The Desert Lord's Love-Child: The Desert Lord's Baby. Кейт Хьюит

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СКАЧАТЬ gave her a serene look. “I save my cajoling powers for negotiations. This isn’t one, Carmen. It’s a decree. You had my child. You will be my wife.”

      The world began to tilt, overturn, nausea rising with his deepening coldness and clinical unconcern.

      She somehow found her voice again, found something logical to say. “Okay, I appreciate the strength of your commitment to Mennah. But if you want to be her father, you can do that without going overboard. Parents share a child’s upbringing without being married all the time, all over the world.”

      “I’d never be a long-distance father. My daughter will be brought up in my home, my land, exposed daily to my love and caring, taught her privileges and duties as a princess with her first steps and words. But for her best mental and psychological health, she also needs her mother constantly with her. By marrying you, that’s what I’m providing for her.”

      Put that way, what he’d said was incontestable. But … “This can all happen without marriage. I don’t want to live in Judar, but I would for Mennah. We can both always be there for her.”

      “And what would she be if you don’t marry me? My love child? Do I even need to state that a marriage, to give her her legitimacy, her birthright, is beyond question?”

      “But I …” The quicksand beneath her feet snatched at her. And she cried, “I don’t want to get married ever again!”

      Carmen’s vehemence hit Farooq like a gut punch.

      He’d been fighting the urge to close his eyes every time she spoke, to savor that voice that could bring a man to his knees begging to hear it moaning his name.

      That was until she’d said …

      “You’ve been married before?” he rasped.

      Her face contorted before she looked away.

      Something hideous sank its fangs into him. Jealousy? Why? When he’d long known everything they’d shared had been a sham?

      He knew why. His instincts still insisted he’d been her first passionate involvement. How could they be so misled? Even after she’d claimed he’d been one in a hundred? How did they still insist that had been the lie, and what he’d felt when she’d abandoned herself in his arms had been the truth?

      But her upheaval indicated true involvement. A husband who’d meant so much, his mere memory brought that much pain.

      Another thought struck him with such violence he wanted to drive his fist through the wall. Had she been on the rebound when she’d accepted Tareq’s mission? Had her seeming abandon been part of her efforts to forget the man she’d loved?

      “When were you married?”

      At his question, she kept her eyes averted until he thought she’d ignore him.

      Then a whisper wavered from her. “I wasn’t yet twenty. He was three years older. We met in college.”

      “Young love, eh?”

      Her color rose at his sarcasm. “So I thought. Long before he divorced me three years later, I realized there was no such thing.”

      So he’d divorced her. And she was still hurt and humiliated that he had. But if she’d been twenty-three then, she’d met him two years afterward. Had she still been pining for her ex then?

      But what man could have walked away from her? He wouldn’t have been able to. Hell, he’d been willing to marry her. Granted, he would never have gone as far as marriage if it hadn’t been what was best for Judar, but she’d been the only one he could have considered for such a permanent position in his life, the only one he’d wanted in his bed indefinitely.

      “I swore I’d never marry again.”

      Emotions seethed at her tremulous declaration. “Don’t you think it’s extreme to swear off marriage after such a premature and short-lived one? You’re still too young to make such a sweeping, final vow. You’ll still be young ten years from now.”

      She shook her head. “It has nothing to do with age. I realized marriage isn’t for me. I should have known from my parents’ example that marriage is something that’s bound to fail, no matter how rosily everything starts.”

      “Your parents’ marriage fell apart, too?”

      “Yeah.” She leaned on the wall, let out a ragged breath. “Theirs lasted a whopping five years. Half of them in escalating misery. I was only four and I still remember their rows.”

      “So you have a couple of bad examples and you think the marriage institution is set up for failure?”

      Her full lips twisted, making his tingle. But it was the assessing glance she gave him that made him see himself taking her against the wall. “Don’t you? You’re—what? Mid-thirties? And you’re a sheikh from a culture that views marriage as the basis for life, urges youths to marry as early as possible and a prince who must have constant pressure to produce heirs. You must have a worse opinion of marriage than mine to have evaded it this long, to be proposing a marriage as a necessary evil to solve a problem. Uh … make that a potential catastrophe.”

      He gritted his teeth. “Marriage, like every other undertaking, is what you make of it. It’s all about your expectations going in, your actions and reactions while undertaking it. But it’s mainly hinged on the reasons you enter it.”

      “Oh, my reasons were classic. I thought I loved him. I thought he loved me. I was wrong.”

      “Then you were responsible for that failure, since you didn’t know him or yourself well enough to make an informed decision. And then, love is the worst reason there is to enter a marriage.”

      “I can’t agree more now. But I know us well enough to know that what you’re proposing is even crazier, and your reasons are even worse. At least I married with the best of intentions.”

      “Those famous for leading to hell? Figures. But my reasons are the best possible reasons for me to marry at all. They don’t focus on impossible ideals and fantasies of happily-ever-afters and are, therefore, solid. Our marriage won’t be anything like the failure you set yourself up for when you made a wrong choice.”

      “And you think this isn’t another one?”

      Another argument surged to his lips, fizzled out.

      What was he doing, trying to change her mind? This wasn’t about her, neither was it about him. This was about Mennah. And Judar. What they wanted didn’t feature into the equation.

      “This isn’t a choice. There isn’t one,” he said.

      “There has to be!” she cried, her eyes that of a cornered cat. “And—and you’re a prince. You can’t marry a divorcee!”

      “I can marry whomever I see fit. And you are my daughter’s mother. This is the only reason I’m marrying you. What’s more, I will declare that we are already married, have been from the beginning. Now we’ll exchange vows.”

      “Ex-exchange vows? But—but we can’t do СКАЧАТЬ