She frowned. “That’s sort of a requirement!”
“In your world perhaps, not in mine.”
Her expression became desperate. “You can’t do this! Irefuuuuseto accept this!”
“We are married now.” His nostrils flared as he stood up and slashed an unforgiving hand through the air. “It is done.”
“How? I never gave my consent. Consent of the bride is required in Islam!” Viviana realized she sounded as hysterical as she felt. She clutched onto her knowledge of Sharia law like a talisman. “I know my rights!”
Was that amusement in his gaze? She wanted to jab those brown eyes of his right out of their sockets.
“Consent from herwalialso suffices.”
“I don’t have a guardian!”
He shrugged. “You were appointed one.”
“Who?”
“The localqadi.”
A judge. Well wasn’t that sooooo convenient!
“I want to speak to theqadi—mywali,” she franticly demanded. “Now.”
He made a mocking tsk-tsk sound. “Certainly my beautiful, educated bride knows that her husband becomes her guardian upon marriage?” His expression hardened. “You are speaking to your one and onlywalialready.”
Fury enveloped her. “You managed to get aqadito act as thewaliof an American hostage?” Viviana released the blanket and threw her hands in the air. Fuck being naked. She no longer cared. “Wait until my government finds out about this bullshit!”
Muhammad was silent for a long moment. His gaze lingered at her naked breasts before returning to her face. “Do you honestly believe they don’t already know?” he murmured.
Her eyes widened. A chill of foreboding traveled down the length of her spine. “They don’t know,” she rasped. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “They wouldn’t do that.”
Not even Viviana believed the words she was weakly uttering. Unless the hostage in question was an elected official with visibility or someone equally high profile, pretty much everybody and anybody else was viewed as collateral damage for the right price. In that way, her government was no different than the devil it chased.
“What was I worth?” she asked quietly. “Some oil? A fucking camel?” The fight went completely out of her as the truth settled in. “Or nothing at all?”
His expression softened. “Excessively valuable information. Let us just say you have commanded the highest bride-price in the history of my people.”
She wished that made her feel better. “So who am I now?” she asked dispassionately. “Wife number ten thousand and two?”
He didn’t smile, but she could see the amusement twinkling in his eyes again. Damn him.
“You are well aware a Muslim man can have but four wives,” Muhammad said drolly.
“Onlyfour. Oh joy.” Viviana pulled the blanket up, once again concealing her breasts. She flopped back onto the pillows and stared at the ceiling. “Just call me ‘Four’ then, like the guy inDivergent. Might as well tattoo it on my forehead while you’re at it.”
“You are my only wife.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to pretend to be an expert on you because I’m just a linguist, not an intel agent, but I do know you have at least two wives and three sons.”
He was quiet for a long moment. She started to wonder if he was just ignoring her now.
“Had,” he finally said.
“Huh?”
“Ihadtwo wives and three sons. Past tense.”
