Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

J asmine's words echoed in Derrick's head.

I was not.

She was wrong.

She hadn't chosen that old man to be her husband, so she had been forced. Which meant the marriage didn't count. Or it definitely shouldn't count. Because she was meant for Derrick, not for that…that disgusting old man.

How could he convince her?

Even if he succeeded, would she ever truly agree with him, or would she always think of herself as being married to a terrorist half a world away?

That wasn't the real question.

Derrick didn't want to consider the real question, but it was right there, hovering like a storm cloud.

Was Jasmine right? Was her marriage valid?

God, is that how You see it?

Couldn't be. No way.

And he didn't think that because of what Jasmine had claimed—that he was living by the rules according to Derrick. No court in America would declare her married to a man who had another wife.

Who cared that she hadn't lived in America when she'd married? She did now, so…

So what?

He could practically hear her argument in his head. The rules according to America are no more valid than the rules according to Derrick. It is God's rules that matter.

Sure. But if she'd follow America's rules, then she wouldn't be married. Then Derrick could marry her and be her husband and…

Be her kid's father? Would he do that?

Beside him, Jasmine sat with her arms crossed, staring out the far window. In the glow of the dashboard lights, moisture sparkled on her cheeks.

He'd made her cry.

Yeah, well… She should've told him a lot sooner than this. About the baby and the husband and all of it. Because now he was in love with her, and it was too late to go back.

What did she expect? Was he supposed to agree that she was married? Just…give up and go along with her crazy…

What? Crazy what?

Desire to honor God?

Was that really so crazy?

He loved that about her. He loved how dedicated she was to the Lord. He loved her humility and gentleness and kindness. He loved how she always put others above herself.

Despite all the hardship she'd endured, he'd never heard her rail against God. He'd never even heard her complain. She just laid out facts as facts, never posing the old why-me questions, never acting as if she felt she deserved better. She'd been a victim, but she didn't see herself as one, and she certainly didn't have a victim mentality .

Jasmine was tiny and vulnerable. She was quiet and shy. But she was the strongest woman he'd ever known, and he loved her with everything inside him.

So yes. Yes, he would happily adopt and raise her child as his own, and he didn't care that the birth father was a terrorist, a perverted grandfather who might as well have bought and paid for her as if she were no more valuable than a…trinket he could buy at the bazaar alongside a bottle of olive oil.

If Derrick ever had the chance, he'd put an end to their sham of a marriage with a well-placed bullet. He thought of the gun holstered to his hip right now. He could do it. He was a good shot. Not a sharpshooter like Bryan, but he could hit a target. All those years hunting with his brothers.

So what that he'd never had the stomach to kill a deer.

Deer were beautiful and innocent.

Khalid-the-grandfather-slash-terrorist was anything but, and Derrick wouldn't hesitate to kill the man.

And if that landed him in prison, so be it.

Really?

He swallowed the question posed by his conscience…or maybe his God.

Would he really set out to kill a man to get what he wanted?

Yes.

No.

Maybe.

He didn't know. He longed to be given the opportunity, but in some small part of his mind—or perhaps it was his spirit—he hoped he never would. Because how could he live with himself?

Lord, what am I supposed to do with this? Can You convince her, please, that she's not really married?

God didn't answer. Or, if He did, Derrick discounted the words that filled his mind—that quiet Isn't she? Because God couldn't possibly agree with Jasmine .

And if He did…

Whatever.

Derrick didn't have any answers tonight, and his mind was playing tricks on him. What he knew, what he'd known from the first moment he laid eyes on Jasmine, was that she was the woman for him.

Which meant that God would work it out. Somehow.

Derrick had to believe that.

He just had no idea how it could possibly happen.

"Would you like me to drive?" Jasmine asked.

"I'm fine." His words were sharp. He wasn't angry at her, just at…at everything.

He cleared his throat and tried again. "Sorry. I'm awake. I can drive for a while." Wasn't as if he'd be able to sleep now.

"But the traffic is little," she said, "so it would be good for me. To do driving? And I had a long rest."

When she was upset, her English suffered.

He infused his voice with gentleness. "Close your eyes, sweetheart. If I get tired, I'll wake you up."

They'd brought some extra pillows and blankets from the cabin, and she tucked a pillow between her head and the window and pulled a blanket up.

He eased it over her shoulder, then brushed her hair back from her face, enjoying the warmth of her, the feel of her.

She was all he wanted.

And yet, he needed to face the truth.

That somehow…he was going to have to let her go.