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The Secret of the Sheikh's Betrothed Page 5
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“So what did you think?” Rayyan asked.
“I want Auntie on my next negotiating team,” Fathi replied. “She’d drive the Pickman Company into bankruptcy if she headed the team on our next contract negotiation with them.”
Rayyan laughed. “I thought you might have been bored.”
“I enjoyed myself,” Fathi assured him. “I miss that sometimes—the talking and the food while you’re trying to drive the best deal you can.”
“Not something that was encouraged in your American business school,” Rayyan teased him.
“They don’t know how to take it easy,” Fathi said. “They thought reading all these strange books would make me a better manager.”
“Like what?” Rayyan asked as he got into the car.
“The Book of the Five Rings, for one,” Fathi told him, getting into the passenger side. “It was by some samurai who had never even heard of the phrase ‘upper management.’ I have no idea what the book was supposed to teach me.”
“And I thought I had to do some strange things for my degree,” Rayyan laughed as he started to drive. “Should I drop you off at the office or at home?”
Fathi thought about it for a second. While it was still early, he didn’t feel like going back to the office. He was buzzed from the coffee and stuffed from all the fruit he had eaten. He didn’t think he had ever left the office this early before. “Drive me home. When I get there, I’ll call and tell Ece I’m not going back in.”
“I can do that for you,” Rayyan offered.
“I should—” Fathi started.
“She’s going to be hinting about what you bought and is it for her. Do you really want to deal with that right now?”
Fathi shook his head, the weight on his lap doubling for a second. “I really don’t. But I don’t want to fire her right now…. When am I getting married again?”
Rayyan snorted. “In about six days. Four days from now, the din Abdel tribe will be at al-Saʽd al-Maṭar. A couple more days will be spent arguing the finer points of the betrothal contract as they try to get more out of Grandfather. Then you’re getting married.”
“Married,” Fathi echoed, as if he wasn’t sure he was saying the right thing.
Rayyan looked over at him. “I’m staying with you tonight. You sound terrible.”
“I’m getting married,” Fathi repeated. He was an idiot to go along with this.
“I expected this sooner or later,” Rayyan said.
“Good, because I didn’t,” Fathi said as he leaned back against the headrest, feeling nauseous and out of sorts.
Chapter Five
IKRAAM finished packing his mother’s trunk with his possessions. He was taking the trunk with him. He didn’t know if he should be amused or angry that it was half-empty when he was done. He had no new bedding or other household necessities or even a new dress. He did have what remained of his mother’s jewelry hidden in his clothing, and he counted that as a victory. Ikraam was just going to have to make sure Bahiyya didn’t steal it from him before the marriage.
Bahiyya wasn’t even trying to pretend this was going to be a true marriage. Or she thought his groom’s family was so rich, they could afford the cost of outfitting the couple’s new home. Regardless, it was rude of Bahiyya to act this way, and he was ashamed his groom was going to think he was as greedy as his sister.
Sabah was already packed, her well-filled trunks loaded on the pack camels. There had been some grumbling there hadn’t been more done for the tribe’s sheikh’s only daughter, but Hashim promised great feasts when the marriage was celebrated a year or two in the future. Right now, Sabah was only being sent to the groom’s family to learn their ways. The marriage would be later. Sabah was out saying goodbye to her friends and trying not to have hysterics at the thought of being alone among Ghalib’s tribe.
Ikraam carried his spinning with him. It would keep him occupied while his relatives bargained over his marriage. He had already packed his handloom. Maybe being industrious would show his groom he was worth keeping? If not as a wife, then… Ikraam couldn’t think of what else he could be. A younger brother? Or he could pass as some sort of distant relative, perhaps, unless his intended had announced his marriage far and wide. Ikraam sighed. That would be up to his intended on how he wanted to react to Bahiyya’s treachery.
As if thinking about Bahiyya summoned her, she strode into the harem. “Aren’t you done yet?” she snapped. Her eyes narrowed when she saw the trunk Ikraam was taking. “Why aren’t you taking your own trunk?” she demanded.
Ikraam threw all caution to the winds since she couldn’t beat him now. The bruises wouldn’t heal before the wedding. “Because I don’t want to leave my mother’s dower trunk for you,” he said.
“Getting married has made you bold,” Bahiyya snarled.
“I have nothing left to lose,” Ikraam replied. He paused. “And it’s not like I’m your problem anymore.”
Bahiyya knotted her brow when she heard her words thrown back at her. “You’re not married yet,” she said.
“Do you want to delay our departure?” Ikraam asked, holding her gaze.
“That is the only thing staying my hand,” Bahiyya warned. “But… Sabah will feel the weight of my displeasure for your next act of rebellion.”
Ikraam went still and bowed his head. “As you wish.” His niece faced enough trouble in her future, so he wasn’t going to add to it. Bahiyya had a potent threat when she said that.
“We will be leaving as soon as I can find that useless daughter of mine,” Bahiyya said. “Be ready.”
With that, she turned and marched out of the tent. Ikraam looked around the place he had lived all his life, wondering why it hurt to leave, even if he had been so unhappy here. After a long minute, he lifted his trunk and carried it out. He had to leave, and while he mourned to do so, he had to meet his future, as uncertain as that was.
FATHI looked down from the balcony of al-Saʽd al-Maṭar. He wasn’t happy he was here, but it was better than trying to explain the circus below to the media, which would have been alerted to this farce if it had happened closer to civilization. This marriage wasn’t something he felt Rayyan would be able to spin doctor into a pleasant fairy tale, no matter what Grandfather wanted.
The centuries fell away here. Running water had only been installed in the place within the last decade or so. It was more than just the lack of modern architecture and styles, though. There was an air about the place that made him think there was an infidel army over the next sand dune, wanting to convert him to Christianity. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, and he wondered why he was feeling that way. The place seemed crowded with servants, and they made him nervous. There was a lot of bowing, and he felt like he had forgotten how to deal with them, from some of the sideways looks he had been getting.
He lived by himself and had a woman come in once a week, when he was at work, to clean his condo. He liked being alone and was going to have to get used to having someone around after he was married. It had only taken one year at university for his dormmates to drive him crazy with their noise. But Ikraam was traditionally raised, so she might not be comfortable living with a man full-time. He was going to have to buy a bigger condo, since his condo wasn’t big enough to have two people live in it, especially if they both weren’t used to living with another person.
It could also be what he was wearing. He had stopped dressing traditionally when he went to university. It hadn’t been practical in New York City once the weather turned cold, and after that, he had dressed to blend in. When he came home, he still dressed the same way, exchanging jeans for designer suits, trying to put the Americans at ease when he dealt with them. Now he was wearing a thawb and while wearing an izar instead of underwear. It felt strange and awkward, and he knew the servants had sensed that.
The chaos he was watching below wasn’t helping, since it looked like a scene out of a movie. Roughly a half-dozen nomads had arrived for the wedding… probably just the bri
de and her immediate family. Fathi was grateful the whole tribe hadn’t come, because he swore he could smell the stink of the camels from up here. He was glad the tracery on the balcony hid him from them, so he could study the group. Fathi still hadn’t moved several minutes later—fascinated with the travelers as they settled their camels and unpacked them—when Rayyan joined him. Rayyan also wore traditional dress and looked a lot more comfortable than Fathi felt in it. Ikraam was going to take one look at him and be disappointed when she found out Rayyan wasn’t her betrothed.
“What are you doing up here?” Rayyan asked.
“Wondering who has more fleas, my bride or the camel she rode here,” he answered, then winced because his remark had been uncalled for.
“Be thankful our grandfather doesn’t decide it would be better you move in with them,” Rayyan snapped. “Just let me remind you the poor girl—”
“Ikraam,” Fathi interjected, since they should be referring to her by her name. And how rude he had been to her earlier, even if she didn’t know it.
The poor girl wasn’t going to be some polished and pretty woman, seeing she had lived in the desert all her life, but he didn’t think she would be dirty. There were other ways to clean yourself that didn’t involve water. He also wasn’t going to get into the habit of taking out his bad temper on Ikraam. He doubted she was excited to marry him either.
“—doesn’t have a say in what’s happening. Don’t take your temper out on her,” Rayyan finished with a glare.
“That can be done.” Grandfather’s voice came from behind them. “There’s still some negotiating to be done with the contract. I can have you go live with them.”
Fathi turned around to look at him. “So it’s not a done deal.”
“You will be married,” Grandfather snapped. “I would like to see both of you settled before I am gone.”
“I can meet—” Fathi started.
His grandfather had given up running the business, Rayyan wasn’t dedicated enough to it, so there was only him. Sending him out into the desert was a hollow threat, but he would strive to not antagonize Grandfather again. Even so, this marriage was going to be a disaster, and he didn’t want to ruin another life.
“A woman,” Grandfather finished for him. “Where? Between board meetings? At the office? When? That secretary? Bah!”
Fathi knew why his grandfather didn’t like any of his secretaries. Grandfather had figured out faster than he had that they all wanted to marry him. Grandfather also thought women shouldn’t work with men, and he didn’t like the time a woman spent with her employer alone. In addition, Ece was a modern woman, barely wearing a scarf over her head, never mind being covered up like the women below. Grandfather had been very upset about her wardrobe, even if he wasn’t a strict Muslim. Ece had worn short skirts until she realized she had to at least try to conform to the company’s unspoken dress policy, and had reluctantly started dressing in long skirts and long-sleeved shirts to keep her job.
Grandfather strode over to Fathi and hugged him, his good nature returning. “All you do is work. I had to take matters into my own hands.”
Rayyan sniggered.
“And you,” Grandfather snapped, turning toward him. “You do nothing but meet women! While your brother is on his honeymoon, you will run the company as he does. That should teach you some responsibility!”
With that scolding, Grandfather walked away, going to greet his guests.
“You know he’d be very supportive and excited if you told him you wanted to go back to university to study,” Fathi said. “If you don’t want to tell him, just go and I will tell him. Don’t worry about him cutting you off. If he’s not happy about it, I’ll keep the money coming for school.”
Rayyan straightened up, his lips moving silently for a moment, before announcing, “The numbers are much too small.”
“What are you talking about?” Fathi demanded, wondering if Rayyan had heard anything he said.
“There’s just a handful of people and camels down there, and none of their herds are here,” Rayyan commented. “I thought they had just come ahead of the rest of the tribe, but there isn’t a dust cloud in the distance, so there’s no one following them.”
“Maybe they couldn’t make the journey?” Fathi asked.
He did know it took a lot of grazing to keep the goats and camels fed. And the desert wasn’t a place with an abundance of green growing things for them to eat. They might not have wanted to leave their traditional grazing areas.
“It was a wet year,” Rayyan informed him.
“It’s a desert. There isn’t a lot of water,” Fathi pointed out.
“There have been above-average rains this season, and the path they took should have had enough grazing for the whole tribe to be here. So instead of the seventy-odd people I was expecting, we have five. Just a few extra camels and not a lot of baggage. It looks like your bride isn’t well dowered. And they’re arriving late enough so the group doesn’t have to deal with us until the morning.”
“What do you think it means?” Fathi asked, intrigued.
He wouldn’t have noticed it. Grandfather might have, but it was surprising Rayyan had. He was learning all sorts of new things about his brother lately. And he was happy with all of them. They had been close growing up, but going to university on two different continents had driven them apart. If this marriage let him rediscover his twin, then something good had come out of it. He didn’t care about the dowry, since that was such an archaic concept to him. He just needed to make sure Grandfather didn’t take offense about such a small party.
Rayyan pursed his lips. “It could mean nothing. But… this is a chance for the entire tribe to have a huge feast, one lasting for days, at Grandfather’s expense. In addition, Ikraam is the daughter of the old leader and sister-by-marriage of the present leader of their tribe. So why isn’t the tribe here? Do they even know she’s getting married?”
“How do you know all this?” Fathi asked.
Rayyan shrugged. “I was a liberal arts major. I took a lot of anthro courses, along with languages and art history. The only reason I didn’t push Grandfather about continuing to grad school was because I didn’t know what I wanted to do.”
“And now you do,” Fathi said.
Rayyan shot him a look. “We can discuss my future later. Now I want to know why all of the tribe of din Abdel seem to be missing from these festivities.”
“Do you think it’s something serious?” Fathi asked.
Rayyan pursed his lips. “It could be nothing. Ikraam could simply be an embarrassment to the tribe for some reason, and so her wedding wouldn’t be celebrated by the entire tribe. Still, no one in their right mind is going to pass up a chance to feast, especially if someone else was paying for it. It would have lasted for days, been talked about for years. So, again, why aren’t they here?”
“Do you think she has a child or something and they wouldn’t tell us, in case we canceled the betrothal?” Fathi asked.
Rayyan looked thoughtful before shaking his head. “They wouldn’t have done something like that. Her sister would have admitted it if something like that had happened. Ikraam would have been married before the child was born.”
“Do you think there is something else going on?” Fathi demanded, wondering what had Rayyan looking worried and angry. He knew numbers and negotiations, not trying to figure out what kind of scheme his future in-laws were hatching.
“I don’t know,” Rayyan replied. “But I’m going to make sure Grandfather doesn’t greet them alone. Not only would it be rude, but….”
“Do you want me hidden with a satellite phone in my hand in case this is an attack and not the bridal party?” Fathi joked.
Rayyan looked at him seriously before he rushed off to follow their grandfather. “That wouldn’t be a bad idea,” he said. “Grandfather was attacked in the desert by a band of terrorists who had been masquerading as a family.”
IN the end, Fathi came down to m
eet his betrothed’s family after a couple of minutes. He didn’t think any sort of treachery was involved with the small numbers, but there was something strange going on. Fathi stood behind his grandfather on his right. He could see the older man was annoyed the whole tribe wasn’t in attendance. He knew Rayyan had shown their grandfather the same information he had shared with him, so Grandfather knew how many people were supposed to be here and had planned accordingly. Fathi glanced over at Rayyan, who edged toward him.
“Grandfather is under the impression the din Abdel tribe thinks he can’t afford the bridal feast, since there are so few here,” Rayyan murmured.
Fathi winced. Their grandfather was a proud man, and already things had started off on the wrong foot. He didn’t think this would cause their grandfather to dissolve the betrothal contract, because Grandfather was the one insisting he get married, but Ikraam’s family better have a very good explanation for their actions.
“Sheikh Hashim el Najeer of the din Abdel tribe, I am Amir Saladin al-Murzim, and welcome to my humble dwelling,” Grandfather intoned, stressing the word humble.
Fathi thought this fort was probably bigger than some of the villages the tribe dealt with. From the way everyone was looking around, he guessed they were impressed with what they saw. The place was impressive, even if it was a third of the size it had been.
A middle-aged man, who was very fat, bowed awkwardly to Grandfather, and Fathi guessed this was Hashim, Ikraam’s brother-by-marriage. “I am honored to be here.”
Behind Hashim were three veiled women and a man who looked to be about his own age. Two of the women and the man wore finely woven burnooses, while the third woman’s was worn. She was hiding behind the rest of the party, her body language telling him she was used to being overlooked. It was the stance every upper-level secretary had—at least the ones who didn’t work for him.
Fathi knew one of the women had to be Hashim’s wife, while one of the other women was his bride, but he didn’t know who the third woman could be. In addition, the man with them looked like a bully, barely hiding his sneer when he looked at Grandfather. Fathi knew he was trouble and wondered who he was.