Accidentally the Sheikh's Wife

by Barbara McMahon

  “My father loved to fly and took me up in small planes almost as soon as I could sit up by myself.” She smiled in memory. “It seemed logical when I got older that I, too, would love to fly. I actually learned when I was a teenager, to my mother’s dismay. When I was accepted to the Academy, she really flipped. But I think Dad talked her in to letting me choose my own way. Anyway, I learned to fly a variety of aircrafts and here I am.”

  “So your father taught you to fly?” Rashid asked.

  “No. That I had to do on my own. He was away more than home, actually. Probably why I’m following in his footsteps and seeing the world.” She met his eye, holding it for a moment, silently refuting his ideas about her father.

  “And that was your reason for choosing to attend a military academy?”

  His mother’s eyes grew large at that.

  “Some of the recruitment material said join up and see the world. I knew I’d have the best education and pilot’s training available. And I had a variety of aircraft to train on. I loved learning. And the service requirement enabled me to see Minot, North Dakota, in the dead of winter. Then a tour of Alaska. Can you imagine? I’m one who loves the sun and sea, and my two duty stations were the coldest in the U.S. I left the service when my commitment was up and landed a spot with Starcraft.”

  Rashid enjoyed watching Bethanne talk. He glanced at his mother. She had on that polite face she wore when tolerating others, but not connected to them. He felt a twinge of compassion for her. She would have been so happy to have Haile sitting where Bethanne was sitting. She had met the woman on a trip to Morocco and had definitely approved of her.

  He had seen pictures. She was a pretty woman. But not striking as Bethanne was. And he doubted she’d have shown much personality around his mother.

  What would be his mother’s reaction when he told her about Haile’s fleeing? Nothing would bring her more happiness than to see one of her sons married—especially to a woman she liked. The fact he was the eldest—by seven minutes—made it seem as if the destiny of his family rested on his shoulders. One day he would have to marry—to father the next generation. He pushed aside the thought. As soon as the deal with al Benqura was finalized, he’d tell his mother Bethanne hadn’t turned out to be the one for him after all. Maybe he’d even ask her help in finding him a suitable bride. Being a grandmother would delight her, he was sure.

  “Tell me about North Dakota,” he invited. “The only time I see snow is when we ski in Switzerland.”

  He was charmed by her storytelling skills. She made her experiences seem amusing while also revealing her reactions to different situations. She was skilled at entertaining and in giving him what he wanted—a devoted companion intent on meeting his needs. He hoped his mother saw her in that light. For a little while he could imagine what life would be like married to Bethanne. Never boring, of that he was sure.

  She was having way too much fun, Bethanne thought at one point. This man was being polite in asking questions so she could talk, but she didn’t need to give them her life’s history—though Rashid did seem to be enjoying her rendition of her brief stint as an Air Force pilot. His mother looked rather horrified.

  Glancing around, she could hardly believe she was sitting in an elegant penthouse overlooking the capital city. The furnishings were amazing. She wished her stepfather could see them. And surrounding the penthouse was a spacious terrace that had banks of pots with fragrant flowers. The doors were opened to allow the breeze to enter. It was delightful.

  “You have a beautiful home,” she said to her hostess. She had to find common ground or this dinner would end awkwardly.

  Madame al Harum inclined her head regally. “I decorated it for my husband. He loved to retreat from the world and find a place of beauty.” She glanced at her son. “It’s important that two people have much in common to make a happy marriage.”

  Bethanne also looked at Rashid. His mother wasn’t buying their supposed commitment at all. Would he tell her now?

  “Similar likes and dislikes, certainly,” Rashid said. “But there is something to be said about learning about each other as the years go by, and have enough differences to be interesting.”

  His mother gave Bethanne a sour look and then nodded to her son. “That is important as well.”

  The rest of the meal processed without much comment. Bethanne was glad this was only a charade. She would not like being married into a family where the mother didn’t like her. Or was it only because of her disappointment Haile hadn’t come?

  They did not stay long after dinner finished.

  The ride back to the villa was completed in almost total silence. Bethanne knew Rashid had to be regretting his impetuous suggestion about their charade. Perhaps he’d end it tonight. The thought depressed her.

  To her surprise, Rashid did not simply leave her at the door.

  “It’s early yet. If you are not tired, perhaps a few minutes on the veranda,” he suggested.

  “That would be nice. So do we change the charade now that we both know your mother doesn’t like me?”

  “My mother does not dictate my life. She is annoyed I didn’t bring Haile tonight. She was instrumental in making that arrangement.”

  “It’s more than that. She doesn’t like me. Not just because I’m not Haile, but because of who I am,” Bethanne said. She didn’t need everyone in the world to like her, but she was a bit hurt Rashid’s mother found her wanting.

  “It’s of no account,” he said.

  Of course not. This wasn’t real. It was make-believe—until he had his huge deal signed and sealed. Then she’d be on the next plane to Texas and his life would resume its normal course. Gossip would be quelled. He’d get his way and his mother would be very relieved.

  “Her home was lovely,” she said, looking for conversation. “Did you grow up there?”

  “There and here and other places.”

  He looked out at the garden, visible now by the discreet lighting illuminating paths and special plants. He could hear the soft sound of the sea, noticeably different from faint traffic noise. “My flat today is not as pretty as this estate. It’s downtown, not far from Mother’s. I like living there yet I had almost forgotten how enjoyable this place is.”

  “Well, I appreciate being allowed to stay here. It’s so much better than a hotel.”

  “I’m sure my grandmother would have been delighted to have visitors enjoy her home. She spent several months a year here. But had other property, as well.”

  Well, duh, Bethanne thought. His family probably had two dozen residences among them. She wondered idly if there were enough bedrooms among all the residences for him to sleep in a different one each night of the month. What must that feel like?

  She had a sudden longing for her small apartment, with its familiar furnishings and photos. It might be fun to consider being Cinderella, but at the end of it all, wasn’t she happier in her own home?

  As Bethanne prepared for bed some time later, she thought about the evening. It would not have been better for Rashid’s mother to welcome her into the family. She was not truly involved. And if the woman had liked her, she would have been disappointed when the charade was exposed.

  Talking with Rashid on the veranda had given her a glimpse of what life married to him could be like. Only—there was no good-night kiss. She sighed softly. Was she going to be disappointed with no kiss before returning home? Yes. Yet she wasn’t bold enough to kiss him.

  Before turning off the lights, she opened the French doors to let the sea breeze sweep in. The light curtains billowed. The scents and fragrances from the garden were a delight. She slipped between cool sheets and lay down.

  An hour later Bethanne was still wide awake. She’d tried lying on one side then the other, then flat on her back. Nothing worked. If she had a book or magazine to read, it might lead to sleep. She considered the situation, then sighed and got up. She had not brought a robe, thinking she’d be alone in a hotel room and not need one
. Quietly she dressed in her slacks and shirt. Bare feet would be okay, she was sure. It was unlikely she’d run into anyone. It was after eleven. Surely all the staff had retired for the night.

  She opened the door and stuck her head out, struck suddenly with the romantic-comedy picture that flashed into her mind. People sneaking from one room to another, peering into the hall to make sure the coast was clear. She planned nothing of the sort and stepped boldly out. She walked down the stairs, surprised when she reached the foyer to see a light coming from the library.

  Silently she walked to the doorway. When she was within hearing distance she heard a phone. It was answered before the second ring.

  The words were in Arabic, but she recognized Rashid’s voice. She thought he had left long ago. When he’d bid her good-night, he said he had to pick up something from the library.

  He was still here, and the phone call wasn’t going well—not if the terse tone was anything to go by. She hesitated at the doorway, not wishing to interrupt, but still wanting something to read. She’d come this far; she’d wait for the conclusion of the call and then step in to find a book.

  The conversation didn’t take as long as she’d expected before a harsh word was sounded, then a string of them. She wondered what was going on. He sounded angry. Sudden silence ended the call.

  When the silence had lasted several minutes, she took a breath and stepped closer, knocking slightly on the door frame. She saw him standing by open French doors. His back was ramrod straight. His body seemed to radiate strong emotion in contrast to the stillness with which he held himself.

  He spun around, glaring at her for a second. Then he quickly adjusted his expression to reveal nothing.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing. I thought you left a while ago.”

  “I did. Then I remembered a file I had left and returned for it. I was about to leave when I got a phone call on my mobile phone.” He still held it in his hand.

  “I heard. Not that I understood a word, but it didn’t sound like a very friendly call.”

  “It was from al Benqura. He found out about Haile. She contacted him. He was angry with me for not letting him know.”

  “How awkward that would have been.”

  Rashid sighed and walked back to the desk, leaning against it and nodding. “Awkward for him. He’s threatening to end the deal. I told him in no uncertain terms that would not be acceptable unless he never wanted dealings with anyone in Quishari again.”

  Bethanne could empathize with the father whose daughter had run away and put him in a difficult situation. She watched as Rashid gradually relaxed. He was quick to anger, but also quick to regain his equilibrium. She saw when his curiosity was piqued by her arrival.

  “What are you doing here?” His gaze dropped to her bare feet. His lips curved in a slight smile.

  “I came for a book to read. I can’t seem to sleep. You said you had some English books—I thought I’d get one of those.”

  He nodded and gestured to the shelving on the left. “English books on that wall. My grandmother used to entertain several friends from Great Britain. She has an assortment. The mysteries are on the lower shelves.”

  She crossed, conscious of his regard, and began to scan the titles. Finding a couple that sounded promising, she drew them from the shelf. Had Rashid read them? Could they discuss them after she finished?

  Deciding to take both, she hugged them to her chest as she turned to face him.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “You read them and fall asleep?” he asked.

  “I mean with our charade. Did the phone call help or change things?”

  “We continue. Whichever way the winds blow, we will adapt.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “I DON’T mean to intrude. But if you need someone to talk to, I could listen.” She wished she’d had someone to listen to her when her father’s disappearance became known. Her mother had long ago divorced herself from Hank Pendarvis—both legally and emotionally. She and Bethanne’s stepfather had a loving and happy marriage from which Bethanne had often felt excluded. Plus, they never had a kind word to say about her father. Bethanne wished she could have him give her one of his bear hugs again. Did Haile’s father feel that way?

  “Did he hear from Haile?” she asked.

  “He did. And is furious with her and with me.”

  “You’re the injured party—why is he angry with you?”

  “He believes I should have told him immediately. He could have taken steps. He overrates his power. By the time I found out, Haile had had hours to flee Morocco. She and her lover were married in Marseilles that very day. My telling him would not have prevented that.”

  “Will he tell others? Your minister?”

  “Not if he wants this deal to go through.”

  He pushed away from the desk. “I have my folder. I won’t keep you up any longer.”

  He looked at her slacks and T-shirt.

  “Was sleeping attire not included in the clothes I ordered?”

  “Yes, but no robe. I didn’t know whom I might see if I came down for books.”

  “I shall remedy that in the morning.”

  “Please, I’m fine. Next time I’ll take a book up with me. You’ve been more than generous. I don’t need anything else.”

  “I thought all women loved beautiful things.”

  “I expect we do. But we don’t have to own everything we see. Good night, Rashid.”

  Reaching her room a minute later, she softly closed the door and flung herself on the bed, the books falling on the mattress beside her. She had not expected to see him again tonight. He’d looked tired and somewhat discouraged. Not the best way to end a day. She hoped the deal would be signed soon. There was nothing else she could do but go along and hope in some small part she’d contribute to a satisfactory conclusion to their negotiations.

  Trying to settle into a fictitious mystery when she had a real-life scenario in her own life was difficult. Murder was not involved in her case, but finding clues was. She tried to glean ideas from the book, but her mind turned time and time again to Rashid.

  She knew he believed Hank to be a thief, but wouldn’t he still want answers? Letting the book fall onto her chest, she gazed at the dark night beyond the billowing curtains. The man at the airport had said the son had no idea why her father took the plane. Didn’t he want to know? She couldn’t picture Rashid ignoring the situation. He’d push until he got answers.

  Just before she fell asleep, she pictured herself with Rashid finding her father and finding the reason for the apparent theft. It could be explained away. Then Rashid would look at her with admiration and sweep her into his arms for a kiss….

  She stopped herself—she had to stop fantasizing about his kisses!

  Once again Minnah woke Bethanne the next morning, bringing a breakfast tray. The hot chocolate was as rich and satisfying as the previous day. The croissants were warm and buttery, melting in her mouth.

  She debated going for a swim, but decided she had best set to searching for her father. She wanted to prove to Rashid his belief was misplaced.

  “Pardon, I almost forgot,” Minnah said after she opened the French doors and curtains to allow the sunshine to flood the room. “It is a letter from His Excellency. I will return for the tray in a while.” She handed Bethanne an ivory-colored envelope with her name written in a bold script.

  She opened it and read the brief note, her heart revving up. It had taken ages to fall asleep and then her dreams about Rashid had been exciting and most certainly not ones she wanted to share with anyone. The best favor she could do herself would be to remember always that this was merely make-believe.

  A car will be at your disposal today. The driver will be waiting when you are ready to take you where you wish. He speaks English, and can translate if you wish to stop to shop or have coffee.

  Disappointment warred with relief at the missive.
What had she expected? A love note? An offer to spend the day with her?

  The bold handwriting continued: Saturday I have a polo match, I would like you to attend. Perhaps you’d care to see the horses before the game. If there is not a suitable dress for you to wear, let the maid know and she’ll relay the information and something appropriate will be ordered.

  Bethanne was almost giddy with excitement. Trying not to act like a schoolgirl with a major crush, she took a deep breath. Of course someone being in a position of special guest would want to attend the polo match. Mentally she reviewed the new clothes. She wasn’t entirely certain what was suitable for a polo match, but didn’t think any of the lovely dresses were the right kind.

  Still, the thought of his buying more clothes caused a pang. He didn’t need to spend so much on this charade.

  “Get real,” she said aloud. “He can afford it and the clothes can go to some worthy cause when I leave.”

  Pushing the thought of leaving away, she quickly finished breakfast, showered and dressed in a light tan linen skirt and soft yellow cotton blouse. She planned to take advantage of the driver the sheikh offered to see some of the sights of old town this morning. She couldn’t wait to see the ancient buildings, walk where generations past had walked. And maybe find out more about her father.

  Then, if time permitted, she’d take advantage of the beauty of the Persian Gulf and laze on the beach until Rashid came after work.

  Bethanne was pleased to see the driver at her disposal was the same one she’d asked about her father. She greeted him and told him of her desire to see the old city, and where Hank had lived.

  When they arrived, he pulled into the curb and stopped.

  “I cannot take the car any farther. The road becomes too narrow. Down there two blocks.” He handed her a sheet of paper with Arabic writing. “I wrote his name and when he lived there and where. Show it to people for information about Hank. Many speak some English. If not, come get me to translate. I will wait with the car.”