Accidentally the Sheikh's Wife / Marrying the Scarred Sheikh. Barbara McMahonЧитать онлайн книгу.
set her senses to dancing. She opened her mouth to offer a hearty no, then closed it.
Think.
It would help her look for her father. Using her unexpected position to gain access where mere visitors might not have was a bonus she never expected. Don’t hastily reject this, she warned herself.
“Perhaps,” she conceded.
“And you?” he asked. The intensity of his gaze had her mesmerized. She could no more look away than she could fly without a plane.
“I can be cordial. But not lovey-dovey,” she said. There was a limit she dare not cross lest she be lost. One kiss would never be enough. She’d become demanding and forget why she’d come to Quishari if the tempting allure was given free rein.
Amusement flared in his eyes. “Agreed, no lovey-dovey. You must call me Rashid and I will call you Bethanne. In public you will appear to be devoted to me.”
“And in private?” she asked, already wondering if she’d lost her mind to even consider such a bizarre plan. Still, if it gave her the answers she craved, who was she to say no?
“I’d settle for devotion, but can understand if you feel more reserved,” he said. Laughter lurked in his eyes.
The amusement confused her. Was he serious or not?
“I will have Fatima accompany you to a villa I own by the sea. It was where Haile was to stay. You’ll have privacy there. Of course, I expect you to attend the celebratory functions that have been planned. And to convince my mother we have a chance of making this work.”
“Your mother? You want to pretend to your mother? I think you’re crazy.”
Bethanne was not close to her own mother but lying to her would never be an option. Were the sheikh and his mother on no better terms?
The amusement vanished. “I want nothing to ruin the deal I still have pending with Haile’s father. There are factions here who oppose the proposed arrangement. The finance minister, for one. He would consider Haile’s actions an insult to our country. He’d love nothing better than to drive a wedge into the negotiations. As it stands, perhaps it is even better that things turned out this way. Al Benqura will feel guilty at the actions of his daughter so be more willing to concede some points still to be agreed upon. Help me and I will do something in return for you.”
Mixed feelings washed through her. She could never pull off being a woman of interest to a dynamic man like Rashid al Harum. She’d be spotted for a fraud the first time she ventured out. Yet the thought of being escorted around by him had her stomach flipping over in giddy anticipation. She’d never have this kind of chance again.
She had only seconds to make a decision.
Jess stepped to the door. “Everything okay?” he asked.
Rashid did not look away from Bethanne. Her gaze met his, seeking assurance that if she complied with this wild scheme, it would end up all right for all.
“Everything is fine,” she said at last, hoping she wasn’t making a monumental mistake.
There was an almost imperceptible change in the sheikh’s manner. Had he doubted her? Well, he should. If not for her goal of finding her father, she would have categorically denied his request. Or maybe thought about it a bit longer. She had trouble looking away.
The sheikh spun around. “There is no need for you to remain. We can get you on a plane within the hour to return to the United States.” The sheikh summoned the other man still standing at the foot of the stairs. In only seconds, Sheikh Rashid al Harum had given him orders.
One less person who would know about the charade, Bethanne thought. She was still a bit bemused with the entire matter. This man knew what he wanted and went for it without hesitation.
“Bethanne?” Jess said, looking between her and the sheikh as if suspecting something was amiss.
“I’ll be fine. Just a few details to work out. If you can get on a plane within the hour, you better take advantage of the flight.”
“In the meantime, I will examine the interior and cockpit,” Rashid said.
Jess came closer to Bethanne when Rashid went to inspect the rear of the plane. “Is everything really okay? What happened to the fiancée?” he whispered.
“Um, change of plans.”
Jess still appeared doubtful, but he nodded and turned to retrieve his bag from where he’d stashed it. With one more look down the cabin, he turned and left with the sheikh’s man.
The sheikh peered out of one of the side windows and watched as Jess entered the car that had been waiting and was soon heading for the main section of the busy airport.
He nodded as if in satisfaction and headed for the front of the plane.
“I assume you have your own bags,” he said.
She nodded and pointed out the small travel case she used.
“You travel light.”
“It carries enough clothes for me. Two more uniforms like the one I’m wearing. And some off-duty outfits. I have reservations at a hotel in the heart of the city,” she said.
“You were planning to stay in Quishari for a while?”
“Yes. I’ve heard about it for years. Have pictures and books and pamphlets about the beaches, the history and the stark desert dwellings. I’m quite looking forward to learning more firsthand. I think I’m already in love with the country.”
“Where did you learn this?” he asked.
“From my father, Hank Pendarvis.”
For a moment she wondered at the change in attitude of the sheikh. His face tightened as it had when he learned of Haile’s defection.
“Your name is Sanders,” he said.
“My stepfather’s name. My mother remarried when I was young and he adopted me. We do not get along. My father has been missing for three years.”
“He is a thief. He stole one of our planes.”
She blinked. “That’s a lie!” Her father was not a thief.
“So you are the daughter of a thief.” Rashid shook his head.
“No, I’m not. That’s not true. My father would never steal anything—especially from your family. He wrote how he loved working for Bashiri Oil and for Sheikh Rabid al Harum.”
“My father. Who died when he learned of Hank’s theft.”
Bethanne felt sick. Was it possible? No, not her father. She hadn’t seen much of him over the years, but she had scads of letters. And he’d phoned her once a week for most of her life. Whenever he was in the States, he came to visit. They flew over Texas, had picnics in meadows and spent time at the beach together. She loved those visits when her father would tell her of the ideal life he enjoyed flying for the senior al Harum.
She raised her chin. “You are wrong.”
Rashid uttered a word in Arabic she did not understand. But the intent was clear. He did not like this situation at all. Did he want to change the role she was to play?
He leaned forward, anger radiating from him. “My family has been hurt by yours already. Do not betray me in this charade or it will be the worst for you. I am stuck—temporarily—but do not think I shall forget for an instant.”
“If you want my help, you need to make good your offer to do something for me in return.”
“And that is?” he asked, his demeanor suddenly suspicious.
“Help me find my father.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then stepped to the door. He gestured to someone on the ground and the man entered a moment later.