Married to the Sheikh Read Online Free PDF Page B

older woman and had the same dark blue tattoos on her face that Akbar’s mother, Fatima, had.
    “I’ve come to thank you for attending my wedding,” Sarah replied. The cushion she’d been offered was hard and lumpy and she found it difficult to get comfortable.
    “She doesn’t look like a wife,” one of the women said to Neema.
    “Not like a wife at all,” another one said.
    “Definitely not the wife of an important sheikh,” a third woman added.
    Soon all the women in the tent had come to an agreement that Sarah was not the sheikh’s wife.
    “I am Sheikh Akbar’s wife,” Sarah asserted. “Some of you came to my wedding. You saw me marry him.” At least she thought some of them came. Akbar had told her that a lot of people from this tribe had attended, but he didn’t tell her which women, if any, and she hadn’t thought to ask.
    “The woman who married Sheikh Akbar was covered in gold and fine clothes,” Neema said. The other women nodded in agreement and began talking about how much they had admired the veil of coins and the beautifully embroidered clothes that the bride had worn.
    Sarah looked at what she was wearing. Although she wasn’t wearing heaps of gold and coins, she was certainly well-dressed. That morning, she had carefully selected her best pair of black trousers and a loose tunic-like blouse with a high neck and long sleeves that wouldn’t affront local sensibilities. In addition, to further ensure that she didn’t offend anyone, she’d tied back her blonde hair and put a light blue scarf over her head. Compared to Neema, in her faded cotton dress, which looked more like an old nightgown than a dress, Sarah looked very smart, even after a drive through the open desert. However, Neema was wearing large gold earrings and numerous gold bangles sparkled on both her wrists.
    “I’m not wearing any jewellery because I was worried we might get attacked on the way and it might get stolen,” Sarah explained.
    The other woman all agreed that it was foolish to travel around wearing a lot of gold. Sarah wondered what it was about her appearance that they didn’t like. “Is it because I’m white? A Westerner?” she asked. “Do you think Sheikh Akbar shouldn’t have married a foreigner?”
    “Arabs have always married foreigners. We travel, we trade, we come into contact with new people,” Neema said. “My own grandmother once met a woman with white skin and yellow hair like yours who lived with a Bedouin tribe.”
    “Was she married to a sheikh?” Sarah asked.
    Neema thought a while and drank some tea. Sarah noted that she still hadn’t been offered any.
    “I can’t remember. It was a long time ago.” Neema took another sip of tea. “But it is possible, quite possible.”
    All the others began to nod and agree until they came to the conclusion that it was not only possible, but almost certain that this other Western woman had been the wife of a sheikh, but that Sarah was not.
    “So why do you think I’m not Sheikh Akbar’s wife?” she asked, more surprised than offended.
    The women all looked at one another and then back at Sarah. Finally, a young woman, sitting on the far side of the tent, spoke up. “If you’re the sheikh’s wife, why aren’t you covered up?”
    “But you aren’t covered up. None of you are wearing veils or abayas,” Sarah replied, referring to the voluminous black garments that the local women wrapped themselves up in.
    “But we’re not travelling around,” the younger woman said. “If I left this tent, even for a minute, I would put mine on.” She lifted up a shapeless garment that was lying behind her. All the other women agreed and pulled out their own abayas for Sarah to see.
    “My husband lets me dress as I please.” The subject of how Sarah dressed had never arisen between her and Akbar, and because she always tried to dress modestly in public, she didn’t see any reason it should. However, when it came to her underwear, modesty went out