‘Your grandfather wants you to marry a man who is a fellow countryman of his, and a business colleague, as a PR exercise for diplomatic purposes? Is that what you’re telling me?’ He cut across Petra’s angry outburst incisively.
Petra could hear the cynical disbelief in his voice and didn’t really blame him for his reaction.
‘Well, my godfather would like me to think that’s the only motivation for my grandfather’s behaviour, but of course he isn’t anything like so high-minded or altruistic,’ she told him scathingly.
‘From what I’ve managed to find out from Saud, my grandfather wants me to marry this man because as well as being a fellow shareholder in this complex he is also very well connected—is in fact related to the Zuran Royal Family, no less! My mother was originally supposed to marry a second cousin of the Family before she met and fell in love with my father. Her father—my grandfather—considered it to be a very prestigious match, and one that would bring him a lot of benefits. I suppose in his eyes it is only fitting that since he couldn’t marry my mother off to suit his own ends I should now take her place as a…a victim to his greed and ambition!’
‘Does your mixed heritage disturb you?’ His unexpected question threw Petra a little.
‘Disturb me?’ She tensed, anger and pride ignited inside her. ‘No! Why should it?’ she challenged him. ‘I am proud to be the product of my parents’ love for one another, and proud to be myself as well.’
‘You misunderstand me. The disturbance I refer to is that caused by the volatile mixing of the coldness of the north with the heat of the desert; Anglo Saxon blood mixed with Bedouin, the hunger for roots and the compulsion that drives the nomad and everything that those two polar opposites encompass. Do you never feel torn, pulled in two different ways by two different cultures? A part of both of them and at the same time alien to them?’
His words so accurately summed up the feelings that had bedevilled Petra for as long as she had been able to recognise them that they stunned her into silence. How could he possibly know that she felt like that? The tiny hairs on her skin lifted as though she were in the presence of a force she could not fully understand—a strength and insight so much more developed than her own that she felt in awe of it.
‘I am what I am,’ she told him firmly as she fought to ignore the way he was making her feel.
‘And what is that?’
Anger darkened her eyes.
‘I am a modern, independent woman who will not be manipulated or used to serve the ends of a machiavellian old man.’
She could see the shrug he gave.
‘If you do not want to marry the husband your grandfather has chosen for you then why do you simply not tell him so?’
‘It isn’t that easy,’ Petra was forced to admit. ‘Of course I told my godfather that there was totally and absolutely no way I was going to agree to even meet this man. Never mind marry him. That was when he announced that he had to leave for the far east and that he was taking my passport with him. To give me time to get to know my grandfather and to rediscover my cultural heritage, was how he put it, but of course I know what he’s really hoping for. He’s hoping that by leaving me here, at my grandfather’s mercy, he will be able to pressure me into doing what he wants. My godfather retires next year, and no doubt he’s hoping that the government will reward him for his work—including arranging a high-profile marriage to Sheikh Rashid—with a Peerage in the New Year’s honours list. And what makes it even worse is that, from what my cousin Saud has told me, it seems the whole family believe I should be thrilled to think that this…this…man is prepared to consider marrying me,’ Petra concluded bitterly.
‘Like normally marries like in such circumstances,’ the cool, almost bored voice pointed out. ‘I understand what you are saying about your grandfather’s motivations, but what about those of your proposed husband? Why should this…?’
‘Sheikh Rashid,’ Petra supplied for him grimly. ‘The same Sheikh Rashid who, from what I hear, does not approve of your…behaviour with his female guests!’
The quick, hard look he gave her caused Petra to say immediately, ‘I heard two women discussing you earlier on—’ She stopped. ‘As to why the Sheikh should want to marry me…’ Petra took a deep breath. ‘You might well ask. But apparently he and I have something in common—we are both of mixed parentage, only in his case I believe that it was his father who provided his Zuran heritage and not his mother. More importantly, The Zuran Royal Family consider the marriage to be a good idea. My godfather says that it will cause great offence if he refuses a marriage they have given their seal of approval, and great offence to mine if he refuses me. However, whilst I know enough about Zuran culture to know that for either of us to refuse the other once negotiations have commenced is considered to be an unforgivable insult, I know too that if he were to have reason to believe that morally I am not fit to be his wife he could honourably refuse to accept me.’
‘There’s an awful lot of supposition going on here,’ came the wry comment.
But when Petra shot him a fulminatingly angry look, and demanded, ‘Are you trying to say that it’s all in my imagination? Then there’s no point in us wasting any more of one another’s time!’
He gave her a small semi-placatory look and offered con-ciliatingly, ‘So! I understand the motivation, but why choose me?’
Petra gave a small cynical shrug.
‘Like I said, I heard a couple of female guests discussing you earlier, and from what they were saying it was obvious that…’
When she stopped speaking, he prompted her softly, ‘That what?’
‘That you have a reputation for enjoying the favours of the women who stay here. So much so, in fact,’ she added, tilting her chin defiantly, ‘that you have already been reprimanded for your behaviour by…by Sheikh Rashid, and are in danger of losing your job!’ Petra gave a small shudder. ‘I don’t know how those women can cheapen themselves! I might not want an arranged marriage, but there is no way I would ever prejudice my own personal moral beliefs by indulging in a meaningless sexual fling a…a cheap sexual thrill!’ Through the darkness Petra was suddenly acutely conscious of his gaze fixing intently on her.
‘I see…So you don’t want an arranged marriage and you don’t want cheap sexual thrills. So what do you want?’
‘Nothing!’ As he turned his head Petra saw the mocking way he raised his eyebrows and defended herself immediately. ‘What I mean is I don’t want anything until I meet a man who…’
‘Who matches up to your very high standards?’ he suggested tauntingly.
Crossly Petra shook her head.
‘Please don’t put words into my mouth. What I was going to say was until I meet a man I can love and respect and…and want to…to commit myself to emotionally, mentally, cerebrally, sexually—every which way there is. That is the kind of relationship my parents shared,’ she told him passionately. ‘And that is the kind of relationship I want for myself and one day want to encourage my own children to aspire to.’
‘A