First wife? Zoe drew back her head and stared at her cousin as surprise tingled down her spine. What first wife? “What are you talking about?”
“Didn’t anyone tell you?” Fatimah’s face brightened when she realized she would get to reveal all. “Two years ago the Sheikh was married to the daughter of one of the finest families in the tribe. Yusra. You remember her?”
“Barely.” Yusra had been drop-dead gorgeous, ultra feminine and the perfect Jazaari girl. Zoe had privately thought Yusra was a spoiled brat and a bit of snob. She had been glad when her family left the village.
“It was a fabulous ceremony. Unlike any I’ve ever seen. Don’t you remember it? It was better than yours.”
“I probably wasn’t invited.” She was an outcast. She was either ignored or bullied. Any member of the tribe could publicly humiliate her without consequence. They all knew her uncle wouldn’t protect her. They had all witnessed the treatment she’d received under his cruel hand and followed his lead.
“Well, the third day of the ceremony had barely started when he tossed Yusra back to her parents.” Fatimah gave a flick of her wrist, the jangle of gold bracelets loud to Zoe’s ears. “In front of the entire tribe. He said she was not to his liking.”
If he’d had a problem with his first choice of a wife, he was definitely not going to be pleased with her. “He had sex with her and then dumped her? Can he do that?”
“It caused a huge scandal. How is it you don’t know any of this? You were living here when it happened.”
Zoe probably had heard about it but thought it one of those “bonfire stories.” She had heard plenty of folk tales that were designed to scare boys and girls into behaving properly.
She was in so much trouble. Her knees wobbled as a wave of fear crashed over her. If she didn’t have sex with the Sheikh he would send her back to her family. If she did have sex with him she might well have had the same problem. “So basically this ancient law is a return policy?”
“It’s rarely used. A man has to have a very good reason to invoke it. Unless you’re a sheikh, of course. Then no one will question your actions.”
“But—”
One of Zoe’s aunts peeked inside the room. “Fatimah, what are you still doing here?” the woman said in a fierce whisper. “The Sheikh is coming.”
“Good luck, Zoe,” Fatimah said with a sly smile as she slipped out of the room. “I hope you can satisfy the Sheikh better than his last bride.”
CHAPTER TWO
WHAT was she going to do? Zoe glanced wildly at the open windows and the colorful gauzy curtains fluttering in the breeze. No, she couldn’t escape that way.
Even if she got out safely she had no place to hide. She had learned that over the years, after her failed attempts to run away. No one would provide her with sanctuary and the desert was a deathtrap. She had barely survived the last time.
She was trapped and she needed to come up with a plan. Zoe squeezed her eyes shut as the panic swelled in her chest. Think, think, think!
Her mind was locked on only one thing: chastity was highly prized in a woman, and she wasn’t a virgin.
The tribe had very strict rules about sex outside marriage. The men were punished, but not as harshly as the women. Zoe tried to block out the memory of the scars her female patients had from being caned and whipped.
A man like the Sheikh would demand an untouched bride. Zoe’s stomach cramped with panic. She had known that before she accepted the arrangement, but had thought she would be safe once the marriage contract was signed. It had been a risk, and it had backfired.
The door opened and Zoe went still, her breath lodging in her throat. She heard the guests offering their best wishes over the jubilant music. The jumble of noise scraped against her taut nerves. She wanted to scream, to bolt, to break down and cry, but she carefully lowered her head and clasped her hands tightly.
She flinched violently when the door closed and Zoe winced at her response. She needed to please the Sheikh, not offend him.
“Would you like a drink, Zoe?” he asked softly as he slipped off his shoes next to the door.
She wordlessly shook her head. Her mouth was dry, her throat ached, and she wished there was alcohol to numb her senses. But she didn’t think she could accept a drop without choking.
How was she going to get through the night? Maybe he wouldn’t notice that she wasn’t a virgin? Her head ached as she tried to plan. Perhaps she could fake her virginity? She wasn’t sure if she could get away with that strategy. From what she had heard about her husband he was very experienced, with an insatiable sex-drive.
She heard his cloak fall to the ground. Something soft followed. Zoe couldn’t help but look, and discovered the Sheikh had removed his headdress. His hair was short, thick and black.
He didn’t seem any less intimating. If anything, her husband appeared even harder, more ruthless. His profile was strong and aggressive. Power came off him in waves. She was aware that this was a man in his prime.
Zoe pulled her gaze away and stared at her hands. What was wrong with her? She was not interested in the Sheikh. He could become an obstacle to her dreams of returning home.
“It was a good ceremony,” the Sheikh said, his voice closer. “Short. My favorite kind.”
Zoe nodded again, although she thought the ceremony had been miserably long. However, she hadn’t shown up late. Not that she would point it out.
But this night was going to be endless. How was she going to prevent the fallout that was sure to come? Maybe she should fake modesty so he could never get close enough to finding out if she was a virgin or not. After all, what man would admit he’d failed to bed his wife on their wedding night?
Or she could pretend to faint dead away at the sight of him without a shirt. Zoe bit her bottom lip as she considered the merit of the idea. Or she could cry. A lot. For two solid days and nights. Men couldn’t stand being around a woman in tears.
Although the Sheikh might be different. He was probably used to women trembling and crying in his presence.
She heard his footsteps approaching the bed. Zoe took a gulp of air but it fizzled in her throat. She heard the faint chime of metal and discovered her bracelets clinking against each other as her arms and hands shook.
“Zoe?”
She stilled when she heard his voice. The chiming ceased. The Sheikh was right next to her. She felt vulnerable with her head down, but she was trying to be a good Jazaari bride. It was difficult pretending to be meek when she preferred to face trouble head-on.
She decided to follow her original plan. She wouldn’t run away but she wouldn’t sleep with the Sheikh. Fatimah was trying to play mind games again. She wouldn’t fall for it. All she needed to do tonight was keep her husband at a distance. Play the reluctant and timid bride until they left for their honeymoon. Once they were out of Jazaar she could make her escape.
“Are you giving me the silent treatment already?” He sounded amused. “We haven’t been married for more than a day.”
Silent treatment? She had never been accused of that before. Her problem had always been speaking her mind. “I’m nervous, Your Highness,” she replied, hating how her voice cracked.
“You may call me Nadir. And you don’t have to be nervous with me.”
Of course she did. He had the power to destroy her life or, unwittingly, help her to create a new one. She gave a tilt of her head to show that she understood him, and immediately tensed when he knelt on the mattress in front of her.
The bed suddenly felt smaller.