Page 20 of The Sheik's Embrace

He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “Why weren’t the children fed first?”

“Oh, the children were always fed first, but in a different room. The children weren’t allowed near the men.”

“You know that’s ridiculous, right?” he asked, trying to decipher her hopes for their future family.

She grinned and stabbed a cherry tomato. “Yes, I am fully aware of how backwards my community’s traditions are. I’ve read many books about changes every society needs to make in order to create a more equal community.”

“What are some of the family traditions that you’d like to maintain in our family?”

“None,” she admitted without hesitation.

“Nothing at all?”

She tilted her head slightly. “The first twelve years of my life, every moment of our existence was focused around making the man the center of our universe. We were taught at an early age never to anger a man because the consequences could be dangerous.”

“That’s abuse,” he argued, pointing his empty fork towards her.

She smiled, obviously relieved that he understood that. “Yes, it is. I read a book on how to anticipate the signals of an abusive personality.”

“Last year, you mentioned that my economics advisor was probably the type to smack his wife around.”

“Yes?”

“I had the police investigate. He regularly beat his wife while his two sons watched. The man was arrested and the woman now lives in the country, trying to recover from her ex-husband’s abuse.”

Tara smiled approvingly at him. “That’s good. I’m relieved that she was able to escape.” She put her fork down. “Most women don’t have someone as powerful as you on their side, ensuring that their cases are adjudicated fairly.”

“Most people don’t have you watching out for them either, Tara. It was you that brought the possibility to my attention. Apparently, when one grows up with the constant threat, and reality, of assault, one learns quickly how to identify that trait in others.”

“That’s true. Assault survivors are intimately aware when there is a potential abuser in their midst. The abuser gives off…signals, for lack of a better word.”

“Well, he’s in prison now.”

“But what about the other victims?”

He looked at her intently. “If you have suggestions on how to stop abusers, identify them and/or their victims, then I’m happy to listen.” He leaned back as one of the servants took their plates and another stepped up with the next course. “In fact, as my wife, you’ll have the power to set up your own system. With me backing you, I suspect that you could be a very strong advocate for domestic abuse survivors.”

She considered that for a moment, then shook her head. “I receive a great deal of satisfaction from my current job.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, then merely nodded and said, “We’ll see.”

The main course that night was barbeque, which was more interesting than she would have expected, mainly because of the debate. “Dry rub barbeque is better,” Zayed announced as he poured some of the sauce onto the chicken barbeque.

Tara gasped in horror, causing Zayed’s fork to freeze. “Take. It. Back!” she hissed.

He looked confused, looking around as if he’d insulted someone. “Take what back?”

Her eyes narrowed on him in mock anger. “Take back what you said about dry rub,” she ordered, glowering at him.

He chuckled, lowering his fork. “Are you serious?”

“Yes!” she said, trying to hide her laugh. “Absolutely serious. Take it back.”

The fire of challenge sparked in his eyes. “Nope. Dry rub is better.”

“You’re wrong.”

Zayed laughed, then piled more barbeque onto his fork. “I prefer the dry rub because cooking the meat in a tomato based sauce is basically boiling the meat. A dry rub style means that the meat is grilled slowly, which adds more flavor.”

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