As Mumtaz left, Jasmine was certain that she heard her muttering under her breath, but the delicious promise of the scented bath distracted her.
“I feel like a princess,” Jasmine whispered, almost two hours after she’d entered the palace. She touched her hand to the gold circlet that Mumtaz had insisted on placing about her head. Her deep-red hair had been brushed until it shone. Now it flowed in riotous waves to the middle of her back, the fine gold strands within it complementing the simple circlet.
“Then I have done my job.” Mumtaz laughed.
“I thought flesh wasn’t meant to be shown?” Jasmine put her hand on her abdomen. The fine gold chains about her hips were lavish and utterly seductive.
Mumtaz shook her head. “We are reserved in public only. Zulheil has no strict laws, but most women prefer modesty. In our homes with our men, it is acceptable to be more…” She waved her hands at her own clothing. She was wearing wide-legged harem pants in a pale shade of yellow, cinched at the ankle, and a blouse fitted much like Jasmine’s. However, her clothing didn’t glitter with sparkling crystal shards.
“I won’t be overdressed?” Jasmine didn’t want to change. She’d been imagining the look in Tariq’s eyes at her appearance. Maybe he’d think her beautiful, because for the first time in her life, she felt that way.
“You are perfect. Now we must go.”
A few minutes later they entered a room full of women, all dressed in stunning costumes bursting with color. Jasmine’s eyes widened. At their entry, conversation stopped. A second later, it started again in a chaotic rush. Several older women came over and invited her to sit on the cushions with them. With Mumtaz acting as a translator when necessary, Jasmine was soon laughing and talking with them as if with old friends. Something about them seemed familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on what.
The innate tensing of her body was the only warning she needed half an hour later. She looked up and found Tariq standing in the doorway. Unbidden, her legs uncurled and she stood. Silence reigned again, but this time it was full of expectancy, as if everyone was holding their breath.
He looked magnificent, dressed in a black tunic and pants, the only ornamentation being gold embroidery on the mandarin collar of the tunic. The starkness of his clothing set off the dark beauty of his features. He walked across the room and took her hand. She was vaguely aware of other men following him inside, and the rustle of cloth as the women around her stood up.
His eyes blazed with heat when he gazed at her. “You look like the heart of the Zulheil Rose,” he whispered, for her ears only, his eyes on her hair. He drew back, but she felt as if she was in the center of an inferno.
“I have a question for you, my Jasmine.” This time the words were crystal clear in the otherwise silent room.
She stared up at him. “Yes?”
Green fire met her. “You came to Zulheil of your own free will. Will you stay of your own free will?”
Jasmine was confused. Tariq had made it clear that he wasn’t going to let her leave. Why ask her this now? However, she instinctively knew that she couldn’t question him in front of witnesses, not without doing damage to his pride and standing among his people. “Yes.”
Tariq’s smile was quick and satisfied. He reminded her of a panther again and she suddenly felt stalked. “And will you stay with me of your own free will?”
The question was the trigger her mind needed. She understood what was happening, but the knowledge didn’t change her answer. “I will stay,” she said, and sealed her destiny.
The savage satisfaction in his eyes burned unfettered for one bright second. Then his lids lowered and hid the fire. He lifted her hand to his lips and turned it over, to lay a single kiss on the pulse beating rapidly under her skin. “I take my leave of you, my Jasmine…for now.”
Then he was gone, leaving her standing, her mind in shock at what she’d just done. Giggling women came to her side and directed her back to her cushion. Jasmine caught Mumtaz’s worried expression as the other woman took a seat next to her.
“You know?” The whisper reached only her ears, muffled by the buzz of conversation in the room.
Jasmine nodded. Aware that she was the center of attention, she tried to appear calm, even though her heart beat so hard she was afraid that it was going to rip out of her chest. The secret that she’d successfully buried under her love for Tariq raised its head, like a cobra readying itself to strike, taunting her with its inevitability. Unable to face his rejection, she’d planned to tell him once she was certain of her welcome in his life. Now it was too late. Much too late. How could she tell him the truth now?
“Jasmine?” Mumtaz interrupted her thoughts, reminding her of the act that had just taken place.
“When he asked me those questions…”
“I wished to tell you the truth, but they forbade it.”
“And your loyalty is to Tariq.” Jasmine couldn’t hold the omission against Mumtaz. The other woman had done everything she could. “I thought the country was in mourning?”
“One month we have mourned, but it is part of Zulheil’s culture that life conquers death. Our people would rather live joyously as an offering to those who are gone, than shroud ourselves in darkness.”
Someone put a plate of sweetmeats into Jasmine’s hands. She nodded an absentminded thanks at the woman, but didn’t attempt to eat. Her stomach was in knots. Suddenly, she knew why the guests around her seemed so familiar. All of them had an unmistakable regal bearing that reminded her of Tariq—of course his family would be in attendance on this night.
“Do you know what happens next?” At the negative shake of her head, Mumtaz explained. “The questions are the first step in the marriage ceremony. Second is the binding, which will be performed by an elder. The final part is the blessing, which will be sung outside. You will not see Tariq again until it is over.”
Jasmine nodded. Her eyes went to the lacy window set in the middle of the dividing wall. Her future awaited on the other side. “I’ve never heard of such a ceremony.”
“Zulheil’s ways are not those of our Islamic neighbors. We follow the ancient paths,” Mumtaz explained. “You truly answered him knowing the consequences?”
Jasmine drew in a deep breath. “I stepped off that plane with only one goal. I didn’t expect this, but he’s the only man I’ve ever wanted. I could never say no to him.”
Mumtaz’s smile was understanding. “He is angry, but he needs you. Love him, Jasmine, and teach him to love again.”
Jasmine nodded. She had to teach him to love her, or she was going to spend her life as the possession of a man who didn’t care about her love. A man who, unless he loved her, would reject her once she revealed her shameful secret.
By the time she stepped out of this room, she would be married to the Sheik of Zulheil.
“It is time for the binding.” Mumtaz nodded toward an aged woman, clad head to toe in vibrant red, who had just entered the room.
Coming to kneel next to Jasmine, the elder smiled and picked up her right hand. “With this I bind you.” She tied a beautiful red ribbon with intricate embroidery around Jasmine’s wrist.
Leaning close, Jasmine saw that the embroidery was writing—flowing Arabic script. When the elder raised her wrinkled face, there was power in those dark eyes. “You will repeat my words.”
Jasmine nodded jerkily.
“This binding, it be true. This binding, it be unbroken.”
“This binding, it be true. This binding, it be unbroken.” Her voice was a whisper, her throat clogged with the knowledge of the finality of her actions.