Sheikh's Marriage of Convenience

by Ella Brooke

  It awakened a protective urge in him, one he didn’t care to look at too closely.

  With a sigh, he settled down next to her. His grandfather, who had led men into battle and then was ready to throw it all away if his family had refused to allow him to marry a bold London girl, had always said that he must follow his head and his heart. Otherwise, a man who ruled with only one was worse than a man who had neither.

  There was no way to tell what the future would hold, but right now, with Danielle gleaming like a star in his arms, it had never looked brighter.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The first thing Danielle realized when she awoke the next morning was that she was alone in bed. At first, she had no idea why that would be strange, but then she woke up all the way and sat up in bed. A quick look around confirmed her initial observation, and for a moment, she simply sat still.

  It doesn’t mean anything, she told herself. There are more things to do at the meeting in town today. There are so many things that need to be done…

  However, despite all of these very true things, she couldn’t stop herself from feeling a twinge of sadness. She thought about it as she showered and brushed her teeth, realizing that it brought back memories of the first time they had been with each other. That time, they hadn’t even slept together.

  Were all of those kind words for nothing? she wondered. Was that simply a lovely story to lull me to sleep?

  She wasn’t sure she had ever felt her lack of experience so greatly. Danielle wished she had an older friend she could call for advice. What did it mean when a man told you he wanted to explore everything that lay between you and then stole off in the morning light? Would she look needy if she called him? Was she supposed to pretend that nothing had happened? It was enough to make her weep with frustration.

  She found the silk robe that had come with her delivery clothing and slid into it after her shower. The silk was pure luxury against her skin, but even it could barely comfort her. With a sigh, she went and sat at the table where she and Faris had sat last night. The remnants of their meal had been cleared away, as if it never happened.

  I suppose it could all be a dream. A wonderful thing that I created out of sadness and love and…

  She cut off that train of thought before she could make herself too depressed. No matter what was going on with Faris, she still had a job to do, and the worst thing would be to spend a day translating things with a knot of tears in her throat.

  She found her old wide-toothed comb in her luggage and started the process of detangling her hair. She usually slept with it braided and out of the way, but that hadn’t been a priority for her last night. She had fallen into an exhausted slumber after he had raised her to the heights of pleasure over and over again, and nothing else had mattered.

  Danielle cursed as she hit a particularly thick tangle. Yanking at it only brought tears to her eyes, and after a particularly vicious yank, she lost her temper.

  Without thinking of what she was doing, she threw the comb as hard as she could. It struck the wall just as Faris was opening the door, and he looked at her in surprise.

  “Are you all right?” he said. “Did you think I was some invader and that was the best way to defend yourself?”

  “Faris!’ she said with surprise. “I… I didn’t know…”

  He frowned, coming to set the white paper bag on the table and to take her into his arms.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. “Did you have a bad dream, or did you get some kind of bad news?”

  “No, not at all,” she said, leaning into his touch gratefully. “I was just… nothing, it’s not important. I am far better now that you are back.”

  Suddenly, she didn’t want to tell him why she had become so overwrought. He had been with sophisticated women, and she thought that sophisticated women wouldn’t suddenly go around weeping and tossing combs when they had woken up alone. Sophisticated women would be in utter control of themselves, casual about what was going on, and easy-going.

  Faris looked unconvinced, but he nodded toward the bag.

  “I would have been back sooner, but the little bakery I was thinking of wasn’t where I thought it would be. I had assumed that my recall of this neighborhood was perfect, but apparently, a year away says different.”

  “You went to a bakery?” she asked in surprise, and he nodded.

  “I did. This is one that has been around since before the Second World War, and it was always one of my mother’s favorites. I brought us breakfast.”

  He had only gone out to get breakfast. She felt a rush of relief go through her, and then she felt slightly embarrassed. She covered it up by sitting at the table and fussing with the bag.

  “Thank you so much for food,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “I’m starving, we should both eat…”

  Breakfast turned out to be some gold croissants, still fresh and glossy from the oven, and a packet of dark chocolate. There were two cups of rich dark coffee for both of them, and eating the food and drinking the coffee further calmed her down. By the time the food was crumbs, she was talking easily with Faris, discussing their engagement at the meetings that evening, the weather, and all manner of things.

  When breakfast was over, however, Faris stood up and went to retrieve her comb from where it had fallen on the floor. Fastidiously, he went to wipe it clean, even as she protested it was just plastic and not worth the care.

  “I think it is,” he disagreed calmly.

  As she watched in confusion, he dragged a footstool in front of his chair and pointed down at it.

  “Come here and sit,” he directed her. “I think we have something to talk about.”

  “Something to talk about… while you brush my hair?” she asked in confusion.

  He nodded.

  “Just so. Come on.”

  Hesitantly, she did as he asked. She clasped her hands in her lap, feeling a little bit of nervousness fluttering in her belly. It was, however, easier when she wasn’t looking at him. She didn’t feel the same kind of nerves or fears of disappointing him when he was just a presence working the comb through her hair with gentle consideration.

  “What did you think when you woke up this morning?” he asked, just when she was beginning to fall into the rhythm of his ministrations. His question made her alert again, and she knew he could see her shoulders twitch toward her ears.

  “What do you mean?” she stalled, and he chuckled as if he was completely aware of what she was doing.

  “When I came in, you had just whipped your comb at the wall as if it were your mortal enemy. Before you really saw that it was me, the look on your face was dark enough to bring on the rain. Obviously, something happened between you waking up and me coming back, because otherwise, why would you have been so upset?”

  Self-consciously, Danielle hugged herself tight. She knew that this was going to be embarrassing, something far from what a sophisticated woman might feel, but she couldn’t lie to him.

  “I was… I guess I was upset that you were gone,” she muttered. “I thought that you had just walked out, and that… that we would go back to doing what we had done before.”

  “Did you not believe everything I said last night?” he asked. “Did you think that I was lying to you?”

  She turned around to face him in shock.

  “No! Never,” she said. “I promise. I know that you are a man of your word, and that you always mean what you say, it’s just…”

  “It’s just?”

  “It’s just that… that I don’t believe myself.”

  He hummed, turning her back around so that he could keep brushing her hair. They were both silent as he worked a particularly vicious knot free, and then he spoke again.

  “Do you know how I see you?” he asked presently.

  She laughed a little wryly at that.

  “As someone who worries about nothing and whose hair is tremendously tangled?”

  “Neither of those are true,” he told her, gently re
proving. “Last things first, your hair is lovely and beautiful, and it is coming smooth here just fine.

  “And I would never say that you are worried about nothing. When you woke up this morning, you were upset, and I am sorry that that happened. I wasn’t thinking of what you might feel if I left and you woke up alone. In some ways, we are still very new to each other.”

  He paused, and then he began speaking again.

  “I am not going to leave you like I did that first night again,” he said softly. “That was, shall we say, ill-considered of me. If I had known you then like I know you know, I never would have done that. You are too important by far for me to abandon. I do not want the idea to cross your mind.”

  For some reason, his gentle words brought tears to her eyes. Impatiently, she wiped them away with her palms. When she could finally speak, her voice was small and faraway.

  “I am so sorry about this,” Danielle apologized. “I… I must sound like a wreck. I don’t want to be someone who… who demands things from you, and that you have to nurse through a simple morning of going to get good bakery…”

  “That’s enough,” he said, his voice slightly sharp. It made her quiet immediately, and Faris sighed.

  “Darling, I want you to express yourself and to tell me what is on your mind, but I do not want to let wild fears take off and run rampant. If I need to leave your bed early again, will it be enough if I left you a note, or a text perhaps? Something that tells you where I am and that I care about you?”

  She blinked and thought about it. Could it really be that easy?

  “Yes,” Danielle said after a moment. “It really would help…”

  Faris leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on the crown of her head.

  “Good. Then I will start doing that, then. In all fairness, I would far rather simply wake up next to you, but today, I had a hankering for some good croissants. You can get up, by the way. Your hair is done.”

  Experimentally, she ran her fingers through the long strands, startled when they were perfectly straight and smooth.

  “You’re good at that,” she said in surprise.

  “You are a pleasure to work on,” he said sincerely. “I hope you know that.”

  They both stood, and he made a surprised noise when she threw herself into his arms.

  “What’s this?” he asked, and she grinned up at him.

  “Me saying thank you for your kindness,” Danielle said, and she went up on tiptoes to kiss him. She had intended it to be a chaste kiss, but in a matter of heartbeats, her pulse fluttered and she could feel her need for him rise up again.

  When they pulled away, her mouth tingled and Danielle grinned up at him. To her surprise, however, Faris frowned.

  “No, I’m afraid that won’t do,” he said, and she felt her heart beat a little faster.

  “What, what is it?” she asked concerned. Had she somehow said something foolish and spoiled this after all?

  “Well, it’s a lovely thank-you, but I’m not sure it’s the best you could do,” he drawled. “One might even call it subpar.”

  “Oh really?” Danielle said, a wide grin spreading across her face. “Well, will you perhaps be so generous as to give me a chance to redeem myself?”

  “I suppose I could see my way to doing that,” he said gravely, and they kissed again before making their way back to the bed.

  *

  Several hours later, Faris found that it was even more difficult to keep his mind on the asinine meeting. It was proving as useless as he had suspected it was going to be, with the European representatives all but brawling on the floor and the Middle Eastern representatives rolling their eyes at the histrionics. Yesterday, it had at least been a little amusing to watch the petty quarreling, but today, he knew that Danielle was only a few doorways away.

  They had made love again after breakfast, and after that, there had been no choice but to get ready. He had wondered if seeing her back in her attractive but honestly rather prim clothing and her crown of braids would affect his attraction for her, but for some reason, he found that it was only enhanced instead.

  It was all he could do not to pull her in for a deep kiss in the car, and after that, when she had made her way to the area reserved for translators, he had felt a deep pang at her loss.

  He pulled his head together. Faris reminded himself that he was a head of state, and even if the meeting was proving to be a disaster, that didn’t mean it was necessarily all a waste. Some of the most powerful men from his part of the world were in attendance, and he knew there were deals and alliances to be made, powers to be traded for favors.

  At the break, Faris was set to ask Danielle if she wanted to go grab some lunch. Faris’s mind was on nothing more complicated than taking Danielle to a place that would let her try authentic Vietnamese food when a mild-faced man in a blue suit came up to speak with him.

  “Sheikh Faris,” he said, using the proper form of address. “May I have a word?”

  It was on the tip of Faris’s tongue to refuse him. He could have said that he was done listening to Europeans talk today, and that overall, they said little that made sense. There was something about this man that promised sense, and though a part of him yearned to be with Danielle, he paused.

  “You’re lucky you’re getting this,” Faris informed him. “I have been listening to your countrymen all day, and I have had remarkably little to gain from it.”

  The man smiled ruefully at him.

  “I apologize for the meeting. I had some small hand in planning it, but apparently, when you put the wrong people in the room together, it does not matter how much planning you do. However, perhaps in some small way, I can make it up to you…”

  They stepped into a small and innocuous room for privacy, and by the time the Frenchman, Marais, was done speaking, Faris was regarding him with new respect.

  “That is an ambitious project,” he mused. “An entirely French-styled resort on the edge of the desert. I have to say that that intrigues me.”

  Marais smiled, putting his tablet with the plans away.

  “I thought it might. Since your ascendancy, Aswar has been at the forefront of development in the Middle East. Your growth is unprecedented, and on top of that, there is a great deal of natural beauty in your emirate, one the world has not yet seen, but I believe that that will change.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere,” Faris growled, but his mind was spinning. Aswar would someday rise to lead the emirates, he knew that, but something like the project that Marais was planning… that would make it happen faster.

  “No need to make a decision right now,” Marais said easily. “Think about it. Get me a bid for what you might be willing to do, say, in two weeks.”

  Faris’s mind was full of plans when he went to see Danielle. It was a testament to her loveliness that when he actually laid eyes on her, tucked in a corner and finishing up some work, that he abruptly didn’t want to think of building or Frenchmen or anything else. It would have been indiscreet to say the least to take her in his arms, so instead he had to content himself with simply laying a hand on her shoulder.

  “Oh, Faris!’ Danielle said, a note of surprise in her voice. “Are you done already?”

  “I should have been done hours ago,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Come, I need to get some food, and then perhaps I need to be convinced to come back for the afternoon session…”

  Her bright smile felt like sunlight returning after a season of rains, and when she linked her arm through his, he felt as if something was falling into place. She chattered about what was going on with the other translators and mentioned the charming snacks that they had been given, and though he listened attentively, another part was simply marveling at how happy he was.

  This is not something that happens every day, he thought. What does this mean for me? For us?

  When he glanced at Danielle, a stray sunbeam putting garnet glints in her black hair, a smile on her face, all he knew was that his heart
beat faster, and that something had changed in him forever.

  *

  There was a big part of Danielle that was still certain that she was living in some kind of dream. It all seemed too good to be true, and sometimes, she was almost afraid to look at it too closely because it might all simply go away.

  There was work of course. The deal with Marais looked like it would be a dead certainty, the way that Faris explained it to her. She could feel how excited he was about it, and slowly, she came to understand what it would mean for Aswar. Though she never would have said that she was someone who was so very excited by real estate, she started to anticipate with him. The proposal he drafted, which she translated into French for him, was aggressive but entirely possible, a bid that should please Marais as well as his investors.

  The work only made their time together sweeter. On good days, it felt as if they were a circle, flowing endlessly into each other, the balance between work and play perfect. She would translate his words for a global audience, and he created policies that were meant to change the future of his country forever.

  If she were honest with herself, she had never really understood it when her friends and coworkers talked about love. It had always sounded so overwrought and so very artificial to her. She had seen men that she found appealing, but there was none of the heart-beating excitement that they spoke about, none of the yearning to see the other person that was supposed to be part and parcel of love.

  Now she understood, however. Now she could understand why people wrote songs about love and wonder.

  When she looked at Faris, she felt something in her open up and soar toward the sky. She had to catch her breath when she saw him sometimes, because it almost hurt.

  After the conference ended, Faris turned to her considering. They were sharing a traditional French meal in a stone cellar, the rough walls lit by candlelight and the waiters all but silent as they passed.

  “I was thinking that there was no hurry to get back to Aswar,” he began, and she looked up from her excellent fish in surprise.