The Sheikh Doc's Marriage Bargain

by Susan Carlisle

  Her fingers remained glued to the leather arms of the seat. To have recognized the material covering the chair was making progress with her terror. For the last thirty minutes she had been almost comatose. Slowly she opened her eyes until she had clear vision then peeked out the window.

  He was right. The view was amazing. Below was the sparking blue of Lake Michigan. Along its bank were the glistening skyscrapers of Chicago in the afternoon sun. She could make out the river running through the center of the city. The picture was like nothing she had ever seen before. Her breath caught—in a good way.

  She glanced at the Prince.

  “Aren’t you glad you took a chance?” His eyes didn’t waver.

  Was he talking about something more than looking out the window? “I am.”

  He gave her hand a pointed look. “Do you think you could let go of my seat? I’m afraid you’re going to crush it to sand if you do not.”

  She quickly clasped her hands in her lap until her knuckles hurt.

  “I was just kidding you, you know,” he said in a dry tone.

  Laurel hadn’t known. Had no idea what this man considered humor. They were strangers. The Prince studied the view out the window as well. It was dizzying to think that he would try to joke with her. He looked far too serious most of the time. She had seen a couple of breaks in his unbending expression but they were rare. He usually looked as if he supported the weight of the world on his shoulders. As the Minister of Health, he must carry a heavy burden.

  “Prince Tariq, are you making fun of me?”

  “No Dr. Martin, I’m trying to ease your mind.”

  “Thank you, I think.” Had he really been that concerned about her?

  “Try to sit back and relax, Laurel.”

  She like the nuances of her name on his lips too much. He made it sound exotic and a little bit naughty. Until he’d used it she’d thought it a simple name and too sweet.

  “By the way, you may call me Tariq when we are in private. I know my title is a mouthful. Would you like to have something to drink? Some crackers to settle your stomach?”

  He had even realized that? “Yes, that would be nice.” Laurel wasn’t much of an alcohol drinker and she certainly didn’t need to start now at ten thousand feet in the air with a man who had such an effect on her.

  Tariq lifted a finger and the steward came to stand beside them. “Dr. Martin will have some—”

  “Ginger ale, please.”

  “And I will have the same. Please bring crackers as well.”

  The steward nodded and left as quietly as he had approached.

  Having relaxed a little, Laurel looked around the plane. It was decorated in pale gray with darker gray curtains on either side of the windows. Her fingers rubbed the arm of the seat. The leather felt ultra-smooth. She looked across the aisle at another seat. On the headrest was what she guessed was the Zentar coat of arms. It consisted of a blue emblem with a yellow dragon over it. Since this was her first time on a plane she had no others to compare it to but she thought this one had to be one of the most luxurious ever built.

  Lauren couldn’t fathom living in a world like this all the time. The expense of it alone boggled her mind. Her upbringing didn’t allow for that kind of lifestyle. She was so out of her element. What was she doing here?

  The steward returned. He didn’t have the expected can of soda. Instead he held a silver tray with two clear glasses and a china plate holding crackers. He unfolded a small table from within the arm of the seat. After placing a napkin on it, he put her glass and the plate on it. He did the same for the Prince then quietly backed away.

  Could she feel more out of place? She glanced at Tariq. He had opened his laptop. Without looking up, he said, “Dinner will be served in a couple of hours. Feel free to roam the plane. There is a bedroom at the back if you would like to lie down. I have work to do so you will need to entertain yourself.”

  Nothing like being dismissed. He’d gotten what he wanted in her coming with him to Zentar so he apparently felt no need to keep her happy any further. Not that he’d really been trying anyway. Most of their interaction had gone his way and not hers. With a sigh, she closed her eyes. It was just as well anyway.

  Tariq. Would she ever get used to calling him that?

  The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of activity. Nasser, Tariq’s driver, had seen her home after her meeting with the Prince at the hotel. She’d phoned her parents and explained where she was going but had strategically left out the part about getting married. She hated lying to them by omission but she couldn’t find another way that made the situation any better. They had sounded confused, concerned and a little excited for her. She assured them she would video-chat regularly. Her brothers and sister were more enthusiastic. They all asked if they could come for a visit. Especially if the Prince would agree to send the plane for them. Laurel assured them she wouldn’t be asking him to do that.

  She’d spent the rest of the day on the phone, arranging things and packing. Tariq had insisted that his assistant take care of the business end of her departure so she could handle the personal. Overwhelmed by the time crunch, she’d agreed. Once again he had gotten his way.

  Winter was approaching in Chicago, where it could be bitterly cold, and now she was off to a hot, arid climate. What few clothes she owned that might suit, she’d stuffed into her ancient suitcase. She didn’t plan on being gone long so she would make do with what she had. Her heavy coats she left behind. She had to admit she wouldn’t miss the freezing windy weather of the upper mid-west.

  By the time Nasser had pulled to the curb in front of her apartment just after midday, Laurel had been standing on the sidewalk with two suitcases and a box of books ready for him to load into the car. As a reluctant voyager off on a grand adventure, she had watched her apartment get smaller in the window.

  Sometime later, a large warm hand on her shoulder shook her awake. Laurel jerked straight. She’d been asleep. As emotional as she had been about flying, and equally disturbed by being in Tariq’s presence, she wouldn’t have thought she could have fallen asleep. “Uh. What?”

  “Dinner is being served when you are ready.” Tariq stood at her right shoulder. “The bathroom is down the hall toward the rear of the plane if you need it.” He moved away.

  She looked back at him. He pulled out his phone and sank into a chair beside an elegantly set table, with the silent steward standing attentively nearby. Even high above the earth he ate well. Had the man ever had a hamburger?

  Making her way to the bathroom, Laurel discovered it was twice as large as the one her family had shared growing up. Even this room was elegant, with gold fixtures and plush towels. Returning to the cabin, she took the chair across from Tariq.

  The steward efficiently served their meal. She smiled. To her humor and amazement the food being offered was less sophisticated than practical. There was breast of chicken, roasted potatoes and steamed broccoli with a roll. Despite the simplicity of the menu it was tasty and filling. Since she’d missed her other meals that day, the food was welcome.

  Tariq was a charming dinner companion. He kept a light dialogue going about what he had done and seen while in Chicago, asking her small insignificant questions about her favorite things to do there. When he had finished with his meal, he leaned back in his chair.

  Her body heated as he studied her with his piercing look. “So, were you able to get your affairs in order without difficulty before we left?”

  “I did. It required numerous phone calls and asking two neighbors to take my plants.” She raised her starched linen napkin to her lips.

  “Did you work things out with your parents?”

  “I did.” Not that she liked deceiving her family.

  His attention focused on her. “Tell me about them.”

  To her further amazement he sounded as if he genuinel
y wanted to know. This part of his personality she’d not expected. She cleared her throat. “They live about an hour outside Chicago. Dad is a factory worker and my mother a schoolteacher. They’re very happy together. I have two brothers and a sister. I wish I’d had time to see them. I’ll miss them.”

  “You obviously care about them. I am sorry I could not have allowed you more time. If you had taken the job when I first asked, you would have had it.”

  So much for his charm. He was right, but she didn’t like him pointing it out. “Are you trying to start an argument?”

  His mouth lifted slightly at one side. “I am not. Just stating a fact. So how is your family taking you being away?”

  “To say that my parents were surprised is an understatement. Along with concerned, and maybe just a little excited for me. They’ve been telling me for years I need to get out more.” Why was she telling this dark, brooding man that? He should be the last person she would confide in.

  “I too am sorry you did not have time to see them, to have been able to say a proper goodbye. Family is important.”

  She lowered her chin and gave him a narrow-eyed look. “I appreciate that but I don’t plan to be gone long.”

  His expression didn’t waver and he said nothing. What was he thinking? She turned her attention to her plate. “My brothers and sisters were jealous. They all wanted to come with me.” She leaned back as the steward removed her plate then the Prince’s. “About us getting married, are you sure there is no other way?”

  The question hung in the air as the steward put a plate down in front of them with a decadent-looking chocolate cake on it.

  “Positive.”

  After the steward left, she said softly, “Sorry.”

  “He is loyal and knows that nothing he sees or hears is to be repeated. But you should still be careful what you say.”

  Laurel picked up her fork and concentrated on the cake. “I will be.”

  “Good.” Tariq just looked at her a moment with those unreadable eyes. He blinked. “Did you have to give up any other commitments to come to Zentar?”

  “You’re asking that now?”

  “I just wanted to make sure some man wasn’t going to show up unannounced and create a problem.”

  “You don’t need to worry about that happening.” She refused to let him know why it wouldn’t be an issue.

  “That’s good to hear. I suspect you live for your work.”

  That might be true but she didn’t like the way it sounded out loud. He didn’t think she had a personal life? His attitude made her think too much of her childhood years when she had been made fun of for reading all the time. She glared at him, which she seemed to be doing a lot of. “It would be my guess we both tend to do that.”

  “Agreed.” He dug into his cake.

  He made it sound like she had given him a compliment. “You mean I actually have something in common with a prince!” Laurel made her tone as cynical as possible. Who was she kidding? She had little in common with him and never would.

  Tariq smiled. Her breath caught. Having it directed at her made her feel special, all warm and gooey inside. “It sounds like we do.”

  This laid-back, easygoing aspect of his temperament she could learn to like.

  “You know, I’ve been wondering about where I’m going to be living. Do I need to rent a car? Can I just walk to the lab?”

  “You will be my wife. You will live on the palace grounds, in my apartments. All you have to do is ask for anything you need.”

  Live with him? At the palace? She hadn’t thought this through. A palace wasn’t where she belonged. She wouldn’t fit in with royalty. She wasn’t like them. “There’s no other arrangements that can be made?”

  “Not if you are my wife. There are plenty of rooms in my apartment. You will not be disturbed. Nasser or one of the other drivers will always be available to take you to and from the clinic.”

  “Am I going to need an escort for some reason?” Was there something going on she needed to know about?

  “You do not.” He almost sounded hurt. “Zentar is a very safe country. You are welcome to wear Western dress but be aware of the sun. It can often be very strong so you may want to consider a hat and sunglasses whenever you’re out. Cover your fair skin in the middle of the day.”

  It gave her a peculiar feeling to have him note something as personal as her skin. As if she mattered to him. That wasn’t possible.

  He continued, “I think you will find that everything you might wish for will be at the lab, which will be fully under your direction. I’ve already hired six highly qualified employees. They have impeccable qualifications.”

  “Okay.” She wanted to do research, not wrangle people, and she had no intention of starting to do that now.

  “The lab is housed in the same building as our public clinic, which will be opened five days a week. You will find that it is extremely busy. Anyone who comes to the clinic with hemophilia will automatically be referred to the lab for testing.” His voice took on a certain ring of excitement as he spoke. “The lab will also handle any special cases, like cancer.” His phone buzzed and he frowned at the screen.

  “I don’t know if you have made any notations in your paperwork or talked to people who know me, but I’m not a manager. That’s part of the reason I went into research. I don’t give orders well.”

  He glanced at her. “That is hard to believe. You have had no difficulty making it clear to me what you like or dislike.”

  She leaned forward in her seat. “Even you have to admit this is an extraordinary situation. Or do you demand women marry you all the time?”

  “I do not. You are the first. I think you will be fine in the lab.” Tariq’s attention went back to the phone.

  “I don’t want the responsibility of telling people what to do.” That was an aspect of her personality that had always been a struggle.

  “You should not have a problem. I have hired professionals who know their jobs. If you do have an issue, let me know.”

  “You can bet I will,” Laurel murmured. “My research comes first.”

  His attention was on her now. “And I fully intend that it should be.”

  “Is there anything else you expect from me?”

  Tariq studied her a moment too long, his eyes not wavering. Laurel shifted in her chair. Was Tariq thinking about what they were discussing or had his focus shifted to them being husband and wife? Once again she wished she could have a hint of his thoughts.

  “No, I just expect you to do what you have been brought here to do and nothing more.” He stood. “It’s another seven hours before we land. Feel free to use the bath and bedroom. I’ll have the steward wake you an hour before we arrive. There is a TV in the bedroom that you are free to watch. If you are interested in tracking our flight, turn to Channel Three. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a matter to handle.” With that he walked to an office area toward the front of the plane.

  Laurel hadn’t felt at ease about this job arrangement or fake marriage from the beginning. Her recent discussion with Tariq hadn’t improved her attitude. Unease filled her. Tariq. She had no business calling a prince by his first name alone. This entire situation was surreal.

  Maybe a shower and a little reading would help settle her nerves. It had turned dark since she had fallen asleep earlier.

  She found her small bag sitting beside the bathroom door. Apparently the steward had placed it there while they’d been having dinner. After a hot shower in the roomy bathroom she dressed and crossed the hallway to the bedroom.

  After locking the door, she tested the bed like Goldilocks, sitting on it and giving a little bounce. It was as plush as the rest of the plane. Somehow it was unnerving to think of sleeping in Prince Tariq Al Marktum’s bed. How many others had? That wasn’t her business. She needed rest if she planned to have he
r wits about her when they landed.

  Curious about where she was in the world, she turned on the TV. Finding out that she was over the center of the ocean didn’t reassure her and she quickly turned the TV to another channel. Finding little interest in any show, she turned it off and slipped under the covers. Where the Prince planned to sleep she had no idea.

  Laurel ran her hand across the ultra-soft material. What would it be like to sleep in such luxury all the time? With Tariq? She shuddered. Where had that impossible thought come from?

  * * *

  She was jolted awake by a knock on the door and the steward announcing it was time for her to rise. Choosing a blue suit over a pale pink knit top, she quickly dressed, hoping she appeared confident and professional. Blue flats finished her outfit. She would need that self-confidence to face what was coming her way today. Laurel rubbed her hands along the front of her jacket. This wasn’t what she’d dreamed of wearing to her wedding. But hers wouldn’t be a real one so it really didn’t matter.

  She found Tariq already sitting at the dining table with a plate of eggs in front of him. The smell of strong coffee circulated in the air.

  She stopped short.

  He was no longer dressed in a Western business suit. Instead he wore a white robe. Over it was a long mint-green vest with a wide decorative braid running the length of the front opening. His beard had been meticulously trimmed under his neck and at the hollows of his cheeks, creating a thin chic fashionable look that only emphasized the ruggedness of his appearance. He was every bit the picture of a desert prince. A lightning bolt of awareness shot through her core.

  Trying to ignore the sudden warmth in her nether regions, she managed, “Uh...good morning.”

  “Join me.” The sound of his deep voice ran across her nerve endings like a bow over a violin string. As usual his request was more of a statement than an invitation. Her awareness of his virility was so acute, his simple demand had her hands trembling. She swiftly sat across from him, grabbed the napkin and twisted it in her lap. This surreal physical reaction to Tariq had to stop.