Sara raised her chin and glared at Jasmine. “I would never do that. Nor bring disgrace to my family—isn’t that the entire reason for this charade?”
In those short words, reality returned. She was not a blushing bride going to exchange vows with the man she loved. She was entering into a marriage of convenience—not even her convenience—to rectify a mistake. She would not compound it by forgetting for one second why the marriage was taking place.
Taking a discreet peek at her watch, she realized if the wedding was to begin at ten, she had no time to find Kharun and propose her alternative suggestions. It didn’t matter, she knew he would never have accepted her ideas. The time for deciding had long passed.
This could work. Once the leases were signed, they’d get an annulment and go their separate ways. She could do this. It was only for a few weeks.
Kharun left nothing to chance. He arranged for Samuel Kinsale and his wife to attend the ceremony. To do less might raise suspicions. But he timed their arrival to just minutes before he planned to start. They could visit with their daughter after she was legally his wife.
His mother and sister, of course, would attend. His most trusted adviser, Piers. He did not send an invitation to his aunt and uncle. He wouldn’t risk their disrupting the ceremony before it could begin. Being a family in mourning helped. A quiet ceremony would be all that was expected.
Promptly at ten, Samuel Kinsale and his wife Roberta arrived. Angelique greeted them and led the way to the garden nearest the sea. She answered their questions as best she could, but Samuel wasn’t satisfied. He and his wife had no indication their youngest even knew Kharun, much less planned to marry him, until that morning when Kharun had phoned. And the explanations had been hasty and brief.
Angelique told him what she knew and urged them to await to question Sara until after the ceremony.
The garden was the perfect setting for a quiet, family wedding. Kharun cynically reviewed everything from his place at the doorway. On the surface the locale presented as romantic a picture as he could devise. As long as no one questioned them closely, or challenged anything, it should go off without a hitch. Kinsale remained a question mark. He hoped the man would listen to Angelique and not question Sara until after the ceremony.
Sara was also an unknown. Would she go through with the bargain? Or would she defect at the last moment—thus giving Garh and his associates a weapon to use in their mind-set against progress?
Jasmine hurried down the hall and smiled uncertainly at her brother.
“She’s as ready as I can make her. Good luck, brother. I still think an engagement would have worked.”
“Sit with mother, she’s a bit overwhelmed.”
“I don’t blame her. How is the bride’s family taking it?”
He glanced out to the garden, frowning slightly. “Better than I expected, actually, though her mother looks shell-shocked. Her father put up a fuss when he first arrived, but seems content with waiting to talk to Sara later. I wonder if he had already heard the rumors? He would appreciate the need for such a step.”
“Maybe they’re glad to get her off their hands,” she murmured as she slipped past on her way to join the others.
He turned and waited until he saw Sara walking down the hall. For a moment Kharun forgot they were entering into a marriage for business necessity. His bride appeared entirely different from anytime he’d seen her—including earlier that morning.
He almost caught his breath. She looked shy, virginal and breathtakingly lovely. There would be few questions asked when his uncle’s ministers saw her. They’d immediately conclude the reasons why he was marrying her—for her looks, her mind and her background.
“Are my folks here?” she asked, stepping up to the doorway.
“Everyone is gathered in the garden. Are you ready?”
She hesitated a moment, then nodded.
“Then?” He held out his arm.
She took his elbow, gripping tightly. “Shouldn’t my father walk me down the aisle?”
“It is a very informal wedding—only immediate family. I don’t think we need stand on protocol.”
“Or you don’t trust me alone with him before?” she whispered as they stepped into the sunshine. She’d given her word of honor. He might not think much of it given the circumstances, but it meant a lot to her. She smiled at her parents, but continued to hold on to Kharun. She’d set this in motion, she’d see it through. Better her family thought she was rushing into marriage than to learn the truth. When it didn’t last, they probably wouldn’t be surprised.
Maybe one day, after her father finalized the deal, she’d tell them the whole story.
But not today. Today she was getting married in a lovely garden, with the Mediterranean Sea in the background, to a man who could have been a dream come true—but might prove to be her worst nightmare.
Sara knew the day would forever be etched in her memory as a series of sketches. From the fragrance of the flowers surrounding her while she took vows, to the hot demanding kiss Kharun had given to seal their marriage, to the bewildered look of her mother when she turned to hug her. Both her parents had pulled her aside as soon as the short receiving line ended and questioned her about the totally unexpected wedding.
Sara had her history of impetuousness to stand her in good stead. They were not surprised by anything she did anymore, so accepted the fact she and Kharun had decided to marry after a whirlwind courtship. Her mother had questions galore, but Sara staved her off, promising to visit soon and let her know all the details. Her fingers had been firmly crossed behind her back and she hoped the need for the charade would end before her mother cornered her!
The wedding lunch had been extravagant—as if the staff had had weeks to prepare instead of less than twelve hours. The conversation on the other hand, had proved stilted and awkward as Kharun’s family, except for Jasmine, did not speak English, and Samuel and Roberta Kinsale didn’t speak Arabic. Her father did have a limited command of French, so there was some conversation between him and Angelique.
It had been a strain—pretending to be a blushing bride, all the time conscious of the man beside her. Of his fingertips brushing against hers, which sent jolts of electricity shooting in every direction. Of the intensity of his gaze—which the others had taken as devotion, but Sara knew was more of an assessment, and warning to keep to their deception.
The trip to the hotel to gather her clothes later that afternoon had been accomplished with no fuss. Kharun never left her side. She knew he didn’t trust her, but to anyone else, it looked as if he were a devoted bridegroom who couldn’t bear to be parted from his beloved.
The oddest memory was of the confused feelings she’d experienced when Kharun had bid her good-night and left her in the middle of the living room.
By then everyone had left—including Aminna. Only she and Kharun remained in the villa. Aminna would return in two days—it was all Kharun had asked for a honeymoon, alluding to a longer one when the demands of his time were less immediate.
She might as well be alone in the world, Sara thought as she listened for some sound. Once his footsteps faded, she heard nothing except the soft soughing of the sea breeze and the rustle of the curtains as they moved with the wind.
She went to her bedroom and closed the door. Within minutes she was nestled in bed, with a magazine she’d seen earlier in hand. But her thoughts were not on the pages.
She’d never thought about getting married—not for years. And certainly not to prevent an international scandal. But being alone in a big bed was never her fantasy for her wedding night. She was disappointed Kharun had not spent more time with her. Sending away the staff had been brilliant—no one around to see they were not the lovers everyone suspected.
But for a moment, she almost wished he’d taken advantage of his right to share her bed. Shocked at the idea, she clicked off the light, letting the magazine slide to the floor as she scooted down on the bed. Her last thought as sh
e finally drifted to sleep was that she hoped the business talks would conclude soon.
Sara awoke early the next morning, having slept better than she expected. She dressed quickly in a sundress she’d brought and wandered out onto the veranda. The sun was already warming the day. The sea sparkled beneath its rays, looking cool and inviting. She followed the path that led through the gardens to the beach. A quick glance around assured her she was alone. The servants wouldn’t return until late tomorrow afternoon. Where was Kharun? Still asleep?
The image of him in a bed flashed into her mind. He’d need a big bed. Would he sprawl across it, taking up all the room, or keep to the edge as if ready to leap up in a second’s notice? Did he sleep in anything?
She doubted it.
The thought brought tantalizing new images to mind. Trying to block them out of her mind, she opened the low gate to the sand. Sara kicked off her sandals and walked on the hot surface. Running quickly to the water’s edge, she almost danced in relief as the cool sea lapped at her feet. Looking left and then right, she saw she was alone. She tried to imagine such a pristine location being empty in America—impossible. Every time she’d gone to the beach, she’d had to share it with families and couples and teenagers. Today’s solitude was blissful.
She began to walk along the water’s edge.
When she reached a notice board, written in Arabic, she turned around. Maybe that was the edge of Kharun’s property. She’d ask, but in the meantime, she was growing hungry. Longingly, she gazed at the water. She wanted to swim, but knew she needed someone else at hand. Maybe later. Turning, she headed for the villa.
She brushed her feet off when she reached the gate and donned her sandals again. Walking through the gardens, she wondered if it would be okay to pick some of the blossoms to carry to her room. They were so lovely and fragrant, she’d enjoy them where she could see them.
She entered her bedroom, crossing to the hallway. It was the only way she knew to reach the dining room. Maybe she’d spend some time today exploring the villa. If she had to live here for a few weeks, she might as well know the layout.
Just as she reached the entryway, a loud knock sounded on the door. Sara hesitated. Should she see who it was, or wait for Kharun? There was no one else to answer.
The knock sounded again.
Sara opened the door and saw an elderly woman dressed all in black. Her gray hair was pulled tightly back in a bun. Her skin was wrinkled, no makeup softened the aging process. Her eyes snapped when she looked at Sara. Her gaze ran from head to toe and then back.
Beyond her sat a huge old car. The chauffeur stood near the front, watching the scene impassively.
The woman said something.
“I hope you speak English or French, because I don’t speak Arabic,” Sara said. Then repeated the sentence in French.
The woman responded in that language.
“The wife of a sheikh should at least speak his language,” she snapped. “Are you going to invite me in?”
“Please,” Sara said, stepping aside, wondering who in the world the woman was.
“I suppose it’s too much to expect my nephew to inform his uncle and me when he weds. Just like him to ignore family in his pursuit of his own ways. I have told Hamsid, but does he listen? No. Just like a man!”
Sara watched the woman—obviously Kharun’s aunt. Had he mentioned her to Sara?
“Well, where is he?” she snapped, glaring at Sara.
“Kharun?” Sara ventured.
“Of course, who else?” The woman peered at her as if she were daft.
Sara looked around, hoping inspiration would strike. She knew the circumstances surrounding their marriage were top secret. But everyone would expect a new wife to know where her husband of less than twenty-four hours was.
“Um, I’ll go get him,” she said. “Would you like to wait—”
“I’m not going traipsing all through the place to find him. Where are the servants?”
“They were given a few days off. So we could be alone.”
“Then hurry up.”
Sara turned toward the dining room, almost skipping in her haste. She hoped she could find Kharun, and prayed he hadn’t left. What would she do if she had to return and tell the woman he had gone out?
How many rooms did the house have? she wondered five minutes later. She’d tried every door she’d come across. Some of the rooms looked lived in, others like showplaces. But all were empty of human life.
Sara stopped and wanted to scream. The impatient woman was waiting. She had no idea where her husband was, nor what she was going to do next. How dare he put her in this position!
Slowly she retraced her steps, heading for the entryway. If she had any luck, the woman would have tired and left.
The sound of voices alerted her to the fact Kharun had found their guest. Thank goodness!
She drew a deep breath and hurried to join them.
Kharun and his aunt didn’t notice Sara slipping into the room, they were too busy arguing. She didn’t understand a word, but she understood the anger in their tones, and the hard glares they exchanged.
Suddenly Kharun saw Sara. He stopped talking and smiled.
Sara’s heart caught then turned a slow, lazy somersault. It was the first time she’d seen him smile at her. She’d thought him handsome when she’d first seen him, but his smile almost stopped her heart. The man should be labeled as a lethal weapon and a warning issued to all females under the age of ninety-eight!
Caught in his gaze, she walked slowly toward him, her skin tingling with awareness and the potent attraction any woman feels around a stunningly masculine male.
He wasn’t wearing a suit, she noticed dimly. His shirt was loose, buttoned only partway up, exposing a wedge of broad tanned chest sprinkled with dark hair. His hair was mussed, as if he’d run his fingers through it while working. Or as if tossed by the sea breeze. Had he walked along the shore today, as well?
His trousers were loose and he was barefooted—his feet planted firmly on the floor as if boldly staking his claim and asserting to the world he was totally, completely male—ready to take on all comers. She swallowed hard, amazed to realize this man was her husband.
“Ah, Sara, I wondered where you were.” His voice was sultry, sensuous. His eyes caressed her. His hand reached for hers, drawing her closer, his fingers tightening in warning as he pulled her close enough she felt the heat pouring from his body.
Mesmerized, she could not say a word, but her senses seemed to be on overdrive. Every nuance was clear, dazzling. His fingers holding hers were warm and strong. His eyes tried to convey a message, but she wasn’t sure what he wanted.
Until he swept her into his arms and kissed her.
She didn’t know this man, wasn’t sure she even liked him. His kiss meant nothing—merely show for an audience of one.
But one touch and she felt afloat on a sea of sensation and delight. Bright colors kaleidoscoped behind her lids. Her blood seemed to heat until she wondered if it would evaporate. Her senses swam with delight, with shimmering pleasure.
When his tongue stroked her lips, she parted them. When it danced in her mouth, she met each foray with a caress of her own. When he deepened the kiss, she pressed against the length of his hard body, shocked with the reaction she was causing. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.
A harsh exclamation behind her slowly penetrated. Kharun eased back, breathing hard as he gazed down into her eyes, his own shuttered and impossible to read.
He placed his arm on Sara’s shoulders and turned her into his body, still holding her as he spoke in French, “What did you expect, Aunt. Sara and I haven’t seen each other for months. We are married and don’t have time for a honeymoon. We will make our own, here, and with every moment we can spare.”
“I do not understand this. Take your honeymoon, there is nothing that cannot wait.”
“You forget the oil leases I’m negotiating.”
“Bah, yo
u are foolish if you think you will garner the ministers’ approval. Your uncle indulges you foolishly. But the treaty has not been signed yet.”
“We have discovered a new reserve, a huge one, that will enable us to make deals for years to come. The new influx of cash will enable changes, improvements. Bring us into the twenty-first century.”
“Your father—”
“Unfortunately he is dead. Out of deference to our mourning, Sara and I had a quiet ceremony yesterday. Mother and Jasmine represented our family. Sara had her own parents present. When our mourning time is passed, we will have a public reception and you may formally welcome Sara into our family.”
The woman glared at Sara. She spoke again in Arabic. Kharun tightened his hold, his eyes blazing with anger. He responded in the language then disengaged himself from Sara and headed for the door.
In a very polite voice, he bid his aunt farewell.
When he shut the door behind her, he spun around and looked at Sara.
“That went well.”
“That went well?” she exclaimed. “I didn’t understand a word of what she said, but I didn’t need to. Her tone of voice spoke volumes!”
“Ah, but she never once suspected this as a coverup. She deplored my choice of brides, warned me to keep a tight rein lest you ruin us all, and railed against me for defying the ministers who have more experience in deciding things than I do. But not once did she act as if she didn’t believe the marriage.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“IF SHE thought about it for two seconds, she might have,” Sara mumbled, annoyed Kharun seemed so pleased with himself.
“Why?” He focused his attention on her.
Sara almost shivered, the memory of that hot kiss sending heat washing through her. He was an intense man, and when he turned that intensity on her, she felt like she was the only person in the world.
“I didn’t know where you were, nor how to find you. If you hadn’t wandered in on your own, I’d be making up some sort of excuse as to why a bride didn’t know where her bridegroom was twenty-four hours after the wedding!”
The Sheikh's Proposal Page 5