Promised to a Sheik

by Carla Cassidy

  His arms surrounding her had made her feel more safe than she ever had, and for just a moment she’d thought she could hear his heartbeat against her own.

  A knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts, and she whirled away from the bedroom mirror and hurried to the door, certain it must be the car to drive her to Omar.

  She opened the door, surprised to see not Rashad standing on her front stoop, but her father. “Daddy!” she exclaimed in surprise.

  “Hi, darlin’. Don’t you look like a picture of prettiness?”

  “Thank you,” Cara replied, and smiled affectionately at her father.

  Ford Carson was a big man, with broad shoulders, a belly that just overhung the large belt buckles he favored, and hair that had gone a snowy white in the past couple of years. Since Cara had moved into the cottage two years before, Ford often dropped in un-announced just to visit with her.

  He stepped into the living room but remained standing. “I guess you’re on your way out,” he said. “Your mama told me Sheik Al Abdar is in town and you’ve been spending time with him. I hope this isn’t anything too serious.”

  Cara looked at him in surprise. “You don’t like Omar?”

  “Hell, I like him fine, but I’d hate to see my little girl taken off to some foreign country, even if the country is friendly with the United States.”

  Cara smiled. “Daddy, I’m not a little girl anymore, and I’m sure I could come home to visit whenever I wanted.”

  Ford frowned, his bushy dark eyebrows pulling together in the center of his forehead. “So, this is serious.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. But I like him a lot,” she replied honestly.

  Ford sighed. “I always figured it would be your sister who’d eventually go off to live in some foreign place. She’s never seemed satisfied in Mission Creek. But you…I just always thought you’d be around.”

  With a small laugh, Cara threw her arms around his neck. “I’m not gone yet,” she said. “I’m just enjoying Omar’s company at the moment. Don’t look so worried.”

  Ford kissed her soundly on the cheek. “I always worry when it comes to my family.”

  Cara stepped back from him. “Well, you know you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not about to do anything foolish or impulsive.”

  “I know that, honeybunch. I came by to tell you that we’re planning a little barbecue tomorrow afternoon. Your brothers and their wives will be there, and I thought you might want to invite Sheik Omar. We’re going to eat at about three.”

  “I can’t give you an answer right now. We’ll see what the plans are,” she hedged as they stepped back out on the porch.

  The last thing she wanted was for Omar to spend any time around her family and for somebody to slip and call her Cara. Until she told him the truth, the best thing to do was keep him isolated from her family. A tangled web, she thought to herself, wishing she’d never begun the subterfuge in the first place.

  “I suppose I’d better head back to the house. Your mama will think I’m out here trying to sneak a smoke, but with that damn diet she’s got me on, I’d be more apt to sneak a big juicy steak or a platter of ribs.”

  Cara laughed. “You know Mama just wants what’s best for you.”

  “I know, but if I have to look at another string bean or piece of dried-up chicken breast, I just might have that heart attack everyone is so worried about.” With another quick kiss to Cara’s cheek, he waved, then headed back toward the main house.

  Cara watched him until he was out of sight, her heart filled with love for the man who had been such an influence in her life. Fiona had been his parrot, squawky and vivid and bright. But Cara had been his sparrow, and he’d always been especially gentle and loving with her.

  Her nerves went on alert as she heard the approach of a car and saw in the distance the familiar limo approaching her cottage. She raced inside and grabbed her small beaded purse, then hurried back outside.

  “Good evening, Ms. Carson.” Rashad greeted her with a beaming smile as he opened the door to allow her into the luxury limo.

  “Good evening, Rashad,” she replied. She climbed into the back seat, then leaned forward. “I would be pleased to have your company back here for the ride into town.”

  His dark eyes lit with surprise. “Thank you, I would enjoy sharing your company.” He got into the back with her and sat opposite her, with his back to the driver. He knocked on the window that separated the driver from them, and the limo took off.

  “Are you enjoying your time in Mission Creek, Rashad?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I’m finding it most interesting. Texans seem to be larger than life.”

  Cara laughed at the apt description, then sobered. “Have you worked for Omar a long time?”

  “For many years, and for his father before him.”

  “Tell me about him,” she said, wanting to know anything and everything about Omar, including about his family.

  “Sheik Abdul Al Abdar was a good and wise ruler and much beloved by his people. There was some concern when he handed the reins to Omar on Omar’s thirtieth birthday.”

  “Concern? About what?”

  Rashad cast her an impish smile. “Sheik Omar had something of a reputation as a playboy. There were some who thought he wasn’t ready, wasn’t man enough to take his father’s place. But he has proved the cynics wrong. He has become as beloved in Gaspar as his father before him.”

  He glanced at her slyly. “And the woman he marries will be as beloved as he.”

  “Matchmaking, Rashad?” she teased.

  “But, of course.” He grinned broadly. “I know how much Sheik Omar enjoyed your correspondence with him over the past year. I could always tell when he’d received a letter from you. He’d smile more on those days.”

  Rashad’s words thrilled Cara. She’d felt the same way when she’d received Omar’s letters. They had always managed to brighten her day and warm her heart.

  My words, she thought to herself. It was my words that he read, my words that made him happy. Not Fiona’s. Somehow this knowledge made her impersonation of her twin seem less dishonest.

  She was still feeling the glow of pleasure when the limo pulled up outside the Brighton Hotel. Rashad saw her out, but instead of escorting her to the same dining room where they had eaten the night before, he led her to the elevator.

  “Sheik Omar has made arrangements to dine in his suite this evening,” he explained as they stepped into the awaiting elevator.

  His suite. Complete privacy. Cara felt a shiver of anticipation. It would be a perfect opportunity for her to confess her secret to him.

  She gazed down at the ring on her finger. Though telling him was the right thing to do, she had a feeling it would end their time together.

  Heaven help her, she wasn’t ready for that.

  When they reached the eighth floor, they got out of the elevator and walked down a hallway to another elevator.

  Rashad used a key and the doors shooshed open. “I will leave you now,” he said with a small bow. “This elevator will take you directly to Sheik Omar’s suite.”

  “Thank you, Rashad.” She stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed.

  She smoothed her hands down her dress, suddenly worried that perhaps the flirty, sexy red dress was a bit much. She should have worn basic black. Somehow she felt that it would be easier to tell him the truth if she were dressed like herself, instead of like her sister.

  The elevator came to a halt, the doors opened, and Omar stood before her. The red dress was the right choice, she immediately thought as she saw the glittering fires that ignited in his eyes.

  “Elizabeth, you take my breath away with your beauty,” he said as he took her hand and led her out of the elevator.

  “You take my breath away,” she replied. She had never before seen him dressed in his traditional Middle Eastern clothing.

  He wore an elegant silk floor-length white robe that emphasized the sun-darkened tones of h
is olive skin. A turban encrusted with brilliant jewels hid his hair, but brought attention to his bold, handsome facial features.

  He looked foreign and mysterious—until he smiled, and then he simply looked like Omar, the man who was precariously close to winning her heart.

  “Please, come in.” He gestured toward the overstuffed white sofa. “Dinner will not be served for a little while. Would you care for a glass of wine?”

  “That would be nice,” she replied as she sat on the sofa and looked around the room with interest. It was a large living area done all in pristine whites and rich golds.

  A small alcove provided an intimate area for dining. The table was set with white china and sparkling crystal, and a centerpiece of half a dozen candles.

  A door was open to the bedroom, the luxurious king-size bed visible from where she sat. The bedroom was dimly lit, and she could see that the bed had been turned down as if in anticipation of someone sliding between the sheets.

  For just a moment her mind granted her a vision of her and Omar beneath the white sheets, his large hands stroking down the length of her as his lips plied hers with heat. Her pulse leaped in response, and she quickly shoved the image away.

  Exotic music played softly—an orchestra of lutes, triangles, cymbals and other instruments she didn’t recognize. She knew it must be music from his country, and she felt as if he were attempting to seduce her with pieces of Gaspar.

  As he handed her the glass of wine, his fingers lingered momentarily on hers, the touch shooting electric currents up her arm. “Thank you,” she murmured breathlessly.

  “You’re welcome.” He sat next to her, his dark eyes lingering on her. She could smell him, the scent of mysterious spices and masculinity, a scent that stirred her senses.

  “You look more stunning tonight than you did six years ago at the cotillion,” he said. He reached out and touched a strand of her hair, as if unable to stop himself from making some sort of physical contact.

  “And you look quite majestic,” she replied. She took a drink of her wine. “I’ve never seen you dressed like a sheik.”

  He laughed. “And just how does a sheik dress?”

  “In long silk robes and jeweled turbans.”

  He dropped his hand from her hair and leaned back, his dark eyes holding the same smile that his lips formed. “Actually, few sheiks in this day and age cling to the traditional clothing. Most wear suits and shirts and have their feet firmly planted in the modern world.”

  “Then, you are not quite a modern sheik?” she asked.

  “My father sent me to a private school in England, then university in Paris, and finally business school in New York City. He wanted me to experience the world, learn the modern ways and bring them back to my country so that Gaspar would continue to prosper. But he also taught me the importance of tradition. Besides,” he said, his smile widening, “the traditional clothes are extremely comfortable.”

  “And very attractive,” she added, then quickly took another sip of her wine. She was slightly overwhelmed, not only by the romantic setting, but by Omar’s dark handsomeness and the glow that flamed in his beautiful eyes each time he looked at her.

  She’d thought it was the dress that made her feel sexy and desirable, but she realized now it was him. Each time he looked at her she felt unbelievably beautiful. It was a heady, wonderful feeling.

  “I enjoyed seeing the ranch this afternoon. It’s an impressive spread.”

  “It was a wonderful place to grow up,” she replied, relaxing slightly as the conversation turned to her birthplace. “There were always people around. Not only the ranch hands, but we often had a houseful of guests. There’s nothing that my father loves more than to smoke a mess of ribs and have a huge barbecue.”

  She thought of the barbecue her father had mentioned earlier. She was supposed to invite Omar, but she was torn. She knew there was no way he could spend time with her two brothers and their wives and not discover that she was Cara.

  But perhaps it would be best to invite him and let the chips fall where they may. “In fact, my father stopped by the cottage right before the car came to pick me up and mentioned that he’s planning a little barbecue tomorrow afternoon. He wanted to make sure I invited you to attend.”

  “What time?” Omar asked.

  “About three.”

  A deep frown creased his broad forehead. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check. I’ve scheduled the entire afternoon tomorrow for conference calls.”

  Guilt swept through her as she realized the tremendous relief she felt. “How are your negotiations coming along?”

  His frown deepened. “Not as well as I’d hoped.” His nostrils flared slightly, and for a moment he looked positively fierce. “The men I am dealing with take me for a fool. They want me to give away our oil, but they will discover that I am not a man to compromise.” He drew a deep breath and the frown disappeared. “But tonight we won’t talk about business.”

  He picked up the bottle of wine from the coffee table and offered her some more. She held out her glass, recognizing that she had just caught a glimpse of Omar the Sheik, fierce and proud and unwilling to compromise his beliefs or his people.

  He poured himself more wine, then once again settled back on the sofa. “You mentioned your brothers. Tell me about them.”

  “Well, Flynt just got married in June.” Cara smiled as she thought of the happiness her brother had found with his new bride, Josie. “There was a time when we were all quite worried about him. Almost three years ago he lost his wife and unborn child in a car accident, and there were times we weren’t sure he was going to survive the tragedy. It took a very special girl named Lena to bring him out of his sorrow.”

  “Lena? This is his child?”

  “No, she’s a baby girl who was found on the ninth tee on the golf course at the Lone Star Country Club. It’s a bizarre story. Nobody knows who the little girl is. Flynt was golfing that day with some buddies, and when they found the baby, he just knew he had to take her home. It changed his life.”

  “Amazing. Have they since discovered who the baby belongs to?”

  She shook her head. “No, but Flynt and Josie have been taking good care of her.” She smiled again, thinking of the dark-haired, blue-eyed little girl. “She’s such a sweet baby. I can’t imagine what would make a mother abandon a baby on a golf course, or anywhere else for that matter.”

  “Who knows what drives people to do what they do.”

  He leaned toward her, and again her senses filled with the scent of him.

  “I’ll bet you will make a wonderful mother.”

  “I hope so,” she replied. “I certainly had a good role model.”

  “You’re close to your mother?”

  She nodded. “Very close, and to my father, too. They have been wonderful parents, supportive and loving.”

  He reached out and ran his fingers up her forearm, his touch inflaming her nerve endings.

  “And that’s the kind of parents we will make, supportive and loving to the many babies we will have.”

  She laughed shakily, finding it more and more difficult to concentrate on the conversation when his fingers were caressing her arm so sweetly. “Many babies? How many children do you have in mind?”

  “As many as you would give me,” he replied softly. He set his wineglass on the coffee table and with deliberate intent took hers from her hand and placed it next to his.

  Her heartbeat raced as he drew her into his arms.

  “I would love making babies with you, Elizabeth.” He reached up and drew a hand through her hair. His strong fingers clenched, capturing the strands and he gently tugged her head back as if to give him access to her lips.

  He held her gaze for just a moment, then moved to capture her mouth with his. At first, the kiss was infinitely tender and Cara’s heart swelled with emotion.

  The talk of babies, of making a family, had seduced her almost as effectively as the music and the candleli
ght. But nothing seduced her more than the gentle featherlight softness of his lips against hers.

  And when he sought to deepen the kiss by using his tongue to toy first at her lips, then to swirl inside her mouth, she felt a sexual stirring within her.

  She felt it first in the pit of her stomach, a burst of fire that exploded, sending heat throughout her body. Her breasts tightened, the nipples pressing against the silk of her bra. She was shocked by how her body was responding to a simple kiss—

  A small buzzer sounded, and Omar reluctantly pulled his mouth from hers just as the elevator doors opened to reveal a waiter pushing a large serving trolley.

  Omar stood to greet the waiter, but Elizabeth remained seated, instinctively knowing that if she tried to stand, her legs would probably buckle beneath her.

  Her heart still pounded too fast, her pulse raced in an abnormal rhythm and the surface of her skin felt feverish. She picked up her wineglass and took a full gulp, hoping the chilled white wine would douse the fire Omar’s kiss had lit inside her.

  By the time the meal had been placed on the table and the waiter had departed, Cara felt more in control of herself. She sat in the chair that Omar held out for her, shivering slightly as his hands lingered for a moment too long on her shoulders.

  “I hope the food is good,” he said as he sat next to her, “because the timing of its arrival was rotten.”

  She smiled, picked up the linen napkin and placed it on her lap. “It could have been worse. The food might have arrived fifteen minutes later—and it would have been more embarrassing.”

  His eyes fired with a hunger that had nothing to do with the food before them. “Perhaps there won’t be any need to order dessert.”

  “We’ll see,” she replied with a small smile. “Although, it would take something magnificent to make me forget the pleasure of chocolate.”

  She was teasing, flirting with him, and it amazed her. She’d rarely found the confidence it took to tease a man.

  His dark brows lifted and his eyes twinkled. “I can promise you, what I have in mind is far more pleasurable than mere chocolate.”

  Cara believed him, and felt a new shiver of anticipation. Suddenly, chocolate was the last thing on her mind.