isolated.”
“And …?”
“Do you intend to remain here permanently, then? Or will you live part-time in Monte Carlo? I know you have a home there.”
“As king I have to live where my people live.”
“And your new bride?”
He gave her a look that indicated she might have lost her mind. “She’d live with me, of course.”
She ran a hand over her eyes, already exhausted. This was impossible. He had to realize that, didn’t he? Wonderful, successful, intelligent, confident, strong women didn’t just run to the Middle East and marry a sheikh and stay there, buried in the desert. It was one thing if a woman was desperate, or had no choice, but the woman he described as his ideal wife would have a choice, and she wouldn’t find his life as a desert king appealing. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you’re describing an arranged marriage, and if you want an arranged marriage, you’re better off with a woman from your own culture—”
“No.”
“—who could embrace the concept of arranged marriage,” she continued as though he’d never spoken. “Western women won’t.”
“Why not?”
“You know the answer to this. You’ve only dated Western women for years. Women in the West don’t want to get married because they have to, or because he has to. They want to marry because they’re desired and loved and cherished.”
His strong, black brows flattened, emphasizing the lines of his high, hard cheekbones and straight nose. “But I would respect and cherish my wife.”
She noted he said respect and cherish, not love and cherish but she didn’t comment on that. “It takes time for a woman to know that, as well as examples. Proof. That’s why men court women. They’re showing women how they’d be treated … what they can expect. It’s a wooing, and you’re not leaving time for that.”
“I’ll do it after the ceremony. Just let her know it will happen.”
“After the ceremony?” She gave him her sternest look. “And now one last question. It’s sensitive since I know we’re coming from two different cultures, but I need to know about the political and social rights of women. Are women considered equals in Sarq? Are there laws to protect them? What rights do women have?”
“Women do not have all the rights of men—yet. But that is something Sharif has been working to change, and I will make this a priority, as well.”
“So what if a woman—your woman—breaks the law? What would happen to her?”
“I’d protect her.”
“But could you?” Rou leaned forward, urgency in her voice. “Could you truly?”
“Do you doubt my word?”
“No, I don’t doubt your word. I just want what’s best for your future wife—”
“And you think I don’t?” he interrupted almost violently, his features dark, his expression fierce.
She stared up at him in stunned silence. She’d never seen him like this, never heard this anger in his voice before, either. “No,” she stuttered.
“Good. Consider the subject closed.” He rose from the table and walked away, disappearing into a cabin at the back of the plane.
The back cabin of the jet had been designed as a small, snug and yet exceptionally comfortable bedroom. Zayed sat heavily on the edge of the low bed and covered his face with his hands.
He rarely lost his temper. He hated that he’d lost it now. But her questions … those questions …
She didn’t understand. She’d never understand. No one had ever understood.
He wasn’t like the rest of his family. He was different. Cursed. And yet once, he and his brothers had all been the same, all raised the same. Arab princes, beloved sons of the desert, children of fortune.
And although Zayed was the middle of the three princes, and the second-eldest of five, he’d been his father’s favorite and he knew it. He’d never wondered why he was the favorite, either, he’d just accepted it, just as he accepted his good fortune. Just as he’d accepted that he was destined for greatness, and great things. In the beginning it was so clear that fate had favored him, so obvious he would live a blessed life.
But he’d been wrong.
It wasn’t a blessed life. It was cursed. He was cursed.
And so he took himself away from the desert and his family, away from the people who might be hurt by his curse and turned to the pleasures of the world, only there was no pleasure when one was cursed.
Would he protect his wife?
He would try with all his heart and soul and might. But would it be enough?
If he didn’t love her, and she didn’t love him, would the marriage somehow escape the curse?
He didn’t know, but he could only hope.
CHAPTER FOUR
ROU watched the closed door of the plane cabin with her heart in her mouth. She didn’t exactly know what she said that had upset Zayed—something about protecting his wife—but clearly she’d offended him. She wanted to apologize, or at least try to set things right. They had so much to do. Tension wouldn’t help.
The flight attendant appeared after fifteen minutes to refresh her tea, and then another fifteen minutes later she returned to remove the dishes and take down the table.
“We’ll be landing in about fifty minutes,” she said, smiling at Rou. “Is there anything else I could get you?”
Rou shook her head and thanked her.
Just when Rou thought Zayed would never return, and the pilot had announced they would soon begin their final descent, Zayed arrived, and took his seat across from her, his expression blank, revealing nothing.
“I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly.
“You did nothing wrong,” he answered emotionlessly.
She didn’t feel any better, though, and her eyebrows tugged together. “I tend to be very blunt.”
“I prefer honesty.”
“And I ask a lot of questions.”
“It’s your job.”
Right. Rou exhaled slowly, heavily, definitely not feeling any better.
Zayed gazed fixedly outside the window and Rou, biting the inside of her lip, did the same, and they didn’t speak again until they were on the ground.
Their jet ended up landing at the Sarq air force
