The Lady's Tutor by Robin Schone Page A

are
so opposite. Richard is more quiet and studious; Phillip is a rascal. It would
not surprise me if they raided the school kitchen for midnight snacks—they
always do when they’re home.”
    “You love your sons.”
    They were all that she had.
    Elizabeth evaded his too-knowing gaze. “Ahlan wa sahlan. What
does it mean?”
    “Roughly translated, it means that it is nice to meet you. Do you
love your husband?”
    She stepped on his instep—hard. “If I did not, I would not have
come to you.”
    “Does your husband love you?”
    “That is none of your business.”
    “I intend upon making it my business.”
    Surely he could not mean —
    “I think perhaps it would be best if we cancel our lessons, Lord
Safyre. I will have your book returned to you.”
    “It’s too late, taalibba. ”
    Alarm feathered Elizabeth’s skin. “What do you mean?”
    “We have an agreement.”
    Dawning comprehension flared in her eyes. “I blackmailed you, so
you are going to blackmail me.”
    “If need be.”
    It was what she had feared that first morning; therefore, she
should not feel so ... hurt.
    “Why?”
    “You want to learn how to give a man pleasure.. . and I want to
teach you.”
    Elizabeth felt incandescent with anger. “You want to humiliate me.”
    His lashes created hollow shadows underneath his eyes. “As I said
before, you know very little about me. Do you remember the story of Dorerame in
Chapter Two of The Perfumed Garden?”
    “He was killed,” she retorted grimly. Quite gruesomely, she
recalled.
    “The king who killed him freed a woman from his clutches.”
    “A married woman.”
    “Then the king took the woman and freed her from her husband.”
    “This is absurd.” She did not want to think about a married woman
being “freed” from her husband. “I do not see the purpose of this conversation.”
    “Simply this: A woman in Arabia has certain rights over her
husband. Among them is her right to sexual union. She has the right to seek
divorce if her husband will not satisfy her.”
    Mortification exploded inside Elizabeth’s chest. Only women of
loose morals were not satisfied in marriage.
    How dare he —
    “For your information, my husband does satisfy me,” she
hissed.
    “There will be no more lies between us, taalibba. You had
the courage to ask me to tutor you; now have the courage to face the truth.”
    “And just what do you think the truth is, Lord Safyre?”
    “Look to your husband. When you see what he is and not what you
want him to be, you will have your truth.” Suddenly, he dropped her hand and
released her waist. “The dance is over, Mrs. Petre. Let us promenade.”
    Elizabeth jerked her left hand down, away from his shoulder. “I
will not be blackmailed.”
    “I think you will. You love your children but you know nothing
about your husband ... or yourself. I will expect to see you tomorrow morning.”
    She nodded at an acquaintance, her mind busily digesting and
analyzing his words. “You know who my husband’s mistress is.”
    “No.”
    “Then, why are you doing this?”
    “Because I think you are a meritorious woman.”
    “I do not have a male member, Lord Safyre,” she retorted frigidly.
    The harsh line of his mouth eased. Mischief danced in his eyes. He
looked like the impish schoolboy he must have been when he was twelve, spurned
by his mother. “We will see.”
    “I will not be there tomorrow morning.”
    “You will be. Just as I will be waiting for you.”
    For the first time in her life, Elizabeth understood why Phillip
used to stomp his foot in anger. She stared across the ballroom . . . directly
into the eyes of her husband.
    A man joined him—a fellow Cabinet member. Edward turned to the
older man and walked toward the card room.
    Edward had seen Elizabeth, she realized numbly, and dismissed her.
    She met the Bastard Sheikh’s turquoise stare. He had seen Edward’s
dismissal, too.
    The smell of gas from the chandeliers, of women’s perfumes and