Just like a man, she thought, still reviewing the gowns she owned.
The next morning Ella carefully took two of her pieces, wrapped securely in a travel case, and went to the main house. Ringing the doorbell, she was greeted by Jalilah.
“I’ve come to take pictures,” she said.
“In the salon, His Excellency has told me. Come.” The maid led the way and then bowed slightly before leaving.
Ella put the starburst bowl on one of the polished mahogany tables.
Khalid appeared in the doorway. He leaned against the jamb and watched.
“What do you want?” she asked, feeling her heartbeat increase. Fussing, she tried pictures from different angles. She could hardly focus the lens with him watching her.
“Just wanted to see how the photo shoot went.”
“Don’t you have work to do?”
“No.”
She tried to ignore him, but it was impossible. She lifted the camera and framed the bowl. She snapped the picture just as the doorbell sounded. She looked at Khalid. “Company?” she asked. Maybe someone who would take him away from the salon.
He looked into the foyer and nodded. “Rashid and Bethanne. Good timing. They can help.”
“Help what?”
“You get the best pictures. You want to appeal to the largest number of buyers, right?”
“Of course.” The sooner she started earning money, the sooner she might move.
“Hello,” Rashid said, coming into the room with a tall blond woman. “Ella, this is my fiancée, Bethanne Sanders. Bethanne, this is Ella Ponti. Now, can you two talk?” he asked in Arabic.
“I also speak Italian and French and English,” Ella said, crossing the room to greet the pair.
Switching to English, Rashid said, “Good, Ella speaks English.”
“I’m so delighted to meet you,” Bethanne said, offering her hand.
Ella shook it and smiled. “I’m happy to meet you. My English is not so good, so excuse me if I get things mixed.”
“At least we can communicate. And you speak Arabic. I’m learning from a professor at the university. That’s not easy.”
“And the maid,” Rashid said softly.
Bethanne laughed. “Her, too.”
“Would that be Professor Hampstead?” Ella asked.
“Yes, do you know him?” Bethanne asked with a pleased smile.
“My husband worked at the university in language studies. I know the professor and his wife quite well. He’s an excellent teacher.”
“We came to see your work,” Rashid said. “I see you’ve started on the pictures.”
“Photographing some pieces for a preliminary catalog. I’d like to see if I can move up my timetable for a showing. Once I have enough pictures, I can make a small catalog and circulate it.”
“Why are you taking pictures here?” Bethanne asked, walking over to look at the bowl. “Oh, this is exquisite. You made this? How amazing!” She leaned over and touched the edge lightly but made no move to pick it up.
“I think the ambiance of the other furnishings here will show it off better. I want the background to be blurry, with only the glass piece in clear focus, but to give the feel that it would fit in any elegant salon.”
“And Khalid was all for the project, obviously,” Rashid said with a glance at his twin.
“Obviously—she’s here, isn’t she?” Khalid said. “You two can help with the project. Give us an unbiased perspective and select the best pictures.”
“I’d like to see the other pieces you’ve made,” Bethanne said.
“I’m happy to show you. Shall we go now?”
“Finish the pictures of these, then when you go to your studio, you can bring some more over,” Khalid suggested.
The next couple of hours were spent with everyone giving opinions about the best angle for pictures and which of the different art pieces Ella had created should be included. Rashid said he’d see if his mother had some recommendations on art galleries who would help.
Ella felt as if things were spinning out of control. She and Alia al Harum had discussed the plans, but they’d been for years down the road. Now so much was happening at once.
Khalid looked over at her at one point and said, “Enough. We will return to the main house and have lunch on the terrace. Bethanne, you haven’t told Ella what you do. I think she’ll be interested.”
Ella threw him a grateful smile. “I’ll just tidy up a bit and join you.”
Rashid and Bethanne headed out, but Khalid remained behind for a moment.
“They only wanted to help,” he said.
“I’m glad they did.”
“But you’re feeling overwhelmed. You set the pace. This is your work, your future. Don’t let anyone roll over you.”
“Good advice. Remember that next time you want your way,” she said, sitting down on her bench, touched he’d picked up on her mild panic and dealt with it. She hadn’t expected such sensitivity from the man.
“You are coming for lunch?”
“Yes. I just need a few minutes to myself.”
“I’ll come back for you if you don’t show up in twenty minutes.”
“Did anyone tell you you’re a bit bossy?” she asked.
“Twenty minutes,” he said, and left.
Ella took less than the twenty minutes. After a quick splash of cool water against her face, she brushed her hair and lay down for ten minutes. Then hurried to the main house. Khalid and the others were on the terrace and she walked straight there without going through the house.
Lunch was delicious and fun. It was a bit of a struggle to remember to speak English during the meal, but she was confident she held her own in the conversation that ranged from Bethanne’s career as a pilot to Rashid’s recent trip to Texas to the reception on Saturday night.
“Are you coming?” Rashid asked his brother at one point.
“Yes,” Khalid said.
Rashid and Bethanne exchanged surprised looks.
“Great.”
“I’m bringing Ella,” Khalid continued.
Both guests turned to stare at her. She smiled brightly. Was this such an amazing thing? Surely Khalid had brought other women to receptions before.
“Condition of using the salon for the pictures,” she murmured.
“Of course,” Rashid said with another quick glance at his fiancée.
“Great. Maybe you could go shopping with me before then,” Bethanne said. “I’m not sure I have anything suitable to wear.”
Ella hesitated. She hadn’t been shopping except for groceries since her husband’s funeral. Dare she go? Surely it would be okay for one afternoon. It wasn’t as if anyone was hanging around the main streets of the city looking for her.
“I don’t know if I would be much help.” She felt Khalid’s gaze on her and glanced his way.
“Help or not, don’t women love to buy beautiful dresses?”
“I don’t need one. I have several,” Ella said.
“Come help me find several,” Bethanne urged.
Rashid watched the interaction and then looked at his brother. He narrowed his eyes when Khalid never looked away from Ella.
“Okay, I’ll go tomorrow afternoon,” Ella said fast, as if afraid she’d change her mind.
When lunch finished, Ella thanked her host and fled for her cottage. She’d had more activity today than any time since Alexander had died. And she’d agreed to go shopping—out along the main district of Alkaahdar. Surely after all this time it would be safe. She had a right to her own life. And to live it on her terms.
That night she debated going for a walk. She was getting too used to them. Enjoying them too much. What happened when Khalid moved on? When he went to another oil field to consult on well equipment, or had to go fight a fire. That thought scared her. He was trained; obviously an expert in the field. He knew what to do. It was dangerous, but as he’d explained, except for that one accident, he’d come through unscathed many t
imes.
But that one could have killed him. Didn’t he realize that? Or another one similar that might rip the helmet and protection totally off. She shivered thinking about it.
She went for her walk, hoping he’d be there. It was better than imaging awful things that could happen.
He sat on the sand near the garden.
“It’s warm,” he said when she appeared, letting some sand drift from his hand.
“Sometimes I sit on the beach in the night, relishing the heat held from the day.”
“Sand makes glass,” he commented.
“Yes. I’ve heard that lightning strikes on beaches produces glass—irregular in shape and not usually functional. I’d like to see some.” She sat beside him. “I like the fact I’ll know your brother and Bethanne at the reception.”
“And me.”
“Yes, and you. We aren’t staying long, right.”
“I said not long. Why are you nervous? You’ve been to university receptions—this would be sort of the same, just a different group of people. You’ll be bored out of your mind with all the talk about oil.”
She smiled at his grumbling. “Is that the normal topic?”
“With a heavy presence of Bashiri executives it usually is. The minister of finance is not in charity with us right now. Rashid closed a deal he didn’t like. But I’m sure a few million for pet projects will sweeten his disposition.”
Ella didn’t want to talk about money or family. She jumped up. “I’m going to walk.”
He rose effortlessly beside her and kept pace.
“Tell me more about the oil fields you’ve been to,” she said, looking for a way to keep her thoughts at bay. She liked listening to Khalid talk. Might as well give him something to talk about.
The next afternoon Ella had a good time shopping. Once inside boutiques, she didn’t glance outside. While in the car she had seen no one that appeared to be paying the two of them any attention. Bethanne was fun to shop with. She looked beautiful in the elegant cool colors that went so well with her blond hair. Twice, salesclerks offered jewel-tone dresses and Bethanne had suggested Ella try them on. Of course the sizes were wrong. Ella was slight, almost petite, not nearly as tall as the American. She was tempted, but conscious of her limited funds, cheerfully refused. She had dresses that would suit. She wasn’t going to spend a week’s worth of groceries on a dress she’d wear for about an hour.
Bethanne decided on a lovely blue that mimicked the color of her eyes.
“Done. Let’s get some coffee. And candied walnuts. They’re my favorites,” she said when she received the dress in a box.
Having the chauffeur stow the dress in the limo’s trunk, Bethanne asked him to take them to an outside café. When they found a coffee house with outside seating on a side street, she had him wait while she and Ella went for coffee.
“This was fun,” Bethanne said. “I hope we can become friends. I will be marrying Rashid in a few months and don’t know but a handful of people in Quishari. And most of them don’t speak English. So until I master this language, I’m left out of conversations.”
“I would like another friend. Tell me about Texas. I’ve never been to the United States.”
“Where have you been that you learned so many different languages? And that’s not even your career, like the professor’s is.”
“I went to school in Switzerland for a few years and in England.”
“And the Arabic?”
“That I learned because Alexander was learning it and planned to come to an Arabian country to work.”
“Alexander was your husband?” Bethanne asked gently.
Ella nodded. “We knew each other from when we were small. I loved him it seems all my life.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Bethanne said.
“Me, too.” Ella didn’t want to think about it. Every time she grew sad and angry. It had happened. Nothing could change the past. She had to go on. Today she was with a new friend. And beginning to look forward to the reception on Saturday.
Ella worked through the next two days culling her collection, deciding which pieces to display and which to hold in reserve.
She tried on the dresses she’d worn to university events, dismayed to find she had lost more weight than she’d thought. They all were loose. Finally she decided on a dark blue long gown that shimmered in the light and almost looked black. If she wore her hair loose, and the pearls she received when she was eighteen, she’d do. It wasn’t as if it were a real date or anything. But she wanted to look nice for Khalid’s sake. If he broke his normal habit of nonattendance, it behooved her to look her best.
Saturday evening, Ella prepared for the reception with care. She had some trepidation about venturing forth into such a large gathering, but felt safe enough since the guests would most likely all be from Quishari. Her hair was longer than she usually wore. The waves gleamed in the light. She hoped she would pass muster as a guest of a sheikh. Her heart tripped faster when she thought of spending the evening with his family and friends. And some of the leaders of the country. She planned to stay right by Khalid’s side and remind him how soon they would leave.
Promptly at seven he knocked on the door of the cottage. She picked up a small purse with her keys and went to greet him.
“You look lovely,” he said when she opened the door.
She thought he looked fantastic. A man should always wear a tux, she decided.
“I could say the same. Wow, you clean up good.”
“Ready?”
“Yes.” She pulled the door shut behind her. To her surprise, Khalid had a small sports car waiting. She had expected a limousine as Rashid used. She liked the smaller car; less intimidating. More intimate.
“If we were going for a spin in the afternoon, I’d put the top down. But not tonight.”
“Thank you. I spent hours on my hair.”
“Literally?”
She laughed, feeling almost carefree for the first time in months. “No, I just washed and brushed it.”
He reached over and took some strands in his fingers. “It feels soft and silky. I wondered if it would.”
She caught her breath. His touch was scarcely felt, yet her insides were roiling. She looked out the windshield, trying to calm her nerves. It was Khalid, cranky neighbor, reluctant landlord. She tried to quell the racing of her heart.
When they arrived at the reception, Ella was surprised to find it held in a large hotel. “I thought your mother would have it at her home,” she commented when he helped her from the car. A valet drove the sports car away.
“Too many people, too much fuss. She prefers to have it taken care of here.”
“Mmm.” Ella looked around. She hadn’t been to such an elegant event in years. Suddenly she felt like a teen again, proud to be going to the grown-up’s affair. Excited. She could do this, had done so many times before. But she preferred smaller gatherings, friends to share good times. Like she and—
No, she was not going there. Tonight was about Khalid. She owed him for his reluctant help. So she’d do her best to be the perfect date for a man of his influence and power.
“Khalid, I’m so glad you came. Rashid said you would—but your track record isn’t the best.” A beautiful woman came up and embraced him. She smiled at him, patted his good cheek then turned to look at Ella.
“Salimeia, may I present Ella Ponti. Salimeia is my cousin,” Khalid said, looking somewhat self-conscious.
Ella couldn’t imagine he felt that way. She was aware of his self-confidence—almost arrogance when around her. She watched as he gave a quick glance around the gathering.
An older woman, dressed in a very fashionable gown came over, her eyes fixed on Khalid.
“I am so glad you came,” she said, reaching out to grab his hands in hers.
“Mother, may I present Ella Ponti. Ella, my mother, Sabria al Harum.”
“Madame, my pleasure,” Ella said with formal deference.
“
How do you do?” Khalid’s mother looked at him in question, practically ignoring Ella.
“I’m glad he came, too. Mo is here. I’ll find him and tell him you’re here,” his cousin said. She smiled and walked away.
“Ella is my tenant,” he clarified.
She looked horrified. “Tenant? You are renting her the house your grandmother left you?”
“No, she has the cottage on the estate and has lived there for a year. Didn’t you know about her, either?”
Ella expected the woman to shoo her out the door. She was not the warm, friendly woman her mother-in-law had been.
Sabria al Harum thought for a moment. “The artist Alia was helping?” she guessed.
Ella nodded once. She felt like some charity case the way the woman said it.
“I did not know she had her living on the premises.” She said it as if Ella was a kind of infestation.
“I do live there and have an airtight lease that gives me the right to stay for another four years,” Ella said with an imp of mischief. She did not like haughty people.
“Nonsense. Khalid, have our attorneys check it out.” His mother sounded as if any inconvenience could be handled by someone else.
Ella hid a smile as she looked at Khalid.
“Already done, Mother. Ella’s right, she has the right to live there for another four years.”
Other guests were arriving. Khalid took Ella’s arm and gently moved her around his mother. “We’ll talk later,” he said. “You have other guests to greet.”
“Gee, is she always so welcoming?” Ella said softly, only for his ears.
“No. She is very conscious of the position our family holds in the country. Perhaps because she came to the family as an adult, not raised as we were. Come, I see someone I think you’ll enjoy meeting.”
She went willingly, growing more conscious of the wave of comments that were softly exchanged as they passed. She caught one woman staring at Khalid, then looking at Ella. Giving in to impulse, she reached out to take his arm. It automatically bent, so she could have her hand in the crook of the elbow. He pressed her against his side. She moved closer, head raised.
Khalid introduced her to a friend and his wife. They chatted for a few moments, Khalid mentioning Ella’s art. Both were interested.
Marrying the Scarred Sheikh Page 6