Date with a Surgeon Prince(20)

And as for the other nonsense he’d been talking—about how maybe the betrothal would not be a pretence—well, that was just ridiculous. He was the ruler of his country. He might have joked about a suitable marriage for the good of his camels, but surely, in all seriousness, there would be certain expectations of him in regard to marriage—either political or familial—and she doubted she’d be considered suitable by any of his advisors or powerbrokers.

She buried her face in her hands. ‘Oh, Pop, what have you got me into?’ she whispered, but Pop was a million miles away and hopefully in hospital so he was no help. She’d just have to sort this out on her own.


Why in the name of fortune was he doing this? The question lurked in the back of Ghazi’s brain as he talked with supplicants who had been given lunch while waiting for his final decisions on their claims. His officials looked into all the claims then gave him their opinions so he could make a judgment. He discussed land rights, and the sale of camels, and fixed a bride price for the father of a young woman keen to marry out of her family—marry a foreigner, in fact.

Ironic, that! Should he be offering a bride price to Marni’s grandfather?

Marni!

Her name sang its way into his conscious mind and he needed Mazur’s discreet cough to bring him back to the subject at hand—an altercation over the placement of two stalls in the souk.

‘Your families have worked stalls side by side for generations,’ he told the two men sitting cross-legged in front of him. ‘Why the trouble now?’

‘It’s his daughter,’ one said.

In chorus with, ‘It’s his son,’ from the second man.

‘They like each other?’ Ghazi guessed.

‘Too much,’ the father of the daughter spat. ‘But she is already betrothed to a distant cousin—from when she was four—but young people these days!’

The situation was far too close to this morning’s astonishing revelations, and he was feeling more and more uncomfortable as the two men explained all the reasons why their children should not marry, and therefore why their stalls should be moved so the young people were not in constant contact.

‘A betrothal at such a young age need not stand,’ Ghazi said cautiously, ignoring the fact that he was pushing for just such a betrothal to stand in his own situation. ‘Times have changed, my friends, and if these two love each other, instead of fighting, can you not put your heads together and work out a way for them to marry and be happy? After all, you could then combine your stalls and have twice the space and twice the customers, surely. I could possibly arrange extra space for the expanded stall, by way of a marriage gift for the couple.’

Behind him, he heard Mazur’s sharp intake of breath, and knew he’d overstepped some invisible barrier, but if the two young people were genuinely in love…

He heard the phrase—genuinely in love—echo in his head and wondered if he’d lost his mind.

‘I want to see both of them,’ he said, ‘to hear from them how they feel. Make sure they are at the next citizens’ meeting.’

Thus dismissed, the two men departed, united now, he had no doubt, in horror over what he had suggested.

‘Genuinely in love!’ Mazur mocked. ‘What on earth has got into you, Ghazi? Since when was love a factor in the settlement of disputes? Or in marriage, for that matter?’

Ghazi turned to the man who was not only his first advisor but also his best friend, aware he had to be careful.

‘We must move with the times, Mazur,’ he said. ‘You know full well that the system of arranged marriages is not infallible—many such marriages fail and many of our people seek and are granted divorces. Maybe marrying for love will be more successful—and don’t start quoting me figures from the West where people do it all the time. I know about their divorce rates. But young people have always longed for love, so surely if they find it, can we deny it to them? Can we break up two families by standing in the way of these young people?’

He was obviously losing his mind, Ghazi decided as Mazur gave a disbelieving snort and walked away.

Surely it couldn’t have been the couple of kisses he’d shared with Marni that had him turning an age-old tradition on its head.

Marrying for love?

No wonder Mazur was snorting.


Marni packed her things then sat on the bed in the small bedroom and tried to work out exactly what she was doing.

And why.

If you’re finding it hard to make a decision, write a list, Pop had always said. That was how she’d decided which university to attend, which course to take, even, one slightly embarrassing time, which of two young men would take her to the hospital ball.