she would always own a part of him, he had not taken her as his wife to bind her to him, but so that she could be free.
'Your house in London is now in your name, Violet,' he said, returning to reality. 'It is being remade. When it is done you will have a home in which you can be comfortable.'
'No…' Then, 'I don't understand.'
'You gave me everything you had. It is little enough in return. When you go home, I hope you will not think too badly of me.'
'You are sending me away?'
Dear God, she made it sound as if he were doing her an unkindness. If she knew how hard it would be to let her go. To walk away now…
'Not yet. Your house will not be ready for several months. It needs rewiring. New plumbing. You have dry rot…'
'It's a wonder it's still standing…'
'It will be as new. Until then, for form's sake, you will stay here.'
'And do what?'
'I promise nothing is expected of a new bride except to keep her husband happy.'
'Which means?'
He turned to her. 'Her husband will be happy if she is happy. That is your only duty. To be happy.'
'I don't understand.'
She never would.
'And then you'll have a house with good friends near you. A divorce settlement.'
'Divorce!'
He managed a smile. 'Divorce, you will be pleased to learn, is as easily done as marriage. It will be as if it had never happened.'
'Apart from the fact that you're now Emir.'
'Apart from that,' he agreed. 'You will return home, go back to college, found your fashion house if that is your wish.'
Violet slid from his arms, from his lap, to the seat beside him. 'I see.'
He'd done it again. Stilled her protest with a kiss. And where moments before all she'd felt was liquid heat, now there was ice.
'How soon?'
'Three months.'
She glared at him. 'And what am I supposed to do for three months? Since pleasing my husband will not exactly fill my days?'
He glanced at her as if he might just change his mind about that.
'Don't worry about it,' she said hurriedly. 'I'll think of something.'
'Good.' Then, 'Of course you could help me break a few eggs.'
'Over your head?'
'What I had in mind was more in the nature of metaphorical eggs. My first action as Emir will be to announce that schooling is to be compulsory for girls, and it would be fitting if, as wife of the Emir, you were to lift the first spade of soil to mark the foundation of the Violet al Sayyid School for Girls.'
'Not al Kuwani?'
'Our women do not change their names on marriage.'
'Handy. It means you can really rub Ahmed al Sayyid's nose in it.'
'In what?' he asked. Then shook his head. 'You might be less sympathetic if I tell you that he would have taken you to his compound tonight if I had not intervened.'
'He couldn't do that!' Then, when he didn't agree, 'Could he?'
'He is your kin. The head of your family. My grandfather could not have stopped him without causing
dissension. I should have foreseen the possibility…' He closed his eyes, as if to shut out how close a call it had been. 'Marriage was your only means of escape.'
And his promise to protect her would have left him no option but to act as he did.
'He would have demanded the Blood of Tariq as dowry, wouldn't he?'
He nodded.
He didn't say whether he would have surrendered it, and she didn't ask. To lose it would have weakened him politically. Maybe lost him the throne. What was his word to one woman-the kin of his enemy- against that?
'He was staring at me at the airport when we arrived.' She shivered, and for a moment she thought he was going to reach out to her again.
Instead he turned abruptly away, and in doing so answered any question she cared to ask.
'I wish I'd never found the wretched thing. It would have saved a lot of trouble all round.'
'Maybe. But it worked out well enough in the end. My grandfather has what he wanted. He is happy.'
She waited for him to say that it suited him, too, but he didn't. Well, he'd already gone to great trouble to explain that it was the last thing he'd wanted.
The marriage part, anyway.
His kiss, his arousal, his 'you are mine' was no more than a reaction to her resistance. She'd challenged his masculinity. He'd overcome her…
Her only mistake had been to succumb too quickly.
She'd had the power to get what she wanted and had let it slip through her fingers. Not nearly Arab enough…
'Your grandfather won't be happy when you divorce me,' she said, pushing him. Testing him.
'I don't believe he'll be with us long enough to be disappointed.'
Her pride melted. 'He's really that sick?'
'It was only what he perceived as my stubbornness in defying him that was keeping him alive.'
'Why would you defy him? It's not as if you had to go out and find your own bride…'
'I was not ready.'
Damn it, he was still grieving for his wife. His son. And now he was about to lose a beloved grandparent. She was close enough to her own loss to understand what his feelings must be, no matter how little he showed.
Then she frowned.
'But…'
But if his grandfather was only weeks from death, why would Fayad use her when the Emiri throne was so close?
She let slip a very unprincesslike word.
She'd got it all wrong.
Everything.
'This wasn't about becoming Emir, was it? You really did do it entirely for me?'
'I gave you my promise that I would protect you.' He climbed from the car, offered her his hand. 'Go in now. Leila will be waiting.'
Go… 'But won't she expect…?' She stopped, blushing with confusion.
'She will expect me to build you a house, make you a dowry. Three months between the wedding and the marriage is not long.' Then, seeing her confusion, 'Just because the wedding was unconventional, it does not mean that the marriage formalities will not be observed.'
He leaned forward, kissed her forehead.
'I will see you tomorrow.'
CHAPTER NINE
Three months had seemed an impossibly long time, and yet they flew by. Leila, now officially installed as her lady-in-waiting, was with her always, teaching her Arabic, the ways of Ras al Kawi.
