I take a step back. “Do we need to talk about this now? We’ll be back in London tomorrow morning, and this whole thing may not even materialize. I’d rather go sightseeing instead of talking.”
He studies me for so long that I think he’ll say no, then he finally agrees. “Okay. What do you want to do?”
“Can you tell me a little about your family?” I ask.
We’ve just had lunch at a wonderful restaurant, also owned by Qasim, and now Kamal’s taking me on a cruise in the Bosporus Strait, on his cousin’s yacht.
The day is delightful, and the warmth of the sun against my skin makes me feel alive.
“What do you want to know?
I have my profile to him, but I can feel him looking at me. He’s been doing that all day, as if trying to read my every thought.
“Everything.”
“My father died seven years ago from a heart attack, and I stepped in as Sheikh of my country. I have two brothers, whom you’ve already met, and three younger sisters. My mother is still alive and never remarried.”
“Just five? Is that all?” I ask, and then I’m mortified by my indiscretion. “I’m sorry, I just thought that in your culture, the men would have several wives.”
He turns me around to face him. “Does that worry you?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do. I’m talking about the possibility of us getting married. Are you worried that I’ll have multiple wives in the future?”
“No. Why should I? We’re not getting married.”
He looks at me, and I’m sure he knows I’m lying. It’s obvious that after he brought up the possibility of marriage, the question crossed my mind.
I can’t imagine sharing my husband with other women, regardless of religion.
“Never, under any circumstances, try playing poker, Madeline. You’re a terrible liar,” he says, lowering his voice to whisper in my ear.
I shiver, excited by his proximity. I avoid touching him when we’re not in the bedroom. Kamal, however, keeps his hands on me at all times.
“I don’t think I could handle that,” I confess. “Many wives sharing my husband. I know it’s mandatory for your people.”
“It’s not mandatory; it’s a prerogative. We can marry up to four wives if we wish, but there is nothing forcing us to do so. However, historically, there has never been a Sheikh in Sintarah who married more than one woman at the same time.”
“Oh!”
“Surprised?”
“Yes. Very. I thought it was what all men desired.”
“Many, perhaps, but not the men in my family. Besides, the women in my Emirate are jealous and strong-willed.”
I smile, thinking about the chaos it must be to handle a marriage with multiple wives. I don’t have to set foot in Sintarah to sympathize with the women from his country.
“You never thought of getting married?” I ask.
His almost-smiling expression turns serious. “For love, you mean?”
“I don’t know. Or for duty. I suppose men in your position must be pressured to start a family.”
“Yes, but I’ve never allowed my role as head of government to determine my personal life.”
“So this is the first time the idea of marriage has crossed your mind?” My stomach clenches in anticipation of him confirming that committing to each other because of a baby would be a mistake. Kamal likes his lifestyle. What was the expression Zoe used? Jumping from branch to branch, enjoying multiple partners.
