The Sheikh’s Bargain Bride(11)
Then the bird let out a call, harsh and strong, as if it were a cry for freedom, a request to return to its previous state. A cry full of a longing for what it could no longer have. But it didn’t move from the man’s glove. The man might let it fly—give it its freedom when he chose—but, once his arm was outstretched he expected obedience; he expected the bird’s return.
The man slid on the falcon’s hood and moved into view. It was Zahir.
CHAPTER THREE
She was late.
Zahir’s gaze swept the table along which his extended family sat. They had already begun the banquet that was in her honor. Above the low hum of conversation and clatter of cutlery and glasses, Zahir could sense the atmosphere had become unsettled.
It was unheard of for a guest to be late. It was inexcusable. But then the woman seemed to have no idea how to behave or if she did, went out of her way to do just the opposite of what was expected.
He signaled for his glass to be re-filled and, rather than witness the frowns and puzzled looks of his family, focussed on the subtle flicker of candlelight on the highly polished table.
His feelings towards Anna were as ambiguous as the shifting patterns of light on dark. There was no question that he wanted her for his wife and that was his priority. But whether he could forgive her for betraying Abduallah by sleeping with him and for the lies that followed, he didn’t know. Her behavior was anathema to him. And still the insults continued. Here, now, she was not only insulting his family but their tradition, their culture, their—
His train of thought was broken as the light that played on the darkly grained wood suddenly shimmered down its length. The flames of the candles sputtered and distorted as the door swung open silently. It was only when they had regained their steady glow that Zahir looked up. Anna was standing just inside the room: tall, elegant and lost. All anger vanished as he felt his need for her slam hard deep inside. Blood roared in his ears, obliterating all else. There was only her.
The light caught the crystal beading on her dress, and reflected a silver glow into her eyes, making them appear almost spectral, just as he’d imagined they would. But he hadn’t anticipated its effect on him. The gut-wrenching need was still there—always would be—but he felt again that sense of her vulnerability, seeing her standing there so unsure. And for some reason it hurt.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she walked towards the table—the grey silk dress shifting sensuously with each movement of her hips.
He rose to meet her, everyone else forgotten.
“Anna.” He took her hand and pulled her to him. It was only when he saw her cast tentative smiles to the others that he turned from her, suddenly conscious of his family watching them.
“May I introduce Anna Whitman. Anna, my family.”
“It’s lovely to meet you at last.” She flashed a wide, all encompassing smile at everyone, her eyes connecting with individuals up and down the table in an intuitive intimacy that made each and every one believe her words were meant only for them. “And I’m so sorry I’m late. Matta was unsettled and took longer to get to sleep than usual.”
All the women nodded with understanding and the men simply smiled admiringly: all irritation evaporating like water under the full force of the desert sun. It angered him, this ability of hers to charm people with a smile and a few words in her seductive low voice.
How did she get away with it, he wondered, as he introduced her to his cousins, aunts, uncles and the one sister who lived with him, Fatima, and then seated her opposite him? Anna seemed to think she could do what she liked and all would be forgiven with a show of her charm. He turned abruptly to talk to his uncle unwilling to face the unsettling thought he, too, was not immune to it.
Anna knew she’d messed up big time; knew that they would never forgive her for such a breach of Bedu tradition. Hospitality was central to their lives and she’d just treated it as if it were of no importance. But Matta was her priority. She did as she had always done when confronted with failure—put on a big smile and acted like her mother, acted like nothing had happened. Trouble was, the bigger she acted, the smaller she felt.
She felt her smile quiver around her lips as she desperately tried to find the strength to face the intimidating al-Zaman clan.
Was Zahir going out of his way to intimidate her by presenting them all to her at once? Did he not realize how terrifying it was to be surrounded by the people who at best thought her family to be a bad influence on their younger brother, Abduallah and who, at worst, blamed her for his death and who now had to face the prospect of her marriage to their elder brother?