Her desert knight(17)

"What, Dad?" She took his briefcase and put it in its place under the hall table.

"Samir Al Kabisi came to my office today." He was beaming. Dani froze.  This was the man who'd told her he was still potent so her needs would  not go unmet. "He made a generous offer for your hand in marriage and  you'll be happy to hear that I accepted."

"What?" She knew the custom of mahr, in which the husband offered a  certain sum of money to his bride. It was a tenet of Islam intended to  protect women by making sure they had money of their own in case they  needed it. But these days it was customary for the man to make his offer  of marriage to the woman herself, not her father, wasn't it? And how  could her father possibly accept without asking her? Her heart pounded  and her breathing grew unsteady. "I'm not marrying him."

"Don't be foolish, Dani." Her father's cheerful expression had barely  altered. "It's an excellent offer and he's a good man. He owns his own  firm and could comfortably retire tomorrow if he wanted. He's the chief  supplier of nuts and rivets in the gulf region."

"But I'm not in love with him." Her voice was shaky. She knew her  father couldn't make her marry this man, but her refusal was bound to  cause a rift between them.

"Love grows. It's a silly modern fashion to try to fall in love before you're committed."

"I'll never love him. He's too old. I'd make him unhappy as well as myself."

Her father's expression darkened. "Daniyah, I've been very indulgent  with you since your unfortunate return home. You tried to do everything  your own way once, and the results were disastrous."

She didn't deny it.

"Now it's time for you to listen to the wisdom of your father and an  older generation, when life was simpler and people were happier."

She couldn't argue and say that her parents' marriage wasn't happy. She  suspected it wasn't but since her mother wasn't alive to agree with  her, she could only speculate. "I'm not opposed to marrying again, but  it needs to be someone I can grow to have feelings for."

"Samir is a kind man. He hosts a party at the orphanage every year during the Eid holiday."

"I'm sure he's lovely, but those aren't the kinds of feelings I'm  talking about. We're both adults here. If I'm to share a bed with my  husband I must have some attraction to him."

Her unruly brain conjured an image of Quasar next to her in bed,  languid, his tanned, muscled body against the white sheets, eyes shining  in semidarkness.

"Daniyah, I'm shocked at you. Discretion is an essential quality in a woman."                       
       
           



       

"I have to speak the truth. I've survived one bad marriage and I'm not  willing to take a chance on another. You'll have to tell Mr. Al Kabisi  that I refused his kind offer, or I'll go tell him myself."

Her father clucked his tongue, his good humor utterly gone. "A father  does not expect to endure the burden of his daughter returning home in  middle age."

Stung by humiliation, Dani drew herself up. "I'm hardly middle-aged. I'll find a job."

"As an art historian?" He snorted. "You should have studied something  sensible, as I always encouraged you to. You could have been an  engineer, or a chemist, or even an architect, but no, you had to study  something foolish and whimsical with no career prospects, almost as if  you intended only to be a rich man's wife."

Tears stung her eyes. "Art is my passion."

"Fishing was my passion, when I was a child. I did not, however, choose  to become a fisherman. If I were still inclined to pursue it, I'd fish  simply as a hobby."

She had to admit his words made sense. She'd been so blinded by the  cheerful attitude that everyone should follow their bliss, which had  prevailed at the small New Jersey university she'd attended. "You're  right. But I'll find something. I'll work in a shop."

He looked doubtful. "At least take the night and think it over. You'll  be very comfortable with Samir. He has a spacious house only a few  streets away and he drives a Mercedes."

"I won't change my mind," she whispered. "I have a headache. I'm going  to go lie down." She'd skip dinner and help herself to something later  when everyone else had gone to bed. She couldn't face sitting around  with three male Hassans looking skeptically at her every move.

Not for the first time she reflected that maybe she should have stayed  in New Jersey, where at least she wouldn't have elderly suitors shoved  down her throat. But how? New Jersey was very expensive. She had no job  and no place to live, and she could hardly return to live with her aunt,  who had four daughters and now considered her to be a bad influence.  Her self-esteem had been shattered by her ex-husband and she no longer  believed herself capable of supporting herself and living independently.  At the time she'd seen no other option than to run home with her tail  between her legs.

Now that she'd had the time and distance to regain some perspective,  she could see that coming home actually left her in a worse position.  Her employment prospects were dimmer than ever, and she had another  domineering male to answer to.

In her bedroom she lay on her soft bed and gazed up at the high ceiling  with its ornately carved wood beams. This house she'd grown up in was  grand by Omani standards. She'd always been well provided for and  treated like a princess, at least by her indulgent and warm mother.  She'd seen little of the world outside the filigree wooden shutters and  had imagined it to be a brilliant and exciting place similar to the one  she saw on American television shows. In college she often felt like the  star of an upbeat sitcom where anything was possible. When her future  husband, Gordon, had arrived on the scene, she'd assumed she was the  heroine of a romance being swept off her feet by his insistent pursuit.

As her marriage progressed she'd realized she might be starring in a  future episode of Law & Order instead. As her husband's  psychological abuse ratcheted up slowly into verbal abuse, and he began  to pound his fists on the table or the wall, she knew she'd be next to  feel his wrath and she'd finally come to her senses.

Hot tears leaked from her eyes as she reflected on all the foolish  dreams she'd had. And now Quasar had come into her life as if to mock  her with the kind of romance and passion she couldn't really hope to  enjoy, at least not for more than a few stolen sessions.

Noise from outside her room made her jerk her head up from the pillow.  She heard raised male voices, and one in particular made her breath  catch in her throat.

She could almost swear that was Quasar's voice.

Dani climbed off the bed and hurried to her bedroom door. The house was  one story, centered around a hallway, and if she opened her door the  men would likely see her. The voices seemed to be coming from the  direction of the front door.

"I know exactly who you are," her father was shouting. "Your whole  family has played a part in the plot to deprive my heirs of their  birthright."

What? Dani pressed her ear to the door. Now she was desperate to hear the other voice. It couldn't be Quasar, could it?

"Mr. Hassan, I come with nothing but the utmost respect for you. You  may not be aware that I have lived in the States for many years and have  little to no involvement in my family's affairs. I certainly have  played no part in the lawsuit between our families."                       
       
           



       

Dani's chest rose and fell rapidly. It did sound like Quasar. But it  couldn't be, because she'd explicitly told him not to come here. And if  it was Quasar, they'd be talking about her. And they weren't. She had no  idea what they were talking about.

She frowned and turned back toward her bed. Obviously she was losing  her mind if she thought some random man who came to the door must be her  lover. When she wasn't with him, thoughts of him haunted her day and  night. His image always seemed to hover at the edges of her  consciousness, taunting her until she could see him again. He'd talked  her into letting him pick her up at the house tomorrow. He'd convinced  her that repeatedly meeting out in public was getting too risky and it  was wise to mix things up a little, so she'd given him her address.

Her chest-and other parts of her-tingled with excitement at the  prospect of seeing him again and spending another languid afternoon in  their remote and luxurious love nest.

But what on earth was going on in the foyer?

"I curse the name of Al Mansur and I will never let one of those sons of dogs anywhere near my daughter!"

Dani froze; the word daughter struck fear into her heart.

"I'm not here as a representative of my family or anyone else. I come  simply as a man of honor seeking your approval to meet and talk with  her."