Read Online The Sheikh's Purchased Bride by Holly Rayner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Holly Rayner
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fiancée, Amie Shaw. Amie, this is my mother, Sadira.”
“Such a beautiful name,” Amie said, taking on her professional woman tone and smiling warmly at Sadira. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
They walked for a few blocks before anyone properly spoke to Amie; the family too busy catching up on Malik’s life in America to begin asking her questions about herself. Every so often, his mother would look Amie up and down and nod slowly.
During their walk together, Amie was surprised at how many locals came up and asked Malik if she was his new American bride-to-be. Clearly the royal family were well-liked and respected, as all of the passers-by would give over-enthusiastic congratulations to the couple and fire all manner of questions at them: when was the wedding date, would they be getting married in Rabayat?
In truth, Amie hadn’t thought about any of those details. She was great on her feet, though, and managed to give answers that only seemed to further excite those asking. While not everyone who approached Malik spoke English, they were all kind and congratulatory and made her feel truly welcome in their country.
They spent the afternoon with Malik’s family, enjoying the festivities, before Sadira finally asked Amie if she would go for a walk with her. Amie looked to Malik with wide eyes, seeking help, but he merely laughed and waved an over-exaggerated goodbye with his hand.
They wandered between stalls selling spices and pastries, taking in the sights and sounds of the festival around them, until Sadira stopped in front of a jewelry vendor and turned to face her, addressing her solemnly. “You love my son?”
“Very much, yes,” Amie said with a polite nod.
“What do you love about him?” Sadira asked briskly.
Amie took a breath and pretended to look over the handmade jewelry laid out before them. “He has a good heart,” she said. “I know he’s very proud of his business, and he should be; he’s smart, he’s kind, and he makes me laugh.”
“A happy marriage is important. You can’t be happy if you can’t laugh. Laugh at your faults, your mistakes, whenever you can,” she said slowly, finally relenting to a small smile. “You know he has a reputation in the United States?”
Amie nodded slowly. “Yes, I know.”
“Sometimes, men…” Sadira slowed her sentence; choosing her words carefully. “Sometimes they don’t possess the same virtues that we do, but when they repent it is our duty to forgive them. Do you believe in God?”
Again, Amie nodded; Malik had told her how important faith was in his culture and suggested that even if it wasn’t true, it would probably be safer to call herself a believer.
Sadira seemed satisfied with this, until her face twisted to a new thought. “You know my Malik is a wealthy man?”
“I do,” Amie said, giving a small, polite laugh. She looked into Sadira’s eyes but the woman would not return the gaze. “His home here is truly lovely.”
“You like the Middle East?”
Sadira’s words were harsh; pointed. She was clearly looking for something to pick fault with. Suddenly Amie realized she must be experiencing the kind of interrogation her father put her high school boyfriends through.
“I haven’t been here long,” Amie said coolly, “but already it feels like home.”
Sadira seemed to consider this and adjusted her hijab before fingering through the jewelry in front of her. “Your engagement ring is beautiful,” she said finally, her accent bearing over her words. “American in style, but no less beautiful for it.”
“Shukran,” Amie spoke her thanks in Arabic, hoping Sadira might appreciate her attempt—she’d asked Malik to teach her several words so she could wow the locals with her efforts.
Her attempt seemed to work, and suddenly Sadira gave an ear-to-ear smile and put her hand gently on Amie’s back. “Do you work?” she
“Such a beautiful name,” Amie said, taking on her professional woman tone and smiling warmly at Sadira. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
They walked for a few blocks before anyone properly spoke to Amie; the family too busy catching up on Malik’s life in America to begin asking her questions about herself. Every so often, his mother would look Amie up and down and nod slowly.
During their walk together, Amie was surprised at how many locals came up and asked Malik if she was his new American bride-to-be. Clearly the royal family were well-liked and respected, as all of the passers-by would give over-enthusiastic congratulations to the couple and fire all manner of questions at them: when was the wedding date, would they be getting married in Rabayat?
In truth, Amie hadn’t thought about any of those details. She was great on her feet, though, and managed to give answers that only seemed to further excite those asking. While not everyone who approached Malik spoke English, they were all kind and congratulatory and made her feel truly welcome in their country.
They spent the afternoon with Malik’s family, enjoying the festivities, before Sadira finally asked Amie if she would go for a walk with her. Amie looked to Malik with wide eyes, seeking help, but he merely laughed and waved an over-exaggerated goodbye with his hand.
They wandered between stalls selling spices and pastries, taking in the sights and sounds of the festival around them, until Sadira stopped in front of a jewelry vendor and turned to face her, addressing her solemnly. “You love my son?”
“Very much, yes,” Amie said with a polite nod.
“What do you love about him?” Sadira asked briskly.
Amie took a breath and pretended to look over the handmade jewelry laid out before them. “He has a good heart,” she said. “I know he’s very proud of his business, and he should be; he’s smart, he’s kind, and he makes me laugh.”
“A happy marriage is important. You can’t be happy if you can’t laugh. Laugh at your faults, your mistakes, whenever you can,” she said slowly, finally relenting to a small smile. “You know he has a reputation in the United States?”
Amie nodded slowly. “Yes, I know.”
“Sometimes, men…” Sadira slowed her sentence; choosing her words carefully. “Sometimes they don’t possess the same virtues that we do, but when they repent it is our duty to forgive them. Do you believe in God?”
Again, Amie nodded; Malik had told her how important faith was in his culture and suggested that even if it wasn’t true, it would probably be safer to call herself a believer.
Sadira seemed satisfied with this, until her face twisted to a new thought. “You know my Malik is a wealthy man?”
“I do,” Amie said, giving a small, polite laugh. She looked into Sadira’s eyes but the woman would not return the gaze. “His home here is truly lovely.”
“You like the Middle East?”
Sadira’s words were harsh; pointed. She was clearly looking for something to pick fault with. Suddenly Amie realized she must be experiencing the kind of interrogation her father put her high school boyfriends through.
“I haven’t been here long,” Amie said coolly, “but already it feels like home.”
Sadira seemed to consider this and adjusted her hijab before fingering through the jewelry in front of her. “Your engagement ring is beautiful,” she said finally, her accent bearing over her words. “American in style, but no less beautiful for it.”
“Shukran,” Amie spoke her thanks in Arabic, hoping Sadira might appreciate her attempt—she’d asked Malik to teach her several words so she could wow the locals with her efforts.
Her attempt seemed to work, and suddenly Sadira gave an ear-to-ear smile and put her hand gently on Amie’s back. “Do you work?” she
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