Innocent in the Sheikh's Harem by Marguerite Kaye

but though the power he held was absolute, he wielded it for the general good, rather than for his own. Which did not mean that he took criticism, even well meant criticism, easily. ‘I beg your pardon. It is not my business. I have no right to express an opinion.’
    ‘What were you going to say? Go on. I promise I won’t call the siaf .’
    ‘Siaf?’
    Ramiz grinned. ‘The executioner.’
    ‘Good God, I sincerely hope not. I’m very attached to my head.’
    ‘It’s a very clever head—for a woman.’
    ‘From you, Your Highness, that is a great compliment indeed. If you must know, I was thinking that, since you are a prince and can do no wrong, there is no reason for you to stick to something just because that’s how it’s always been.’
    ‘Tradition plays a very important part here. It is what binds many of the tribes together.’
    ‘I understand that, and I’m not suggesting you turn A’Qadiz into a miniature England, but there are some things you could do which surely everyone would see were for the greater good. Like having your wife play more than the role of a brood mare.’
    The fact that he agreed with her, that her words were almost an exact repetition of his own thoughts, was disconcerting. He wasn’t sure that he liked it. ‘A woman’s first duty is to her children.’
    ‘A wife’s first duty is to her husband,’ Celia said tartly. ‘I fail to see how she can perform that fully when you lock her away from the world in a harem.’
    ‘I’ve told you before, it is to protect her.’ She was right, he knew that, but he didn’t like being forced into defending something he had himself criticised. It put him in the wrong. Ramiz was not used to being in the wrong. ‘Not all women are as—as capable as you, Lady Celia,’ he threw at her exasperatedly. ‘You forget that a wife’s role is also to be a woman. Women, in case you have forgotten, are supposed to be the gentle sex. We have a saying here: a good woman is one who listens with stitched lips.’
    ‘And we have a saying in England. The road to success is more easily travelled with a woman to mark the route!’
    Ramiz threw his head back and laughed. ‘Admit it—you made that up.’
    He looked so much younger when he smiled. ‘Yes,’ Celia conceded, ‘but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.’
    ‘I’m afraid it is a road I will have to travel alone, albeit with a few beautiful princesses in tow.’ He did not quite manage to keep the bitterness from his voice.
    ‘Why shouldn’t you choose a wife you can like—grow to love, even? You’re the Prince. You can do as you wish.’
    ‘What I wish just now is to end this topic of discussion.’
    ‘Ramiz, when you said I was a capable woman, what did you mean?’
    A faint flush, just the tiniest trace of colour, kissed her cheeks. Her heavy lids veiled her eyes. ‘You are not submissive. You speak your mind.’
    ‘I thought—at least I used to think—that was a good thing. It’s how I’ve been brought up—to think for myself, but not to…to trample on the opinion of others. I hope I don’t do that.’
    ‘That’s not what I meant, and you don’t. You listen. You’re a very good listener.’
    ‘But what did you mean, then? Did you mean that I’m intimidating?’
    ‘Not to me!’
    ‘But I could be to other men?’
    He saw it then. She didn’t mean other men. She meant one in particular. Her dead husband. ‘A man who is threatened by a woman is not worthy of being called a man, Celia,’ Ramiz said gently. ‘Below the capable veneer you present to the world, you are every inch a woman. Did I not tell you last night? You are beautiful.’
    She shivered as Ramiz lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. It felt shockingly more intimate than being kissed on the back of her hand. His lips were warm. Instinctively her fingers curled, forming a little hollow for him. She felt his tongue licking over the pad of her thumb and closed her eyes as the muscles in her