Taming the Sheik

by Carol Grace

  “Rafik tells me you haven’t set a date for the wedding.”

  “No, no date.” That was an easy question and an easy answer. But the woman obviously wasn’t finished. It seemed she was just getting started.

  “What kind of a wedding do you have in mind?” she asked.

  “Well, I’m afraid we haven’t discussed it yet,” Anne said.

  “I see. I’m afraid men are very bad at planning weddings. So if you need any help I would love to step in. Provided your family wouldn’t be offended, of course. You see, I have no daughters, only sons. So I have no chance to plan a wedding unless it’s for one of the boys.”

  “I understand.”

  Fortunately, the small white pots of tea arrived at that moment along with trays of sandwiches: walnut and cucumber, and cream cheese and smoked salmon and chicken salad. The arrival of the food and tea gave Anne an excuse to exclaim over the beautiful presentation. Mrs. Harun poured them each a cup of tea and while they nibbled at the sandwiches any further serious conversation was postponed. Anne would have been happy if it had been canceled completely. But after the sandwiches and before the tarts and cakes, the older woman got down to the subject at hand.

  “I thought your friend Carolyn had a lovely church wedding.”

  “Yes, lovely.”

  “Would you too be interested in that kind of wedding?” Nura asked very casually.

  Anne tried to see herself coming down the aisle at Grace Cathedral as Carolyn had done, preceded by a host of bridesmaids, her husband-to-be and a line of groomsmen at the altar but she knew her wedding—should she marry—would never be as spectacular.

  “I think it would be too grand for me,” she explained. “I would prefer something at home. I have a garden I’m working on that would be perfect for a wedding. Provided the weather was good and that I’d finished my plantings by then.” As soon as she’d said them, she wished she could take back the words. What on earth possessed her to say those things? She’d never consciously thought of her garden as a wedding site before. Never.

  Not only that, she was not going to get married any time in the near future. She had no business imagining a wedding anywhere, any time. Still she truthfully couldn’t think of a nicer venue than her own backyard. It could be so personal, so private, so intimate, and so romantic. But not at all suitable for a rich sheik. She couldn’t share that bit of information with his mother, of course.

  “I see,” his mother said, setting her teacup in the saucer. “Something small and intimate. It sounds lovely. I wonder…I don’t want to impose, but I have a gown that I wore at my wedding. It was designed for me. Of course it wouldn’t fit me now, but when I was married I was about your size.” Her gaze traveled over Anne’s slender figure. “What I mean is that I would be honored if you would wear it. But it is completely up to you. Perhaps you have something in mind already?”

  “No, no, nothing,” Anne said.

  His mother smiled. “It’s been in storage, but I could bring it to show you one day. Believe me, I won’t be one bit offended if you don’t like it or if it doesn’t fit you. It’s just…. I always wanted to pass it down to someone.” There was a wistful tone in her voice Anne couldn’t help but notice. It made her feel worse than ever about not marrying her son.

  “Thank you,” Anne said, touched by the generous offer. “That’s very kind of you. I’d love to see it.” But she wouldn’t be wearing it, she thought. His mother would just have to keep it in storage for a while longer, until one of her sons really decided to get married. That could be years from now or never, she thought. But that was none of her business. The dear woman had no idea how opposed to the idea of marriage her son was and Anne was not going to be the one to tell her.

  Apparently satisfied by the way things were progressing in regard to her son’s wedding, Nura then changed the subject. Anne was so relieved she was able to relax and happily converse for another hour. Nura Harun was really a very nice person. Because of her background in a foreign country she had many stories to tell, which Anne found fascinating. If Anne ever had a mother-in-law in the future, someone like Rafik’s mother would be a good choice. Not that anyone gets to choose her mother-in-law.

  After they’d devoured every last crumb of the orange and currant scones and tiny iced cakes, Anne thanked Mrs. Harun. In front of the hotel his mother kissed her on the cheek and promised they’d get together very soon, and reminded her of the wedding dress.

  “Don’t feel obligated in any way to wear it,” she said. “After all, it may not be your style at all.”

  Anne assured her she’d love to see it. Before they parted, Nura took Anne’s left hand in hers. Looking at her ring finger, she frowned.

  “But you have no engagement ring.”

  “Oh, uh, no, no, not yet.” Just when Anne was congratulating herself on escaping from the tea with no consequences, she was caught. She didn’t know what to say. They’d never discussed a ring. She always assumed they’d be unengaged before the question came up. But here the question was, rearing its ugly head and leaving her tongue-tied and fumbling for a suitable answer.

  “No engagement ring,” his mother repeated. She looked thoughtful as she said goodbye and they parted. Anne walked down the street, conscious of her bare ring finger. For the first time in her life, Anne imagined herself wearing a diamond engagement ring and a wedding dress, standing in a leafy arbor like the one in her backyard. She wished the man in her imagination waiting for her at the end of the flagstone path under a trellis didn’t have a face and a name. But he did.

  Chapter Six

  When Rafik picked up Anne to go to her school reception, the first question he asked was about the tea with his mother.

  “I had a very nice time,” she said, once again enjoying the luxury of the heated seats and the smell of leather in the interior of his sleek foreign sports car.

  “So did Mother,” Rafik said. “Now she’s talking of nothing but the wedding. Did you have to be so agreeable?”

  Her mouth fell open in surprise as she turned to look at him. Was he seriously upset? “What did you expect, that I’d be rude and unpleasant?”

  “No, of course not,” he assured her. “It’s not in your nature to be the least bit unpleasant. I don’t know what you could have done. I just know that instead of less, there’s more pressure than ever on me to get married.”

  She studied his profile. His forehead was lined with worry, his jaw was clenched. Fortunately he didn’t say anything about a ring. Maybe his mother had forgotten all about it. She could only hope so. “Maybe this was a bad idea,” she suggested.

  “I certainly couldn’t have imagined it backfiring,” he said dourly.

  “If you’d prefer to call it off now, we can turn around and skip this reception.”

  “Wouldn’t that make you look bad?” he asked with a glance in her direction.

  “Yes, I suppose it would, but…”

  “Then we’re going. For all intents and purposes, as far as the rest of the world knows, I’m your fiancé. As for my family, I’ll handle them. Now, at your school, is there anything special I’m supposed to tell them?”

  “Just act like a responsible and serious man, not like someone who’d carry a female across a hotel lobby on the way to seduce her in his room.”

  He smothered a smile. “In other words I’m to dispel all notions that I’m some kind of playboy.”

  “Exactly.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Why, because you’re such a good actor?” she asked.

  “No, because I’m not a playboy anymore.” He raised his eyebrows. “Haven’t you noticed?”

  “Well…”

  “I don’t hang out in bars anymore, except to meet you. I don’t ogle women or attempt to pick them up. I don’t even stay up late, not when I have to be in the office by nine. I’m a different person, whether you’ve noticed or not.” He sounded slightly offended that she hadn’t noticed, so she tried to reass
ure him.

  “I’m sure you are. But since I didn’t really know you before your transformation, you can’t blame me for not noticing.” She reached over to touch his shoulder as a reassuring gesture and he smiled at her. She smiled back and their eyes met. Her pulse raced. He might not be a playboy anymore, but he hadn’t lost his ability to turn women on, especially women like her who hadn’t had time to build up a set of defenses against men like him. She withdrew her hand and turned to look out the window to escape the aura around him.

  She told herself it was all an act. She warned herself not to get caught up in the act. Because pretending to be Rafik’s fiancée, while often stressful, was sometimes enjoyable. If she could call tremors and sudden waves of heat coursing through the body enjoyable sensations. If she didn’t mind the dreams involving her and him that interrupted her sleep. She’d been dreaming of her wedding, something she’d never done in her life.

  Many girls, such as her friend Carolyn, had been planning their weddings for years, but not Anne. What worried her was that she not only had dreamed of the wedding, but of the honeymoon, too. The honeymoon which took place in a small hotel in some European city with a view over the rooftops and churches and other vaguely famous landmarks. In the dream, they’d close the shutters and tumble back onto the bed where they would make passionate love for hours. She couldn’t believe she could even imagine such details. Of how Rafik taught her the secrets of love-making. Of how quickly she learned.

  She’d wake up in the morning after one of these dreams feeling aware of her body in a way she’d never been before. Her skin was warm and tingly. She had to stand under the shower for many minutes to dispel the notion that she’d actually made love with her husband under a down comforter then eaten croissants and drunk café au lait in bed. She told herself it was just a dream. Where these dreams came from, she couldn’t say. She didn’t read travel magazines or bride magazines. And she certainly never read those articles with such titles as, “Fifty Ways To Please Your Mate,” that she’d seen on the racks in the supermarket.

  Since she’d never been to Europe, she wasn’t sure which city it was in her dreams. Perhaps it was Paris. She’d taken French in college, and she’d always thought Paris must be the most romantic place in the world. Maybe it was. She would probably never know unless she went along as a chaperone for the older students at her school.

  Rafik interrupted these thoughts by asking for directions to the school and Anne started guiltily. The smile on his face made her wonder if he had a way of reading her thoughts. But that was impossible. How could he? Fortunately she didn’t worry about him letting her down in front of the faculty and staff of her school. She knew him well enough to know he’d come through for her. What she didn’t know was that he had reserves of charm he hadn’t even tapped yet, at least not in front of her.

  Once inside the ballroom of the sprawling old mansion that made up the centerpiece of the beautiful campus, he made a favorable impression on everyone. He seemed to know just what to say and how long to say it. He asked thoughtful questions, and he answered questions about his background and his business, spending just the right amount of time talking to each person or group of people. He never monopolized the conversation. She didn’t think he’d learned that anywhere. It had to be inborn. If she lived to be one hundred, she’d never have his ease in social situations. Together with his looks, it was an unbeatable combination.

  Considering it was summer vacation, there was a large crowd gathered, everyone sipping punch, eating cookies and eagerly awaiting a chance to say hello to a genuine, bona fide sheik. Anne knew how surprised they must be to find their quiet, serious first-grade teacher suddenly engaged to an exotic sheik. She could just imagine how many questions they wanted to ask her, such as how had she met him? How long had she known him? How rich was he? Where would they live? and Would she continue to teach?

  They did ask some of these questions, excluding the one about how rich he was, of course. She was able to be vague about future plans, but she soon realized how hard it was to skirt around the truth with people she knew so well. She also realized it wasn’t going to be quite as easy as she’d thought to explain a broken engagement later. Not when everyone was so happy for her, so delighted with her choice of a man. These thoughts spun around in her mind, and her face hurt from smiling so much.

  At one point she was listening to a group of colleagues talk about their fall schedules and Rafik was talking to one of the school’s trustees. Listening to his conversation with one ear, she strained to hear what he was saying. She was surprised to hear him talking about his country. About the changes in the last decade, the plans for modernization, the difference between his life and his grandfather’s, the old gentleman whose picture she’d seen on the wall of his office. She’d never heard him speak seriously before, and she was impressed with his knowledge and his reverence for the past as well as his enthusiasm for the future. She was so caught up in listening to him, she completely tuned out what her fellow teachers were talking about.

  When they asked her a question, she looked blank. They laughed and accused her of being in love. She blushed, and of course she couldn’t deny it. She was supposed to be engaged, after all. She tried to explain, but they wouldn’t accept her half-hearted explanation. All in all, everyone seemed so happy for her, she didn’t argue. Any protest she might make would just make matters worse, so she just let them carry on.

  As soon as she could, she excused herself to go to the punch bowl by herself, looking for a few moments to give her mouth a rest from the constant smiling, to cool her overheated skin, gather her thoughts and to try to shake the beginnings of a tension headache. Rafik seemed to be able to carry on forever, but she couldn’t. She would never be the social animal he was. Especially when she was pretending to be engaged to a sheik.

  At the refreshment table, she ran into Jean Stuart, a teacher who had team-taught a class with her the year before. They’d gotten along so well, Anne was sorry she hadn’t kept her promise to keep in touch during the summer.

  “Now I know why I haven’t heard from you,” Jean said with a smile. “You’ve had other things on your mind.”

  “But we must get together,” Anne said, trying to ignore the mention of “other things.”

  “In any case, you’re still going to the conference this weekend in Monterey, aren’t you?” Jean said.

  “Of course. And we’re rooming together. I’m looking forward to it. Shall we carpool?” Anne asked.

  “Good idea. I’ll drive,” Jean offered. “If you can get along without your fiancé for that long. I’d love to bring Art along, but we couldn’t get a baby-sitter. I’m telling you, take advantage of these times while you’re young and single and still unencumbered. You look great, you know. Falling in love must agree with you.”

  Anne didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She had a wild desire to tell her friend the truth. She wondered how she’d endure a whole weekend without spilling the truth. With any luck they’d be talking nonstop about reading techniques and would have no time to discuss personal matters. She also wondered how she could look great when she was living a lie and was worried sick she’d be caught. Fortunately Jean didn’t wait for an answer.

  “I can see why. Your fiancé is absolutely adorable.”

  At least she didn’t say charming, Anne thought with relief. She was so tired of hearing him described that way. It was even more annoying because he most definitely was charming.

  “You make a great couple,” Jean continued. Just then Rafik glanced over at Anne and winked at her, causing her to blush. Of course, Jean noticed. “What’s it like,” she asked, “to be in love with a sheik?”

  “Oh, well….” Anne said. “It’s uh…it’s not any different from being in love with anyone else.” As if she knew. She’d never been in love with anyone, let alone with Rafik, and he wasn’t in love with her. She wondered how they could fool so many people. Everyone here today probably believed them, just a
s Rafik’s family believed them.

  “The way you can tell two people are in love,” Jean said, as if she’d read Anne’s thoughts, “is that their eyes keep meeting. Oh, yes, even though I’m an old married lady, I remember. The thrills, the excitement. No matter where you are, I notice your fiancé always knows where to find you,” Jean said. “And you’re the same.”

  Of course she was the same. She had to keep Rafik in her sight in case he needed rescuing from some verbose staff member. As if Rafik needed help in any situation. He moved fluidly from group to group until he ended up at the punch bowl with Jean and Anne. In a moment the headmistress joined them also. So much for Anne’s trying to shake her headache. Instead it got worse. She stole a look at her watch and wondered how long they had to stay to be polite.

  “I’m so impressed with the faculty and the staff here at Pinehurst,” Rafik told the headmistress. “These are very lucky children who attend this school.”

  “If you have children, we would hope to have them enroll here,” Leona said. “We have a strong language program for our many international students who go on to study here or abroad.”

  Rafik reached for Anne’s hand. “I can’t think of a better place for our children, can you?” he asked her.

  Though her hands were cold, her face was flaming. She tried to convey to Rafik with a nudge of her arm and a swift glance that there was no need to carry on about nonexistent children. As skillful in the art of conversation as Rafik was, he could have changed the subject. But he didn’t. In fact he pulled Anne close to his side and squeezed her hand, then asked more questions about the preschool program. She wanted to sink through the floor.

  “Anne,” the headmistress said, “I’ve unlocked your classroom if you’d like to show it to your fiancé. The painters have finished in there, and I must say it looks quite nice.”

  Anne glanced at Rafik. She was sure seeing a first-grade classroom would bore him, though he nodded enthusiastically. But it took what seemed an eternity to get out of the reception. They had to make the rounds once again, thanking everyone for coming and for putting on such a nice party. Anne didn’t know what to say when people asked about the wedding. Especially when she was separated from Rafik at the moment. She had no idea what he had been saying about it to everyone. They should have gotten their stories straight before they got here. A small wedding in the far-distant future seemed the safest. That way no one would be expecting their invitations in the mail any time soon, or any time at all.