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Accidentally the Sheikh's Wife

Page 17

by Barbara McMahon


  A quick cursory inspection upon arrival showed the jet empty—except for the dress he’d bought her in Marrakech. She truly had wanted nothing from him except to find her father. A woman more unlike Marguerite he’d never find.

  He pulled out his cell phone and called his office, setting every assistant he had with the task of finding Bethanne Sanders. He also instructed them to let him know the minute the Starcraft office opened in Texas. He had to find her and he was calling in all markers to do so.

  Impatiently Rashid drove back to his office. He would find out more from there than running around town. Walking in, he began to fire questions at his assistant.

  “Did you check the local hotels? How about car rental companies? Car hire companies. She has to be somewhere.”

  The assistant nodded. “We’ve been checking every place in the capital city, Excellency.”

  “I have a confirmation,” one of the clerks said, looking worried.

  “And?” Rashid snapped.

  “She departed the airport at eleven on a flight to Rome.”

  Rashid couldn’t believe she’d left.

  He went into his office and closed the door.

  Bethanne watched as the smoggy air of Rome seemed to encase the airliner as it descended into Leonardo Da Vinci Airport. She had several hours to wait for a connecting flight to New York. Time enough to visit a few of the highlights of the city. She couldn’t muster much enthusiasm for that, however. Still, who knew if she’d ever be in Rome again? And it beat the other choice—sit and brood.

  When they landed, she waited until more impatient passengers had deplaned, then followed. Finding a locker, she stowed her flight bag and went to find a cab to drive her around the city. Her flight did not depart until ten that evening. She had time to see some of Rome and get a fabulous dinner before heading for the United States.

  Despite her best efforts, Bethanne couldn’t help comparing what she saw in the city with the buildings and architecture she’d loved in Quishari. Both countries were old, both rich in history. She was fascinated by all she saw and wished she could share it with Rashid.

  How long would it be until she no longer felt his loss like a part of her had been cut out? She knew she would survive, but wasn’t sure she wanted to. She ached with longing to see him again. Touch him. Share a warm kiss. Go sailing or flying. Or just spend the evening on the veranda listening to the waves of the sea.

  Hours later, after finishing her dinner, she took another taxi back to the airport. The city gleamed with lights, looking beautiful in the soft illumination. But Bethanne was blind to it all. It was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears.

  She probably had no job. Would be hard-pressed to find another one as perfect as this one had been. She had walked away from the only man she’d ever loved, which had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. Harder than acknowledging finally that her beloved father was gone. Raw emotions had her so confused. She wanted to go home, crawl into bed and weep for a week.

  Her future was uncertain, except for the ache in her heart. She pressed a hand against her chest, trying to ease the pain.

  She’d found her father, but would have traded that for another few days with Rashid al Harum. Pretending they were falling in love.

  Or not pretending, falling for real.

  She retrieved her flight bag when she reached the airport. Shopping at one of the kiosks there, she couldn’t find any books in English. She’d do better to sleep on the flight, but was too keyed up. Finding a couple of magazines she could look at, she headed for her gate.

  “Bethanne.”

  Turning, she stared at Sheikh Rashid al Harum. Or a man who looked a lot like him. She shut her eyes tightly, then opened them. He still stood in front of her.

  “Rashid?” she asked tentatively.

  “You constantly surprise me. Makes for an interesting relationship.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m flying to the United States on a flight that leaves at ten. You?”

  She licked her lips. “I’m leaving on that flight, too. Why are you going to the United States?”

  “To spend time with you, of course.”

  “Of course? There’s no of course. You made your feelings perfectly well known to me.”

  “Perhaps we have a minor misunderstanding.”

  “Rashid, what’s going on?”

  “I didn’t expect you to leave like that. I guess I expected more Yankee tenacity.”

  “What are you talking about? You practically ordered me to leave. I don’t understand.”

  He glanced at his watch, stepped out of the way of a porter with a trolley of bags. Taking her arm, he pulled her to the side of the concourse. “It’s not often I admit to making mistakes. I try not to make them to begin with. But I made a monumental one with you.”

  “Pretending to be involved?” That hurt.

  “Not admitting when the pretense ended.”

  “When you signed the contract in Marrakech,” she said.

  “No, when it changed to love.”

  Bethanne’s eyes widened. “If you’re throwing that up to me—”

  “What I’m trying to say is that I love you.”

  Rashid smiled at her look of astonishment, dropping his briefcase and pulling her into his embrace, kissing her on the mouth.

  “Rashid!” she exclaimed when she pulled back. “This is a public place.”

  “So? I want the world to know I love you. What better place to start than here?”

  “Here?”

  “Everyone is greeting someone or bidding them farewell. Kisses are not out of the ordinary. Though I prefer our kisses to be in private. I don’t wish to share.”

  “Did you say you loved me?” she asked.

  “I did. I’ll say it again. I love you, Bethanne Sanders. I fought against it. I didn’t want to fall in love—my experience with that emotion has not been good. But foolish thought, that I can control emotions. You are all I have ever sought for in a partner. Beautiful, smart, talented in ways I can’t compete, and interesting enough to keep me enthralled for decades.”

  She laughed, throwing her arms around his neck. “I am so unsuitable to be the wife of Arabian royalty. I’m much too casual in dress and manner to impress your associates. I want to fly whenever I can and I really don’t think your mother is going to be at all happy with this. But I love you! I’ve been in the biggest funk ever since I left Alkaahdar. I thought I’d never see you again.”

  “I couldn’t believe you left.” He hugged her tightly, as if he’d never let her go. “So does this mean you will marry me? Live with me in Quishari? Spend our nights together, maybe even have a few kids to round things out? I love you, my dearest Bethanne. Will you marry me?”

  She stared at him, faces so close she could not see anything around them. Her heart pounded. He’d asked her to marry him. Dare she risk it?

  Dare she refuse?

  “I would be so honored, but you must know what you’re doing first.”

  “Oh, I know exactly what our life will be like. We’ll live at the villa. My grandmother loved that house. We can raise our children to love the sea and the air. Will you insist on their learning to fly?”

  “Perhaps not insist. But if they love it, we can’t stand in their way. Are you serious? About everything? Marriage, children? You and me?”

  “I love you. Why wouldn’t I want to spend the rest of my life with you? I thought a lot about my father and his love and daughter in Quraim Wadi Samil. His happiness could not be complete because he never severed the legal bonds that kept him from staying with the woman he loved. I don’t want to be dying and regret a single moment we spent apart.”

  “I never thought I’d get married. I wanted the life my father had—flying around the world. But he found his spot in Quishari. He lived there the longest of any place after he was an adult. And I know why. I love what I’ve discovered about Quishari. I think I would be happy living there. A
nd flying wherever the mood takes us.”

  “I have just the plane for that.”

  The announcement for their flight was made.

  He hugged her and then released her. “So, do we go on to the U.S. or back to Quishari?”

  “Whichever you choose,” she said.

  “Ah, the perfect answer for a perfect wife-to-be.” He dropped a quick kiss on her lips.

  “This time. I’m not planning to become a yes person,” she warned, warmth in her voice.

  He laughed, clasping her hand in his and retrieving his briefcase. “I never expected that. I’ll take it when I can get it. Let’s go to Texas so I can meet your parents and tell them of our plans.”

  “My mother is going to be astonished.” And, she bet her mother would be thrilled to know her daughter was marrying a sheikh.

  “I believe my mother will be as well,” he said wryly.

  “I told you, I value truth. Your mother’s honest. Maybe she’ll come around one day, or maybe not. It will never change how I feel about you. I love you. I always will.”

  “That I’ll hold you to.” He lifted her hand to kiss it. “I will always love you,” he vowed. “Come what may, we’ll always have to look for clear skies and smooth flights.”

  “Always.”

  The future beckoned bright with happy promise.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-5007-3

  ACCIDENTALLY THE SHEIKH’S WIFE

  First North American Publication 2010.

  Copyright © 2010 by Barbara McMahon.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

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