The Sheikh's Virgin Bride - A Sweet Bought By The Sheikh Romance

by Holly Rayner

  At the sound of someone at the door, I walked over to see that Rashid or someone had hung a dress bag on the door handle. So, taking it and closing the door, I set to changing. Pulling on the gown wasn’t easy, but a quick look in the mirror revealed that my trouble had been more than worth it.

  I looked…

  “Stunning,” Rashid said when he came to the door a few minutes later. He was smiling as if he’d never hurried off strangely at all, so I took his hand with a smile of my own.

  “Thanks. Whoever left it by my door must have good taste.”

  Rashid nodded with a gleam in his eye. “Mm, exquisite taste, actually.”

  The dinner with Rashid’s parents started off well enough. The food was delicious—succulent lamb, spiced chicken, stuffed grape leaves, crisp salads—there seemed to be no end to the dishes that were placed before us.

  The conversation was pleasant enough, too. Rashid’s beautiful, elegant mother, Salma, asked me about fashion and shopping in the U.S., and was insistent that I could be a model in Zayed-Kharan with my looks. Rashid’s father, Jamal—a somewhat frail-looking older man with a thick mustache—talked to me about badminton; he apparently used to play before his health took a turn.

  Then, Jamal let slip that our wedding was in ten days. I shot Rashid a surprised look, but he only nodded in acknowledgement.

  “Yes, the day seems to have crept up on me, too.”

  I said nothing and tried not to let it show in my face how disappointed I was—and afraid. I guess I’d figured I’d have more time with Rashid—ten days was only a little over a week. My reverie, however, was broken by Rashid’s mother.

  “That dress, it’s beautiful and…familiar. Where did you get it?”

  “Thank you. Rashid got it for me.”

  At this, her face froze, while her gaze shot to Rashid.

  “Where did you find it?”

  Rashid, for his part, only shrugged and waved his hand.

  “Oh, I found it hanging it one of the rooms. One of the old, unused closets. I figured it was one of your old things. You don’t mind, do you?”

  Salma’s face had grown white, like she’d seen a ghost. “No, no… I…of course not.”

  Rashid noticed the change in his mother’s face, too.

  “Mother? I’m sorry, should I have asked? Mother… Oh…”

  Now, his face was miserable with understanding, too. He closed his eyes for a moment and, when he opened them, they were directed to her, almost pleading.

  “It didn’t belong to…”

  Both his mother and father looked ready to sink into the table, while Rashid jerked upright.

  Rising, he addressed his parents regretfully. “I’m so sorry. Mother, Father, I…We will be retiring now.”

  Not knowing what else to do, I got up from the table as well. They could only manage half-hearted nods as we strode away.

  As we made our way up the winding marble staircase, Rashid avoided my gaze. Once we’d reached the top, speaking in a bleak, monotone voice, he said, “I’ll bid you good night, now, Lacie. If you need anything, just let one of the attendants know. There’s a little bell in your room if you need to talk to them.”

  He left without a second glance at me. Back in my room, I gave myself a more involved tour of the place. The dark, wooden furniture was gorgeous, and everything perfectly matched. The bed was made of wrought iron which had been hammered into complex, swirling patterns, and even the phone on the dresser was a coordinated matte black.

  The phone. I stared at it for a minute before picking it up and dialing the U.S. area code, followed by my parents’ phone number. My dad picked up on the third ring.

  “Lacie?”

  It was then that I remembered the time difference.

  “Sorry, Dad, what time is it there?”

  “Almost noon, honey. Glad we didn’t miss you during lunch.”

  “Oh, sorry. Do you want me to call back later so you guys can eat?”

  “No.” His voice became stronger-sounding and more cheerful. “No, not at all. Please, Lacie, your mother and I want to hear about your trip.”

  At his trusting, enthusiastic voice, I sighed. No, I couldn’t keep this from them a minute longer. I needed to tell someone.

  “Dad, what if I were to tell you that I met an Arabian king-in-waiting and that he had proposed to me?”

  Dad laughed. “C’mon, Lacie, tell us where you really went. We’re dying to know.”

  “Dad, I’m not joking.”

  Through the phone, I heard a sharp intake of breath, then Dad’s voice again, sounding tired.

  “I’m putting your mother on the phone.”

  A second later, I heard my mom’s strained voice.

  “Hi honey, how are things?”

  “They’re good.”

  “What’s this about a prince and a proposal?”

  I laughed.

  “Okay, so it’s a bit crazy, and I probably shouldn’t have said it like that. But there’s this man I met, Rashid, at the cellphone store. Turns out he’s a Sheikh, next in line to the throne in this tiny Middle Eastern country, Zayed-Kharan. He needs a…bride within two weeks; otherwise, he can’t become leader. He offered me a huge amount of money—a million dollars—if I agreed, so I said yes.”

  Silence.

  “Well, I said probably. I have ten days until the ceremony to decide.”

  More silence.

  “He’s been really generous and understanding so far, and hasn’t pushed me into anything. He flew me here in his private jet and has me staying in his palace.”

  An even longer, more awkward silence.

  “Mom, I know it’s a lot to take in at once, and it sounds kind of crazy, but it’s perfect, don’t you see? With this money, I can take care of you, Dad, all of us. I won’t have to live in that horrible dump and you can get the care you need, and—”

  I was cut short by her half-strangled sob.

  “Mom? Mom, what is it?”

  Her voice was tear-filled and heartbreaking.

  “I…your father and I…we never thought that it would come to this. That you would have given up not only your career for us, but now your heart, too.”

  “Mom, it’s not like that. I mean, I don’t know Rashid really well, but we do get along great, and—”

  “No, no. I can’t agree with this. This is too much. After all this disease has made you give up for me, for us—I can’t ask you to do this.”

  “You’re not, Mom; this is something I want to do, something I know is right.”

  “Do you, though? Do you know that it’s right?”

  Her insistent question caught me off guard. I found myself speechless, staring off into space. I’d known Rashid for less than a week, and after today’s strange occurrences, did I really know for certain that this was a wise decision?

  “Mom, I…”

  “Just think about it, Lacie, please. I always imagined that the day of your wedding would mean so much more, would be the culmination of a beautiful love story, a love story that my beautiful daughter deserved. So, please, before you decide, before you throw your heart away to save me, please, just think about it. Really think if this—living away from your family and friends, married to a man you don’t love—is really what you want. Please, promise me that you’ll at least think this over.”

  Filled with doubt and emotion, all I could manage to say in my own strained voice was, “Okay, Mom, I promise. I will.”

  I stayed on the line for another minute, my head buzzing with things to say, more explanations. Like how Rashid and I had the same sense of humor, how this did feel right…mostly. But then, I thought of Rashid’s strange silences today, the scene at the dinner table, and I realized that as charming and handsome as this man was, I didn’t really know him at all.

  I could hear my Mom’s sad rasps of breath and, after another futile minute, I couldn’t take it. So, with a husky “Bye, I love you,” I hung up the phone.

  There was nothing lef
t to do but turn off the light, collapse into bed, stare at the ceiling and, once again, will myself to sleep—this time, miserable for an entirely different reason.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rashid

  The next morning, I apologized by having breakfast delivered to Lacie’s room, then going there myself to apologize in person. She was as understanding as could be expected, especially since I could only offer her a weak promise that I’d explain everything later.

  I was shocked, however, when she then stomped her foot at the floor and raised her voice at me. “Do you mean to tell me that you’re not going to tell me every single thing about you, after I just did that for you?”

  It was only as I gaped at her, that I saw the corner of her mouth twitching.

  “You…”

  She giggled. “I totally got you.”

  I assumed a noble expression, turning my head away. “I suppose you aren’t interested in our day trip, then.”

  “What—no!”

  “I mean, we were going to go to the beach, but if you’re too angry at me…”

  “Rashid!”

  Finally, turning back to face her, I let the grin come onto my face.

  “Okay, okay. You have thirty minutes to get ready. Let me know if you need anything.”

  And then I turned to leave, not quite so fast that I didn’t catch her little excited whoop behind me.

  The day went better than I could’ve dreamed of. Lacie was enchanted with everything—from the white sand beach I took her to that was reserved only for the royal family, to the sweet, traditional treats of Zayed-Kharan that I had delivered to our private cabana. I even got her to paddle in the ocean with me, and her nervous apprehension was made worth it when we spotted a pod of dolphins.

  That night, I gave her a chaste kiss goodnight, turning away and leaving immediately afterwards. It was only once I was halfway down the darkened hall that I left myself catch my breath.

  I had done the right thing, leaving like that. I couldn’t kiss Lacie on the lips, not yet. I couldn’t quite let myself give in to the growing passion within me, which had only grown as I spent more time with her. Although I was developing feelings for her, I was unsure if she felt the same.

  The rest of the week was more of the same: day trip after day trip, days and nights talked and laughed through. We hit up every tourist destination I knew of—old and new, popular and off the beaten track. I showed her the tallest mall in the world and bought her an entire wardrobe-full of new clothes; we adventured through the ruins of my ancestors as I gave her mini-history lessons on my homeland.

  As we sat on our camels and prepared to journey deep into the desert, I reflected on all of our adventures and, most of all, Lacie. How, through fancy dinners and sandstorms alike, she’d stayed the same appreciative, pleasant joy to be around.

  Lacie broke me out of my reverie. “What? Worried I’ll out-camel you?”

  “Certainly not. This isn’t my first camel rodeo, but it is yours!”

  I urged my camel into a jog, and Lacie followed close behind. It wasn’t long, however, before we tired of the chase, so we agreed on a truce and let our camels resume their normal, lazy pace. As they trekked, we talked quietly, of our favorite movies and foods (I made a mental note that hers was mango). After a while, the sun had set and my camel’s braying fatigue became my own.

  “Want to stop? We’re about half an hour from the hotel; we could have our picnic here,” I called to Lacie.

  She agreed, so we got off our camels and set out our supplies. The red blanket my mother had woven did the trick as a nice blanket on the sand, while the plastic containers of chicken and rice she’d packed were delicious.

  We sat there, Lacie and I, our sides touching, quietly eating our meals, while our camels stayed tied to the stick I’d shoved into the sand. Every once in a while, I’d look over, sure that the adorably awestruck look on Lacie’s upturned face would be gone, worn off. And yet, each time I looked over, she looked happier than the last time.

  Finally, I asked her, “What do you see?”

  Surprised, she glanced at me, her eyes still full of wonder.

  She smiled. “Oh Rashid, it’s beautiful. I mean, look at it.” She took my hand and whispered in my ear, “That unbroken gold carpet of sand, the navy ocean of sky, the silver pinpricks of stars. It’s stunning.”

  And, as she spoke in her soft, sweet voice, maybe it was her hand in mine, or maybe it was me straining my eyes with all my might, but, for a second, I saw it how she did. I truly appreciated the endless sandy vista before me, with its black-blue ceiling and white twinkles of stars. I saw, perhaps for the first time, just how beautiful it all was—this sight, this very moment.

  The wind kissing our cheeks carried the scents of our feast and far-off flowers from somewhere. I absorbed the beauty we were right in the middle of—and, most of all, the most wonderful part—the extraordinary woman I was beside. She, who had somehow made me see it too, somehow let me experience it with her.

  “Doesn’t it make you feel so grateful?” she whispered.

  I nodded and turned to face her. “Yes. Yes it does.”

  Now, I couldn’t stop myself. I took her chin in my hands and turned her face towards mine. Then, I pressed my lips to hers. In that second, nothing else existed but kissing her. Her lips were soft, giving, allowing mine to do what they pleased. My hands cupped her face, then ran down over her shoulders, down her arms, holding her sides.

  A camel brayed and I jerked back. I looked at her, stricken.

  “Lacie, I’m so sorry, I got so swept up in the moment…”

  In the moonlight, she was luminous, angel-like.

  “Don’t apologize.”

  I was rendered speechless with her quiet confidence, her silent understanding. She turned her attention back to the sky and spoke to it.

  “It’s nice, your dedication to your parents. Not many people back home would understand it. Most don’t even understand what I’ve been doing for my parents.”

  Her words surprised me. “Really? What do people in the U.S. value, then?”

  She shrugged and waved her hand dismissively.

  “Themselves.” She returned her gaze to me with a sheepish half-smile. “Though, it’s not their fault, really; it’s how they were raised. Our culture and values can be hard to escape.”

  After a few seconds of quiet, she shook her head.

  “I shouldn’t have said that—that not many people back home would understand me sacrificing going to school for my parents. Really, it was only one person, mainly—or one person who came out and said it, I guess. She thought it was a stupid decision.”

  “Oh?”

  “Nadia. She was the woman in the video, the one who was laughing about me being…about me never having been with anyone.”

  My gaze flicked to her, surprised. “That woman is your friend?”

  She nodded. “Yeah…well, she and I have been friends since we were kids. She’s always been like that.”

  The longer my gaze searched the profile of her face, the less it found.

  “But why?”

  Still, she avoided my gaze. “I…don’t know.” She sighed. “She just chose me to be her friend when we were young. She’s always been the outgoing one, the assertive one who threw the parties and was popular. She’s never been very kind to me, but I guess I always figured…”

  The answer came to her as another angry sigh.

  “I’m afraid, that’s why. Or, I was, anyway. Of ditching her and having no friends, having no one to talk to, having her shun me.”

  I gave a nod of understanding, but she wasn’t finished yet.

  “But I was wrong. What’s the worst is letting her keep treating me how she has.”

  Her usually shy, quiet demeanor had changed into a bolder aura, and she continued.

  “Earlier, in the plane, you were right; I was afraid. Ever since I was a kid I’ve hated being the center of attention, to the extent that I refused any
thing that involved public speaking—or even just standing in front of a crowd. And back there, I was freaking out, and yet, when you squeezed my hand and whispered in my ear—” her eyes locked on mine, “Everything was okay.”

  After hearing her words, I felt some of my own bubbling up inside me. The truth that I’d kept locked away, of which it was time to reveal. I turned to her and took her hands.

  “A few days ago, with the dress and my parents getting upset. I want to explain it to you, make you understand—that it wasn’t about you at all. It was about my sister.”

  The more I spoke, the worse I felt. I almost wanted to tell her that I had to stop, that I couldn’t bear it. And yet, as the weight grew heavier, I knew it wouldn’t let up until I’d said it entirely.

  “Aliya was her name. My darling younger sister. She was the kindest, most gentle girl I’ve ever known. We spent all our time together, the two of us, chasing each other when we were young, discussing everything under the sun when we were older. She died in a car accident the day before her 16th birthday.

  “My parents were devastated. That was when my father’s illness really set in; I think he just couldn’t take the stress of it all. They still haven’t gotten over the loss, and I think they may never get over it. That’s partly why I’m so determined to attain the crown. I don’t want to disappoint them; I’m not sure they could handle it.”

  Lacie took my hand. “We won’t disappoint them.”

  My nervous eyes found hers. “Are you sure?”

  Her answer came bluntly. “No.”

  I was so pleased with her quiet honesty that I wanted to kiss her again. Instead, I leaned onto my back. As I patted the blanket beside me, she lay down next to me. There, I put my arm around her, and we watched the stars and enjoyed a comfortable silence. It was perfect.

  And yet, as she drifted off beside me, I couldn’t do the same myself. No, all of today—our chats, our kiss, our heart-to-heart—had only solidified the impression growing in my head.

  This was perfectly right—and perfectly wrong.

  Lacie was an even better woman than I could’ve hoped for—not only was she beautiful and accepting, but she was smart, soulful, caring, and funny. And yet, this didn’t reassure me that rushing into a wedding with her was the right thing, no. All it did was make me wish that we had more time.