Chapter 44
Kamal and Madeline’s engagement party
I step into the main hall of the palace, aware that at least a hundred pairs of eyes are on me—yes, this is their notion of an intimate gathering, “family only”, in the Emirate of Sintarah.
My stomach is tied in knots because, despite having lived my entire existence amidst high society, nothing compares to this.
I truly dread being the center of attention, and knowing that they are scrutinizing whether I am suitable for Kamal or not is making me very nervous.
Only my fiancé by my side, holding my arm, keeps me from stumbling or, even more humiliating, fainting.
God, what am I doing? What was I thinking when I thought I could play the role of a princess, someone who will always be in the spotlight?
Marrying Kamal will attract the press to me, especially when they find out there’s a baby on the way.
Nervously, instead of focusing on the people, I cling to every detail of the luxurious hall with its crystal chandeliers and Persian rugs.
“Calm down, ya albi,” Kamal tells me.
“What does that mean, the name you called me?”
“‘My heart.’”
Despite the anxiety, I manage to smile, even though I think he used the word as a term of endearment rather than literally. “You’re mine, Kamal.”
His gray eyes I adore so much darken after my declaration; my heart races. There’s no longer even a faint memory of people watching us. It all comes down to him.
Kamal takes me by the shoulders and turns me to face him. “Don’t look at me like that, my bride, or I’ll steal you away from the guests before the party even begins.”
“I’m so happy for both of you, my son,” my soon-to-be mother-in-law says as she comes closer, and the magic of our moment is broken.
He steps away, and I want to ask him not to let go of me, because the warmth of his hands makes me feel alive.
However, I am not a child, and I know that there are formalities to be followed, so I accept the inevitable and, beaming with a bright smile, I turn to those who have come to celebrate our engagement.
The night goes by quickly, like in a dream you can’t remember being a part of.
People greet me with smiles, while others clearly assess me the whole time. Most of them speak English, and when a woman says something in their language, she is reprimanded by my mother-in-law.
I step back a bit from the crowd and see Kamal talking with a group of men.
They listen attentively, but he speaks with his eyes on me.
They roam over my tunic in shades of blue, which, according to the stylist, complement my eyes.
I never thought I would feel sexy in such a modest outfit, but the pure silk molds to my figure like a second skin.
Even from a distance, the connection between us is strong. My Sheikh doesn’t hide his desire, and I smile genuinely for the first time tonight.
He says something to the men and comes towards me. I bite my lip, suddenly nervous.
Lord, he shouldn’t have such power over my body.
“It wouldn’t take much to make me take you away right now, my beautiful bride.”
A shiver runs through me because of the intensity of his gaze on me. “I love it when you call me that,” I admit, then I remember something. “Your sister said I don’t need to call you “my Sheikh” as you instructed in London because that would be what an employee says, not a subject.”
He smiles. “She’s right, but it was delightful to hear you call me ‘my Sheikh.’”
Encouraged by his lustful gaze, I discreetly move closer, just enough that only he can hear me. “After we get married, I’ll call you that every night in our bed, my Sheikh.”
“Ah, Madeline. I’ll punish you for getting me turned on in front of our guests.”
“Please do. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Do you enjoy teasing me?”
“I never thought I was a tease, to be honest, but with you . . .”
“Yes, only with me. All mine.”
Thank God Nawra interrupts us; otherwise, I think we might have torn each other’s clothes off in front of all the guests.
“I think it’s best we start dinner so that you can give your speech afterward, my brother. Neither you nor Madeline seem to be enjoying the party. Or should I say you’d rather be enjoying a private party?” She steps away from us, smiling.
“Nawra is right. Let’s get this over with, and then you’ll be mine for the entire night.”
The dining table, set up especially for our engagement, is huge, and for a moment I think that if my mother weren’t who she is—racist and arrogant—she would love to dine using this China. The silverware, I learned, is solid gold.
Despite the delicious food, I can’t fully enjoy it because I’m eager for the party to end.
As if reading my thoughts, Kamal stands up. He walks to the head of the table where I’m seated, and I hate that I wasn’t placed beside him.
“I want to thank everyone here for honoring us on this special day . . .”
I don’t hear a word of what he says next, totally focused on the face of the man I love, wanting to run away and surrender myself to his arms, away from social conventions.
Only when people start clapping do I realize the speech is over.
The servants come in with boxes of jewels, which he explains are my gifts. Nawra has told me about the significance of gold to their people, so I widen my smile as if I’m delighted, when in truth, I would love him just the same even if he covered me in plastic bracelets.
One of the gifts, however, catches my attention: a beautiful pear-shaped diamond ring that symbolizes the commitment we’ve made today.
My hand shakes as Kamal takes it to put the diamond on my left ring finger.
“You are now mine before the world,” he whispers, indifferent to the curious looks of our guests.
“I have always been yours, my Sheikh.”
He smiles seductively. “We need to introduce ourselves officially as a couple to the people,” he says, offering me his arm.
On the balcony of the main hall of the palace, I’m thrilled to watch as people greet my Sheikh and congratulate us on our future union.
I don’t understand much of what they’re saying, and I decide that I will make an effort to learn their language, even though I know it will be a difficult task with my dyslexia.
Fifteen minutes later, he turns to me. “We can go. I’ve shared you with the world long enough, my Madeline.”
It may go against modern concepts of how women should think, but every time he uses the possessive pronoun to refer to me, I melt.
He gives me a chaste kiss on the forehead and then on each of my hands.
The crowd cheers ecstatically, and I smile, happy. I’d rather be hailed by his subjects than scrutinized by his relatives.
“They adore you, and now they are your people too, Madeline.”
I nod, and my fiancé looks satisfied.
However, despite what he said, we still spend about half an hour posing for photographs with reporters who were allowed to come in after we left the balcony.
Timidly, I answer some of their questions, but most of the time, I let Kamal satisfy their curiosity because I’m nervous and afraid of misspeaking. I have no intention of hiding my dyslexia, but neither do I intend to reveal it today when I’m so nervous.
I say goodbye to my sisters-in-law and mother-in-law, thinking that I will finally be alone with Kamal, but then Adil walks towards us with a man I was introduced to a few hours ago; I remember he is one of Sintarah’s ministers.
“Your Excellency, I apologize for interrupting your engagement celebration, but there has been an incident. A group of rebels has invaded one of our power plants and is threatening to blow it up.”
Despite the disappointment, as it means we won’t be spending the night together, I watch fascinated as Kamal’s expression changes. From a sensual fiancé making promises of a sinful night, he transforms into the leader that his people idolize.
“Give us a minute,” he tells the men. When they leave, he turns to me. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
“Please be careful,” I beg, concerned.
“Don’t let it keep you up, ayouni[21]. I’ll be fine.”