Jemma handed the framed photo to him. He put it back in the drawer. “My father betrayed her trust,” he said quietly. “And then your father betrayed her trust. Which is why I promise you, I will not betray you. I am a man of my word. And if I vow to provide for you properly, I will. Over time our marriage will hopefully heal the rift between families and countries. It won’t be immediate. It might not even happen in our generation, but I hope that it will be better for our children.” He studied her, expression fierce, resolute. “We begin our journey as husband and wife tonight, by sharing our first meal together in the Bridal Palace.”
Jemma’s throat ached. She felt close to tears. “Would your mother approve of what you’re doing?”
“Leave her out of this.”
“How can I?” she choked. “You don’t!”
“One day you will understand the importance of honor. One day when we have our children—”
“No!”
“That is fair. You are right. I will save the talk of children for later. Instead let us focus on tonight, and how we shall retreat to the Bridal Palace, for the first of our eight nights. For the next eight nights, I will pleasure you.”
“And what happens after that eighth night?” Jemma asked tartly. “Do you disappear into your suite? Return to Buenos Aires? What happens then?”
“You are in control for the next eight nights. You get to pick a different pleasure each evening, or the same pleasure, or...no pleasure.”
She frowned, not understanding.
He saw her expression, correctly reading her confusion. “According to Saidia law, the first eight nights are the groom’s. The next eight nights are the bride’s. The Saidia bride doesn’t have to take her husband into her room, or her bed, for any of the next eight nights, unless she wants to. What happens during the second eight nights is entirely her choice.”
“What is the point of that?” Jemma asked.
“It was to teach a randy bridegroom not to be selfish in bed, and provide an incentive for the groom to be patient and tender with his new bride, pleasuring her so thoroughly that she’ll hunger for her husband’s touch.”
Jemma’s cheeks were on fire again. Heat coursed through her, her skin prickled, suddenly almost too sensitive.
Mikael’s dark eyes met hers. “And I assure you, I intend to please you so thoroughly you’ll beg me to return to your bed for every night of your eight nights.”
She drew a slow breath, head spinning. Everything inside of her felt tight, tense.
“I have never heard of any honeymoon being so purely...carnal and erotic.”
“It might sound like that, until you remember that most royal brides brought here were innocent virgins, carried here against their will. As I told you, it was customary for the royal groom to kidnap a bride from one of the rival desert tribes. The honeymoon was his chance to win his bride’s affection, and loyalty, before he took her home with him. But, if he couldn’t win her affections by the end of the sixteen days, then she could leave him without repercussions or shame.”
That last bit caught Jemma’s attention. “She could choose to go home?”
“If he couldn’t make her happy in their sixteen days together.” He reached out, stroked the sweep of her cheekbone, making her skin tingle. “I will please you,” he said, quietly, decisively. “I promise to satisfy you completely.”