were everywhere, bouquets of them that filled the room with their sweet fragrance.
She stepped over to an arrangement of multicolored roses on top of a marble stand, and drew a deep breath. “Oh, Omar, they are all so lovely.”
He smiled. “I remembered you love flowers. I hope they please you.”
“Please me? How could I not be pleased?” She was touched beyond belief. First because he remembered she’d mentioned in one of her letters how much she liked flowers, and second because he had gone out of his way to fill the room with them for her.
“Please have a seat.” He gestured toward the small table in the middle of the room. In the center of the table two candles were lit, their warm glow flickering on the crystal glasses and gold tableware.
Cara sat in one of the chairs, then gasped in surprise as he turned off the overhead light, plunging the windowless room into candlelight intimacy.
She became conscious of soft music playing in the background and realized the scene was set for romance. Her heart pounded as her nervousness increased.
As Omar took the seat opposite her, a waiter appeared through a doorway she hadn’t noticed in the back of the room. He held a bottle of wine and wore a deferential smile.
“I took the liberty of ordering the wine,” Omar said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” she assured him, as the waiter filled their glasses. When the waiter was finished, he disappeared once again.
Omar picked up his wineglass and held it out toward her. “To the future. May it bring us much happiness.”
It was a toast Cara could make without a twinge of conscience. After all, he hadn’t said “to us,” which would have been difficult for her to toast to since she knew there wouldn’t be an “us.”
Omar took a sip of his wine, then leaned back in his chair, a look of intense satisfaction on his face as his gaze lingered on her. “You are as beautiful as I remember,” he said, his voice a deep verbal caress. “Actually, the past six years have only made you more beautiful.”
Cara felt color sweep up into her cheeks. “And you are as handsome as I remember,” she replied.
Today he was once again dressed in western wear. His black suit fit him to perfection, and the white shirt was monogrammed at the sleeves with his initials. But it wasn’t his clothes that threatened to steal her breath away.
Beneath the suit jacket, his shoulders looked broad and strong. The slacks displayed the long length of his legs, and the white shirt emphasized the attractive olive coloring of his skin.
Beneath his dark, thick eyebrows, his ebony eyes caressed her as he smiled at her compliment, flashing his beautiful white teeth. “We will make a very attractive married couple.”
He seemed to recognize she was about to protest and held up his hand to still her. “But we will talk of other things first.”
Cara relaxed slightly. She didn’t want to think about the marriage proposal he’d offered the day before. She just wanted to enjoy being here with him now. “Your trip to the States was pleasant, I hope,” she said, wanting to find a safe topic.
“Very pleasant,” he replied, and took another sip of his wine. She noticed the ring on his hand, an opulent emerald surrounded by diamonds. It was a large ring, but didn’t in any way dwarf his hands.
She wondered what those big hands would feel like slowly caressing the length of her body. She quickly took another sip of her wine to dispel the heat the thought evoked in her.
“So, tell me, Elizabeth, you are enjoying your time away from the classroom?”
“Yes and no,” she replied. She set down her glass and straightened her napkin in her lap. “I’ve been enjoying my free time, but I have to admit that too much free time is boring.”
“I was very surprised to discover that you were a teacher. When I met you years ago at the cotillion, I never would have guessed that would become your profession. At that time you seemed far too adventurous to choose such a conservative job.”
“That was six years ago, Omar. Six years is a long time. People change. I’ve changed.” Maybe she could convince him that Fiona had grown more serious, less colorful over the years.
“Yes, and I’ve seen the changes in you through your letters. Initially they were quite frivolous and entertaining, and I enjoyed them tremendously. But, as our correspondence continued, I saw you maturing—and I still enjoyed your letters.”
The change he had seen in the letters was the point where Fiona had tired of writing him and Cara had taken over.
He smiled again and leaned forward, and in the depths of his eyes she saw the flames of simmering emotion. “I know that beneath your maturity and sensitivity is also the woman who is exciting and adventurous. You have become a perfect blend of an audacious enchantress and an insightful, thoughtful woman.”
An audacious enchantress?
Maybe in her next lifetime, but certainly not in this one. “Omar,” she began, realizing she had to tell him the truth.
But, before any more words could leave her lips, the waiter once again appeared at their table with menus. After dinner I’ll tell him, she thought as she accepted the oversize menu.
After dinner she’d tell him the truth—that she wasn’t the enchanting, audacious Fiona who had matured, but rather just plain old boring Cara.
Omar had never felt as right about anything as he did about making her his wife. Every moment that ticked by in her company reassured him that his decision to marry her was good.
Although there would be some in his country who would be irked that he’d chosen an American as his bride, for the most part he knew his subjects would rejoice in the fact that he had finally married and would begin to work on producing heirs. She would win over any of the critics with her beauty, warmth and charm.
When they had placed their orders and the waiter had departed, Omar once again focused his attention on Elizabeth. She had only grown more lovely over the years.
The jade of her dress made her eyes appear an impossible green, and each time she leaned forward he was gifted with a teasing glimpse of the thrust of her breasts. He’d also noticed before she took her seat that her short skirt had displayed legs that were long and slender.
This was a woman who had enough class to be an asset to him in his role as sheik. And this was a woman who was pretty enough, sexy enough, to be an asset to him as a man.
“Your parents are well?” he asked.
“They’re fine.” She picked up her wineglass once again and took another sip.
“And your sister?”
“She’s okay. She’s visiting friends in Paris.”
He noticed her hand trembled slightly as she set her wineglass back on the table.
She was nervous. The realization surprised him. And yet, when he thought about
