The Sheik's Arranged Marriage. Susan Mallery

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Fatima had been a second mother to her. With her Chanel clothes and her gracious manners, she was royalty personified. Elegant, intelligent, warm-hearted. Heidi had always thought that Fatima was the most perfect queen to ever grace El Bahar.

      But behind the gracious manners and just-right makeup lurked a spine of steel and a resolve that could withstand an army.

      Married? Heidi?

      “I don’t even date,” she muttered aloud.

      She’d tried it twice and had experienced exactly two disasters. She’d attended an all-girls high school, so her first date hadn’t occurred until college. She’d been invited to a frat party on a neighboring campus. No one had warned her that the fluffy coconut concoction had contained more rum than was healthy. After consuming three icy drinks in less than an hour, she’d found herself on her hands and knees, throwing up in the closest bathroom.

      It had been her first experience with alcohol. Amazingly enough, her date had assumed her sickness meant she would be that much easier to force into bed. Before she’d realized what he was doing, she’d found herself on her back with her skirt up to her waist. Fortunately for her, if not for him, she’d thrown up yet again…all over him, herself and the bed. It had squashed his mood, and she’d made her escape. Her second attempt at dating had been worse.

      No, she wasn’t interested in dating, let alone marriage, and she would make both very clear the second she laid eyes on Jamal Khan, Prince of El Bahar.

      Chapter Two

      “J ust so we’re all clear,” Heidi said as she walked into the dining room that evening, “I’m not interested in getting married.”

      The man sitting at the large table didn’t even have the grace to look shocked by her statement. Instead he smiled politely, rose to his feet and nodded.

      “Thank you for clearing that up so quickly,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

      Heidi felt a faint heat on her cheeks. She told herself it was from the exertion of her walk. After all, her room was some distance from the dining room. Also, she’d been walking quickly because she wanted to catch Jamal alone. Which he had been…and they now were.

      There was the sensation of more heat, which she ignored. She cleared her throat. “Yes, well, I can explain.”

      Jamal Khan moved toward her, stopping only when he was within touching distance. She hated that she had to look up to see him. She hated even more that he was so appealing. The princes were walking, breathing, life-sized clichés. All tall, dark, handsome and rich. Jamal was the worst of the three in her opinion.

      He stood at least two inches over six feet. He wore his jet-black hair brushed straight back in a conservative style that suited his strong bone structure perfectly. His suit was tailored, his tie probably cost as much as a month’s dining pass at her college. Don’t even get her started on his shoes. Handmade. Leather.

      Heidi felt a slight shiver at the base of her spine. It was a dumb place for a shiver to begin so she ignored that, too.

      “It’s been a long time, Heidi,” he said, holding out his hand. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

      She briefly shook hands with him then laced her fingers together behind her back where they were out of danger. She hadn’t really felt any tingling when they’d touched. No jolt of any kind. Really. If she had, well, she would ignore that along with the odd sort of weakness in her knees.

      “Yes, it’s been a while.” She glanced over her shoulder and stared down the empty hallway. “They’ll be here any moment. We have to talk.”

      “They?” He drew out the word just long enough to make her realize he thought she was crazy.

      “Your father and grandmother. King Givon came to see me this afternoon. He made these noises about us getting married. You and me. I don’t know why. We barely know each other. We’re not suited at all. We have to stop him.”

      “The king made noises? Like grunts? Or was it a coughing sound.”

      Heidi glared at him. “You’re not taking me seriously.”

      Jamal had the audacity to smile. “No, I’m not. If you’re not interested in an arranged marriage then simply tell him so.”

      “I did. He didn’t listen.”

      “Then say no to me.”

      This was by far the strangest conversation she’d had in her life…bar none. “Aren’t you upset? Doesn’t this bug you? He’s arranging your life. And mine. I don’t want this.”

      Jamal touched her cheek. It was a casual gesture, nearly paternal. Even so, she felt her heart make a little thunk in her chest.

      “I’m Prince Jamal Khan of El Bahar,” he said.

      She resisted the urge to say “Duh.”

      “It is my duty to marry and produce heirs,” he continued. “I haven’t met anyone I wish to be with so when the time comes, I’ll accept an arranged match. It has been this way for hundreds of years.”

      “I know the custom,” Heidi said through gritted teeth. “I’ve studied the culture. That’s not my point. My point is I don’t want to be a part of history. Don’t you get it? Your father thinks we would be a good match. You have to stop him before he goes too far.”

      Dark brown eyes regarded her thoughtfully. “Why don’t you stop him? Simply tell him you’ll refuse me.”

      “It would be better if you didn’t ask me in the first place,” she muttered. “I sort of owe the king. He’s been really good to me since my grandfather died. Even before that. I would feel horrible turning him down.” She looked up at him. “But I really, really don’t want to marry you.”

      “How flattering,” Jamal murmured.

      Jamal had been prepared to meet Heidi the Horrible. Instead he found himself being almost charmed by a young woman who was much more schoolgirl than termagant.

      “I didn’t mean it that way,” she told him. “Don’t go getting all male and insulted.”

      “Male and insulted? What does that mean?”

      She glared at him, then pushed up her glasses. “You know. Guys hate it when women are honest. You all need your egos catered to. It’s really time-consuming.”

      “Ah. You have personal experience with this ego-catering?”

      “Not exactly, but I’ve seen a lot of it.”

      “Secondhand knowledge?”

      Her nose wrinkled in what he assumed was the scrunchy expression that had intimidated Malik. “I don’t have to cut off my arm to know I wouldn’t like the experience.”

      He mulled over that thought. “You’re saying that you don’t have to be involved with a man to know he’s interested in having his ego catered to?”

      “Exactly.” Her tone of voice

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