Accidentally the Sheikh's Wife / Marrying the Scarred Sheikh: Accidentally the Sheikh's Wife. Barbara McMahon

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      “Tell me about North Dakota,” he invited. “The only time I see snow is when we ski in Switzerland.”

      He was charmed by her storytelling skills. She made her experiences seem amusing while also revealing her reactions to different situations. She was skilled at entertaining and in giving him what he wanted—a devoted companion intent on meeting his needs. He hoped his mother saw her in that light. For a little while he could imagine what life would be like married to Bethanne. Never boring, of that he was sure.

      She was having way too much fun, Bethanne thought at one point. This man was being polite in asking questions so she could talk, but she didn’t need to give them her life’s history—though Rashid did seem to be enjoying her rendition of her brief stint as an Air Force pilot. His mother looked rather horrified.

      Glancing around, she could hardly believe she was sitting in an elegant penthouse overlooking the capital city. The furnishings were amazing. She wished her stepfather could see them. And surrounding the penthouse was a spacious terrace that had banks of pots with fragrant flowers. The doors were opened to allow the breeze to enter. It was delightful.

      “You have a beautiful home,” she said to her hostess. She had to find common ground or this dinner would end awkwardly.

      Madame al Harum inclined her head regally. “I decorated it for my husband. He loved to retreat from the world and find a place of beauty.” She glanced at her son. “It’s important that two people have much in common to make a happy marriage.”

      Bethanne also looked at Rashid. His mother wasn’t buying their supposed commitment at all. Would he tell her now?

      “Similar likes and dislikes, certainly,” Rashid said. “But there is something to be said about learning about each other as the years go by, and have enough differences to be interesting.”

      His mother gave Bethanne a sour look and then nodded to her son. “That is important as well.”

      The rest of the meal processed without much comment. Bethanne was glad this was only a charade. She would not like being married into a family where the mother didn’t like her. Or was it only because of her disappointment Haile hadn’t come?

      They did not stay long after dinner finished.

      The ride back to the villa was completed in almost total silence. Bethanne knew Rashid had to be regretting his impetuous suggestion about their charade. Perhaps he’d end it tonight. The thought depressed her.

      To her surprise, Rashid did not simply leave her at the door.

      “It’s early yet. If you are not tired, perhaps a few minutes on the veranda,” he suggested.

      “That would be nice. So do we change the charade now that we both know your mother doesn’t like me?”

      “My mother does not dictate my life. She is annoyed I didn’t bring Haile tonight. She was instrumental in making that arrangement.”

      “It’s more than that. She doesn’t like me. Not just because I’m not Haile, but because of who I am,” Bethanne said. She didn’t need everyone in the world to like her, but she was a bit hurt Rashid’s mother found her wanting.

      “It’s of no account,” he said.

      Of course not. This wasn’t real. It was make-believe—until he had his huge deal signed and sealed. Then she’d be on the next plane to Texas and his life would resume its normal course. Gossip would be quelled. He’d get his way and his mother would be very relieved.

      “Her home was lovely,” she said, looking for conversation. “Did you grow up there?”

      “There and here and other places.”

      He looked out at the garden, visible now by the discreet lighting illuminating paths and special plants. He could hear the soft sound of the sea, noticeably different from faint traffic noise. “My flat today is not as pretty as this estate. It’s downtown, not far from Mother’s. I like living there yet I had almost forgotten how enjoyable this place is.”

      “Well, I appreciate being allowed to stay here. It’s so much better than a hotel.”

      “I’m sure my grandmother would have been delighted to have visitors enjoy her home. She spent several months a year here. But had other property, as well.”

      Well, duh, Bethanne thought. His family probably had two dozen residences among them. She wondered idly if there were enough bedrooms among all the residences for him to sleep in a different one each night of the month. What must that feel like?

      She had a sudden longing for her small apartment, with its familiar furnishings and photos. It might be fun to consider being Cinderella, but at the end of it all, wasn’t she happier in her own home?

      As Bethanne prepared for bed some time later, she thought about the evening. It would not have been better for Rashid’s mother to welcome her into the family. She was not truly involved. And if the woman had liked her, she would have been disappointed when the charade was exposed.

      Talking with Rashid on the veranda had given her a glimpse of what life married to him could be like. Only—there was no good-night kiss. She sighed softly. Was she going to be disappointed with no kiss before returning home? Yes. Yet she wasn’t bold enough to kiss him.

      Before turning off the lights, she opened the French doors to let the sea breeze sweep in. The light curtains billowed. The scents and fragrances from the garden were a delight. She slipped between cool sheets and lay down.

      An hour later Bethanne was still wide awake. She’d tried lying on one side then the other, then flat on her back. Nothing worked. If she had a book or magazine to read, it might lead to sleep. She considered the situation, then sighed and got up. She had not brought a robe, thinking she’d be alone in a hotel room and not need one. Quietly she dressed in her slacks and shirt. Bare feet would be okay, she was sure. It was unlikely she’d run into anyone. It was after eleven. Surely all the staff had retired for the night.

      She opened the door and stuck her head out, struck suddenly with the romantic-comedy picture that flashed into her mind. People sneaking from one room to another, peering into the hall to make sure the coast was clear. She planned nothing of the sort and stepped boldly out. She walked down the stairs, surprised when she reached the foyer to see a light coming from the library.

      Silently she walked to the doorway. When she was within hearing distance she heard a phone. It was answered before the second ring.

      The words were in Arabic, but she recognized Rashid’s voice. She thought he had left long ago. When he’d bid her good-night, he said he had to pick up something from the library.

      He was still here, and the phone call wasn’t going well—not if the terse tone was anything to go by. She hesitated at the doorway, not wishing to interrupt, but still wanting something to read. She’d come this far; she’d wait for the conclusion of the call and then step in to find a book.

      The conversation didn’t take as long as she’d expected before a harsh word was sounded, then a string of them. She wondered what was going on. He sounded angry. Sudden silence ended the call.

      When the silence had lasted several minutes, she took a breath and stepped closer, knocking slightly on the door frame. She saw him standing by open French СКАЧАТЬ