I jerk my head in agreement. “Fine. So for as long as we’re married, we can accept there’s no threat to you. Dad just wants to come home, to see his friends and be amongst the places in which he grew up. He’s not looking to stage a mutiny, I promise.”
He crosses his arms over his chest.
“We don’t need a baby.”
“I need an heir,” he says, in a quiet, determined voice.
“Eventually, yes.”
“No, not eventually. Can you not see that without an heir, there is a question about my succession? If I were to die tomorrow, who would be Sheikh? A distant cousin is next in line at present, but there are the Hassan supporters too. Without doubt, the country would be plunged into civil war.” His jaw is squared. “If you and your father are here, the nature of that war changes.”
I make a groaning noise. “How can I convince you I’m not interested in your bloody throne? And nor is my father!”
His expression is mocking. “Marrying me suggests otherwise.”
I grind my teeth. “I told you! The only reason I married you was so daddy could come home.” I revert to my childhood title for him, a name I haven’t used in a very long time, out of a strange defensiveness for the older man.
“And you think he isn’t already planning how to use your status in my palace to his advantage?”
“How could he be?” I demand, infuriated. My body shakes with the force of my rage. “He doesn’t even know I’m here, Zahir! He has no idea I came back, no idea I married you. He doesn’t know any of it.”
He stares at me, his eyes ravaging my face in a determined hunt for the truth.
“I didn’t want to tell him,” I say defensively. “Not until I knew he could return for sure. Being stranded in America has been almost impossible for him, but having false hope of coming home, only to have it taken away?” I shake my head wistfully. “I think that would kill him.”
His face is inscrutable once more. I have no idea what’s going on behind those dark eyes of his. He’s so good at hiding what he’s thinking and feeling.
I’m not. I fear my anger and frustration must show clearly.
“You’re very close to him.”
My heart rolls at the unexpected question. “Yes.”
His eyes probe mine. “You’re like him?”
I frown. “In what way?”
He turns away from me, walking towards the table and pouring a glass of water. He takes a drink, then holds it to me. I shake my head.
“Would you say your personality is like his?”
I don’t need to give that much consideration. “No.” My lips twist wistfully. “I think I’m more like my mum.”
Silence sparks between us, and I wait, wondering if he’s evaluating my suggesting, if perhaps I’ve convinced him.
“A baby will be necessary, Emira.”
He uses the title, perhaps, to remind me of my duties now, my obligations to this ancient land my father loves so much.
A shiver runs the length of my spine. “But not right away.” I intend it to come out strong, but instead it sounds like a plea. I try again. “Can’t we just take some time to get used to all this, first?”
His eyes glitter like black diamonds when they meet mine.
“A little time,” he concedes, with a dip of his head. “But not much.”
It’s a temporary reprieve, but I’ll take it.
“I have something for you.”