The Sheikh's Fake Courtship (Halabi Sheikhs Book 2)

by Leslie North

  “It’s not. Try a bite.” Chadil held out his plate, and it seemed rude to refuse.

  “Okay. Here goes nothing.”

  Chadil leaned in as she took a bite, watching intently. Raina braced herself for the awfulness, but it never came. The eggplant was crisp on the outside, soft in the middle, delicious all the way through.

  “Oh. That’s incredible.” She licked her lips and blushed. “I could eat this forever.”

  “Didn’t I tell you?”

  “You did.” She took another bite, savoring the spices. “I’ll never doubt you again. Not when it comes to food.”

  “And the rest of it?” An earnest note crept into Chadil’s voice. “I don’t want our fake courtship to be a chore for you. What can I do to make it easier?”

  Raina thought about that as she chewed her eggplant. “I was looking at our itinerary,” she said. “It’s all so formal, meetings with dignitaries, business dinners. I get that we need to impress the traditional crowd, but I don’t know. Fiona said she does school visits. I’d love to go on one of those. And the zoo, the botanical gardens—I feel like I should see Al-Mifadhir, not just be seen.”

  Chadil nodded slowly. “It’s been a while since I’ve done any of that. I’ll admit it could be nice.”

  “So we’ll go?”

  “I don’t see why not.” His expression turned serious. “There’s just one other thing. You mentioned wanting to work—”

  “No.” Raina set down her fork. “I mean, I did, but that was before I realized how involved this would be.” She smiled, a little shakily. “I promised you a courtship, right? The whole point is to look good. Might be tough if I’m tired all the time, trying to juggle a job.”

  “Thank you.” Chadil’s shoulders sagged. “I didn’t want to tell you no. I wouldn’t have. But this does make things easier. I appreciate it.”

  The door opened again, admitting a maid with a dessert tray. Chadil pushed a few plates aside to make space. “Shall we hash out the details over something sweet? Fashion a courtship we can both enjoy?”

  Raina nodded, feeling lighter. Maybe this would be fun after all. “I loved the hospital trip,” she said. “More days like that would be lovely.”

  “Quiet ones?” Chadil smiled, a touch ruefully. He leaned back and closed his eyes. “I’ll admit, today was hectic, even for me. But we have to be seen. Days like today, where everyone gets a picture—”

  “I didn’t mean we should hide away.” Raina shifted closer, inched her hand toward his. “I meant, technically, I’m from here, but I grew up on the other side of the world. Today, I met the press. At the hospital, I met people. I want to do more of that, go places I can meet ordinary folks. Let them take my picture, along with the press.”

  “I like that. We could—” Chadil’s phone buzzed, but he flipped it to silent. Raina let her hand move all the way to his, and before she knew it, their fingers were laced together. “We could go to the zoo. You’re great with kids.”

  “I do love kids. And animals.”

  “And the bazaar. You’d love the bazaar, and the press would eat that up, the royal couple supporting local artisans.” His smile turned warm, and Raina felt her heart melt. She leaned in, and to her surprise, Chadil pulled her close, draping an arm around her shoulders. His warmth was comforting, and she let her head rest on his shoulder.

  “I’ll see what I can do about keeping the press at a distance. Candid shots are nice, but we don’t need them following us all the time.” His voice rumbled against her, soothing as a cat’s purr. Raina’s eyelids felt heavy.

  “They’re not so bad, mostly,” she said. “Just when they all crowd around, with the flashes in our faces...”

  “I’ll tell them no flashing.” He nudged her, his knee knocking against hers. “Do you need to lie down? I could escort you to your suite.”

  “I’d rather stay here a while.” Raina’s cheeks went hot. “It’s nice out here, with the fire and the fresh air. And...with you.” She held her breath, but Chadil didn’t stiffen or pull away.

  “It is,” he agreed, and she closed her eyes and listened to him breathe. If she could keep finding these pockets of contentment, this warmth in his arms, maybe she’d find more here than some tawdry charade. A friendship.

  Or...

  8

  Chadil joined his brothers on their way to breakfast, tucking his phone away as he hurried to catch up.

  “Someone’s in a good mood,” said Bas. He and Danyal exchanged a knowing look, but Chadil waved them off.

  “I’m not getting distracted, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He grinned broadly, allowing himself a moment of smugness. “Did you see today’s papers?”

  Danny chuckled. “What, you and Raina with those kids?”

  “Raina reading to a circle of adoring children, smiling like an angel all the while.” The photo hadn’t done the moment justice, how the sun had made a halo of her hair, but the article had hit all the right notes. “They love her,” he said, “the press and the people alike. Especially the old guard. That profile on her family really won us some points.”

  “Did you see that other article?” Danny poked him between the shoulder blades “The one about how many kids you’re going to have?”

  “What?” Chadil scowled. “What paper was that in?”

  “The Sunrise.”

  Chadil’s frown turned murderous, but Bas bellowed laughter. “What are you doing reading The Sunrise?”

  “It has the best football commentary.” Danny slowed as they approached the terrace and the breakfast table. “Forget the press, though. How are you getting along?”

  “Getting along with what?”

  Bas shot him a disbelieving look. “With each other, of course. Are you having any fun?”

  Light laughter drifted from the terrace. Chadil turned toward it, smiling in spite of himself. “We’re fine,” he said, distracted. “She’s a little unpolished, but she plays her role well.”

  “That’s not what we’re talking about.” Bas glanced at Danny. “I’m asking how you like her. Could it be there’s something there?”

  “That’s your romantic side talking.” Chadil reached for his phone, though it hadn’t buzzed. He thumbed it open, hoping Bas would take the hint.

  “And there goes Chadil, hiding behind his phone.” Danny flicked the back of his head. “You’re lucky I’m hungry, or you wouldn’t get off so easy.” He snapped his fingers at Edlyn, who was helping herself to a scone. “Hey, there, Miss Piggy! Leave some for me.”

  “Silence speaks volumes,” said Bas, setting off after Danny. “Don’t think I don’t see you.”

  “See me? I’m—” Chadil shut his mouth. Bas was halfway through the door, headed for Fiona and the baby. He took a seat next to them and paused to kiss them both. Little Graham grabbed his tie and Bas pretended to choke, but Chadil found himself watching Raina. She was deep in conversation with Zenab, leaning close to listen. Chadil strained to hear, but their voices were lost in the drone of conversation.

  Zenab held up one finger. Raina’s expression changed, first to shock, then amusement.

  “No!”

  “Yes. It’s true.”

  Raina threw back her head and laughed. “They turned blue? That’s hysterical.” She touched Zenab’s arm, and Chadil felt a twinge somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. He wanted to make her laugh like that, not just today, but every day. Raina was quick to mirth, generous with her smiles, but it still felt like his birthday when she turned that light on him.

  Edlyn tapped Raina’s arm and offered her a scone. She took one for herself and halved one for Zenab. It was sweet, the way she’d taken to the older lady. Most people listened politely, let her trot out a story or two before making their excuses, but Raina’s interest seemed genuine. She even reached for the honey without being asked, sweetening Zenab’s tea.

  “Don’t let your own get cold—always tending to everyone else.” Zenab slapped Raina’s hand away, and Chadil
could see why his aunt had brought her here. Raina fit into the family like she’d been there all along, gracious with Bas and warm with Edlyn, swapping jokes with Danny and Fiona. With Chadil, she was all that and more, kind and open, brave and honest. She’d thrown herself into their courtship, and it wasn’t so hard to picture a world where it didn’t end in goodbye. Where he woke up beside her every day, shared his worries with her, and his triumphs.

  Raina licked jam off her spoon. Chadil flashed back to their night together, how she’d taken what she wanted without shame. He wouldn’t say no to that, either, rekindling that passion with no need for false names.

  Princess Raina. He could see that, and it seemed the people could, too, particularly the more traditional elements. If she was perfect on paper and wonderful in the flesh, why not follow his heart?

  He couldn’t think of a single reason he shouldn’t.

  Raina spotted Chadil and smiled. He grinned back, sort of crookedly, and a warm feeling spread through her. That was his real smile, the one he reserved for private moments. She raised her hand to beckon him over, but his phone chose that moment to go off. His brow knit with exaggerated frustration, and she laughed. Zenab made a tutting sound.

  “Is he ever off that thing? I preferred the days you could let a maid answer, and they’d assume you weren’t home.”

  “Me too,” said Raina, though she could only imagine those days. “That’s not a person, though. It’s one long buzz when someone calls. Two quick ones is a social media alert.”

  “Social...oh, don’t tell me.” Zenab reached for a pomegranate. “Sarah set me up one of those Facebooks, but I don’t see the point. Why peck out messages on your phone when you could have a nice lunch, chat it up at your leisure?”

  “Yeah. I’m with you.” Raina hid a secret smile. Chadil’s thumbs were flying, composing tweets, maybe, or setting up their next appearance. She’d looked into his job, what a PR expert actually did, and it was bewildering, the timed tweets and Google alerts, social calendars and image management. His phone was the hub holding all of it together—and holding him in thrall.

  “He’ll be at it a while,” said Edlyn. “I swear, he’d marry that thing if he could.”

  Fiona chuckled. “Like that emperor who married his horse?”

  “Who, Caligula? He didn’t marry it. He tried to make it a consul. But he got stabbed before he could.” Edlyn waved at Chadil, but he didn’t look up. “Oh, yeah. He’s gone.” She turned to Raina. “Tell me he puts it away when you’re out together.”

  “He does,” she said. “Mostly.” She snickered at the idea of Chadil exchanging I dos with his phone. “I have to admit, I don’t get it. Sure, you want to make a good impression, but people will think what they want to. You go out, you do your best, but you can’t plan for everything. Or maybe he can?”

  “Are you at least having fun?” Fiona lowered her voice. “This part should be fun. It’s how you get to know each other.”

  “I am.” Raina’s smile brightened. “We went to that school you mentioned, with the mural. They’ve asked us back for their talent show. Chadil was all ahem, time permitting, but I know he wants to go.” She glanced at him, pride swelling in her chest. “I love that he cares. He gets hung up on appearances, but that’s not all it is for him.”

  Bas looked up sharply but said nothing. Zenab poured herself another cup of tea. Chadil was taking forever, frown deepening as he stabbed at his screen. Raina liked him best when he got distracted, when he forgot about work and just lived. When he kissed her in the back seat, separated from the press by a pane of tinted glass.

  “Excuse me,” she said. She stood up and went to him, joining him in the doorway. “Chadil?”

  He grunted, barely glancing up.

  “Chadil.”

  This time, he coughed, and his expression changed. “What am I doing?” He shut off his phone and stashed it in his pocket. “I’ve forgotten my manners, haven’t I?”

  “And your shoes.”

  He glanced down and blinked. “What? I’m wearing shoes.”

  “But you had to check.” Raina gave him a stern look. “That’s how you know you’re too into something, when you can’t remember if you’re dressed.” She took him by the hand. “Now, have you had breakfast? Do you remember?”

  “I haven’t,” he said. “And forgive me. No phones from now on, at least when we’re together.” He followed her back to the table and took his place at her side. Raina poured coffee while Chadil filled his plate.

  “I just saw this horror movie,” said Danny, barely repressing a smile. “There’s this writer, a novelist, and he finds this review. Only, it isn’t a regular review, of a book he’s already written. It’s about the one he’s working on, and every time he changes something, the review updates to match. But he never gets five stars, and he slowly goes insane, trying to please this phantom reviewer.”

  Chadil raised a brow. “What are you trying to say?”

  “Nothing. I’m just telling you about a movie I saw.” Danny chuckled into his fist. That got Edlyn started, and even Bas joined in. Raina smiled, a little sadly. She’d grown up an only child. Family meals had been sober affairs: Dad listening to the news, Mom interjecting little comments then grilling her on school once the broadcast ended. There hadn’t been much joshing, no in-jokes to speak of.

  “I think I saw that movie,” she said. “Wasn’t he the one writing the review, driving himself nuts the whole time?”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it,” said Bas. “We’re all our own worst critics.”

  “Okay, point taken.” Chadil slapped at Bas, but he looked more pleased than irritated. A pang went through Raina, sharp and sudden. Leaving the palace wouldn’t be easy, once her obligations were through. She was falling for Chadil, and just as much for his family.

  Saying goodbye would hurt like hell.

  9

  Raina squinted as she stepped into the light. The ballroom was dazzling, crystal glasses scattering rainbows across the walls as chandeliers burned overhead. She clutched Chadil’s arm tighter, suddenly nervous. She’d prepared for the formality of the occasion, practicing curtseys and greetings till she felt like a kid playing princess, but she hadn’t anticipated the number of guests. The room was packed to overflowing, guests spilling into the garden and clustering around the refreshments.

  Heads turned as she entered, and a murmur went through the crowd. Raina glanced at Chadil, and he smiled.

  “These are our friends,” he said. “They all love you already. All you have to do is say hello.”

  Raina surveyed their faces, her heart in her mouth. She’d met a few of them as a child, she was sure, but which ones? Would they be insulted if she didn’t remember? Surely not, after twenty years, but you never knew with people.

  “Kadir bin Abdulaziz,” whispered Chadil, as a slender man made his way to the front. “Our ambassador to Libya. His father and yours were quite close.”

  “Nice to see you again,” said Kadir. “I don’t suppose you remember me. We went riding once, your family and mine.”

  “By the aqueduct?” Raina did remember that day, though she couldn’t recall Kadir. Still, her answer seemed to please him, and he sketched a little bow.

  “Just so,” he agreed. “You were just tiny, riding double with your father. How is he, by the way? Can we expect a visit soon?”

  “That’s our hope,” said Raina, as she and Chadil had rehearsed, no dates, no promises, only optimism. “He talks about visiting all the time. I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

  An older couple came forward, and Kadir stepped aside. Raina found herself relaxing as she fielded the same questions over and over—yes, her parents were well. Yes, they hoped they’d soon toast her nuptials. Yes, Chadil was wonderful—and she turned to him every time she said so, and he smiled back every time. He stood stolidly by her side, a reassuring presence, and soon she’d forgotten her fears.

  Chadil squeezed her hand as the crowd began to thin. �
�You’re doing wonderfully,” he said. “Didn’t I say you’d charm them? I’ve been watching, and everyone’s walking away happy.”

  “I thought I’d stick out like a sore thumb, but all I feel is welcome.” Raina brightened as the orchestra struck up. “Ooh, music. That should shift the focus off us.”

  “Or we could dance.” Chadil gestured at the floor. A few couples had linked arms already and were spinning and wheeling under the lights. Raina stepped back, swallowing panic.

  “I don’t think that would end well,” she said. “I’m terrible, remember?”

  “So you say, but I have a hard time believing that.”

  Raina shot him a look, but Chadil took her by both hands, leading her away from the crowd.

  “You broke your prom date’s toe, but are you sure he wasn’t half to blame?” He smiled at her surprised expression. “Oh, yes. I was listening. But you know that saying, ‘It takes two to tango’? It really does. I’d no more let you crush my toe than I’d let you knock down those glasses over there.”

  Raina glanced at the tower of champagne glasses. She saw herself careening into them, the cream of Al-Mifadhir society fleeing as shards of glass scattered at their feet.

  “Don’t look there,” said Chadil, turning her back toward the dancers. “Look at them. What do you see?”

  “Beauty. Grace. A line of dominos for me to topple.”

  Chadil snorted. “Look again. Over by the window.” He turned his gaze across the room, where an older couple stood swaying to the music. “Do you think they’re embarrassed? They can’t dance for beans, but they’re having a fine time.”

  Raina watched them doubtfully, but Chadil was already urging her toward the dance floor.

  “Think of it this way: it’s my toes at risk, if you’re really so clumsy.”

  “I’ll remember you said that.” She laughed, a little breathlessly, as Chadil swept her into his arms.

  “Keep your feet on the floor,” he said. “Shuffle them after mine.”