Accidentally the Sheikh's Wife / Marrying the Scarred Sheikh: Accidentally the Sheikh's Wife

When they arrived at the restaurant, Bethanne was impressed. It was on the shore of the Gulf, with tall windows which gave an excellent view to the beautiful water. Their table was next to one of the windows, tinted to keep the glare out, making Bethanne feel as if she were sitting on the sand.

“This is fabulous,” she murmured, captivated by the view.

“The food is good, as well,” he said, sitting in the chair opposite.

The maître d’ placed the menus before them with a flourish.

After one glance, Bethanne closed hers and looked back out the window. “Please order for me. I’m afraid I can’t read Arabic.”

“Do you like fish?”

“Love it.”

“Then I’ll order the same filet for us both and you’ll see what delicious fish we get from the Gulf.”

After their order had been taken, Bethanne looked at him. “Do you ever go snorkeling or scuba diving?”

“From time to time,” he said. “Do you?”

She nodded. “It’s almost mandatory if one grows up in Galveston. I’ve had some great vacations in the Florida Keys, snorkeling and exploring the colorful sea floor.”

“We will have to try that before you go,” he said politely.

She studied him for a moment. “I can go by myself, you know. You don’t have to take time away from your busy work schedule. It’s not as if—”

His raised eyebrow had her stopping abruptly.

“What?”

“We do not know who can hear our conversation,” he cautioned.

She glanced around. No one appeared to be paying the slightest bit of attention to them, but she knew it would only take a few words to cause the charade to collapse and that would undoubtedly cause Rashid a lot of trouble.

“So how goes the deal?” she asked, leaning a bit closer and lowering her voice.

“We should sign soon, if certain parties don’t cause a glitch.”

“The father?” she asked, feeling as if she were speaking in code.

“No, he’ll come round. It’s some of our own internal people who are against the proposed agreement who could still throw a wrench into the works.”

“And your mother?”

Rashid leaned closer, covering one of her hands with his, lowering his voice. “My mother has no interest in politics or business. She only wants her sons married. Our personal lives have no interest to anyone, unless it causes a breach between me and al Benqura. That’s what we are guarding against.”

Bethanne knew to others in the restaurant, it must look as if he were whispering sweet nothings. Her hand tingled with his touch. For a moment she wished she dared turn it over and clasp his. The Quishari culture was more conservative than Americans and overt displays of affection were uncommon in public. Still, he had made the overture.

“Do not be concerned with my mother. She will not cause a problem.”

“I wished she liked me,” she murmured.

“Why? You’ll hardly see her before you leave. She will be at the polo match and perhaps one or two events we attend, but her manners are excellent, as I expect yours to be.”

Bethanne bristled. “I do know how to make nice in public,” she said.

Amusement danced in his eyes. “I’m sure you do.”

Their first course arrived and Bethanne was pleased to end the conversation and concentrate on eating and enjoying the view.

“This is delicious,” she said after her first bite. The fish was tender and flavorful. The vegetables were perfect.

He nodded. “I hoped you would like it.”

Conversation was sporadic while they ate. Bethanne didn’t want to disturb the mellow mood she was in as she enjoyed the food. She glanced at Rashid once in a while, but for the most part kept looking at the sea.

When the sugared walnuts appeared for dessert, she smiled in delight. “I didn’t know restaurants served these,” she said, taking one and popping it into her mouth.

“I ordered them specially for you,” he said.

“You did?” Amazing. She’d never had anyone pay such attention to details and then act on their knowledge. “Thank you very much. I love these.”

She savored another then asked, “So what happened to your brother? Did he get the fire out?”

“He did. He heads a company that specializes in putting out oil fires as well as acting as consultants for wells around the world.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Putting out the fires can be, but the rest is consulting work.”

“Isn’t he part of the family business?”

“He is, but more a silent partner in the day-to-day operations. He prefers not to be stuck in an office, as he puts it.”

She studied him, taking another walnut and savoring it as she put it in her mouth. “I don’t see you as stuck in an office. I expect you love pitting your mind against others.”

He smiled slightly. “One way to put it, I suppose. I find it satisfying to make deals to benefit the company. Pitting my wits against others in the field and continuing to expand the company beyond what my father did.”

“How did your father die?” It was a bold question, given what she’d learned this morning, but she would never have a better opportunity.

“Heart attack. He was only sixty-three…far too young to die.”

“I hope heart problems don’t run in your family.” Nothing said about what caused it. Maybe the timing was coincidental to the disappearance of her father and the plane. She hoped so. It was bad enough they thought her father a thief. Surely they didn’t blame him for the old sheikh’s death.

“No. He had rheumatic fever as a child and developed problems from that. The rest of us, including two of his older brothers, are fine.”

More than fine, she thought, looking away lest she gave him insight into her thought process. Really, Bethanne, she admonished, you’ve seen other gorgeous men before. Just not so up close and interested in her—even if it was only pretend.

“Ready to leave? We can take the walnuts with us. I want Teaz to drive us up the coast. There are some beautiful spots along the way. And some ruins from ancient times.”

Settled in the luxurious limousine a few moments later, Bethanne knew she could get used to such treatment in no time. And she could gain a bazillion pounds if she kept eating the sweets. Just one or two more and she’d stop. Until later.

Rashid gave a running commentary as they drove along one of the major highways of Quishari. With the Persian Gulf on the right and huge family estates on the left, there was a sameness that gradually changed as they went farther from the city.

Soon they were surrounded by the desert, stretching from the sea to as far to the west as she could see.

“The ruins are best viewed walking through them,” he said when Teaz stopped the car. The place was lonely, sandy and windswept, only outlines of the buildings that had once comprised a thriving village.

“Lonely,” Bethanne said, staring west. Nothing but miles of empty land. And the memory of people now gone.

“Once it was a lively trading port. You can see a few of the pilings for the piers in the water. It’s estimated these are more than two thousand years old.”

“Makes America seem like a toddler. Most of our history goes back four hundred years—once the Europeans settled in. I’d like to see this from the air. Tell me more.”

By the time the sun was sinking lower in the sky, they’d gone north almost to the border and turned to head for the villa. Bethanne enjoyed every moment. It was obvious that Rashid loved his country and enjoyed sharing his devotion with his guest. She learned more about the history of the area in their ride than she’d ever learned in school or from her father. Rashid had appeared surprised at the knowledge she did have.

“Tomorrow we can take the plane up again. Fly over the ruins and maybe west. There are a few oases that are large enough to support small communities.”

“Did your family gather at the villa for holidays?” she asked.

“For some of them. Other times we met at my father’s home. But the family loved the villa. In the summer, my parents often spent several weeks visiting my grandmother and enjoying the sea. My brother and I loved those times.”

Rashid escorted her to the door when they arrived.

The butler met them, speaking rapidly to Rashid.

“We seem to have company,” Rashid said to her in English. “My brother.”

“Oh. Do you want me to go on upstairs?”

“No, come meet Khalid.”

When they entered the salon, a man sitting on one of the chairs reading the newspaper rose. For a split second, Bethanne stared. He looked just like Rashid. Twins!

Then he turned to face them and the image was disturbed by the slash of burned skin going from just beneath his right eye, down to the collar of his shirt in a disfiguring swath. Bethanne caught her breath, trying not to imagine the pain and suffering that had resulted from such a burn.

“Bethanne, this is Khalid.”

“How do you do. Rashid didn’t tell me you two were twins.”

Khalid nodded but stayed where he was, his eyes alert and suspicious.

“He told me about your plan to fool the world. Stupid idea,” Khalid said.

She blinked at the hostility, then glanced at Rashid, who shrugged. “So you say. If it holds off the wolves until the deal is signed, I’m good with it. What brings you here?”

“I wanted to meet her,” Khalid said.

Bethanne walked over and sat down. “Now you have. Questions?” She had spent her fair share dealing with obstreperous officers in the past. And some cranky clients. She could handle this.

“Do not cross the line,” Rashid warned his brother.

“What do you expect from this?” Khalid said, ignoring his twin.

“A signed acceptance of the jet aircraft I delivered and a few days exploring a country I have long wanted to see,” Bethanne responded quickly.

Rashid watched his brother ask more questions than he should have. He was looking for a gold digger and that was not Rashid’s assessment of Bethanne. She was more concerned with clearing her father’s name than getting clothes or money from him. Not that Rashid had any intentions of providing his visitor anything more than was needed to attend the events where he’d show her off. Khalid was worried for naught.

“Did you get that oil fire out?” she asked at a pause in the interrogation.

Khalid nodded. “How do you know about that?”

“My dear friend Rashid tells me everything,” she said sweetly.

Rashid laughed aloud. “Subtlety is not your strong suit. Leave her alone. I’m happy with the arrangement we have. No need to look for trouble where there is none.”

Khalid studied her. Bethanne met his gaze with a considering one of her own.

“We are dining in this evening—would you care to join us?” Rashid asked.

He decided in that instance to stay for dinner. Maybe a few hours in Bethanne’s company would end his brother’s suspicions and gain his own cooperation in the situation.

CHAPTER FOUR

PROMPTLY at eight the next morning, Bethanne descended the stairs, dressed in her uniform. She was looking forward to another ride over Quishari. She and Rashid had discussed the trip last night. It would give one of his pilots a chance at the controls. She knew he would love the plane.

And she would spend more hours in Rashid’s company. She was treasuring each, knowing the memory of their time would be all she’d have in the future. But for now, she relished every moment.

Fatima sat on one of the elegant chairs in the foyer. She rose when Bethanne reached the tiled floor. Saying something in Arabic, she smiled politely. Bethanne hadn’t a clue what she said, but smiled in return.

The limo was in front and whisked them both away. Obviously today was a day that needed a chaperone. Was she going on the plane with them as well?

Bethanne had braided her hair in a single plait down the back to keep it out of the way. Her uniform was a far cry from the silk dresses she’d been wearing. Still, this was business. It would have been highly inappropriate for her to wear one of the dresses when flying the plane.

The jet gleamed in the sunlight when they arrived. Ground crewmen stood nearby, but no one stood next to the plane. Once she and Fatima got out of the limo, the translator broke away from the group and headed their way.

“His Excellency and Alexes are already in the plane,” he said with a slight bow.

Bethanne’s heart skipped a beat and then began to race.

“I’ll start the ground checklist,” she said, ignoring her clamoring need to see Rashid again. She had her tasks to perform to carry everyone safely. “Ask Fatima if she wishes to accompany me or board now?”

A quick interchange, then he said, “She will remain by the stairs until you are ready to enter.”

Bethanne took her time checking the aircraft then nodded to Fatima and climbed the steps to the plane. After the bright sunshine, it took a couple of seconds for her eyes to adjust. She saw an older man talking with Rashid in the back of the cabin. Starting back toward them, Bethanne watched as they studied the communication panel.

Rashid saw her and introduced the pilot. “We are looking at the various aspects of the aircraft. This one has more features than the one I’ve been using.”

“But the one that was lost had some of these same capabilities,” the pilot murmured, still looking at the dials and knobs.

The plane that was lost—was that the one her father had flown? The pilot was someone who might have known Hank. She hoped they had some time together on today’s flight so she could ask him.

“If you are ready to depart, Alexes would like to sit in the cockpit to observe and then fly it once you give the go-ahead.”

“I’m sure you’ll be ready in no time,” she said to the pilot. “For all the technology this baby carries, she’s quick to respond and simple to fly.”

The man didn’t look convinced. Bethanne wondered if he was unsure of her own skills, or those of the plane.

“Fatima will accompany us,” Rashid said. He handed Bethanne a topographical map. “I thought we could first fly over the ruins from yesterday, and then head west, toward one of the oases I spoke of.”

“Sounds great. Did you already file the flight plan?”

“Alexes did.”

“Then let’s go.”

The pilot bowed slightly to the sheikh and followed Bethanne into the cockpit. He slid into the copilot’s seat and began scanning the dials and switches.

Bethanne smoothly taxied and took off, taking the route the pilot had filed with the ground control. She talked to the pilot the entire time about what she was doing and how the plane responded. His English was excellent and he quickly grasped the intricacies of the new jet.

When they reached their cruising altitude, she banked easily and headed north as the flight plan outlined. The sea was sparkling in the sunshine. The shoreline, irregular below them, gleamed. The vegetation edging the beach contrasted with the white sand and blue waters.

Even as she conversed with the other pilot, Bethanne scanned the land below, wondering if her father had flown this exact route. Her recall of the topographical map showed when they turned inland she would be flying almost directly west. Was that a routine flight for the old sheikh?

Rashid al Harum opened the cockpit door and looked in. “What do you think, Alexes?” he asked, resting one hand on the back of Bethanne’s seat.

The pilot responded in Arabic and when Rashid spoke in the same language, the man looked abashed.

“My pardon. I told His Excellency that the plane handles like a dream. If I may take over for a while?”

Bethanne nodded and lifted her hands.

“Ahh, it does respond like a dream,” Alexes said a moment later, approval in his voice.

“Below are the ruins,” Rashid said, looking over her shoulder.

Bethanne looked out of the window, seeing the outlines of the structures they’d viewed yesterday. She kept her eyes on the ground when Alexes banked slightly so she could see the old piers marching out in the water. The crystal clarity of the Persian Gulf enabled her to clearly see each one. Her imagination was sparked by the picture below. Who had lived there? How had their lives been spent? What would they think of people soaring over them in planes they probably never even dreamed about?

Slowly the plane turned and the ruins were behind them. Below was only endless sand with hardy plants which could survive the harsh conditions. The scene became monotonous in the brown hues.

Bethanne looked over her shoulder at the sheikh. “How long to the oasis?” she asked.

“We’ll be there in time to have lunch before returning. Once you’re reassured Alexes knows what he’s doing, perhaps you’d join me in the main compartment. Try out that sofa again.”

She nodded, her heart skipping a beat. She didn’t need to try out the sofa; she knew it was the height of luxury. She would love to spend a bit more time with Rashid, however. And demonstrate to the other pilot she trusted him with the plane.

The pilot seemed competent. He was murmuring softly, as if in love with the jet. She knew the feeling. It was her favorite model to fly. Still, she didn’t leap at the chance to go back to the cabin. She had to focus on her primary responsibility, which was completing delivery of the aircraft—not spending time with the sheikh. She reviewed the various features of the cockpit, quoted fuel ratios, aeronautic facts and figures and answered all Alexes’s questions.

When she was satisfied he could handle things, she turned over the controls and rose to head to the back. Fatima was dozing in one of the chairs near the rear.

Rashid looked up from a paper he was reading and watched as she crossed the small space and sat beside him on the long sofa.

“Alexes handling things well?” he asked.

“Of course. He said it was similar to another Starcraft plane he used to fly as backup. What happened to that one?”

“It was the one your father took—they both vanished,” he said, putting aside his paper.

“It’s hard to hide an airplane.”

Just then the plane shuddered and began to dive. Bethanne took a split second to act. She was on her feet and heading for the cockpit when it veered suddenly to the right. She would have slammed into the side if Rashid had not caught her and pulled her along.

Opening the cockpit door a second later, she saw Alexes slumped over the controls. The earth rushed toward them at an alarming rate.

Rashid acted instantly, reaching to draw Alexes back. Bethanne slid into her seat and began to pull the plane from the dive. Rashid struggled to get Alexes out of the seat, but the man was unconscious and a dead weight. He called for Fatima and she hurried forward to help him, trying to guide the unconscious pilot’s legs away from the controls as the sheikh pulled him from the copilot’s seat. Once clear, she helped the sheikh carry him to the sofa while Bethanne regained control of the plane.

In only seconds the jet had resumed a normal flight pattern and once she verified the altitude, she resumed their approved flight track. Glancing around, she was relieved there were no other planes in sight.

“How is he?” she called back. The door separating the cockpit from the cabin had been propped open.

“Still unconscious…most likely a heart attack,” Rashid called, loosening Alexes’s collar.

“Oxygen is by the first-aid kit in the galley,” she yelled back. She contacted ground control. Citing an emergency, she was directed to the nearest airport, in Quraim Wadi Samil, a few miles to the south of their original route.

Glancing over her shoulder, Bethanne could glimpse most of the cabin. Fatima held the portable oxygen tank while Rashid was still bent over the pilot. She shivered, hoping he was all right. What had happened?

In seconds Alexes’s eyes flickered. He spoke in Arabic. Bethanne didn’t understand him, but applauded Rashid’s calm reply. In moments the sheikh had the older man take some aspirin and elevated his legs and feet. His color was pale, his speech slurred slightly.

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