“No!” She faced him, turning swiftly, passionately, her insides hot, as if on fire. “I am not ready to stay put. I am not ready to give up my life, or my work.”
“But you’re not a child anymore. You’re a woman. Thirty-one. It is time for you to have children. You must have babies before you are too old.”
Tally nearly choked on her own tongue, words strangling inside her throat. “I have only just started my career. Everything is still so new. I refuse to end my life here!”
“Marrying me, having children is not ending your life. It’s a beginning. A beginning at Bur Juman. A beginning with me.”
And that, she thought, pulling away from him, was no beginning at all. “We barely like each other,” she flashed, facing him.
“It’s not necessary.”
“Not necessary? You’re talking about marriage.”
“Wives don’t need to like their husbands. They just need to obey.”
Tally spun on her heel, clapped her hands on top of her head and walked the length of the room. This was ridiculous, the most ridiculous conversation she’d had yet, and she’d had many ridiculous conversations with Sheikh Tair lately, but this, oh, this took the cake.
Good God. Marry Tair? Live forever in his desert? Not just have his children butobey him?
Tally almost laughed, hysteria building. “You do not know me well, do you?” she spluttered, hands still on top of her head, fingers locked down against her scalp. It was that or let her panic spill out. “I am not the stay home and have babies kind of woman. I climb and run and swim and—” she broke off, dragged in air “—nothave babies. Andnot obey.” She looked at him, trying to make him understand. “I don’t obey.”
His eyebrows lifted and his lips pursed. “Not very well, no.”
“Not at all.” She exhaled again. “So save us both endless frustration and disappointment. Get me to the next big city and put me on an international flight home. I won’t even stop to buy postcards. I’ll just go. I’m out of here. I won’t even look back—”
“Bur Juman is a beautiful place to live.”
“For Berbers or Bedouin, or whatever you are.”
His lips pinched. “I have much to teach you.”
“But I don’t want to be taught. I’ve had enough lessons from you, and my family, and everyone else who thinks they know what’s best for me. But no one knows what’s best for me but me.”
Tair sighed deeply. Silence stretched between them, heavy and heavier. Tally’s fingers knotted into her palms and silently she prayed, prayed he’d come to his senses and do what was right, do what he needed to do.
“Yes,” he said at last, “it is going to be a very hard marriage. And I’m afraid, a very long life.”
He joined her for breakfast on the stone terrace that adjoined her room. “Sabah-ul-kher,” he greeted, taking the low stool across from her and reaching for one of the tangerines and then one of the pomegranate sections. “How did you sleep?”
Tally gave him a baleful look. “Not particularly well, thank you.”
“You might want to take a rest later today. You’re still on the weak side—”
“Tair—”
“My delicate little flower.” His dark eyes flashed with amusement.
Tally marveled at the pleasure he derived from her misery. “Why are you so happy? You’re like a different man now you’re back in your palace.”
He peeled the tangerine, bit into one bright orange wedge and offered her a piece. Tally shook her head. Tair ate another, wiped his hands and asked, “Do you have a preference for your robe for the wedding?”
He was serious about this. He was moving ahead with plans for a wedding. “You can’t make me marry you. You can’t.”
“I can, actually. I’m a sheikh. You’re part of my harem—”
“I’m not.”
“Harem doesn’t mean a dancing girl, Tally Woman. It means part of one’s household.”
“So I’m like cutlery or dish towels, is that it?”
“More or less.” His mouth curved, eyes glinting, baiting her. “You know, marrying me is in your best interest.”
“No, Tair, it’s not. It’s in your best interest.”
And then he did what he always did. That horrible, arrogant, infuriating shrug. “So it is.”
Tair looked up as the serving girl brought him hot coffee. He thanked her and the girl flushed, pink with pleasure. Tally groaned inwardly. Everybody loved Tair but her.