Liz Fielding - Chosen as the Sheikh's Wife

'But I shouldn't expect a hug and a Hi , kid , welcome home …?'

'I'm afraid not.' Then, because time was short, 'My grandfather is sitting at the far end of the majlis . You should walk straight down the room, looking neither to left nor right, holding out the khanjar so that everyone can see it. Bow to Ahmed first. Then bow to my grandfather and place the knife in his hands. I will be with you every step of the way,' he said, and the tension seemed to slip away from her a little. Then, 'Do you remember what I promised you, Princess?'

She looked up at him. 'I remember,' she said. Then, fear darkening her eyes, 'Something has happened. What is it?'

'There's no time to explain. Do you trust me to do exactly as I promised, Princess?'

Violet looked up at him, her extraordinary eyes searching his as if looking for something. Whatever it was, she must have found it, because she said, 'I am here. I have flown thousands of miles, placed myself

entirely in your hands, because you assured me that you would protect my friends.'

'And you, Princess. Protect you.' With every breath in his body. And he would, no matter what the cost. Honour-more-demanded it. 'After my grandfather thanks you in both Arabic and English, I will speak. When I turn to you I will ask you a question, you will answer nam . No matter what happens, you must do that. Do you understand?'

' Nam ,' she repeated. 'What does it mean?'

'Yes.'

'I see. Am I allowed to ask what the question is?'

To his intense relief, the huge carved doors to the majlis swung open, making further explanations impossible.

'Three times,' he said urgently. 'I will ask and you will answer.' Letting go of her hands, he stepped back, then, as she moved forward, he took his place at her side.

Fayad walked beside Violet towards his grandfather, his heart pounding. On either side of them he was aware of a stirring as the tribal leaders, elders, people's representatives rose to honour the khanjar . Or was it Violet, the very image of a Sayyid, who sent audible Shockwaves through the reception room?

She faltered only once, catching her toe on the edge of one of the carpets that were laid over each other, and he reached out to steady her.

Beneath her sleeve, despite her stately progress, she was trembling, and he did not let go, keeping his hand possessively on her elbow. Staring down Ahmed al Sayyid who, as leader of the second most powerful tribe of his nation, was indeed at his grandfather's right hand.

Violet stopped in front of the two men, bowed her head to acknowledge Ahmed, then, taking Fayad by surprise, instead of bowing to his grandfather, she knelt before him, extending the khanjar , and, eyes cast down, placed it into his hands, saying simply, 'In the name of Fatima al Sayyid I return the Blood of Tariq to its rightful place.'

Ahmed al Sayyid was scowling furiously at her, but his grandfather smiled.

'Thank you, child. Welcome home.'

Ahmed rose to his feet, but before he could speak Fayad, following Violet's dramatic example, joined her on his knees and, reaching for her hand, took it and declared, 'I call upon you all to witness that I take Violet Hamilton al Sayyid as my wife.' Then he turned to her and said, 'Do you accept me as your husband?'

Ahmed took a step towards him, but his grandfather raised a hand to stop him.

She looked at him for what seemed a lifetime, and then she said, ' Nam .'

He repeated his statement and again said, 'Do you accept me as your husband?'

' Nam .'

And a third time.

' Nam …'

Around them the room erupted in uproar, but he scarcely noticed as Violet lifted one of her exquisite brows a millimetre, as if to ask, What have I done ?

He responded by lifting her hand to his lips, and murmured, 'You have just accepted me as your husband.' Then, raising her to her feet, he could not fail to miss the barely concealed smile of satisfaction on his grandfather's face as he embraced him, embraced Violet, with the words, 'Welcome, daughter…' Then, 'Give me your hand, Fayad.'

He extended it, expecting the old man to take it, hold it, but instead he raised it, placed the khanjar into it, holding it there for a long moment before turning to the majlis with the words, 'Salute your new Emir.'

Then he let go, stepped back, leaving Fayad centre stage.

It was pure theatre, and it occurred to him that when it came to playing games his grandfather had a fifty year head start on him.

He had been desperate to see him with a new wife-had used the threat of Ahmed al Sayyid to manipulate him. And now it was done, and he'd got his own way, he would retire to the mountains to spend his remaining days tending his soul, leaving his rivals with no choice but to smile and embrace not only Fayad's marriage, but his new position as ruler of Ras al Kawi.

His only thought was for Violet, who, when she realised what he'd done, would believe he had used her.

For an hour they stood, side by side, while every member of the majlis came to embrace him, make their bow to Violet, touch the khanjar .

She kept up a smile throughout, never faltered. Only someone who'd seen the real thing would know that it was a mask. And heaven alone knew what she was thinking behind it.

Finally it was over and, his hand beneath her elbow, he was able to escort her through the line of clapping elders.

The moment the doors closed behind them the smile vanished and she turned on him. 'Wife?' she breathed.

'It was necessary-'

'So that you could have your crown? Why didn't you tell me?

'There was no time…'

'No time? What happened to weeks of showering me with dowry to prove how much you value me?' she demanded, sweeping his attempt at explanation aside. 'The gold, the jewellery, the cloth? Actually, just the cloth would have done. I'm a dress designer, and cloth is always welcome, but then you didn't know that, did you? You didn't ask about my ambitions, about my life. You only care about your own.'

He hadn't asked because he knew. He knew all her history. But somehow he didn't think this was the moment to tell her that.

'In a crisis,' he said quietly, calmly, 'when the situation demands it, a declaration before witnesses serves the purpose.'

'Does it count if the bride hasn't a clue what's going on?'

'If you'll just listen, I will explain,' he said, taking her hand, moving her towards the door. This was not the place to be overhead having an argument with his bride.

She dug in her heels.

'How? You get a country and I get a cut-price registrar and two witnesses job. Is that all I'm worth?'

'I will tell you what you're worth,' he said, looping an arm around her waist and picking her up, carrying her over the threshold, leaving her shoes, leaving his.

He was determined to make her listen, to explain that a divorce would be as simple as the wedding, that all he'd done was protect her. But not here, where anyone might hear.

'Whatever happened to my much-vaunted chance to say no?' she demanded, kicking out in an attempt to free herself, furious, hammering on his shoulders, his back. 'I trusted you, but your words are worth nothing, Fayad al Kuwani. I gave you your khanjar and you used it to buy your country. Used me to buy the alliance of the Sayyid.'

'Will you just listen to me?' he thundered. Forget calm. Forget quiet reason…

'Oh, that's right. Shout. The male answer to everything.'

'Violet, this isn't helping-'

'It's helping me.' She lifted her head, looked down at him. 'So, Your Emiri Highness? What happens now? I'm supposed to go away and get swaddled in veils, is that it? Sit on the white sheet and wait for you to come and unwrap me?'