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

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СКАЧАТЬ spun around, glaring at her for a second. Then he quickly adjusted his expression to reveal nothing.

      “Something wrong?” he asked.

      “I was going to ask you the same thing. I thought you left a while ago.”

      “I did. Then I remembered a file I had left and returned for it. I was about to leave when I got a phone call on my mobile phone.” He still held it in his hand.

      “I heard. Not that I understood a word, but it didn’t sound like a very friendly call.”

      “It was from al Benqura. He found out about Haile. She contacted him. He was angry with me for not letting him know.”

      “How awkward that would have been.”

      Rashid sighed and walked back to the desk, leaning against it and nodding. “Awkward for him. He’s threatening to end the deal. I told him in no uncertain terms that would not be acceptable unless he never wanted dealings with anyone in Quishari again.”

      Bethanne could empathize with the father whose daughter had run away and put him in a difficult situation. She watched as Rashid gradually relaxed. He was quick to anger, but also quick to regain his equilibrium. She saw when his curiosity was piqued by her arrival.

      “What are you doing here?” His gaze dropped to her bare feet. His lips curved in a slight smile.

      “I came for a book to read. I can’t seem to sleep. You said you had some English books—I thought I’d get one of those.”

      He nodded and gestured to the shelving on the left. “English books on that wall. My grandmother used to entertain several friends from Great Britain. She has an assortment. The mysteries are on the lower shelves.”

      She crossed, conscious of his regard, and began to scan the titles. Finding a couple that sounded promising, she drew them from the shelf. Had Rashid read them? Could they discuss them after she finished?

      Deciding to take both, she hugged them to her chest as she turned to face him.

      “Now what?” she asked.

      “You read them and fall asleep?” he asked.

      “I mean with our charade. Did the phone call help or change things?”

      “We continue. Whichever way the winds blow, we will adapt.”

      CHAPTER THREE

      “I DON’T mean to intrude. But if you need someone to talk to, I could listen.” She wished she’d had someone to listen to her when her father’s disappearance became known. Her mother had long ago divorced herself from Hank Pendarvis—both legally and emotionally. She and Bethanne’s stepfather had a loving and happy marriage from which Bethanne had often felt excluded. Plus, they never had a kind word to say about her father. Bethanne wished she could have him give her one of his bear hugs again. Did Haile’s father feel that way?

      “Did he hear from Haile?” she asked.

      “He did. And is furious with her and with me.”

      “You’re the injured party—why is he angry with you?”

      “He believes I should have told him immediately. He could have taken steps. He overrates his power. By the time I found out, Haile had had hours to flee Morocco. She and her lover were married in Marseilles that very day. My telling him would not have prevented that.”

      “Will he tell others? Your minister?”

      “Not if he wants this deal to go through.”

      He pushed away from the desk. “I have my folder. I won’t keep you up any longer.”

      He looked at her slacks and T-shirt.

      “Was sleeping attire not included in the clothes I ordered?”

      “Yes, but no robe. I didn’t know whom I might see if I came down for books.”

      “I shall remedy that in the morning.”

      “Please, I’m fine. Next time I’ll take a book up with me. You’ve been more than generous. I don’t need anything else.”

      “I thought all women loved beautiful things.”

      “I expect we do. But we don’t have to own everything we see. Good night, Rashid.”

      Reaching her room a minute later, she softly closed the door and flung herself on the bed, the books falling on the mattress beside her. She had not expected to see him again tonight. He’d looked tired and somewhat discouraged. Not the best way to end a day. She hoped the deal would be signed soon. There was nothing else she could do but go along and hope in some small part she’d contribute to a satisfactory conclusion to their negotiations.

      Trying to settle into a fictitious mystery when she had a real-life scenario in her own life was difficult. Murder was not involved in her case, but finding clues was. She tried to glean ideas from the book, but her mind turned time and time again to Rashid.

      She knew he believed Hank to be a thief, but wouldn’t he still want answers? Letting the book fall onto her chest, she gazed at the dark night beyond the billowing curtains. The man at the airport had said the son had no idea why her father took the plane. Didn’t he want to know? She couldn’t picture Rashid ignoring the situation. He’d push until he got answers.

      Just before she fell asleep, she pictured herself with Rashid finding her father and finding the reason for the apparent theft. It could be explained away. Then Rashid would look at her with admiration and sweep her into his arms for a kiss…

      She stopped herself—she had to stop fantasizing about his kisses!

      Once again Minnah woke Bethanne the next morning, bringing a breakfast tray. The hot chocolate was as rich and satisfying as the previous day. The croissants were warm and buttery, melting in her mouth.

      She debated going for a swim, but decided she had best set to searching for her father. She wanted to prove to Rashid his belief was misplaced.

      “Pardon, I almost forgot,” Minnah said after she opened the French doors and curtains to allow the sunshine to flood the room. “It is a letter from His Excellency. I will return for the tray in a while.” She handed Bethanne an ivory-colored envelope with her name written in a bold script.

      She opened it and read the brief note, her heart revving up. It had taken ages to fall asleep and then her dreams about Rashid had been exciting and most certainly not ones she wanted to share with anyone. The best favor she could do herself would be to remember always that this was merely make-believe.

       A car will be at your disposal today. The driver will be waiting when you are ready to take you where you wish. He speaks English, and can translate if you wish to stop to shop or have coffee.

      Disappointment warred with relief at the missive. What had she expected? A love note? An offer to spend the day with her?

      The bold handwriting continued: Saturday I have a polo match, I would like you to attend. Perhaps you’d care СКАЧАТЬ