'What is funny?'
'You thinking that your wife will be your equal. In which universe, Mal?'
It was a struggle to hang onto his temper. 'She will be my equal.'
'As long as she agrees with you.' Laughter gone, she was cool and suddenly he wanted to shake that cool.
'So the thought of me marrying her doesn't upset you?'
'Why would I be upset?' The sunglasses were back on her nose, obscuring her expression. 'You are free to marry whomever you choose. It's none of my business, although I'm wishing now I'd made it my business. I should have called Kalila and given her the chance for girl talk. Poor thing.'
'Poor thing? You and I were together for over a year.'
'It felt much, much longer, don't you think? And now we're not together, which is a big relief for both of us. If you're asking me if news of your wedding was a shock, then the answer is no. I always knew you'd get married. You're the marrying kind, Mal.' Her answer was just a little too swift. A little too glib.
'And what is "the marrying kind"?'
'Someone who wants to get married, obviously. People get married for different reasons. Sometimes it's because they need financial security. Sometimes it's because they're too maladjusted to live by themselves-' she suppressed a yawn '-increasingly it's because they see divorce as a lucrative option. In your case it's because you have a sense of responsibility towards your father and your country. You feel a duty to produce children and for that you need a wife because you wouldn't contemplate any other alternative.'
Mal had forgotten just how cynical she was about marriage.
He assumed her extreme reaction was somehow linked with her own background but, apart from telling him her mother had raised her alone, she'd given him no details. They'd spent their time in the present, never revisiting the past.
Would things have been different, he wondered, if he'd questioned her more? Would it have helped if he'd gained more insight into the workings of her mind?
'You think those are the only reasons for marriage?' He drove fast, speeding along one of the wide roads that crossed the desert, wishing they'd never started this conversation. Truthfully, he didn't want to talk about his impending marriage. He didn't want to think about it until the moment came to make his vows. He'd delayed for as long as he could and now it was oppressively close, reality pressing in on him like dark clouds.
It was true that he'd proposed marriage to Kalila within weeks of his relationship with Avery breaking down, but there were reasons for that. Reasons he hadn't shared with her and didn't intend to share with her.
What was the point?
Her phone rang and she took the call. Already this morning she'd been on the phone to the office at least four times, addressing problems.
'Doves?' Mal failed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice as she ended yet another call. 'You really do deal with the big issues, don't you?'
'If you're implying that my business has no value then I feel obliged to point out that the success of the launch party I arranged for the opening of the new hotel in Zubran has resulted in such effective publicity that the place is now running at one hundred per cent occupancy, thus offering a considerable boost to your local economy both in terms of employment and increased tourism, which has additional benefits for the surrounding area.' Without looking up, she scrolled through her emails. 'But it's true that as well as the proven commercial benefits of employing my company, there are less tangible ones. I create memories for people. Memories that will last for ever. I am often privileged to be present at the happiest moments of people's lives. Anniversaries, engagements, weddings-moments that would undoubtedly always be special, but which I can make unforgettable. By recommending those doves that you consider to be of so little importance, I have probably saved his marriage. It's ironic, don't you think, that I, a self-confessed cynic about marriage, should be working to preserve one while you, a staunch supporter, mock my efforts.'
'I wasn't mocking you.'
'You mocked my business, Mal. You never took my business seriously.' There was a snap in her voice and she leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. 'Sorry. This is history. I don't know why we're talking about it except that it passes the time.'
'I apologise,' he breathed. 'No one could fail to admire what you've achieved with your company.'
'Is it the "frivolous" nature of my business that disturbs you most, or the fact that I work like a man?'
'I don't know what you're talking about.' But he did know what she was talking about and his hands gripped the wheel just a little bit tighter.
'Oh come on, Mal! You like to think of yourself as progressive, but you're not comfortable with a woman who is as passionate about her work as a man would be. You don't think I should fly around the world, live out of suitcases and occasionally sleep in my office. That's what men do, isn't it? You believe that work is what a woman does until she finds a man, marries and has a family. It would be quaint if it weren't so exasperating.'
'I have no problems with your work ethic. I admire it.'
'From a distance. Even now, you can't admit the truth.'
'And what is "the truth"? Enlighten me.' They were snapping at each other, releasing the almost intolerable energy they created together in the only way open to them.
'You want a woman barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. No opinions. No life of her own. That is why you are marrying Kalila.'
He was marrying Kalila because it was the only option left to him.
'This is a pointless conversation.'
Her glossy mouth curved into a smile. 'Men always say that when they've lost. Never "you're right" or "I screwed up", just "this is a pointless conversation". Do they give speeding tickets out here? Because if they do then you're going to get one. You seem angry. Are you angry?' She was pushing him and he realised just how easy he made that for her. It was doubly frustrating because normally the desert relaxed him.
'I'm concerned about Kalila. It's important that we make the edge of the mountains by dusk.' He slowed the speed fractionally, exasperated with himself for allowing her to wind him up. 'I know a good place to camp, but I want to set up while there is still some light.' That observation was greeted by silence.
'So no chance of reaching your bride tonight then?'
'If she is where her sister suspects she is, then no. We will have to stop for one night.' A night alone in the desert with this woman. He was greeting that prospect with almost as much enthusiasm as his impending wedding.
'So if her sister knew where she was going, why didn't she stop her?'
'She didn't know. Kalila sent her the same note she sent me. Jasmina was afraid of her father's reaction, so she contacted me instead. Which was fortunate because at least we have more to go on than we did before. She is covering for her sister. At the moment the Sheikh does not even know his daughter is not in her rooms.'
'Her father sounds like a real treasure. Better to not have one than have one who induces fear.'
It was the first time he'd ever heard her mention her father.
Mal turned his head and glanced at her, but she was looking forwards, a tiny frown between her eyes as she focused on the sand dunes that rose either side of them. 'I love how they change colour with the light. And the way the pattern changes-it's fascinating.'
'It's the combination of wind and sun.' He'd watched her fall in love with the exotic, mysterious dunes the first time round and he could still remember the delight on her face when she'd witnessed her first desert sunset. Another irony, he thought, that this woman who had been raised in a Western city should feel an affinity for the place of his birth while Kalila, with her desert heritage, found the place nothing short of repellent. 'Your father wasn't around when you were young?'
'Are we playing psychotherapy next?' She met question with question and he sighed, wondering what it took to get her to open up.
'In all the time I've known you, you've never talked about your father.'
'That's because there is nothing to say.' Her cool tone was like a wind blown straight from the Arctic, her words designed to freeze that line of questioning in mid-flow.
Mal refused to be deflected even though part of him was wondering why he was choosing to ask these questions now, when it was too late for them. 'Did he leave when you were young?' It was a personal question, and probably unadvised given his vow to avoid the personal, but nevertheless he asked it. He'd always assumed that her father was somehow responsible for her aversion to marriage but she'd never given him any detail.