“My first marriage was arranged and we were even less acquainted than you and I. I’m already a father. I grew up the son of a sheikh and an Englishwoman. There won’t be many surprises for me in any of this.”
Right. His first marriage to a woman he always spoke about with reverence, according to Amineh. Did that mean he was capable of loving a spouse he acquired through an arrangement based on logic? Could he come to have feelings for her?
Worrying her lip, she glanced up to see him watching her and licked where her teeth had made her bottom lip raw, then swallowed as forbidden thoughts crept into the corners of her mind. Would they...?
The consequences of giving in to lust were bad. She was being slapped in the face with them right now.
Come on, Fern, a voice chided in her head. How much more pregnant could you get?
But even if he wasn’t angry with her, it didn’t follow that he liked her. While she was in love with him. What sort of future did that set up? Her pulse started to trip into a racing flight and clammy sweat broke out all over her skin. She’d never imagined she would marry anyone, especially a catch like him. This was surreal. He was going to wake up tomorrow and scream loud and long at what he’d proposed today.
He stood and glanced around. “Is there a case somewhere that I can fetch?”
“Can I...” Oh, he looked very tall and dapper and unreachable, standing over her that way. They were the worst match ever. She’d have to make him realize that before things went too far. “Can I just say that I’ll come with you and we’ll talk more about the marriage idea later?”
“If you want to say that, go ahead,” he said dryly. “But we’re marrying, Fern. As soon as I can arrange it.”
“I really do think you’ll regret it, when you’ve had time to realize what you’re suggesting,” she insisted.
“Your concern for me is cute. If I had an ounce of chivalry in me, I’d extend the same consideration toward you. Give you more time to talk both of us out of it. But even though I don’t blame you, neither of us is going to hide from this. We made a baby. We’re going to marry. Then we’re going to live in Q’Amara and raise it together.”
* * *
Fern ruminated in the car, aware that she was being a pushover. Did you call a woman easy when she couldn’t seem to say no to marriage?
His already having regard for their child had moved her, she couldn’t deny it, but she was letting him take complete control of her life and she knew that was wrong.
Part of her was relieved, of course. His plan would lift some huge worries off her shoulders, like where would the money come from? But she was a fairly independent person. She’d had to be. Emotionally and financially. And the fact was, she might have got to know what he liked between the sheets, she might be certain she was in love, but in many ways, they were still strangers.
“You’re sighing a lot,” he remarked, gearing down to take the off ramp.
He drove with smooth confidence, not like he had anything to prove, but owning the road regardless. Late winter rain battered the roof and swished under the tires. The wipers slapped at full speed. There was no use trying to listen to music so they’d been sitting in silence since she’d made him stop to let her use the loo at a fast-food place.
“How well did you know your first wife when you married her?” she asked.