The Sheik's Arranged Marriage

by Mallery, Susan

  One thing was clear—he’d misjudged Heidi in many ways. The hidden depths made him curious about her. While he’d always intended them to get to know each other, so far he’d made no attempt. Perhaps he should change that.

  “How are your riding lessons?” he asked abruptly as they entered their suite.

  She turned to face him. “I haven’t been riding at all.”

  “Because you’re not interested?”

  “No, I like it very much. But I’m concerned about going out into the desert on my own, and I find riding in one of the corrals pretty boring.”

  “You are welcome to join me any morning.”

  Her face lit up with a happy smile. She looked as pleased as if he’d offered her the world.

  “You want to go riding with me?” she asked.

  “Of course. You are my wife. It’s important that we spend time together.”

  Her smile faded. “That’s what you said before, but after we were married, I thought you didn’t want to be with me at all.”

  “I want to be with you,” he said honestly.

  He stared into her pale, young face. Her gaze was so open, he could read her hope, her fears and her worries as clearly as if she’d spoken them.

  “I’ll probably make a lot of mistakes,” she said.

  “You ride very well.”

  Her lips curved up again. “I meant with you, not with the horse.”

  “There is no right way or wrong way to get to know each other,” he told her. “There is only our way. Which will be whatever we make it.”

  She nodded. “I’m nothing like Yasmin.”

  Thank God. “I don’t see that as a problem. I don’t want another woman like her in my life.”

  “Just as well. I know you’ll never care for me the same way, but I hope you’re right about us finding our own path. I would like that very much.”

  Before he realized what she was doing, she raised herself on her toes and pressed her mouth to his cheek. The kiss was fleeting and innocent. Then she was gone.

  Jamal stared after her, watching her bedroom door close and wondering what they’d just been talking about. He had a feeling he and Heidi had been speaking at cross-purposes. She worried about having to compete with Yasmin. Maybe he should tell her that she’d already won that one. He walked to the French doors and stared out at the sea.

  He thought about Yasmin, about how she’d wanted everything the marriage had to offer—everything except him. She’d been interested in the parties, the jewelry, the clothes. Heidi, on the other hand, didn’t seem very taken with any of that. She certainly hadn’t done any shopping. At least not for herself. She’d bought some sexy things for her other persona. In fact, she—

  The truth slammed into him like a car going sixty miles an hour. His breath left his lungs as if he’d been tossed across the room and had landed flat on his back. Event by event, he went over what had happened that afternoon. The sultry voice, the provocative dress and conversation. Heidi was trying to win him, but not as herself. She didn’t think she had what it took, so she’d invented another woman to get his attention. Someone who was supposed to be all that she was not. He who had always believed that women weren’t interested in princes for their personality had found the one woman who had everything else—the money, the position, the palace—and wanted one thing more…

  Him.

  The next morning Jamal wasn’t any closer to understanding why Heidi felt the need to win him. Maybe he had it all wrong. Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part. After all, while he didn’t ever want to fall in love again—loving Yasmin had made him vulnerable and he let her play him for a fool—he did want his marriage to be pleasant for both him and Heidi.

  He paced the length of his office as he again went over all that Heidi had done to create her charade. There were dozens of details, not the least of which was how she’d gotten her hands on his Lamborghini. The irony was that he’d been so caught up in Heidi’s game, he’d barely noticed he was driving his new car when he finally got into it. Not once in his life had a woman ever had that kind of effect on him.

  Which didn’t answer the question of how she’d done it. Which meant she probably hadn’t done it alone.

  He paced past his desk and paused by the large window overlooking the rear gardens. Who would have helped her? Two names came immediately to mind—Fatima and Dora. In fact, he vaguely recalled hearing stories about how Fatima and her husband, the late king and Jamal’s grandfather, had come to fall in love. Something about her tricking him into thinking she was a part of his harem and a woman he couldn’t live without. Yes, his grandmother had had a part in this. And she would also have all the answers as to why Heidi had felt the need to play this game.

  He walked to his desk and picked up the phone. After calling the harem, he requested that his grandmother come see him at her earliest convenience. She readily agreed—after all, he couldn’t go to her. Even though she was the only resident of the harem and had been since she was a young bride, no man was allowed beyond the golden doors unless he was a eunuch. Not even the king had seen that part of his palace.

  He told himself to get some work done while he waited, then wondered who he was kidding. He wasn’t in the mood to do anything but find out the truth. Then he wanted to spend some time with Heidi to discover more about the woman who had gone to such effort to get his attention. The question was, did he want to see Heidi first, or the sexy, if slightly inept, Honey?

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fatima said a half hour later as she sat on one of the leather sofas in a corner of his office and smiled at him.

  He’d had the foresight to order her favorite tea and some of the English biscuits she was so fond of, and now she nibbled on one of the butter cookies.

  “Fatima, I need to know what’s going on,” he said. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together. “It took me all of five minutes to see through the disguise. Heidi is many wonderful things, but she’s not much of a femme fatale.”

  “Is that so bad?” his grandmother asked. “We’ve experienced that kind of woman before in this family.”

  He knew they were both thinking about Malik’s wife. The woman whose name was never spoken aloud.

  “I’m not complaining,” he said earnestly. “I’m confused. I want to know why Heidi felt she had to do this. With that information I can figure out the best way to handle the situation. I don’t know if I should tell her I know or play along.”

  “I see your point,” Fatima said, then sighed. “All right, yes, Dora and I helped her transform herself into the lovely Honey Martin. The idea came about because Heidi is convinced she could never attract you otherwise. She considers herself rather unskilled in the arts of seducing a man.”

  “She wants to seduce me?” he asked, not able to believe he was having this conversation with his grandmother of all people.

  Fatima sipped her tea. “Yes. She’s under the impression that she’s made a terrible mess of things with you, and she wants to fix that. At first I wanted to recommend a conversation to clear the air, but the more I thought about transforming her, the more I liked the idea. Playing Honey will give Heidi confidence as a woman. She’s bright, articulate and very funny, but she doesn’t understand that she’s actually very attractive and appealing.”

  She fixed Jamal with a stern stare. “I trust you’ve been able to see past her dreadful clothes to appreciate the charms of your new bride.”

  “Absolutely,” he said sincerely, not daring to admit that he’d been a little blind about Heidi’s physical attributes until she’d flaunted them in that pitiful excuse for a dress.

  Fatima did not look convinced. “Something must have happened to get you two off on the wrong foot. However, now you can go about fixing things. In the meantime, show her how desirable she is.”

  “So you think I should go along with her?”

  Fatima smiled. “Only if you’re in th
e mood to be seduced.”

  Jamal thought he might be willing to put up with that, especially if Heidi was the seducer. However, he had his doubts about her ability to figure out what to do. He would probably have to give her a few subtle cues now and then.

  Fatima set her teacup on the table. “Be gentle, Jamal. Heidi is wonderfully strong in many areas, but not this one. I don’t want you to hurt her. In my experiences, very few marriages of convenience start out with a bride so very determined to win her husband’s affections. That is in your favor.”

  “I’ll remember.”

  She leaned forward and touched his arm. “I know that your marriage to Yasmin was a disaster. You kept most of the details to yourself, but we were all aware that she did nothing to make you happy.” Fatima paused, as if searching for words.

  “Don’t let the sorrow of the past keep you from enjoying the promise of the present,” she continued. “Don’t turn your back on what Heidi is offering because you’ve made yourself a silly promise not to fall in love again.”

  Jamal didn’t respond because he didn’t know what to say. Fatima was right on both counts. No one in his family knew the truth about what had happened in his marriage, and he had promised himself that he would never risk falling in love again.

  “Loving or not loving Heidi is the least of my problems,” he said lightly. “First I have to figure out how I’m supposed to get in touch with the luminous Honey Martin.”

  Fatima smiled. “I believe you will find her registered at the hotel you went to yesterday. Simply ask for her room, and she will pick up the phone.”

  He stared at her. “But she’s not at the hotel.”

  “I know. Isn’t modern technology wonderful?”

  “There was a recent article in Fortune magazine on the power behind the power,” “Honey” said the next day as they waited for their lunch to be served in her hotel suite.

  Jamal leaned back into the comfortable white sofa and surveyed the woman who was his wife. Yesterday she’d worn red, while today she matched her white-on-white living room. Instead of a dress, she’d put on pants and a shirt. In theory, the outfits were completely different. In practice, they were exactly the same. Both had been designed to reduce a man to a drooling, quivering mass of need.

  Honey sat on the sofa opposite his. Her slacks were fairly normal in that they started somewhere near her waist and covered her to her ankles. However, they didn’t start exactly at her waist. Instead, they hovered a couple of inches below her belly button—a delightful “inny” decorated with a tiny gold hoop. Her shirt—a stretchy material that dipped low enough to show cleavage and ended just below her bra—had cutouts where the shoulders were supposed to be, so there were wide straps, bare skin, then the rest of her sleeves.

  The combination of exposed skin and covered parts distracted him, although not as much as the red curls piled on the top of her head. The slightly messy hairstyle made her look as if she’d just tumbled out of bed and pulled on whatever was closest. She seemed to be adjusting to her contacts better—or she’d stopped flirting—because there was a lot less blinking today.

  She teased and delighted without even trying. When he’d first walked into the suite, it had been all he could do not to pull her into his arms and start kissing her. He adored her for caring enough to want to do this for him, and he was determined to respond exactly the way she wanted him to.

  “You’re not listening,” she complained and pouted. The lipstick made her mouth look full and lush.

  “Of course I am. You were talking about the power behind the power,” he said.

  “Lucky guess.”

  It wasn’t at all. Not only had he heard her, but he’d read that exact article last week, along with the rest of the magazine, then had left the periodical in the suite living room. Obviously Heidi had picked it up and read it as well. Was she trying to impress him with her business acumen? He would much rather talk about something more personal.

  “How do you like El Bahar?” he asked.

  “It’s lovely. I haven’t had a chance to see all that I would like, but it’s very beautiful. The contrast of the sea and the desert, not to mention the combination of old and new in the city. I especially like the financial district and how elegant yet functional that area turned out to be.”

  She made her last statement while staring at him from under her lashes. He nearly laughed. As Honey, she was simply being a tourist. As Heidi, she knew very well he’d had a large hand in the development of El Bahar as a financial power in the Middle East and the world.

  “I’m glad you’re impressed,” he said. “Do you travel much?”

  “Oh, not too much,” she said without thinking. “I’ve been pretty busy with…” Her voice trailed off, as if she remembered who she was supposed to be. “That is to say I do travel a lot. I adore being in different places at different times of the year. Paris, London, Los Angeles.” She offered a quick smile, then dived for her glass of soda and clutched it as if it were a lifeline.

  Jamal nodded. “I see. Your family must miss you when you’re gone.”

  “Some,” she agreed. “But my brothers are home.”

  “Are they married?”

  She swallowed. “Do you really want to talk about my family?” she asked, her voice low and sultry. She often forgot she was supposed to keep it that way, so the tone varied from seductive to normal and back. “Wouldn’t you rather talk about…us?”

  “There’s an us?” he asked before he could stop himself.

  She sat on the sofa across from his. Now she set her drink back on the table and shifted forward until her knees were pressed against the glass coffee table. “Wouldn’t you like there to be?”

  “Actually I would,” he said sincerely. “Although I think we need to get to know each other a little better first. Perhaps if you told me about the kind of man you prefer.”

  She blinked several times. “Kind of man?”

  “Yes. Do you have a physical preference? Height, coloring, that sort of thing?” He stretched out his arms along the back of the sofa. “Tell me, Honey, what do you look for in a lover?”

  “What do I look for?” She bit her lower lip, then slipped back on the sofa and folded her arms over her chest. “Gee, I don’t think there’s any one thing that matters more than another. Someone nice, of course.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Nice?”

  “Is that bad?”

  “I don’t know. They’re your lovers.”

  “Okay. Nice and well—” She made a vague gesture with her hand. “You know.”

  “Actually, I don’t.” He paused. “Maybe the question is too general. Why don’t you tell me about your last lover. Or do you have one now?”

  “No, I’m really sorta between men,” she said, her voice a little strained.

  Jamal didn’t want to push her too far, but he couldn’t help teasing her. Besides, he wouldn’t mind knowing what she liked in a man.

  “Good,” he said meaningfully. “I’m very pleased you’re unattached.”

  “Oh, yeah, me, too,” she muttered, then sighed. “Okay, my last lover. He was Italian. His name is Jacque.”

  “Jacque? Isn’t that French?”

  “Yes.” She paused. “Did I say he was Italian?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh. I mean, good. I meant that. His mother is French, though, and he’s named after her side of the family. An uncle, I believe.”

  “Where did you meet?”

  She paused again. “Skiing. Jacque is a ski instructor.” She shrugged. “It was one of those vacation flings.”

  “Ah, Gstaad?”

  “Who?”

  “The skiing town. Did you meet in Gstaad?”

  “Oh, sure. Where else?”

  She bounced to her feet and motioned to the bottle of wine sitting in an ice bucket by the set table. “Room service sure is slow,” she said brightly. “Should I open the wine, or maybe call them and see what’s taking so long?”

&
nbsp; This time Jamal didn’t hide his smile. “They’re not taking too long. I asked them to delay serving us our lunch so that we could have a chance to…talk.”

  “Ah. I see.” She blinked again. “So your family can drink liquor, huh? That’s nice.”

  He nodded. “El Bahar is a country of many faiths, and all of those religions are respected.”

  “Great.”

  She shifted her weight from foot to foot, which was a mistake because she was wearing high heels again, and her balance was pretty shaky. She swayed, then caught herself, obviously unsure if she should sit down or remain standing to simply run out of the room.

  He decided to help her out. He leaned over and patted the cushion next to himself. “Come and sit here, Honey,” he said.

  Her eyes widened, then she blinked frantically, as if one of her contacts had slipped out of place. “There?”

  “Right next to me.”

  “Oh. Um, sure. I was going to do that anyway.” She laughed nervously and started around the coffee table.

  If she had been anyone else, he would have assumed what happened next was planned. But this was Heidi, and she was as innocent in the ways of the world as she had been when she’d been born. So he assumed that when her heel caught on the throw rug that it was a genuine accident. Her subsequent tumble had her falling across his lap, her curvy behind nestling perfectly against his thighs.

  “Oops,” she whispered as her gaze met his. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “I know. It was a most fortuitous accident.”

  “Fortuitous? Why?”

  Rather than answering, he decided to show her. He drew her up in his arms and gently lowered his mouth to hers.

  Chapter 9

  Heidi had been thinking of scrambling out of Jamal’s lap…right up until he started to kiss her. But the moment he lowered his head to hers and brushed his firm lips against her suddenly trembling mouth, she never wanted to move again.

  Odd how in a matter of seconds what had felt so awkward, suddenly felt so right. Without thinking, she put her arms around his neck and drew herself up against him. He wrapped his arms around her until they were locked in a passionate embrace.