The Secret of the Sheikh's Betrothed

by Felicitas Ivey

  “Did you leave someone behind?” Rayyan asked.

  “I wasn’t that stupid,” Fathi said. “I knew it wouldn’t work out after we got out of school, so I always went the friends-with-benefits route. I’ve had crushes and casual hookups, but I never fell in love.”

  “That’s sad,” Rayyan said.

  “That’s life,” Fathi sighed. “And now I’m marrying a woman who Grandfather’s going to blame when we don’t have children.”

  “He wouldn’t…,” Rayyan started and then frowned. “He would. Because it’s never the man’s fault when these things happen.”

  “So in the grand scheme of things, me sneaking into the harem is a small offense,” Fathi said. “I want to start out right with Ikraam, which isn’t going to happen if we meet with her sister watching us or after we’re married.”

  He was going to be as good a husband as he could be. Making friends with his bride would be the first step, and she might like that he tried to go out of his way like this. Fathi wanted Ikraam to have fond memories of her wedding, and he wanted to court her a little. Make her feel like he wasn’t too opposed to what was happening. He was becoming used to the idea he was getting married. He accepted his life would change. And he wanted it to be good changes. He might not be able to be a lover to Ikraam, but he did want to be her friend.

  LATER, as he walked carefully around the exterior of the fort, Fathi was wondering why he was sneaking around. It wasn’t like he was hanging off the wall, like he was in some sort of action-adventure movie. However, with only the moonlight for illumination, the area around al-Saʽd al-Maṭar was darker than Fathi expected. In addition, like an idiot, he hadn’t brought a flashlight. He stuck close to the wall, testing each step as he made his way, and hoped Allah watched over fools.

  Fathi sighed when he came within a stone’s throw of the main balcony for the harem. The light from the room illuminated the section in front of it, so he could see at last. He hoped he didn’t upset his bride-to-be too much. He was beginning to have second thoughts about the wisdom of his plan, but he was committed to it. He wasn’t going to go back now, not without talking to Ikraam. Fathi mentally braced himself about explaining to his betrothed why he was here. He also hoped he could clean himself up a little before he met her, because he was certain he needed to straighten out what he was wearing from the climb up here. In the movies, this looked much easier, and the hero never had a hair out of place. Yet he was the one who had claimed his life wasn’t a romantic comedy, so why should it be an action movie? With the rudeness of entering the harem uninvited, maybe a little mess would be overlooked. Still, it wasn’t going to make a good first impression on Ikraam.

  Fathi worked his way closer, blocked by a couple of potted trees in front of the wall that separated the impromptu harem balcony from the rest of the building. He maneuvered around with a little trouble, and then swung a leg over the wall. He sat down on the wall, catching his breath and trying to calm down a little. This was stupid, but he hadn’t had this much fun since his freshman year at university when he and some of his classmates snuck around one of the campus’s buildings looking for ghosts. He smiled and jumped down from the wall. It was a small jump, only about a foot or so, but it ended with him stumbling and landing with a loud thump because he had misjudged the distance.

  Fathi bit his lip, wondering how foolish he looked and how many people had heard his fall. This wasn’t the suave entrance he had planned in his head. He was happy he didn’t twist an ankle, because limping in wasn’t the way he wanted his betrothed to see him the first time. He walked around the corner and into a dimly lit room, blinking at the change in light and wondering if anyone was in there.

  Chapter Eight

  IKRAAM resisted the urge to turn around. He guessed someone was in the room with him from the sound of boots shuffling on the stone floor. The small thud of a body making a landing on his balcony had been his first hint he wasn’t alone. The second was Saumer—who, to Ikraam’s joy and wonder, had managed to find him and arrived through the balcony not that long before—blending into the darkness that was his namesake. Ikraam fought not to join him. He didn’t want his visitor becoming suspicious of him yet. A well-bred young woman would be nervous, but not skulking in the shadows like a raider waiting to strike if she had heard a sound like that.

  Or wondering if his sister would be getting rid of him, when it was convenient for her, which was why he slept lightly at all times. Bahiyya was aware he had a knife and knew how to use it, after an incident that happened when he was thirteen. Ikraam was never quite sure if the attack was one Bahiyya had planned or if she had just decided to take advantage of the confusion during a raid on the tribe. The only one he remembered happening in his lifetime. After that, he made sure he always had a knife handy and had learned how to use it.

  “Honored husband,” Ikraam called, guessing it was his intended who was sneaking in here.

  Ghalib would have made a lot more noise, too arrogant to think he needed to hide his trespass into the women’s quarters. Or that a mere woman would deny him what he was due. Ikraam couldn’t think of anyone else who would want to sneak in here.

  His veil was across the room, and his sleeves weren’t wide enough to hide behind, so he wasn’t going to turn around to face his intended. He wasn’t going to show this man his face until he had to. What if his intended could guess he was a man by just looking at him? The whole thing would end before he could ask him to protect Sabah from her unwanted marriage. Plus he had been raised never to show his face to a man who wasn’t his relative, and he didn’t think he was going to overcome that training ever, even if he decided to claim his manhood.

  “You don’t have to go through with this,” his intended blurted out when he was halfway in the room, from the direction of where he was speaking. “And please call me Fathi.”

  “I have been promised to you since before I was born,” Ikraam reminded him, pleased he had guessed correctly the identity of his visitor, even as his heart sank at his words. The man seemed less willing than he was about this marriage. “And I have to marry someone. It isn’t like my sister wants me. This is as good as anything.”

  That didn’t sound very nice, but he didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t going to fawn over Fathi, since that would be false of him. However, he should have thought of a more polite phrasing. No man would be happy to hear a woman talk like he had.

  “But!” Fathi protested.

  Fathi’s raised voice annoyed Saumer, and he growled.

  “What the hell is that?” Fathi demanded, his voice rising in pitch, sounding a little nervous.

  “A friend,” Ikraam laughed, glad something had distracted Fathi from arguing with him.

  He was a little worried about why his intended had broken into the harem. He might be a monster no better than Ghalib, wanting to take advantage of him. Or he could simply be curious about his bride and not wanting to wait for a “proper” introduction. But if there were raised voices, Bahiyya would find him in here. Ikraam didn’t know what she would do then; she had been acting strangely since they had begun the journey here.

  “It sounds like a damned lion,” Fathi muttered before raising his voice. “Plus no man wants to know he’s considered a barely acceptable alternative to anything else in your life.”

  “And of course you are welcoming this arrangement eagerly,” Ikraam said before he could stop the words. Fathi was going to either beat him so he would be civil to him or refuse the entire marriage.

  “Well, I would like it a lot better if I actually knew you.” Fathi laughed. “Or knew what you looked like.”

  “So that is why you snuck into my room,” Ikraam said, relaxing when it seemed Fathi was amused more than annoyed by his tone and words. “Not to compromise me and then repudiate me.”

  “I think the damned lion is a good chaperone,” Fathi shot back, sounding like he was becoming more confident about the situation when he didn’t get pounced on. “And my grandf
ather would kill me if I did that, never mind your brother-by-marriage. Besides, that’s… I can’t even describe how awful that would be to do to you or any other woman. I’m just here to talk.”

  Ikraam laughed, his heart easing when he heard the horror in Fathi’s words at what Ikraam had indirectly accused him of. Fathi seemed to be a kind man. He might be able to understand why he had acted the way he had and not judge him harshly. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I believe that,” Fathi said, taking a step closer. “And I’m not that Western. I just want to see your eyes, not your entire face. I know I’m being impolite here.”

  “My veil is near you,” Ikraam admitted. “That’s why I don’t want to turn around.”

  “You’re practically naked,” Fathi teased.

  Ikraam sighed but was encouraged by the attempt at humor. They might be able to get along after his treachery was discovered. It was no longer only Bahiyya’s; he should turn around and announce his true sex to Fathi. But he was too frightened to do so, not knowing what the consequences of his action would be. He had to protect Sabah, since her mother wouldn’t. He might be able to talk Fathi into marriage with Sabah, so his family could save their honor. “I don’t even know if it is you or your twin.”

  “Rayyan is the better-looking of us,” Fathi said solemnly.

  “A man who isn’t boastful is a welcome one,” Ikraam teased. “But if you throw me my veil, I would be able to turn around and talk to you.”

  “I’ve been to America,” Fathi reassured Ikraam. “I’ve seen many women’s naked forearms and face, and it didn’t drive me into insane lust to attack them.”

  “That must have been odd,” Ikraam said, losing track of the conversation, trying to figure out why someone would go all that way to learn. “To leave all you know and go to a strange land.”

  That was what Ikraam was doing also, yet it didn’t seem quite so voluntary. But… he could barely read and write, while Fathi was so educated! He had never lived in one place before, and he doubted Fathi, aside from his trip to America, had lived in more than one place either—a different one from where Ikraam had. They had nothing in common, and he wanted to curse his father for thinking this was a good idea and Bahiyya for using it as an excuse to get rid of him.

  “It was strange,” Fathi admitted. “But snow was much stranger and more uncomfortable. I could videoconference Grandfather and Rayyan if I wanted to talk to them, so I wasn’t lonely. And I met all sorts of people there.”

  Ikraam laughed, even if he didn’t know what Fathi was talking about. He guessed video was some sort of modern communication device. It felt good to talk to someone and not have Bahiyya scowling at him for it.

  “But you are also leaving your family for a strange land. A world actually,” Fathi said, echoing Ikraam’s earlier thoughts. “The way we both live is so different from the other’s. We may be from the same country, but—”

  “We live centuries apart,” Ikraam finished. He felt his face grow hot. “I am so sorry. That was very rude of me to talk over you.”

  He needed to remember he shouldn’t interrupt his intended, like he was family. He needed to act like the modest maiden he was supposed to be. By now, every woman in the tribe would have scolded him for being so bold. But he felt at ease around Fathi, like he was an old friend, not that Ikraam had many of those.

  “It’s true,” Fathi said, apparently glad Ikraam understood what he was saying. “And not rude. I was rude coming here unannounced when Grandfather had promised you privacy.”

  An awkward silence followed, with Ikraam wondering how he could tastefully ask his intended if he loved someone else, and then he decided there was no tactful way of doing so. It wasn’t like Fathi was interested in politeness if he was sneaking into the women’s quarters, and the two of them couldn’t stand here all evening like statues.

  “Is there someone you would rather wed?” Ikraam asked when the silence stretched. “I would understand that. I doubt you were aware of this arrangement either. You should follow your heart in these matters.”

  “There is no one,” Fathi assured Ikraam. “In fact—”

  “Ikraam, you won’t believe…,” Sabah called out as she ran into the room. She stopped suddenly when she saw Fathi standing there, letting out a little squeal before she asked, “Why is he here? Who is he?”

  Sabah turned around and put her hands over her face, remembering she was unveiled. “Ikraam?” she pleaded.

  “Sheikh Fathi decided he wanted to talk to me,” Ikraam reassured her.

  “But…,” Sabah said, her tone slightly panicked. A man in the women’s area was never a good thing.

  “There’s something that sounds like a lion in the room with us,” Fathi said calmly. “We both agreed it was a good chaperone.”

  “Saumer’s here?” Sabah asked. “He found us?”

  “My intended decided Saumer was a proper chaperone. I didn’t,” Ikraam said lightly. He didn’t think Fathi’s grandfather would think it a proper one.

  “So is this cat like a family pet or something?” Fathi asked, ignoring his protest.

  “Saumer likes Ikraam,” Sabah said. “He’s followed the tribe around for years.”

  “But what is he?” Fathi repeated.

  “Saumer is a leopard,” Ikraam explained, not knowing how his intended would react. Too many men thought a leopard skin was a prize and never saw the beauty of the animal it was when alive.

  “They’re endangered,” Fathi said after a stunned second.

  “We haven’t seen many of them over the years while we have traveled,” Ikraam replied. All of them had been at a distance, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen another. “But what does that mean to you?”

  “It means I better order something for him to hunt while he hangs around,” Fathi said. “I don’t think there’s enough in the region to keep him fed. And while there’s plenty of already slaughtered meat, I don’t want him to get into the habit of getting fed by us.”

  “You don’t want to kill him?” Sabah asked in the silence that followed his statement.

  Ikraam was stunned and didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected the easy acceptance Fathi had shown for his companion. His emotions were awhirl, and he was fighting not to cry.

  “Why…?” Fathi started. “Oh, like turn him into a rug or something? I don’t have a problem with him being here, and if I wanted a rug, I could buy one instead of shooting an animal. I’ll tell Rayyan and my grandfather he’s here.” Fathi paused and chuckled. “Grandfather probably would be happy someone else came for the wedding.”

  Ikraam winced when he said that. The insult Bahiyya had offered the amir by not having the tribe with them was unforgivable, and there had been no reason for it.

  Apparently Fathi saw it, because he apologized. “I’m not—”

  “My sister acted foolishly, and I offer my humble apologies for her insult to your family’s generosity. Please don’t hold the actions of one woman against the tribe of din Abdel,” Ikraam intoned, not needing to hear the rest of his words.

  “We have a leopard and another woman here, so are there enough chaperones now?” Fathi asked with a chuckle.

  “I still don’t have my veil on and neither does my niece,” Ikraam said. “Since this is the women’s quarters, we hadn’t been wearing them.”

  “I can hand you your veil. Would that make it better?” Fathi asked.

  “Or you can turn your back, and I can get it myself,” Ikraam countered.

  He wasn’t going to get within arm’s reach of the man. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Fathi; he didn’t trust himself. The sound of Fathi’s voice was reassuring, commanding, and comforting at the same time. And while Fathi had been impolite by sneaking into the harem, he wasn’t in other ways. He wasn’t acting arrogant and thinking he was a maiden’s dream, and that humble demeanor was starting to make him Ikraam’s.

  “What about me?” Sabah asked.

  “Why don
’t you go back to your room and put on your veil,” Ikraam said. “I will be safe for the few minutes it will take you.”

  He would be alone with Fathi. He wanted that. He desired Fathi, irrationally and suddenly, simply because he had been civil to him. It was insane, and Ikraam wondered if this was a dream.

  “But…,” Sabah protested.

  “Sabah,” Ikraam said ordering her to go. She nodded and left quickly.

  “She’s really worried about you,” Fathi said.

  “It’s a serious matter to be alone with a man who isn’t a relative. A woman could be accused of all sorts of things, and it would end badly for her,” Ikraam said. “Is your back turned?”

  “It’s turned,” Fathi promised. “And Saumer is making sure I behave.”

  Ikraam peeked and saw it was true—Fathi had turned his back to the room. Ikraam swiftly retrieved his veil and donned it, touched Fathi had respected his wishes. “You can turn around now.”

  Ikraam shamelessly stared at his intended, guiltily grateful to see he was handsome. Fathi’s dark thick hair was cut shorter than was custom for the men in his tribe, but it wasn’t unattractive. Fathi was wearing Western clothing, tight pants and a closefitting shirt, instead of the thawb he had worn earlier. Both showed off his intended’s strong and trim body. Ikraam wouldn’t admit how attractive he found him, even with the curl of lust starting in his stomach. This was a man he would gladly lie with as a woman. He was tempted to kneel for him right now, if he thought it wouldn’t drive Fathi off in disgust. His intended seemed to be a decent man, and one who wouldn’t be interested in him. He bit back a sigh at the thought and wondered what to say next.

  “Ikraam,” Sabah said as she entered the room, distracting him from his lust. “Mother will be checking on us soon.”

  “I doubt that,” Ikraam muttered.