Chapter 33
I can’t sleep. I’ve tried staying in my room and relaxing after a bath. I’m anxious because I don’t know how I have to act from now on.
He brought me to his house. Why? He’s afraid that I’ll escape again, especially now that he knows there’s a child on the way.
I leave my suite and wander around the house, trying to guess which of the rooms Kamal is in, because I don’t want to be alone.
Like his other residences, the London one is monstrous. I try every door, only to realize after going through all of the ones in the hallway that he is in the room next to mine.
When I open the door, the whole room is dark, but I can see the outline of his body in the dim light.
I near the bed, and for a moment I stand still, observing the man who will soon become my husband and the father of my child.
He sleeps naked; in the nights we’ve spent together, I’ve learned that it’s a habit of his.
I sit down carefully on the bed and study his face. Even in his sleep, Kamal is frighteningly powerful. Not only because of his size but because there’s something about him that inspires respect.
And love.
Yes. Although I fight my feelings, I grow more charmed by him each day.
I missed him in the weeks he was away, and now I’m brave enough to admit that this isn’t just a physical attraction.
It’s the warmth of his big body holding me. His deep voice that, when angry, sounds like thunder but never rises in volume.
The hunger with which his lips devour me and the feeling of him pulsing inside of me.
His domineering personality and even the dirty words he whispers when he’s about to lose himself in pleasure.
I move my hand to his face, closing my eyes when I feel the roughness of his stubble against my palm. My heart nearly stops when he holds my hand to give it a kiss.
“Can’t sleep, Madeline?”
How is it possible that my heart leaps just at the sound of his voice?
Because you love him, fool. You’re hopelessly in love with your Sheikh.
The conviction of what I feel gives me courage. Instead of answering him, I get up.
I’m wearing nothing but a robe, so I open it and let it fall to my feet. “I’m so scared. When we’re undressed, I don’t feel there is any difference between us. There’s no world beyond the two of us.”
He pulls me onto the bed, making me lie beside him. “There’s no difference that can’t be overcome.”
“And what if I can’t be a good mother or a good wife?”
In a quick move, he positions himself above me, fitting himself between my thighs. “We’ll take it one day at a time. I know you’re nervous, and that’s normal, but don’t plan everything at once. Tomorrow I’ll take you to see my world.”
Our faces are so close I can feel the warmth of his breath.
I wrap my legs around his waist, enticing him to take me. “Your country, you mean. But what about you? Will you let me get to know you for real?”
“You already know me better than any other woman.”
“It’s not enough.”
He thrusts inside me slowly. “You’ll be my wife, Madeline,” he says, moving his hips at a leisurely pace. “We’ll have time to get to know each other better.”
“You haven’t proposed to me yet.”
“Because I was waiting to do it in Sintarah.”
“I’d rather it was just between us.”
He bends down and kisses me like never before. There’s lust but also so much tenderness that it breaks down my last defenses.
He spends a long time making love to me, whispering words I don’t understand until I surrender, unable to think.
“Marry me, jamilati[16]. Let’s make it work. Be my princess, Madeline.”
I pull him into a kiss, seeking a real connection. Not caring about noble titles or wealth.
The world may know him as Kamal, the Sheikh. I want the man.
“Yes. I’ll marry you.”
On the plane to Sintarah
“Tell me about your mother,” I ask because I feel like I need more information about his family. All I can learn about his culture. A crash course. I’m a nervous wreck.
“Take it easy. She already knows.”
“About the baby? How? I don’t understand.”
“I don’t know if you’ll understand even if I explain. I think you wouldn’t believe it.”
“Tell me.”
“My mother wasn’t born in Sintarah. She’s Spanish. Actually, she’s Romani.”
“Oh!”
“Surprised?”
“A little. Forgive me—it’s just because they’re like two opposing peoples.
I’m not judging your Emirate or your people, but from what I’ve looked up, although it’s more liberal than other countries of the same religion, it’s still quite traditional compared to the West, while the Romani people are . . .”
“Free?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you’re right.”
“So how did she and your father . . .”
“My father was traveling, and according to him, one day he saw her dancing at a Romani celebration. Don’t ask me how or where, but my mother can give you the details. The fact is, he said that the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew he was done.”
I smile. “Love at first sight? I thought men didn’t believe in that.”
“He believed. Or he started to believe after meeting my ab.”
“What does that word mean?”
“‘Mother.’ Anyway, what my father felt for her wasn’t just love, it was passion too. Until the day he died, she was the only one for him. You asked me why men in Sintarah don’t marry more than one woman at a time. There’s a belief among my people that we only fall in love once.”
“It doesn’t seem like you share that opinion.”
He shrugs, and I’m left without an answer. “Anyway,” he continues, “what I meant to say is that my mother has premonitions, like visions of the future. Yesterday, while you were resting, she called me and said she’d had a dream that a grandchild was on the way.”
“What? You can’t be serious . . . There are a thousand explanations for dreaming that. Her wish for you to get married, for example.”
“That’s why I said you wouldn’t believe it.”
“But you do.”
“She’s predicted several things accurately before. Call it a sixth sense, or maybe she’s just a very sensitive person. The point is my mother always knows things before anyone else. Especially when it concerns her children.”
“I’m not questioning it; I’m just surprised. Would she be able to tell us if the baby is a boy or a girl?”
“Maybe, but would you want to know?”
“Would you?” I ask.
“I haven’t thought about it yet.”
I clasp my hands in my lap and decide to change the subject. I don’t think I’m able to talk about our child so easily yet. Plus, when he gives me answers like this, I’m reminded of how unprepared we both are for the idea of becoming parents.
“Will I need to wear a headscarf to cover my hair when we get there?” I ask.
“The name is hijab[17], and no, it won’t be necessary to wear it when you’re out.
In Sintarah it is not mandatory. You’ll only need to cover your hair during religious ceremonies.
Speaking of which, as a Sheikh, I must marry within the protocols of my religion.
I don’t expect you to convert, but we’ll have to follow the rituals. ”
“I, uh . . . It’s not a problem,” I reply, feeling awkward. He’s already thinking about the ceremony, and I haven’t even talked to my parents yet. “Maybe your sisters can explain the wedding rituals and everything else to me.”
He visibly relaxes. “Good luck with that. You’ll want to run away from Sintarah once you meet my sisters, my cousins and aunts. They are loud and talk over each other.”
I smile. “I don’t mind. I was an only child, so I’ll enjoy becoming part of a big family.” I notice he doesn’t ask about my parents, which is a relief. I wouldn’t know what to say anyway. “And what about your mother?”
“What about her?”
“You mentioned that your sisters, cousins, and aunts are loud, but you didn’t mention your mother. Apart from the fact that she has premonitions.”
“Mama is different. Special. She lets people find their own way without strongarming anyone.”
“I hope she likes me.”
“How could she not like the woman carrying her grandchild, Madeline?”
I don’t reply. I smile, then pretend to fall asleep. I get an icy feeling inside. I know he didn’t mean what I think he meant. But I feel like people won’t accept me for who I am, only feeling obligated to include me because of the baby.
“Are you okay?” he asks after some time. I think he realized I was pretending to sleep.
“Yeah, just a little sleepy,” I lie.
“Rest. I’ll wake you up when we arrive.”
I don’t open my eyes or speak again, but my mind won’t stop running for a single second.
I’ve barely found out who the real Madeline is, and she’s already about to be suffocated by the wife, then the mother, version.