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

She did so elegantly. What were the odds of having a suitable woman arrive just when Haile disappeared? One who seemed as at home here in his villa as she did behind the controls of the jet?

“So let the inquisition begin,” he said whimsically.

She shrugged. “I looked you up on the Internet. There’s quite a lot written about you and your brother. You have a lot of good press. Is that designed? Or are you genuine?”

“I’d like to say genuine. We are not given to excesses. We enjoy our work and do our best for it.”

“Your brother is harder to find out about, but you are often in the press. But no special woman—hence the arrangement with Miss Haile, I suppose.”

He kept his face without expression. At least the old press about his and Marguerite’s disastrous breakup was old news, probably not in the top articles brought up when his name was entered in a search engine. He had his father to thank for that.

“So I know more about you than this morning. Enough to fool your mother? That I’m not sure. There’s not much personal, like what your favorite food is or if you had a dog when you were a child.”

He relaxed. She was not probing for intimate details, just basic facts.

“My favorite food is candied dates. My brother and I had a wonderful dog when we were children. I miss him to this day. But my life is too busy and hectic to have a pet.”

She settled and began a litany of questions, firing them off as if on an invisible checklist—favorite book, movie, activity, color. Did he consider himself close to his family? Did he have special friends she should know about? A hobby that consumed him? How had he done in school? What did he like about his job and what did he wish to change? Who did he admire most in the world?

It was a novel experience to be so questioned. Not once did she ask about material things.

Finally she stopped. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, looking as if she were about to jump to her feet.

Rashid looked at her. “My turn.”

“I thought you had all you needed from the report Starcraft sent,” she said, looking amused.

“Ah, but I didn’t realize all the nuances of information necessary for an almost-engaged couple’s knowledge bank. I do not know your favorites or your passions.”

“Favorite color—blue. Food, anything with dark chocolate. Passions—flying. I have no boyfriend, which is lucky for you or we couldn’t be doing this stupid charade. I am not close to my mother—nor the man she married after she divorced my father when I was little. I love traveling and seeing the world. I have experience shooting down other aircraft.”

She looked adorable as she recited her list ending proudly with her startling fact. He was fascinated by the play of emotions across her face. Now sitting on the edge of her chair, her animation was a delight. Would his mother like her? What was not to like? As long as she didn’t find out Bethanne’s father’s name.

“I hope there will be no need of the latter while you are in Quishari.”

She laughed aloud. “I should hope never again, but it was training I received and just knowing I could do it improves my confidence. If I get into situations that make me uncomfortable, I remember I could shoot down a plane if needed and probably no one else in the room could.”

“A strange way to improve confidence.”

“It’ll help when meeting your mother.”

He laughed at that. This American woman was intriguing. He had even more reason to thank Haile for fleeing. If nothing else, Rashid planned to enjoy the next few days with Bethanne by his side. Without expectations on either part, they were free to enjoy the other’s company without looking for hidden nuances or motives.

He rose. “Come, we’ll be late if we don’t leave soon. And tardiness is something my mother does not like.”

“Tell me about her—I want her to be satisfied with the story we tell. Will she be hurt when the truth comes out?”

“Why should the truth ever come out?” he asked.

She looked at him in surprise. “Truth always comes out. You just make sure you put the right spin on it so she’s not hurt by your deception.”

“I would do nothing to hurt my mother.”

“Good answer.”

They were soon ensconced in the limo and on their way to the city.

“Where does your mother live?” Bethanne asked.

“In a penthouse apartment near the heart of the city, overlooking parts of the old section. She loves being in the center of things. It helps being close to friends since my father died.”

“The soup is delicious,” Bethanne said later, sipping the savory concoction. “So far I’m really enjoying the food here. I have a real sweet tooth and the candied walnuts really appeal. I shall have to buy a large package to take home when I leave.”

Madame al Harum looked at her.

“And when do you leave?” she asked.

Bethanne smiled and glanced at Rashid. “Not for a long time, I hope.”

She also hoped she was playing the role assigned her to his satisfaction. She’d been as gracious as she knew how when meeting his mother. She could tell at once that Madame al Harum did not like her. For one thing, she seemed to disapprove of tall, willowy blondes. She probably wanted a proper Arab woman for her son.

Then she expressed dismay that Bethanne was a pilot. It was too dangerous and too unseemly for a woman. Bethanne decided not to mention shooting down planes. She knew his mother would not appreciate that tidbit.

Dinner was easier. The food took some attention. She counted the minutes until they could finish and leave.

“And where is home for you?” the older woman asked.

“Galveston, Texas, right on the water. Galveston’s an island that has been home all my life.”

“What does your father do?”

“He’s an antique dealer. But I have to say, history in Texas doesn’t go back as far as here in Quishari. The old part of the capital city is thousands of years old. Texas has only been around for a few hundred years.”

Rashid looked as if he were enjoying the meal. But Bethanne didn’t think she was winning Brownie points with his mother.

“Tell me how you became interested in flying,” Rashid said when the main course was served.

Grateful for the change of topic, Bethanne plunged right in.

“My father loved to fly and took me up in small planes almost as soon as I could sit up by myself.” She smiled in memory. “It seemed logical when I got older that I, too, would love to fly. I actually learned when I was a teenager, to my mother’s dismay. When I was accepted to the Academy, she really flipped. But I think Dad talked her in to letting me choose my own way. Anyway, I learned to fly a variety of aircrafts and here I am.”

“So your father taught you to fly?” Rashid asked.

“No. That I had to do on my own. He was away more than home, actually. Probably why I’m following in his footsteps and seeing the world.” She met his eye, holding it for a moment, silently refuting his ideas about her father.

“And that was your reason for choosing to attend a military academy?”

His mother’s eyes grew large at that.