Married to the Sheikh (7 page)

“She didn’t throw herself at me. She came to ask me for my advice.”

“And your advice was to offer to marry her?”

“Yes. It’s the best solution.”

“I can think of a lot of other, better solutions.”

“She can’t go to the Al-Mashid camp as a pregnant, unmarried woman. They would treat her like a slave and no other man will have her now.”

“Except you. You don’t seem to mind.”

“As the leader of my people and my family, it is my duty to protect and look after everyone. If Rasha marries another man, even one from this camp, and he finds out that she’s pregnant with another man’s child, it’ll be within his rights to kill her for the dishonour she has brought him. I myself have wondered whether I should kill her because of the shame she might bring to the Al-Zafirs. Is that what you think I should do? Should I slit her throat, or perhaps I should send her out into the desert to die of thirst? Is that what you want?”

Sarah wouldn’t have minded if she never saw Rasha again, but the idea of murdering her was taking things much too far. “Surely there’s another option.”

“There is. If I marry her this weekend, I can pass off the child as my own. She says that she’s less than a few months pregnant. Her honour and that of the Al-Zafirs will be saved.”

“Does that mean that you’ll treat her like a wife?”

“As opposed to what? A servant?” Akbar asked.

“I mean, will you go to her tent at night after you’ve married her instead of coming to mine?” Sarah didn’t want to hear the answer, but she had to ask.

“She’s pregnant now, so I won’t need to, but once she’s had my son, she’ll expect me to perform my duties as her husband. It would be strange if I didn’t.”

“I can’t accept this,” was all Sarah could think of to say.

“I’m sorry, Sarah, but I have to do this. I must look after my people and I have to have a son.”

All hopes that Sarah had that Akbar would change his mind deteriorated as the wedding day drew nearer. Akbar bought Rasha a new tent as befitted her future status as the wife of a powerful sheikh. Sarah couldn’t help but notice that it was slightly larger than hers and nearer Akbar’s. Rasha, her cousin Minna, and their friends busied themselves with preparations and every time one of them saw Sarah, they whispered and giggled amongst themselves. Sarah knew they were all laughing at her and talking about how Akbar had given up on her because she was barren. However, she didn’t tell Akbar. She hadn’t had a civil conversation with him since the morning he announced his marriage. The only person she could talk to was her mother-in-law, Fatima, but even she wasn’t much help.

“Men want beautiful, fecund women like Rasha,” Fatima explained. “It’s the way men are. What can we do to change it?”

“But how did you feel when your husband took other wives?” Sarah asked.

“To be honest, I was very upset, but after a time I came to accept it and at least the other women were able to help me with looking after my children.”

“I can’t imagine Rasha’s ever going to help me much.”

Fatima had to agree. “Maybe the third wife will be better. After a while, Akbar will grow tired of Rasha. Trust me, a woman like Rasha can be very tiring. She’s like her grandmother, my husband’s fourth wife. So beautiful, so alluring, but like sweets at a wedding—you eat too many and you feel sick. It wasn’t long before my husband grew very sick of Rasha’s grandmother, and Akbar will soon feel the same about Rasha.”

“What happened to her? Rasha’s grandmother?”

“She died giving birth to Rasha’s father. Her hips were too narrow; there were complications; we didn’t have a doctor like you to help us. The day she died I was so happy, I cried. People thought that I was crying because I was upset, but they were tears of joy. Of all my husband’s wives, she was the worst. The other two women would help me with the work, like I said, but not Rasha’s grandmother. She used to spit in my food and pinch my children so that they cried. She told my husband terrible things about me to make him hate me. She said that I had infections in my private parts to stop him coming to my tent.”

Sarah could see tears welling up in Fatima’s eyes as the older woman recalled past injustices. “Why didn’t you tell your husband what she was doing and get him to stop her?”

“What did he care? He wasn’t interested in what happened in the women’s tents.”

“Do you think Rasha will try to do the same to me?” Sarah asked.

“Probably. She’s so like her grandmother. Some women make it their mission in life to cause suffering to others. Rasha’s jealous of you. You’re Akbar’s first wife, the woman he loves. Be careful, a jealous woman can be very dangerous.”

Sarah didn’t need Fatima’s advice to know that. As the wedding approached, Rasha became more and more confident and spiteful towards Sarah.

The final straw was when Rasha insisted on having Sarah’s wedding dress and veil of coins that Sarah had worn to her own wedding.

“Fatima made that dress for me! She can’t have it,” Sarah told Akbar.

“Sarah, don’t be ridiculous,” he replied. “Rasha hasn’t got time to make a suitable dress. Why can’t you just lend her yours?”

“Because it’s
my
wedding dress and
my
wedding veil!”

“Rasha said you would be like this. She says that you’ve been very hostile towards her.”

“Of course I’m hostile! What do you expect? She’s trying to take you away from me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! You’re being paranoid. I’m trying to protect and help a woman who’s found herself in a very difficult situation and all you can do is yell at me.”

“There are other ways of protecting people than marrying and screwing them.”

“We’ve been through this again and again. I’m growing tired of having to explain it all to you. Just because I’m marrying Rasha, it doesn’t mean that I love you any less. You’ll always be my desert rose, but Rasha will expect me to perform as a husband. Don’t be jealous, Sarah. There’s enough love in me to love two women.”

“So you love her?” Sarah was stunned. This was the first time that Akbar had said anything about loving Rasha.

“I’d hardly marry a woman I hated, now would I? Now, Sarah, don’t be angry. You wouldn’t want to ruin my wedding day, would you?”

“I can’t stand by and watch you do this. Do you really think I can watch my own husband marry another woman?” The idea was repugnant.

“Don’t be unreasonable, Sarah.”

“I’ll tell you what’s unreasonable: the idea of me letting you marry that bitch. You’re the one who’s unreasonable! You’ve been unreasonable ever since the day you refused to write that letter allowing me to work at the Women’s Hospital.”

“I’m getting thoroughly sick of hearing the same complaints again and again. And you wonder why I’m marrying Rasha. I’m marrying her so that I can be with someone who doesn’t harass me all the time.”

“Goodbye Akbar.” Sarah turned around and walked out of his tent. She didn’t come back.

“Welcome on board flight 703 to London, Heathrow,” the air steward announced over the intercom. For the first time in months, Sarah felt free, really free, like a dove that’s had its wings clipped and then wakes up one morning to discover that it can fly again. For a start, she was no longer wearing her abaya and veil. She’d rammed them into the rubbish bin in the women’s toilets as soon as she cleared passport control. She felt almost naked at first, but then, when she realised that no one was looking at her and no one cared, she slowly began to relax.

She stretched out as far as her cramped, low-fare seat would allow her to and took a sip of wine. It was the first time that she had drunk alcohol in several years and it went straight to her head. She started giggling to herself, at first quietly and then slightly louder.

The man sitting next to her stared, perhaps worried that he had a nutcase next to him all the way to the UK. “Glad to leave, huh?” he asked.

“Very glad!” Sarah laughed again and poured some more wine into her small plastic cup.

“Me, too,” the man agreed. “Yazan! What a place. Full of crazy warlords all trying to kill the hell out of one another.”

“They don’t all want to.” Sarah wasn’t sure why, but she still felt the need to defend Akbar, even after all that he’d done.

“Trust me, I’ve just finished the end of a tour of duty out there and they are all crazy sons-of-bitches.”

Sarah looked at her travelling companion. He was a good-looking man, probably in his late twenties with short, closely cropped hair. From his heavy accent, Sarah guessed he was from the USA. “Are you on your way home?”

“I sure am, ma’am. I’ve got two hours in London and then I’m heading back to Dallas, Texas. I can’t wait to get home. My name’s Tony Dawson.” Tony held out his hand across the two tiny seats.

“Hi, Tony.” Sarah shook his hand. “I’m Sarah, Dr. Sarah Greenwood.” Sarah then wondered why she hadn’t introduced herself using her married name, but the more she thought about it, the more she realised that she had never used her married name. She had never called herself “Dr. Sarah Al-Zafir.” The whole time she was married, she was “Sarah, wife of Sheikh Akbar Al-Zafir.” Was she even married any more? Would her marriage be recognised in England? She didn’t remember ever registering it in Yazan and she certainly hadn’t changed her passport details.

“Dr. Greenwich, are you okay?” Tony asked.

“Yes, I’m fine, just a little tired. I’ve had a very long day. In fact, I’ve had a very long few years in Yazan.”

“Tell me about it! It’s one heck of a place. Here’s to going home and never having to go back.” He raised his glass full of Coke and ice.

Sarah raised what was left of her wine. “Here’s to home.” However, she wasn’t too sure where home was now. “If you’ll excuse me, Tony, I think I’ll try to get some rest now.”

“Of course,” he replied. He took her empty glass and helped her to recline her seat.

Six hours later, Tony patted her shoulder. “Dr. Greenwich, it’s time to wake up. We’ve landed at Heathrow. Welcome home!”

“Thank you.” Sarah got her things together and shortly afterwards she stepped out of the airport and into the cold English weather. She didn’t know where she was going to go or what she was going to do, but she did know one thing: she was free to go and do whatever she wanted.

* * * * *

Follows Sarah’s story in Parts 1 and 3 of
The Desert Sheikh
series:

    

Available from all Amazon sites, including Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk

* * * * *

From the author

I hope you enjoyed
Married To The Sheikh
, the second part of The
Desert Sheikh
series. After I wrote my first novel,
The Royal Sheikh
, many of my readers asked me whether I could write another sheikh romance. However, this time I decided to write about a different type of sheikh. Unlike Sheikh Rafiq in
The Royal Sheikh
, Sheikh Akbar is not a member of the international jet-set. Instead, he comes from the more remote parts of the Arabian Peninsula and rules over a local Bedouin tribe.