Engaged to the Sheik

by Sue Swift

  Chuckling, he obeyed, while a nearby diner said, “You’re kidding me.”

  She turned. “Hey, it’s an emergency.”

  “They all say that,” he grumbled, picking up a slice of bacon.

  After a minute or two Kam connected, speaking in rapid Arabic before handing the phone to Selina. “Um, hello, sir,” she said cautiously into the phone. How did one address a king? She hadn’t a clue. Would he want her to call him Your Majesty? She hoped not. That would be weird.

  “Hello, my daughter.” The king’s voice was rich and warm, with a delightful accent. He sounded as though he spoke English infrequently.

  “Uh, hi. Sorry about that. We were, uh, talking.”

  “Yes, and I am sorry to have interrupted you. We are delighted to hear that you and Kamar are getting on so well. When will we meet you?”

  “I don’t know. We’re talking about staying together, though.”

  “It would give us much pleasure if you would remain with my son,” the king said. “He needs the steadying influence of marriage to a nice girl.”

  Selina’s mind whirled.

  “When he came to visit us last week and told us of you, I thought you sounded perfect.” The king couldn’t have seemed kinder, but Selina’s heart chilled, as though an icy blanket of suspicion encased it, freezing her joy.

  “Is that right?”

  “Oh, yes. I was appalled at how he had treated you. I have told him time and again that he had to manage his women more honorably.”

  Manage his women. Could this conversation get any more horrible? But she had to know. “What, exactly, did you tell him?” She eyed Kam.

  “That he had to go back to America and make it up to you.”

  “Oh.”

  Realization struck Selina like the devil’s hammer.

  Kam hadn’t come back to her of his own free will.

  He’d seduced her into loving him, but not because he loved her. He’d been following orders.

  Her hand holding the cell phone began to quiver.

  She clenched the phone, ruthlessly quenching her shakes. Her insides began to churn with fury, covering her deep hurt. You will not cry, she commanded herself. Whatever happens, you will not cry in public.

  “And now everything is all right, yes?” The king was incongruously cheerful, without a clue that he’d just destroyed her world.

  She swallowed and pressed her lips together. “I’m not sure that I would use the phrase all right. Certainly I am now in a position to make the correct decision.” She glared at Kam, whose brows had drawn together. The snake.

  Kamar’s heart sank. What on earth had his father said? As she’d talked, Selina’s mood had visibly altered. Her smile had been replaced by a frown. No, a grimace. Her very posture had stiffened. His beautiful, sexy goddess of a wife, the woman he’d fallen for, had been replaced by the snappish young chit he’d met in the bar less than two weeks before.

  “Thank you, sir,” Selina said into the phone, her tone formal. “Do you want to speak with Kamar again?” She handed the phone across the table.

  Kamar took the phone and hastily concluded the conversation while watching Selina stand, open her purse and extract money. She tossed it onto the table with a defiant flip of her hand, then took off her ruby ring. After she dropped it into his teacup with a decisive splash, she walked out, leaving him.

  Chapter Twenty

  After fumbling for her ring in the hot tea, Kamar followed Selina and caught up with her before she left The Greenhouse.

  What on earth had his father said to cause Selina’s intense reaction? Kamar had thought they were getting along brilliantly, better than he had any right to expect, given the unconventional manner in which their marriage had begun. He knew the cliché, that the course of true love never did run smoothly, but he’d hoped that he’d smoothed out all the bumps so the passage to love was now clear.

  As the days had passed, he had come to know the depth of Selina’s character, the simple pleasure he found in her company, the joy of receiving her love. He had not previously imagined or understood the happiness that could come with commitment to one woman, but he now realized that the commitment provided unexpected rewards.

  He had been forced to learn her, to know her completely, and in so doing, had come to love her.

  Peter Pan was grounded, and he’d discovered that he liked the earth. Loved it, actually.

  But now Selina, like Peter’s Wendy, was gone. Not kidnapped by Captain Hook, but worse. She was running away.

  He wouldn’t let her, but, perhaps sensing he followed, Selina veered off the main path onto a slippery track that led beneath the waterfall. She ducked beneath its sheltering spray, then turned to face him.

  “What?” she snapped.

  He waved his hands in the air. “We were getting along so well. What did my father say?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Enough. Apparently he ordered you to make up with me because you need a steadying influence.”

  Kamar sighed with exasperation. Why couldn’t the old man have been more tactful? “That is true, but—”

  “But what?” Her face was streaked with tears, or perhaps the spray from the waterfall had condensed on her reddened, angry cheeks.

  “But sometimes my father…” Frustrated, Kamar stopped and shook his head. “He has an uncanny gift for being right for the wrong reasons.”

  “Oh, really? Forgive me, but your father’s idiosyncrasies aren’t of interest to me right now. At least he had the backbone to tell me the truth. Why didn’t you come clean with me? Why didn’t you just tell me why you’d decided you wanted to stay married?”

  “Because that wasn’t the entire story. And if you’d wished to know, why didn’t you ask?”

  “I had wondered about your motivation, but you were being so nice to me that I…I didn’t question it.” She bit her lip. “I was stupid. But no more. Excuse me.” She tried to push past him, evidently intending to leave.

  “Wait!” He put a hand on her arm. “As I said, my father is often correct, but for the wrong reasons. He wanted us to stay together because it was the right thing to do. I wanted us to stay together because I wanted you.”

  She sniffed.

  “I still do, and I know you want me.”

  “That’s not enough,” she said, her voice raw and husky. “That’s not enough to carry us through everything that life will throw at us, and we both know it.”

  “You are right, of course. Listen to me, Selina.” He rubbed water out of his face. “I always knew that I’d have to grow up, that I couldn’t go on the way I had. With all the women.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.” Her tone was bitter.

  “I am approaching my thirtieth year.” He took her by the shoulders. “A time of much reflection. I knew I would have to settle down, but could I love?”

  “Can you?” She met his eyes, her gaze direct and unafraid.

  Her raw, pure courage opened his heart even wider. There was no one on this earth like his Selina. She truly was a goddess. That she loved him was beyond fortunate. Surely he had been blessed.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “I have discovered in the last few days, that I indeed know how to love someone with all of myself, body and soul. A very special woman, one who has survived the travails of life and grown strong from them. One who I hope will accept me with all my flaws and faults.”

  She stared at him without speaking, her eyes filling with tears.

  His throat thickened, but he managed to force words out. “I love you. Will you not be mine? For I am certain that you love me.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I do. I didn’t think that I could love anyone, but I do. I know that I’d be lost and miserable without you.”

  He grabbed her, there under the waterfall, with the wild splash and spray all around them. He grabbed her and squeezed her tight. He’d never let her go. “Then we’ll live together as husband and wife, in that house in D.C.?”

 
“Yes, as husband and wife, in the home we’ll make together.” She laughed, tossing her head back, loving him, loving everything: the water flowing through her hair and down her neck; Kam, with his lips on her throat, her mouth, kissing her exultantly; even adoring that neediness, that itchy twitchiness that led her to press her hips against his and murmur into his ear, “Let’s go back to the villa. I have a date with a bed. And you.”

  Epilogue

  La Torchere Resort, Florida’s Gulf Coast

  Five Years Later

  After registering, Kamar led his family out of the lobby toward the villa they’d rented, with a nanny and a bellman straggling behind with the luggage.

  He looked down at the red head of his four-year-old daughter and knew he was tempting fate. He said to Selina, “I wonder if bringing both children was wise. Especially Leila.”

  Selina chuckled. His wife had grown more beautiful with every passing day, and he loved her more and more as he uncovered the depths of her soul. Today she wore loose white linen, as he did, with her red-gold hair high in a twist, so that neither of their little ones could tug at the strands. Behind her meandered Leila’s nanny, a young woman in imminent danger of losing all her marbles—she just didn’t know it yet.

  Kamar thought of her as Number Nine, or was she Ms. Eight? At this point the names of Leila’s long-suffering nannies eluded him. He simply couldn’t keep up.

  “I’m sure there will be plenty of activities for Leila,” Selina said. “She’ll be fine.”

  The object of their scrutiny toddled between them, dressed in a pink-and-white sailor-style pinafore. She tilted her head and smiled at him. “I love you, baba-Daddy.” She slipped her little, soft hand confidingly into his.

  He narrowed his eyes at her, knowing full well that behind her angelic gaze dwelt the soul of an imp. As inventive as she was mischievous, Leila wreaked chaos wherever she went. Selina called their daughter “creative.” Kamar preferred “demonic.”

  In her short life, Leila had caused the resignations of no fewer than eight nannies. Among her transgressions, his daughter liked to slide down the embassy banisters attired only in her underwear. She had decorated the entry hall of their home with crayoned murals, complete with palm trees and brownish blobs she claimed were camels. She’d signed her work with large black letters in both Arabic and English. When confronted, she’d explained that she’d drawn pictures on the walls “like in Gwandpa’s palace.” In fairness, the palace in Zohra-zbel did indeed have mosaic murals on many walls. Though they’d had to remove her art, her drawing and writing were remarkably good for a four-year-old, Kamar thought.

  Although he adored her, he’d been afraid that Leila would be jealous of her baby brother, Prince Kahlil, who now napped serenely in the stroller Selina pushed. On the contrary, Kahlil stood in danger of being killed by Leila’s kindness. She did not seem to grasp that the baby couldn’t be her best friend, and that Kahlil was too young to slide down the banisters with her or ride on the dog’s broad back as though their golden retriever was a pony. She didn’t understand the concept of “later.”

  In that she was her father’s daughter. He also believed that ultimately the moment was all that existed.

  And at this moment he was nervous. Very nervous. The only time he could recall being more edgy was at this place, when he was desperately wooing Selina.

  “We should have brought another servant,” he said to Selina. “Perhaps the cook.”

  She lifted her brows, and he could practically read her mind. Arrogant. She said, “We don’t need a retinue. Besides, I remember that you cooked for me here quite well.”

  “That was such a crazy situation.”

  She skirted the edge of the Oasis pool. “Well, we dined out on that story for years. I thought it excellent party conversation.”

  Kamar snorted. “It was maddening.”

  “Oh, we’ve been through worse.”

  “When?”

  “How about the time when Leila decided that the Syrian ambassador’s son needed a haircut?”

  They laughed, and Leila giggled. He glanced at his daughter. “We shouldn’t encourage her. Fortunately, you smoothed over the situation nicely.” Kamar blessed the day he’d persuaded his wife to abandon her PR job to work by his side. Before her, he’d struggled, but Selina’s excellent organizational skills had made her essential. He couldn’t do without her.

  “Leila’s going to give some unfortunate man fits one day,” she said.

  “She is giving a man fits right now.”

  Selina smiled. “The blessing is that they’re different. Leila is playful and Kahlil, calm.”

  They’d reached the villa, and after the bellman opened the door, stepped inside.

  “Where am I sleeping, baba?” Leila demanded.

  “Down here,” Kamar said. They’d rented a three-bedroom villa, with two bedrooms downstairs and a spacious master suite on the upper level. The baby would sleep in the nanny’s room; Leila, who was a restless sleeper, would have her own room; he and Selina would get some peace and private time upstairs.

  At least that was the idea. Kamar assumed that at 5:30 a.m. Leila would wake up, steal the baby out of his crib, and bring him upstairs for a nap with Mommy and Daddy. His heart warmed at the thought. Despite the early hour, cuddling with his family was the greatest delight he’d ever known. And he enjoyed it every day.

  He had never anticipated such happiness in his life, and it had all started here, in this place, most unexpectedly, with the phony engagement to Selina. His wife had turned out to be so much more than he’d guessed. The mouthy American girl had become the love of his life.

  She brought out the best in him, and he was grateful. He was a very lucky fellow.

  The next morning Selina awakened with her head tucked into her husband’s shoulder and her daughter’s high-pitched voice coming from downstairs.

  “Don’t dwop it, Kahlil.”

  Oh, ixzit. What was she doing now? Don’t drop what? Selina blinked, becoming aware of the gray dawn light filtering through the thin sheers at the window and the red digital clock near her reading seven-thirty.

  “Two extra hours,” she mumbled. “I suppose I should be grateful.”

  “What?” Kam stirred, and she stroked his chest.

  “Nothing,” she whispered, loving him. “Go back to sleep. I’ll take care of it.” Her husband worked his tail off, what with controversy after controversy plaguing the Middle East.

  Now his eyes popped open. “Take care of what?”

  She sat up. “Whatever’s going on downstairs.” Now she could hear the rattle of china and spoons on a tray.

  “Ixzit,” he said. “Leila has fixed us breakfast.”

  “Ixzit is right. She can’t possibly bring it upstairs, not with Kahlil.”

  “We’ll have to punish her. Didn’t we forbid her to go into the kitchen alone?”

  “We can’t start off the vacation that way,” Selina said. She could hear a succession of irregular thumps as the children struggled upstairs. Then she heard the nanny’s voice.

  “Oh, that’s all right.” Kam, evidently also having heard the nanny, settled back against the pillows.

  “We’d better put some clothes on.” She got out of bed and went to the closet.

  “This place used to supply robes,” Kam said.

  She reached inside the closet and took out two terry cloth robes. “They still do, very nice ones.”

  Dressed, they waited until the children and their nanny trailed into the room in a three-person parade. Kahlil led the way, crawling with a determined look on his face and a spoon clutched in one chubby hand. Leila followed with empty mugs, and the nanny staggered under the weight of a loaded tea tray. Kam leaped up to grab it from her. He set it down on a little table in the corner of the room and started to help the nanny serve morning tea.

  “I’m sorry,” the nanny said. “She woke me up and insisted. I remembered that you usually get up at five-thirty, so…” She shru
gged and started to pour.

  “It’s just fine, Alice.” Selina hoped she sounded soothing. She wanted to keep this nanny around for a few more weeks. Alice had already lasted five months; six was the average tenure of one of Leila’s nannies. Selina prayed that this vacation wouldn’t drive Alice screaming into the Gulf or back to D.C. La Torchere had numerous opportunities for Leila’s creativity to express itself. Selina had a brief vision of her daughter climbing to the top of The Greenhouse waterfall with Kahlil in tow, and shuddered.

  “What is it, Sellie?” Kam touched her hand.

  “Nothing. Let’s keep an eye on Leila while we’re here, all right?”

  “Of course. You know, we could buy her a leash.” He grinned.

  She frowned. “That isn’t funny.”

  “I wanna leash! I wanna leash!” Leila sang.

  “You do not,” Selina said. “You don’t know what a leash is.”

  “Yes I do. Like Tallie has,” Leila referred to the dog.

  “Yes, just like Tallie.” Kam sipped tea.

  “Why din’t we bwing Tallie?” Leila asked.

  “He stayed home to keep Grandpa Jerry company,” Selina said.

  “Oh, yeah.” Leila examined her mug with a discontented expression, then reached for the sugar bowl.

  When everyone was settled with mugs of warm, sweet tea, and the nanny had tactfully left, Selina looked around the room at three happy faces.

  Leila chattered, dumped more sugar into her tea and drank, spilling it down the front of her nightgown. Kam held Kahlil on his lap, bouncing him up and down. They sang about the itsy bitsy spider while the baby banged his spoon on the table.

  Her heart swelled, and she found herself blinking away tears.

  She could barely remember her past, before Kam had brought joy into her life. Without Kam, her world had been like an endless, cloudy day, with no sunshine to relieve the dull gloom. Her existence had been all surface and no substance, like a cheap snack of cotton candy and popcorn. Loving, rich and varied, her marriage was a feast. Every bright new day brought fresh experiences and unexpected delights. Selina had never been happier.