“You haven’t proposed to me yet.”
“Because I was waiting to do it in Sintarah.”
“I’d rather it was just between us.”
He bends down and kisses me like never before. There’s lust but also so much tenderness that it breaks down my last defenses.
He spends a long time making love to me, whispering words I don’t understand until I surrender, unable to think.
“Marry me,jamilati[16]. Let’s make it work. Be my princess, Madeline.”
I pull him into a kiss, seeking a real connection. Not caring about noble titles or wealth.
The world may know him as Kamal, the Sheikh. I want the man.
“Yes. I’ll marry you.”
On the plane to Sintarah
“Tell me about your mother,” I ask because I feel like I need more information about his family. All I can learn about his culture. A crash course. I’m a nervous wreck.
“Take it easy. She already knows.”
“About the baby? How? I don’t understand.”
“I don’t know if you’ll understand even if I explain. I think you wouldn’t believe it.”
“Tell me.”
“My mother wasn’t born in Sintarah. She’s Spanish. Actually, she’s Romani.”
“Oh!”
“Surprised?”
“A little. Forgive me—it’s just because they’re like two opposing peoples. I’m not judging your Emirate or your people, but from what I’ve looked up, although it’s more liberal than other countries of the same religion, it’s still quite traditional compared to the West, while the Romani people are . . .”
“Free?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you’re right.”
“So how did she and your father . . .”
“My father was traveling, and according to him, one day he saw her dancing at a Romani celebration. Don’t ask me how or where, but my mother can give you the details. The fact is, he said that the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew he was done.”
I smile. “Love at first sight? I thought men didn’t believe in that.”
“He believed. Or he started to believe after meeting myab.”
“What does that word mean?”
“‘Mother.’ Anyway, what my father felt for her wasn’t just love, it was passion too. Until the day he died, she was the only one for him. You asked me why men in Sintarah don’t marry more than one woman at a time. There’s a belief among my people that we only fall in love once.”
“It doesn’t seem like you share that opinion.”
He shrugs, and I’m left without an answer. “Anyway,” he continues, “what I meant to say is that my mother has premonitions, like visions of the future. Yesterday, while you were resting, she called me and said she’d had a dream that a grandchild was on the way.”
