Was there no way out of this palace that was a fortress; was there no escape from this family whose sense of loyalty and duty bound them together; was there no avoiding this man who called to her as surely as he called to his falcon, demanding capture?
“I hope you will allow me to help you in the coming week, in the lead up to the wedding.”
“Wedding.” Anna repeated softly, feeling the iron doors close with a clang behind her. Her mind turned to the way the falcon had shivered with excitement at Zahir’s touch, accepting his command.
“Zahir has organized it of course but I would be happy to help you personally to prepare, if I may? You only have four days now.”
“Four days?”
“I’m sorry, you did not know?” Fatima looked anxiously over at Zahir. “Oh dear. He will not like that I’ve told you then.”
“Well it’s good someone has.”
By the way Fatima was looking at Zahir she could see that Zahir was accustomed to his family doing everything he said, obeying his every wish, anticipating his every demand. No wonder he thought he could do the same to her. Well that was one tradition she could definitely do without.
“An oversight, I’m sure. But there is no need to be anxious, all will be ready on time. Zahir instructed preparations to begin a month ago. Ample time to have everything arranged. He is so organized.”
Organized wasn’t the word that sprang to Anna’s mind. He’d only proposed yesterday. She’d only said “yes” yesterday. But he’d organized the wedding months ago. He’d been so sure.
“Zahir controls everything around here doesn’t he?”
Fatima shrugged. “Of course. As I say, he is the sheikh. So, tomorrow, I will wait upon you, as tradition holds.”
“And we do everything by tradition?”
“Naturally. It is tradition for a reason—because it works.” She smiled sympathetically. “You will become accustomed to our ways soon. Everyone does things by the ways of their country.”
Anna shook her head. “Not me. I do things my way.”
Fatima shook her head gently. “Not any more, Anna. Now it is our way. Don’t fight it. It is a good tradition you are following after all. You are marrying your dead husband’s brother. That is good. It helps strengthen the family ties. I just wish my poor husband had an available brother. But still, I am here with Zahir, with my family. And he is a good man.”
A good man. The words rang in her head. They seemed so far from the truth. He was a hard man, a controlling man—a warrior living in a civilized world. He was a magnetic man. But good?
The rest of the evening flowed by in a stream of small-talk and pleasantries. All Anna’s fears of rejection and mistrust evaporated before the genuine interest and warmth of Zahir’s family. By the time coffee was served, Anna discovered to her surprise that she’d actually enjoyed herself. Discovering more about the al-Zaman family, she’d come to understand a little more about Abduallah—and Zahir.
Suddenly Anna was aware that a quiet had descended. She looked up to find Zahir had risen and stood facing her.
“Come, Anna. We must leave. We have business to attend.”
“Now?”
He smiled tightly. “Yes, otherwise I would not have mentioned it.”
She smiled at Fatima and, bidding the others goodnight, followed Zahir out of the room and into the corridor along which the flames of huge torches flickered, sending shafts of light into its lofty heights.
“Business? What business?”
“You will see. It will give us time to talk also.”
“You haven’t exactly appeared over-eager to talk to me so far.”
“I think you can reasonably assume that I’m angry.”
“And I think I can reasonably assume that you’re always angry.”
“No. Only when people are unforgivably rude. You were late. It is unforgivable to be late.”
“Matta was over-tired. I needed to be with him to settle him down.”
“You needed to be here. To do your duty.”
“My duty is to my son.”
“Your son needs to toughen up. You will be my wife now. Your duties are wide-ranging: they are to the family above all, they are to respect our culture, our ways, me.”
“You’ll have to forgive me.” She couldn’t help a sarcastic tone creeping in. “My ways are different to yours. I have no sense of duty to my family.”
He stopped and opened a door. “No. Of course you wouldn’t.”
Anna stepped inside the library filled floor to ceiling with books. Above them a mezzanine floor made the most of the high ceiling by providing another layer of book shelves. It smelt of old books, leather and strong coffee. Apart from the books the room was dominated by a large leather-topped desk, in front of which Zahir pulled out a seat for Anna.