Eyes huge, she pulled her hand away and held it up. The solitary diamond caught the light, reflecting back a rainbow of colors. “This has to be the biggest stone I’ve ever seen.” Her voice cracked slightly.
“This is your engagement ring—you must have one. And you can be truthful when you say I asked you to marry me right there in prison.”
Casey took a deep breath and settled both hands in her lap. “How do I get my part of the deal—the story—if he throws me straight out of the palace tonight?” Khalid smiled and stood. “Such poor manners would be a breach of honor to him. That will never happen. You are safe for tonight—and perhaps a few days more. But once he sees you will never give up your reporter habits, ah, then things will change.” He held out his hand. “And now we must not be late.”
She stood and took his hand. She had lovely hands, he decided, delicate with long, shapely fingers.
Heading down the stairs, Casey leaned close and asked, “Does your father know you’re bringing a new fiancée to dinner.”
Khalid shrugged. “Does it matter? He will know soon enough. But do not worry so much. My brothers will be there, as will a few relatives.”
“A few?”
Letting go of her hand, he opened the doors into the dining room. Casey gave a small gasp. He could hardly blame her.
The sultan preferred formal dinners—the more relatives gathered the better. Tonight both Ahmed and Zaid sat at the table—both sat up as they spotted Casey. Khalid had not told either of his brothers of his plans—it was best for them to be able to say they knew nothing of this if it all went wrong. It was also best if Casey knew nothing as well. Two of his uncles, three aunts, and several cousins also sat at the long table or stood nearby, which was good. It meant dinner had not formally begun.
Conversations seemed to die. The sultan turned and his expression soured.
As usual, he had worn less formal tan robes to dinner, without the traditional keffiyeh. He still had most of his hair, but he preferred to cut it short. His temper looked equally short for his face reddened and he turned to face Khalid. “What is this woman doing here?”
Forcing a smile—it was best his father did not see the sweat starting to trickle down his spine—Khalid took Casey’s hand. He could feel her fingers tremble but he didn’t know if that was from anger at such an insult or fear. Striding across the vast room, he stopped in front of his father, smiled at his father and said, “She is gracing us with her beauty—and also with the joy of agreeing to be my bride.”
His father’s face reddened even more. Someone spit out a drink—Khalid heard the sputter—but he kept his stare on his father’s face, and the man’s darkening eyes. The Sultan glanced from Casey and back to Khalid. “When I said you must marry, I did not mean—”
“Mean what, Father? That I should not instantly fall in love. At the jail, we spoke. I had already admired Casey’s courage. I found even more to draw me to her.” Lifting the hand he held, he kissed her skin. Casey’s face flushed, which pleased him. Turning back to his father, he said, “I once would have mocked falling in love at just one sight or two. But I will tell you this, I intend to make this woman my bride. I am doing just as you ordered—I found a bride.”
The Sultan looked her up and down. He glanced again at Khalid. “Will she make you a dutiful wife?” Before Khalid could reply, Casey said, “One of the things Khalid has said he admires in me is my independence. But you can rest assured on one point, Sultan Al-Qasimi, when it comes to your son, I will do what is best for
both of us.”
It was a fair answer, Khalid decided. Shrewd as well, for he suspected it to be the utter truth.
Turning to stare at her, the sultan stroked his beard and at last turned away. With a wave of his hand, he ordered, “Dinner. Be seated.”
Khalid relaxed a fraction—until he caught Zaid shaking his head and Ahmed rolling his eyes. He might be able to fool his father with this idea of instant love, but he was not certain his brothers would ever believe such a thing. Putting a hand on the small of Casey’s back, he guided her to the far end of the table, well away from his father. He pulled a chair out for her, seating her next to an aunt who spoke no English, was terribly deaf, and who loved her food. Casey smiled up at him and gave him a wink. He couldn’t fight the surge of pride at having such a bold and beautiful woman at his side.
The dinner became essentially an interview.
His father sent some dishes back to the kitchen and ordered others—Khalid knew his father was out to test this potential bride. His family might well disapprove of her if she offended by turning down any dish. The shawarma was sent back, replaced with roast lamb’s head. Al Harees—a pasty dish of wheat and meat, traditional for weddings—came out to replace the salad and hummus. Al Machboos came out, but Khalid knew it would look odd to Western eyes for it seemed a mess of dark brown meat and white rice. Thankfully, there was no time for stuffed camel to be cooked and presented. And Casey seemed uncaring of anything pushed onto her plate.
But while Casey might have his deaf aunt on one side and himself on the other, Zaid sat across from her, and he asked, “How do you like Sharjah?” The implication was clear—she had gone from the jail to the palace and Zaid fixed Casey with a hard, questioning stare.
She returned the look and simply answered, “The land is very beautiful.”
Khalid’s mouth twitched—the land, not the people or the buildings.
From the end of the table the sultan spoke up. “Khalid must show you the sights of Sharjah. We are proud of our cities and our culture.” He fixed a hard look on Khalid, and Khalid caught a warning in his father’s eyes. Khalid fought back a smile. This was just what he had wanted—his father to be unhappy with this woman for a bride.
Leaning back, Khalid let the meal take its course.
More food came out and Zaid glanced at Khalid and then asked Casey, “You are a journalist, yes? What brought you to Sharjah, other than the opportunity to disrupt a wedding, that is?”
Casey almost choked on her water. Khalid patted her back and stared at his younger brother. “Must work be discussed at dinner?”
Zaid shrugged, and Casey simply said, “I’ve been covering arranged marriages and the impact of a growing international women’s right movement. I’d be interested in interviewing Fadiyah, in fact, to get her side of the story.”
The sultan almost choked on his food. He glanced from Khalid to Casey. “I understand you have your own opinions on the matter. I believe my son shares some of your views. He is more modern than I. But I have allowed him to choose his bride.”