“Would you feel differently if you were my only wife?” he asked, reaching out to lift a dark strand of hair from her eyelashes and tuck it carefully behind her ear, his fingertips then caressing the curve of her ear before falling away.
His skin had been so warm, and his touch had been light, fleeting, and yet she’d felt it all the way through her, a ripple of pleasure.
Aware that she’d never survive, not if she remained this close, Jemma moved away, crossing to the far end of the pavilion where the light was even more dappled. “Are you saying I would be your only wife?” she asked.
“I never planned on taking more than one wife,” he answered.
“If you hoped to reassure me, you’re not succeeding.”
“Do you need reassurance? Is that what this is about?” He was moving toward her again, walking slowly, confidently, relaxed and yet still somehow regal.
Jemma’s heart hammered harder as he closed the distance. She didn’t feel safe. She didn’t feel comfortable or in control.
He didn’t stop walking until he was directly in front of her, less than a foot away. “There is always anxiety on a honeymoon,” he added, his voice dropping, his tone soothing. “It is natural to feel fear...even reluctance. But you will soon realize there is nothing to be afraid of. You will discover you can trust me. That you are safe with me. Safe to explore your fantasies.”
“No!” Her voice spiked as she put a hand out to stop him, unable to imagine exploring any fantasies with him. This was so overwhelming. “This is too much, moving too fast.”
She pushed past him to leave the pavilion and step into the sun. She felt his gaze follow her. “You need to give me time,” she insisted. “You need to let me come to terms with everything.”
“You’ve had the day.”
She spun around. “No, it’s not even been a full day. I was asleep until just a couple hours ago. You’re not being fair. I need time. Time to accept the changes. Time to accept this new future.”
“You will have that time, but you do not need to spend it alone. I think it is essential we spend time together, forming a relationship, and creating the foundation for our future.”
She made a soft sound of protest. “How do you expect us to have a relationship when there is no give or take? When you make the demands and insist on compliance? How can we have anything when you have all the power and control?”
“My power will never be used to hurt you. My power protects you, just as it protected you on the shoot, and then again in Haslam.”
“You say you will protect me, but you forget what I’m sacrificing...my independence, my career, my friends, my hopes, my dreams.” She shook her head. “But how do I know you will truly protect me? How do I know I can trust you when you use your power to subjugate my will?”
He looked at her, eyebrows lifted. “Because I’ve given you my word. My word is law.”
“In Saidia, maybe. But I’m not Arab or Bedouin. I’m American. And my father said many things, but as we both know, he meant none of them. Damien said more things, promising me love and safety and security, and he didn’t mean them, either. So no, I don’t trust you. But that’s because I don’t trust men. How can I? Why should you be any different?”
He didn’t speak, but this time he was listening. Carefully. Closely.
“You want a good wife,” she said breathlessly. “Well, I want a good husband. I want a kind husband. You say you have integrity and strength. How do I know that? You must allow me to discover the truth myself. You need to allow me to develop trust. And that will take time. You must give me time to prove you are indeed a good man, a strong man, not a liar or a cheat.” She pressed her lips together to stop them from trembling. “I understand that my family owes your family something. But I think you owe me something.”
“You will have my wealth, and more riches than you can imagine.”
“I don’t want riches! Money doesn’t buy happiness.” Her fist went to her chest. “And I want happiness. This last year has been awful. Damien didn’t break me, but he broke my heart. He hurt me so badly and I’m not ready for more pain.”
“So what do you want?”
“Hope,” she whispered. “I want hope.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I want to believe that if this...marriage...is not good for me, if you are not good for me, you will set me free.”
He said nothing. She could tell she’d surprised him. Caught him off guard.
“I cannot spend my life here in Saidia an unhappy hostage. I can’t imagine you’d want such a woman for your wife, either. For that matter, I can’t imagine your mother would want you to make your wife so terribly unhappy.”