He compressed a sigh. “You are…”
“American, yes, I know. And tougher than steel boots.” She reached down and lifted her bag up, hoisting it over one shoulder. “So? I’m ready when you are.”
He walked towards her, his fingers clasping over the bag, sliding it down her shoulder.
“You cannot come with me.”
Her eyes locked to his, her chin tilted to angle her face upwards. “You don’t want me to come?”
His expression shifted, as the empty, lonely nights of his last foray into the desert played out before him. “It is not a trip of pleasure. The tribe is a long ride from here, in the hot sun.”
“I like the heat.”
He ground his teeth together, his jaw moving with the action. “That sun would peel this delicate, creamy skin from your body in no time.” He softened the words by dropping his head and pressing a kiss to her lips. Just a gentle brush of his mouth to hers but enough to set her alight. Never mind the sun burning her skin – his touch was enough to incinerate her!
“I’m coming with you.” It was a simple ultimatum. She lifted her eyes to his and he shook his head.
“You are headstrong.”
“So?”
He laughed, but it was a sound of impatience. “I don’t have time to do this with you now.”
She felt the weight of worries on his shoulder and frowned. “What’s happened?”
He lifted his face away, focusing on the sun-filled day beyond the window.
“It’s complex.”
“And what? I’m too simple to understand?” She snapped with sarcasm.
He made a clicking sound of frustration. “I didn’t say that. Only right now, I need to get out there, not to be here with you…”
“Take me with you.” She challenged him. “You can fill me in on the way.”
She lifted her bag once more, side-stepping her man-mountain of a husband and moving towards the door. When she turned back, he was staring at her, a look on his face she couldn’t interpret.
“You have no idea what you are asking for.”
The words were said simply but with an undercurrent of sympathy that goaded Sophia into straightening her spine and locking her shoulders squarely into place.
“You married me. We didn’t speak, before the wedding, about the kind of Sheikha I want to be. Well, this is it. I’m not ornamental, Malik. I don’t want to sit in this lovely palace wearing beautiful dresses and tiaras, taking tea with the wives of foreign dignitaries.” Her eyes sparked with his. “I’ve studied this country, its people, its politics. I come from a long line of American senators. I have instincts for this stuff. I’m coming with you.”
He didn’t speak for a long moment and she waited, with bated breath.
“These people live a completely different life to what you’re used to.”
“I know all about Bedouin traditions.”
“Knowing about them and seeing them are two different things. You would not be able to speak to me like this in front of them.”
She waited, a bag over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t speak to you like this in front of anyone – and
nor would you to me. No one needs to know the acrimonious state of our marriage behind closed doors.”
She’d been making a statement of fact, but his eyes narrowed and something like anger crossed his features.
“Abu Faya is a modern country, here in the cities. But out there, the ancient laws and ways prevail. Women are not seen to have the value you presume to be your birthright.”