lost Asad.
When
