Accidentally the Sheikh's Wife (9 page)

“I can be reached by phone if there is an emergency. The staff is capable of handling things. Shall we explore the town after lunch?”

“I would love to.”

When they started out, Rashid insisted on buying her a wide-brimmed hat to shelter her head from the sun.

“You aren’t wearing one,” she said as they left the gift shop.

“I’m used to the sun. Your skin is much fairer than mine and I don’t want it burned.”

She smiled, feeling cherished. No one had looked out for her in a long, long time.

They walked around the square, looking into the shops, but when asked if she wanted to enter any, she declined. She wanted to see as much of the town as she could. The old buildings had ornate decorative carvings and bas-reliefs that intrigued her. The cobblestone streets showed wear but were still functioning centuries after they’d first been laid down.

“Tell me about this place. It’s old, feels steeped in history. Is it a true representation of old Quishari?”

Rashid gave her a brief history of the town, telling her it had been on the trade routes, a favorite resting place because of the plentiful water.

As the afternoon grew warmer, she could feel heat radiating from the walls as they passed. Turning a corner and exploring some of the side streets put them in line with the breeze and it was pleasant.

“The air feels drier than the coast,” she commented.

“Quite. There’s a danger of dehydration. We’ll stop soon and have something to drink.”

Stopping after three o’clock for cold drinks at a small sidewalk café, she was glad the tables had umbrellas. Even with the hat, she was hot beneath the sun. Yet she relished the sights. She loved the sense of timelessness. This town had been here for a thousand years and would likely be around another thousand. If only the walls could talk.

“Will we be able to walk out on the desert a little?” she asked.

“We can ask the driver to take us as far out as you wish to go.”

“Just enough to get the feel for it. It’s amazing to me anyone can live in the desert.”

“The old tribes knew the water spots which were crucial for survival. Caravans and nomads once roamed known trails. Now the routes are known to fewer and fewer people.”

When they returned to the hotel, Rashid summoned the same cab. He spoke with the driver and before she knew it, she was sitting in the backseat with Rashid as the man drove crazily toward the west.

“So we ditch the town and take off,” she murmured, feeling the delightful cool air from the air conditioner.

“For a while. It’s best to see the desert with those interested, not those who wish they were elsewhere.”

She laughed and settled down to enjoy the drive. To the right were rows of oil wells, the steady rising and fall of the pumpjacks timeless.

“I’ve seen those pumps in California,” she commented. “In one place they are even painted to look like whimsical animals,” she said, watching the monotonous up-and-down action of the machines.

“These kind of pumps are used all over the world. I had not thought about decorating them. They’re functional, that’s all.”

“Is this an oil field that belongs to your company?”

“It is.”

“Do you come here often?”

“No. Only once before, actually.” He was silent for a moment, then said softly, “It was my father’s special project. The wells don’t produce as much as in other areas, but he insisted on keeping the field going, and on checking on it himself. I came with him once. It held special attraction for him, not so much for me. As long as there are no problems, I don’t need to visit. Khalid comes occasionally.”

“Must be nice for the local economy.”

“One reason my father kept it going, I think. The discovery of oil helped revive the town and he felt an obligation to keep it going.”

“And you do as well.”

He shrugged. “I try. My father was a great man. I’m doing my best to do what I think would make him proud.”

“Keep an open mind about mine,” she said.

He looked at her, eyes narrowed. “What further is there to discuss?”

“We don’t know what happened. But I know my father. And he was an honorable man. He would not have stolen your father’s plane.”

“My father was also an honorable man. The betrayal of his pilot and the disappearance of the plane caused such stress and anxiety he suffered a heart attack, which killed him. It isn’t only the betrayal but the end result I find abhorrent.”

Bethanne stared out across the desert as if she could search around and find a clue as to what happened to her father. She had only her belief in her dad to sustain her. “I have faith in my father just as you do in yours,” she said slowly.

“It is not something we are going to agree on,” he said.

“Tell me about being a twin,” she said, turning to look at Rashid. It was a definite change of subject, but she wanted the afternoon to be special—not have them at odds because of the past. “I don’t even have a sibling, much less a twin. It is true, you’re so close you can read each other’s mind?”

“Hardly. I can sense things when we are together—like if he’s angry and hiding it. But we are two individuals. Growing up was fun. We delighted in playing tricks on our parents and tutors, switching identities, that sort of thing.”

“Tell me,” she invited.

He spoke of when he and Khalid were boys, visits to the villa to see their grandmother, trips to Europe and other countries around the Mediterranean Sea.

To Bethanne, it sounded glorious. So different from her childhood in Texas. She laughed at some of the antics he described, and felt a bit of sadness for their homesickness when sent to school in England for eight years when Rashid told her how much they’d missed their country.

When he spoke to the driver, he stopped. Rashid looked at Bethanne. “When we get out, look in all directions. Nothing but desert.”

She did so, stepping away from the car, seeking all she could from her senses. The air was dry, hot. The breeze was soft against her skin, carrying the scent of plants she didn’t know. In the distance the land shimmered in heat waves, and she thought she saw water.

“A mirage,” she breathed softly.

“There?” Rashid stood next to her at the rear of the cab, bending down so his head was next to hers so he could see what she saw. He pointed to the distant image and she nodded. “It does look like water, but we would never find it.”

“I know. I have only seen one other mirage. This is fascinating. And quiet. If we don’t speak, I think I can hear my heartbeat in the silence.”

He didn’t reply and for several long moments Bethanne absorbed everything, from the awesome, stark beauty of the desert to the heat from Rashid’s body next to hers, his scent mingling with that on the wind. She never wanted to forget this special moment.

Turning, she was surprised how close he stood. “Thank you for bringing me,” she said.

To her surprise, he put his palm beneath her chin and raised her face to his. “You constantly surprise me,” he said before kissing her.

His lips were warm against hers, moving slowly as if savoring the touch. He pressed for a response and Bethanne gave it to him, sighing softly and stepping closer. His lips opened hers and his tongue teased her. She responded with her own and was drowned in sensation. Forgotten was the world; she was wrapped up in emotions and feelings and the exquisite touch of his mouth against hers. Only the wind was witness, only the sand reflected the heat of passion.

All too soon he ended the kiss and gazed down at her as she slowly opened her eyes. His dark gaze mesmerized. Her heart pounded, her blood sang through her body. If she could capture only one moment of her entire life to never forget, it would be this one.

“We should head back,” he said.

The spell shattered. She stepped back and turned, trying to regain her composure so he would never know how much the kiss meant.

“I’m ready. Thank you for bringing me here. It is a special spot.” And would forever remain so.

The drive back to Quraim Wadi Samil was silent. Bethanne hugged the sensation of his kiss to herself as the desert scenery whizzed by. Before long the roof lines of the buildings could be seen. They drew closer by the moment. As she and Rashid drew further apart. It had been a whim, an alignment of circumstances—the scare in the plane, the worry about the pilot, being away from home. It meant nothing beyond they were glad to be alive.

She wished it had meant something.

Dinner that evening was again on the terrace of the small hotel. Fatima joined them and the sheikh kept the conversation neutral, translating back and forth between the two women. Bethanne wasn’t sure if she were glad Fatima was present or not. It kept things on an even keel, preventing her from reading more into the afternoon’s outing than warranted. But it also meant she had to share the precious time with Rashid. And of course the topic of conversation remained focused on Alexes. The doctor had been cautiously optimistic.

Rashid had obtained the report upon their return to the hotel. It looked as if it was a small stroke.

“But he’ll fully recover?” Bethanne asked when Rashid told Fatima.

“That’s what the tests are assessing. I hope so. But I don’t know if he’ll ever fly again.”

Bethanne nodded. “Or at least not as a solo pilot,” she said. “If he were copilot, there’d be someone else in case of another emergency.” Her heart hurt for the man. Flying was a way of life; how sad if it ended prematurely.

Rashid nodded. “However, I do not want my family or employees put in any danger if unnecessary. Alexes has served us well for many years. He will not be abandoned.”

Sending up a quick prayer for his recovery, Bethanne asked if he would be released before they returned to Alkaahdar.

“Unlikely. We will return in the morning. He’ll need care for several days.”

Fatima spoke.

“She wonders when she will return home,” Rashid said to Bethanne.

“She doesn’t need to stay on my account,” she replied.

“I believe my mother is more comfortable with her as your chaperone. Otherwise, you might have to stay with my mother.”

Bethanne stared at him in dismay. “You can’t be serious.”

“If we are to continue the pretense, we need to be authentic. I would not have a woman in a home I owned without a proper chaperone—not if I were serious about making her my wife.”

“That’s totally old-fashioned.”

“We are an old culture. We have certain standards and procedures that have served us well for generations. One is the sacredness of the marriage bond. And the high standards we hold for women we make our wives.”

“So you might have a fling with someone in another country, but once in your own, it’s old-world values all the way?”

He nodded, amusement showing at her indignation.

“I protect whom I’m interested in. There would be no gossip or scandal. The full authority of the al Harum family would be behind the woman I showed interest in—as it would for Khalid’s chosen bride.”

“Is he also getting married?”

“Not that I know of. He’s not the older son.”

Bethanne thought it over for a moment. In an odd way, it was interesting. Old-fashioned and a bit chauvinistic, but romantic at the same time. A woman who truly caught Rashid al Harum’s interest and affection would be cherished, cosseted and treated like royalty at every turn.

Lucky girl!

The next morning Bethanne piloted the plane back to Alkaahdar. Rashid sat in the copilot’s seat. Alexes had been declared out of danger, but the doctor in charge wanted him to remain a bit longer for observation to assess his reaction to medications. He would be transported home in another company plane in a few days’ time.

As she flew back, Bethanne was lost in thought as she studied the landscape, so different viewed from the air than on the ground. There were endless miles of sand beneath them, no signs of life. Yet she’d felt the vibrancy of the desert when they’d stopped yesterday.

In a short time she saw the high-rises of the city on the horizon.

“I can’t imagine living down there without the modern conveniences,” she said.

“My brother likes the challenge. He goes to the desert a lot. I’m like you. I prefer modern conveniences—especially air-conditioning.”

“Funny that twins would be so different.”

“More a difference in circumstances. When Khalid was burned so badly, he withdrew. I know the woman he thought to marry was horrified and did not stand by him. I thought he was better out of that arrangement, but it was still a bitter pill to swallow. It was after that he began seeking solitude in the desert.”

“Can’t the burned skin be fixed with plastic surgery?”

“He had some operations, decided against any more. He says he’s satisfied.”

Bethanne knew even with the badly burned slash of skin, Khalid was as dynamic and appealing as his brother. “Too bad.”

“It could have been worse. He could have died.”

Once they landed at the airport, the familiar limousine slid into place near the plane.

“I have work to do. Teaz will take you to the villa. I’ll see you for dinner around seven?” Rashid said.

“I’ll look forward to it,” she said, disappointed they wouldn’t spend this day together. “I’ll double-check things on the plane before leaving.”

Since Rashid would be tied up until later, she’d revisit the café in the square near where her father once lived to see if his friend had shown up. The longer she was around Rashid, the more she wanted to clear her father’s name. It grew in importance as her feelings for the sheikh grew.

S
ATURDAY
Bethanne rose early. Today was the polo match, followed by a dinner dance in the evening. She hoped the dress she’d brought for the actual match was suitable. The light blue cotton had appealed to her the moment she’d first seen it. It was slightly more casual than the dresses Rashid had bought. Suitable for outdoors and easily cleaned if something spilled on it. She hoped she’d chosen well. The sparkle in her eyes and the blush of color on her cheeks showed how excited she was with the excursion.

The maid knocked on the door before nine and told her Rashid was waiting.

Grabbing her small purse and the wide-brimmed hat Rashid has bought in Quraim Wadi Samil, she hurried down to greet him.

He was waiting in the foyer, dressed in jodhpurs and a white shirt opened at the collar. He watched as she ran lightly down the stairs while she could hardly take her eyes off him. He looked fabulous.

“I’m ready,” she said as she stepped onto the tile floor.

“A good trait in a woman, always being on time.”

“Comes from pilot training, I expect,” she said as they went outside.

A small sports car stood where the limousine normally parked.

“I will drive,” Rashid said, escorting her to the passenger’s side.

Bethanne loved riding in a convertible—especially beside Rashid.

Within twenty minutes, they had reached the polo field. The bustle of activity reminded Bethanne of horse races in Texas. Lots of people walking around, studying horses, reviewing printed programs, laughing and talking. Clothing varied from designer originals to the jodhpurs and white shirts that Rashid wore. Once in a while she spotted a man in more traditional robes, but for the most part she could be in England or France, or Texas.

Rashid parked near a stable and Bethanne went with him to one of the stalls where a groom already had a beautiful Arabian saddled.

“This is Morning Star,” Rashid said with affection, patting the arched neck of the horse. His glossy chestnut coat gleamed. His mane and tail had been brushed until they looked silky soft.

“He’s beautiful,” she said, reaching out to pet him as well.

“He is one of four I have. Come, we’ll look at the rest, all great animals. But Morning Star is the one I ride most often.”

Bethanne loved the entire atmosphere of the event. She was introduced to other players. She petted a dozen or more beautiful horses. She watched as the grooms prepared horses for the event.

Khalid was also riding and they visited him shortly before Rashid escorted her to the viewing stands. His welcome wasn’t exactly warm, but better than his mother’s was likely to be, Bethanne thought.

“My mother is already in the royal box,” Rashid said as they began to climb the stairs.

Bethanne’s heart dropped. She had not known she’d be spending time with Madame al Harum. It was enough to put a damper on her enthusiasm. Still, with any luck, the woman would be so busy rooting for her sons, she would ignore the unwelcomed woman her one son was entertaining.

There were several guests in the al Harum box, and Rashid made sure everyone was introduced to Bethanne before he left.

“See you later,” he said, with a special caress on her cheek.

She played the part of adoring girlfriend and told him to win for her.

Smiling at the others, she took a seat left for her on the front row and focused on the playing field and not the chatter around her. Not that she could understand it. Just before the match began, Madame al Harum sat in the seat next to her.

The game was exciting and Bethanne was glad Rashid had gone over the main points so she had a glimmer of an idea how it was played. Often she saw a blur of horses and riders when the players vied for the ball. Other times Rashid would break free and hit the ball down the field. Or Khalid. His horse was a dark bay. That wasn’t the only way she could tell the men apart, but it helped. She seemed tuned in to Rashid and kept her eyes on him for most of the game.

When the match ended, Rashid’s team had won by two points. The people in the box cheered and Bethanne joined right in.

“Come, we will meet them for celebration, then return home to change for tonight’s fete,” Madame al Harum said, touching Bethanne on the shoulder. The older woman walked proudly to the area where the winners were celebrating.

When Rashid saw them, he broke away and crossed swiftly to them, enveloping Bethanne in a hug. She hugged him right back, enthusiasm breaking out.

“It was wonderful! You looked like you were part of the horse. And that one long drive…I thought the ball would never stop.”

“Well done, Rashid,” his mother said, watching in disapproval the animation on Bethanne’s face.

Khalid came over, hugging his mother and standing with his arm around her shoulders as he greeted Bethanne again.

“Great match,” she said with a smile.

He nodded.

“Don’t you ever worry you’ll get hit by the maillot?”

“It’s happened. Glad you enjoyed it. Your first match?” he asked.

“Yes. I hope not my last,” she said. Rashid had mimicked his brother with his arm around Bethanne’s shoulders. She tried not to be self-conscious, but she knew his mother did not approve. She didn’t care. She would not care. It’s not as if they’d made a lifelong commitment to each other. The older woman would find out soon enough.

“Come to the dinner tonight,” Madame al Harum said to Khalid.

“Not tonight. I have other plans.” He gave her a kiss on her cheek, sketched a salute to Rashid and Bethanne and left, weaving his way through the crowd.

His mother watched with sad eyes.

“He never comes,” she said.

“Let him find his own way, Mother,” Rashid said gently.

After Rashid checked with the groom on the state of his horse, he escorted Bethanne to the sports car.

“So how often do you play? When do you find time to practice? Do you ever have games away from Alkaahdar?” she asked, fascinated by the sport.

He answered her questions as he skillfully drove through the city traffic, giving Bethanne a fascinating insight to more of his life.

“I’ll pick you up at six-thirty,” he said when they arrived at the villa. “Dinner starts at seven. And the party will last until late.”

“I’ll be ready,” she said.

Before she could get out of the car, however, he stopped her. “You did well today.”

“I will do fine tonight as well,” she replied gravely. “I’ll be most adoring, now that you won the match.”

He laughed at her sassy remark and watched as she entered the house.

Bethanne dressed with care for the dinner. She wore an ivory-white dress from the ones Rashid had bought. The one-shoulder gown fell in a gentle drape down to the floor, moving when she walked, caressing her skin with the softness of pure silk. Minnah came to ask if she could assist and Bethanne asked her to do her hair up in a fancy style.

The quiet woman nodded and set to work when Bethanne sat in front of the vanity.

“Could you also teach me some Arabic?” Bethanne asked.

“Like what?”

“Pleased to meet you. I am enjoying visiting your country. Just a few phrases?”

“It would be my pleasure,” the maid said.

For the moments it took the maid to arrange her hair, she also taught Bethanne several phrases. With a skill for mimicking sounds, Bethanne hoped she was getting the correct intonation to the sounds she heard.

Minnah beamed with pleasure a few moments later. Bethanne gazed at herself in the mirror, very pleased with the simple, yet sophisticated style the maid had achieved.

“Thank you,” she said in Arabic.

Minnah bowed slightly and smiled. “You pick up the words quickly.”

“I’ll be repeating them from now until we begin dinner,” she said in English.

“His Excellency will be pleased with the effort you have made starting to learn our language. It is good for you to speak Arabic.”

Bethanne didn’t abuse her of the idea that she was being considered for Rashid’s wife. Nothing like servants’ gossip to spread like wildfire. That should suit him.

Bethanne was waiting in the salon when Rashid arrived. He wore a tuxedo. She loved the different facets of the man. From suave businessman to casual polo player to elegant sophisticate. She couldn’t decide which appealed more.

“Ever prompt,” he repeated when he stepped into the salon. “And you look lovely.”

“Thank you,” she said in Arabic, almost laughing at his look of surprise.

He said several words in that language which had her actually laughing aloud and holding up a hand.

“Please, I only learned a very few—such as please and thank you, nice to meet you and I am enjoying my visit.”

“Very well done,” he said.

His obvious approval warmed her.

“The dress is lovely, but missing something,” he said.

She looked down. “I have a wrap on the chair,” she said, moving to gather it.

“I was thinking of jewelry,” he said, stepping closer. From his pocket he pulled out a beautiful necklace of sapphires and diamonds on a white gold chain.

Bethanne caught her breath. “It’s beautiful.” She took a step back. “But I can’t wear that. What if it came undone and was lost?” She couldn’t replace a fine piece of jewelry like that for years.

“It will not come undone and the stones match your eyes. It will complete the dress.”

She looked at the necklace and then at Rashid.

“My intended bride would not come as a pauper to the wedding,” he said.

Of course. It was for show. For a moment she was swamped with disappointment. What had she expected—that he’d really give her a lovely piece of jewelry like that?

“Very well, but it’s on you if it gets lost.”

She stepped forward and held out her hand, but he brushed it aside and reached around her neck to fasten it himself. She stared at his throat, her heart hammering in her chest. The touch of his warm fingers on her neck sent shivers down her spine. She could scarcely breathe.

Bethanne turned when he’d finished, seeking a mirror to see how it looked. There were none in the salon. “I want to see,” she said.

“In the foyer, then we should leave.”

Standing a moment later in front of the long mirror in the foyer, she gazed at her reflection. She looked totally different. It wasn’t only the expensive clothing and jewelry, the sophisticated hairstyle. There was a glow about her, a special look in her eyes. She sought Rashid’s in the reflection. He looked at her steadily.

“Thank you. I feel like Cinderella before the ball.”

“It does not end at midnight,” he said. “Shall we?”

The limo carried them the short distance to the luxury hotel where the dinner was being held. The huge portico accommodated half a dozen cars at a time and Bethanne had a chance to observe the other women getting out of cars and limousines who were wearing designer creations and enough jewelry to open a mega store.

Once inside, Bethanne was delighted with the sparkling chandeliers overhead that threw rainbows of color around the lavish room. Tables were set with starched white linen clothes, ornate silverware and fine crystal glassware. The room was large enough to accommodate hundreds, yet the space was not crowded.

Rashid placed her hand in the crook of his arm, pressing her arm against his side as they walked in. He greeted friends, introducing Bethanne to each. She smiled and gave her newly learned Arabic greeting. Many of the people seemed pleased, and then disappointed she hadn’t yet learned more. They encouraged her to continue learning.

An older man stopped their progression. He spoke to Rashid, but his gaze never left Bethanne.

Rashid answered then spoke in English. “Bethanne, may I present Ibrahim ibn Saali, minister of finance for Quishari. He is a great polo fan. I’ve told him you are my special guest.”

“Come to visit Quishari?” the minister asked.

Bethanne smiled brightly. “Indeed, and I’m charmed by what I’ve seen.” She leaned slightly against Rashid, hoping she looked like a woman in love in the minister’s eyes.

“I thought another was coming,” the minister said.

She looked suitably surprised, then glanced at Rashid. “There had better not be another expected.”

He shook his head, his hand covering hers on his arm. “Not in this lifetime,” he said. To the minister he nodded once. “We are expected at my mother’s table.”

“Nice to have met you,” Bethanne said in Arabic.

The older man merely nodded and stepped aside.

She could feel his gaze as they crossed to the table.

“He’s the one, isn’t he?” she asked.

“Indeed. But your acting skills were perfect.” He glanced down at her and smiled. “If we keep him satisfied, the deal is as good as done.”

When they reached their table, Madame al Harum was already seated. Next to her was an elderly man. He rose when Bethanne arrived and greeted her solemnly. Both expressed surprise at her Arabic response. For a moment she wondered if the older woman would thaw a bit. That thought was short-lived when Madame al Harum virtually ignored Bethanne and indicated that Rashid should sit next to her.

Despite not understanding the language, Bethanne enjoyed herself. The polo club was celebrating their victory and she could clap and cheer with them all. Several speakers were obviously from the club. Rashid leaned closer to give capsulated recaps of the speeches. At one point the speaker on the platform said something that had everyone turning to look at Rashid. He rose and bowed slightly to thunderous applause.

When he sat down and the speaker resumed, she leaned closer.

“What did he say?”

“Just thanks for funding the matches.”

“Ah, so you’re the sponsor?”

“One of several.”

She knew he was wealthy, but to fund a sports team cost serious money. She was so out of her element. No matter how much she was growing attracted to her host, she had to remember in the great scheme of things, she was a lowly employee of a company selling him the jet she’d delivered. He was a wealthy man, gorgeous to boot. He had no need to look to the likes of her when any woman in the world would love to be in her position. How could Haile have chosen someone else over Rashid?