Read Online The Sheikh's Purchased Bride by Holly Rayner - Free Book Online
Authors: Holly Rayner
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life.”
She laughed. “Okay, what about sex? You’ve said you’re not supposed to be affectionate in public, so how does anyone have sex, you know, outside of marriage?”
He shrugged. “We sneak around as much as Americans—we just don’t get caught.” He laughed. “Though when a man is ready to marry, he usually sends his mother out to find him a suitable wife.”
“Yikes,” Amie said, her eyes widening. “Isn’t your mother going to be mad that you brought me here, then? Will she be mad because I’m not from here?”
“Given the circumstances?” He splashed about in the water. “She’s thrilled, trust me. She’ll show you a thing or two about women from Rabayat. They are certainly not passive, secondary citizens.” He laughed. “Trust me, when you meet my mother, you’ll know.”
“When will that be?”
He laughed once more. “This weekend, actually. It is the festival of the Nine Nights. It commemorates the liberation of slaves in Rabayat. The Great Liberation took place centuries ago, but it is still enthusiastically celebrated today—my people love a party.”
Amie’s eyes nearly lit up with sparkles. Sure, she’d met Malik’s father and sister already, but his mother was the person she’d really need to prove herself to. It was going to be the performance of a lifetime, and there was an awful lot hanging in the balance.
EIGHT
Later that week, after a few days of exploring the local markets, and evenings spent playing chess and watching old movies, the time finally came to attend the festival. Amie wore a long dress and a stylish hijab to be polite.
She wasn’t sure why, but she was genuinely excited about meeting Malik’s mother. She felt tingles in her stomach and desperately wanted to come across as likable; to have this woman think she was good enough for her charming son. It was all ridiculous, she knew, considering their entire arrangement was a farce, but some part of her ego desperately wanted his mother to find her charming; to believe in her performance.
On the way to Rabayat City, Malik told an enraptured Amie about the customs that accompanied the festival: there would be dances, local music, camel races, and a huge parade. As they stepped out of the limo, they were hit by a wall of heat, but there was no shortage of locals selling water and refreshments.
The festival was a bustle of colors, tourists, bustling market stalls, and an amazing array of foods. Amie and Malik passed the time watching the festival goers, laughing as people took colored powder and threw it into the air. The powder would catch on to sweat and moisture, caking participants in a rainbow of colors.
A few hours later, Amie, too, was baked in a rainbow of colors; her brown hair now a mess of purple, yellow, and red, and her carefully painted on makeup all done for nothing. The air smelled like heat, sand and smoke and just when she was ready to sit down and rest, Malik told her the time had come to introduce her to his mother.
The woman walked up with her husband, somehow incredibly clean from the festivities, and looked her son over with no small level of suspicion. Zafina was there, as well, and whispered something to her mother as the three of them approached.
“This is her, then?” his mother asked Malik, giving him a pointed look. So much for her not being judgmental!
Amie looked the woman over. She had a round face and high cheekbones that gave her an air of grace. She had beautiful skin, though not without its fair share of wrinkles. She looked tired and wore no makeup, but revealed a beautiful smile that reminded Amie of Malik’s. She wore a cream-colored hijab and a yellow dress with arabesque patterns of foliage and tendrils. It was a beautiful piece that Amie could only imagine had cost an arm and a leg.
“Mother,” Malik said with a smile, kissing her on both cheeks before gesturing towards Amie. “This is my
She laughed. “Okay, what about sex? You’ve said you’re not supposed to be affectionate in public, so how does anyone have sex, you know, outside of marriage?”
He shrugged. “We sneak around as much as Americans—we just don’t get caught.” He laughed. “Though when a man is ready to marry, he usually sends his mother out to find him a suitable wife.”
“Yikes,” Amie said, her eyes widening. “Isn’t your mother going to be mad that you brought me here, then? Will she be mad because I’m not from here?”
“Given the circumstances?” He splashed about in the water. “She’s thrilled, trust me. She’ll show you a thing or two about women from Rabayat. They are certainly not passive, secondary citizens.” He laughed. “Trust me, when you meet my mother, you’ll know.”
“When will that be?”
He laughed once more. “This weekend, actually. It is the festival of the Nine Nights. It commemorates the liberation of slaves in Rabayat. The Great Liberation took place centuries ago, but it is still enthusiastically celebrated today—my people love a party.”
Amie’s eyes nearly lit up with sparkles. Sure, she’d met Malik’s father and sister already, but his mother was the person she’d really need to prove herself to. It was going to be the performance of a lifetime, and there was an awful lot hanging in the balance.
EIGHT
Later that week, after a few days of exploring the local markets, and evenings spent playing chess and watching old movies, the time finally came to attend the festival. Amie wore a long dress and a stylish hijab to be polite.
She wasn’t sure why, but she was genuinely excited about meeting Malik’s mother. She felt tingles in her stomach and desperately wanted to come across as likable; to have this woman think she was good enough for her charming son. It was all ridiculous, she knew, considering their entire arrangement was a farce, but some part of her ego desperately wanted his mother to find her charming; to believe in her performance.
On the way to Rabayat City, Malik told an enraptured Amie about the customs that accompanied the festival: there would be dances, local music, camel races, and a huge parade. As they stepped out of the limo, they were hit by a wall of heat, but there was no shortage of locals selling water and refreshments.
The festival was a bustle of colors, tourists, bustling market stalls, and an amazing array of foods. Amie and Malik passed the time watching the festival goers, laughing as people took colored powder and threw it into the air. The powder would catch on to sweat and moisture, caking participants in a rainbow of colors.
A few hours later, Amie, too, was baked in a rainbow of colors; her brown hair now a mess of purple, yellow, and red, and her carefully painted on makeup all done for nothing. The air smelled like heat, sand and smoke and just when she was ready to sit down and rest, Malik told her the time had come to introduce her to his mother.
The woman walked up with her husband, somehow incredibly clean from the festivities, and looked her son over with no small level of suspicion. Zafina was there, as well, and whispered something to her mother as the three of them approached.
“This is her, then?” his mother asked Malik, giving him a pointed look. So much for her not being judgmental!
Amie looked the woman over. She had a round face and high cheekbones that gave her an air of grace. She had beautiful skin, though not without its fair share of wrinkles. She looked tired and wore no makeup, but revealed a beautiful smile that reminded Amie of Malik’s. She wore a cream-colored hijab and a yellow dress with arabesque patterns of foliage and tendrils. It was a beautiful piece that Amie could only imagine had cost an arm and a leg.
“Mother,” Malik said with a smile, kissing her on both cheeks before gesturing towards Amie. “This is my
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