“My uncle has a gallery in the city. Do send me your catalog so I can send it to him,” the wife said.
“I would love to. Thank you.” Ella replied.
They mingled through the crowd. Once the complete circuit of the ballroom had almost been made, she tugged on Khalid. He leaned closer to hear her over the noise. “Once we’ve made the circle, we leave, right?”
“If you’re ready.”
“Ah, Khalid, I heard you came tonight.” A florid faced, overweight man stepped in front of them. “Tell your brother to stop sending our business outside of the country. There are others who could have handled the deal he just consummated with the Moroccans.” He looked at Ella. “Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Ella, the finance minister, Ibrahim bin Saali. This is Ella Ponti.”
The minister took her hand and held it longer than needed. “A new lovely face to grace our gatherings. Tell me, Miss Ponti, are you from Quishari?”
She tugged her hand free and stepped closer to Khalid. “I’ve lived here for years. I love this city.”
“As do I. Perhaps we can see some of the beauty of the city together sometime,” he said suavely.
Ella smiled politely. “Perhaps.”
“Excuse us,” Khalid said, placing his hand at the small of her back and gently nudging her.
They walked away.
“That was rude,” she said quietly in English.
“He was hitting on you.”
“He’s too old. He was merely being polite.”
“He does not think he’s too old and polite is not something we think of when we think of Ibrahim.”
She laughed. “I don’t plan to take him up on his offer, so you’re safe.”
Khalid looked at her. “Safe?”
She looked back, and their eyes locked for a moment. She looked away first. “Never mind. It was just a comment.”
Khalid nodded, scanning the room. “I think we’ve done our duty tonight. Shall we leave?”
“Yes.”
He escorted her out and signaled the valet for his car. When it arrived, he waited until Ella was in before going to the driver’s side. “Home?”
“Where else?” she asked.
“I know a small, out-of-the-way tavern that has good music.”
“I love good music,” she said.
He drove swiftly through the night. What had possessed him to invite her to stay out longer? She had attended the reception, he got some points with his mother, though she hadn’t seemed that excited to meet Ella. They could be home in ten minutes.
Instead he was prolonging the evening. He’d never known anyone as interesting to be around as his passenger. She intrigued him. Not afraid to stand up to his bossiness, she nevertheless defended Ibrahim’s boorish behavior. He smiled. Never could stand the man. He had been afraid for a moment Ella might be tempted by Ibrahim’s power and position. Not his Ella.
He had to give her credit. No one there had guessed she’d come as part of a bargain. No one made comments about how such a pretty woman was wasting her time with him.
The tavern was crowded, as it always was on Saturday nights. It was one place few people recognized him. He could be more like anyone else here, unlike the more formal events his mother hosted. There were several men he knew and waved to when they called to him. Shepherding Ella to the back, they found an empty table and sat, knees touching.
Ella looked around and then at Khalid. “I hear talk and laughter, but no music.”
He nodded. “It starts around eleven. We’re a bit early. Want something to eat or drink?”
“A snack would be good. We hardly got a chance to sample the delicacies your mother had available.”
“Want to go back?”
“No. This suits me better.”
“Why is that?” he asked. He knew why he preferred the dim light of the tavern, the easy camaraderie of the patrons. The periodic escape from responsibilities and position. But why did she think it was better?
“I don’t know anyone.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Wouldn’t it be better to know friends when going to a place like this?”
She shrugged. “Not at this time.”
“Did you have a favorite spot you and your husband liked to frequent?” he asked. He wanted to know more about her. Even if he had to hear about the man who must have been such a paragon she would never find anyone to replace him.
She nodded. “But I don’t go there anymore. It’s not the same.”
“Where do you and your friends go?” he asked.
“Nowhere.” She looked at him.
Her eyes were bright and her face seemed to light up the dark area they sat in.
“This is the first I’ve been out since my husband’s death. Friends come to visit me, but I haven’t been exactly in a party mood. But this isn’t like a real date or anything, is it? Just paying you back for letting me use the salon for my pictures.”
“Exactly. You wouldn’t want to go on a real date with me. I know about that from my ex-fiancée.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This.” He gestured to the scar on the side of his face.
“Don’t be dumb, Khalid. That has nothing to do with it. I still feel married to Alexander and am faithful.”
Khalid nodded and looked away, feeling her words like a physical blow. Even if they got beyond the scar, she would never be interested in him. She loved a dead man. He wished they’d gone straight home. She could be with her memories, and he could get back to the reality of his life. Only her words had seemed so wrong.
CHAPTER FIVE
HE LOOKED back at her. “You’re not serious? You are not married—that ended when your husband died. And you are far too young and pretty to stay single the rest of your life.”
She blinked in surprise. “I’m not that young.”
“I’d guess twenty-five at the most,” he said.
“Add four years. Do you really think I look twenty-five?” She smiled in obvious pleasure.
Khalid felt as if she’d kicked him in the heart. “At most, I said. Even twenty-nine is too young to remain a widow the rest of your life. You could be talking another sixty years.”
“I’ll never find anyone to love like I did Alexander,” she said, looking around the room. For a moment he glimpsed the sorrow that seemed so much a part of her. He much preferred when she looked happy.
“My grandmother said that after her husband died. But she was in her late sixties at the time. They’d had a good marriage. Raised a family, enjoyed grandchildren.”
“I had a great marriage,” she said.
“You could again.”
She looked back. “You’re a fine one to talk. Where’s your wife and family?”
“Come on, Ella, who would marry me?”
“No one, with that attitude. How many women have you asked out in the last year?”
“If I don’t count you, none.”
“So how do you even know, then.”
“The woman I was planning to spend my life with told me in no uncertain terms what a hardship that would be. Why would I set myself up for more of the same?”
The waiter came and asked for drink orders. Khalid ordered a bowl of nuts in addition.
“She was an idiot,” Ella said, leaning closer after the man left.
“Who?”
“Your ex-fiancée. Did she expect life to be all roses and sunshine?”
“Apparently.” He felt bemused at her defense. “Shouldn’t it be?”
“It would be nice if it worked that way. I don’t think it does. Everyone has problems. Some are on the inside, others outside.”
“We know where mine is,” he said.
She shocked him again when she got up and switched chairs to sit on his right side. “I’ve noticed, you know,” she said, glaring at him in defiance.
“Noticed what?” He was growing uncomfortable. He tried to shelter others from the ugly slash of
burned skin.
“That you always try to have me on your left. Are you afraid I’ll go off in shock or something if I catch sight of the scar?”
“No, not you.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just, no, not you. You wouldn’t do that, even if you wanted to. I’d say your parents raised you very well.”
“Leave my parents out of any discussion,” she said bitterly.
“Touch a nerve?”
She shrugged. “They and I are not exactly on good terms. They didn’t want me to marry Alexander.”
“And why was that?”
“None of your business.”
The waiter returned with the beverages and plate of nuts. Ella scooped up a few and popped them into her mouth.
“Mmm, good.” She took a sip of the cold drink and looked at the small stage.
“I think your musicians are arriving.”
So his tenant was at odds with her parents. He hadn’t considered she had parents living, or he would have expected her to return home after her husband’s death. Now that he knew they were alive, it seemed strange that she was still in Quishari and not at their place. His curiosity rose another notch. He would nudge the researcher at the oil company to complete the background check on his tenant.
Khalid spent more time watching Ella as the evening went on than the musicians. She seemed to be enjoying the music and the tavern. He enjoyed watching her. They stayed until after one before driving home.
“Planning to take a walk on the beach tonight?” he asked.
“Why not?” she asked. “I’m still buoyed up by that last set. Weren’t they good?”
“I have enjoyed going there for years. We’ll have to go again sometime.”
“Mmm, maybe.”
He didn’t expect her to jump at the chance. But he would have liked a better response.
“Meet you at the beach in ten minutes,” she said when she got out of the car.
“No walking straight through?” he asked.
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to get saltwater and sand on this gown. And I’d think it wouldn’t be recommended for tuxedos, either.”
Khalid changed into comfortable trousers and a loose shirt and arrived at the beach seconds ahead of Ella.
They started north. The moon was fuller tonight and spread a silvery light over everything. Without much thought, he reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. She didn’t comment, nor pull away. Taking a deep breath, he felt alive as he hadn’t in a long while.
“I appreciate your going with me tonight. My mother is always after me to attend those things for the sake of the family,” he said.
“She would have been happier without me accompanying you,” Ella said.
“She doesn’t like anyone who shows an interest in her sons. Unless it’s the woman she’s picked out. Did you know Rashid almost had an arranged marriage?”
“No, what happened?”
“His supposed fiancée was to be flown in on the plane Bethanne delivered. Only she never left Morocco. When he fell for Bethanne, Mother was furious. I think they are getting along better now, but I wouldn’t say Mother opened her arms to Bethanne.”
“I bet your grandmother would have loved her.”
“She would have loved knowing Rashid was getting married.”
For a moment Khalid felt a tinge of envy for his brother. He had found a woman he adored and who seemed to love him equally. They planned a life in Quishari at the other home their grandmother had left and had twice in his hearing mentioned children. He’d be an uncle before the first year was out, he’d bet.
“Bethanne doesn’t strike me as someone who cares a lot about what others think of her,” Ella said.
“I’m sure Mother will come around once she sees how happy Rashid is. And once she’s a grandmother.”
Ella fell silent. They walked for several minutes. Khalid wondered what she was thinking. Had she wanted to be a mother? Would her life be vastly different if she had a small child to raise? She should get married again.
She was right—that was easy enough for him to say. They were a pair, neither wanting marriage for different reasons. Maybe one day another man would come along for her to marry. Once she was out, showing off her creations, she’d run into men from all over the world.
Khalid refused to examine why he didn’t like that idea.
“Ready to head back?” she asked.
He nodded, but felt curiously reluctant to end the evening. He liked being with Ella.
The return walk was also in silence, but not without awareness. Khalid could breathe the sweet scent she wore, enjoy the softness of her hands, scarred here and there by burns from her work. She wore a skirt again. He didn’t think he’d seen her in pants except when working at her studio. It made her seem all the more feminine. He didn’t want the evening to end. Tomorrow would bring back the barriers and status of tenant and landlord. He had no more reasons to seek her out or take her out again. But he wanted to.
“I can get home from here,” she said when they reached the path.
“I’ll walk that short distance.” He was not ready to say good-night.
When they reached the cottage, she tugged her hand free. “Good night. I enjoyed the tavern. And am glad I got to meet your mother even if she wasn’t as glad to meet me.”
He reached for her, holding her by her shoulders and drawing her closer. “I’m glad you went with me.”
“We’re even now, right?” Her voice sounded breathless. He could see her dimly in the light from the moon, her eyes wide, her mouth parted slightly.
With a soft groan, he leaned over and kissed her. He felt her start of surprise. He expected her to draw away in a huff. Instead, after a moment, she leaned against him and returned his kiss. Their mouths opened and tongues danced. Her arms hugged him closer and his embraced her. For a long moment they kissed, learning, tasting, touching, feeling.
She was sweet, soft, enticing. He could have stood all night on the doorstep, kissing Ella.
But she pushed away a moment later.
“Good night, Khalid,” she said, darting into the house and shutting the door.
“Good night,” he said to the wooden door.
This was not going to be their last date, no matter what Ella thought.
Ella leaned against the door, breathing hard. She closed her eyes. She’d kissed Sheikh Khalid al Harum! Oh, and what a kiss. Unlike anything she’d ever had before.
“No!” she said, pushing away and walking back to the kitchen. She wanted water, and a clear head. She loved Alexander. He was barely gone a year and she was caught up in the sensuousness of another man. How loyal was that? How could she have responded so strongly. Good grief, he’d probably think she was some sex-starved widow out to snare the first man who came along.
How could she have kissed him?
She took a long drink of water, her mind warring with her body. The kiss had been fantastic. Every cell in her tingled with awareness and yearning. She wanted more.
“No!” she said again. She had her life just as she wanted it. She did not need to become the slightest bit involved with a man who wanted her to leave so he could sell a family home.
On the other hand, maybe she should do just that. Put an end to time with Khalid by moving away.
She went to her bedroom and dressed for bed, thoughts jumbled as she brushed her teeth. She had a good place here, safe and perfect for making new pieces of art. She wasn’t going anywhere. She just had to wait a little while; he’d get tired of being here and be off on some other oil field consultation and she’d be left alone. She just had to hold out until then. No more night walks. No more kisses.
Though as she fell asleep, she brushed her lips with her fingertips, remembering their first kiss.
The next morning Ella went to her studio, ready to work. She had to focus on her plans for the future and forget a kiss that threatened to turn her world upside down.
<
br /> Easier said than done. Her dreams last night had been positively erotic. Her first thought this morning was that kiss. And now she was growing warm merely thinking about Khalid and his talented mouth. Why had he showed up? Why not go consult at some oil field and leave her in peace.
Try as she might, as the morning wore on, she couldn’t get last night off her mind. Finally putting a small dish into the annealer to cool down, she decided to go see Khalid and make sure he knew she was not interested in getting involved.
She cleaned up, had a light lunch and then went to broach him at his home.
When she rang the bell, Jalilah opened the door, looking flustered. “Come in, things are hectic. His Excellency is leaving in a few minutes.”
“Leaving?” This was perfect. He was leaving even earlier than she planned. He’d probably been as horrified by their kiss as she had been. He’d leave and if he ever came back, they’d have gotten over whatever awareness shimmered between them and they could resume the tenant-landlord relationship.
“A fire. He and his team are gathering at the airport in an hour.”
Fear shot through Ella. He was going to another fire. For a moment she remembered Alexander, bloodied and burned from the car crash. He’d been coming after her. He hadn’t deserved to die so young. She didn’t like that memory any more than the one that flashed into her mind of Khalid burned beyond recognition. Nothing as unforgiving as flames.
She walked swiftly to the study, where Khalid was speaking on the phone. Entering, she crossed to the desk.
“See you then,” he said, his eyes on her. “Got to go now.”
“You can’t go put out a fire,” she said.
He rose and came around the desk. Lightly brushing the back of his fingers against her cheek, he asked, “Why not. It’s what I do.”
“It’s too dangerous. Don’t you have others who can handle that?”
“Others work with me on these projects. It’s another one at a well Bashiri Oil has down on the southern coast. It blew a few months ago and it’s burning again. Something’s wrong with the pump or operators. Once this is capped, I plan to find out why it keeps igniting.”
Marrying the Scarred Sheikh Page 7