so and smiled. Glancing at the staff, he stood aside.
“Perhaps you’d join me in the salon.”
“Happy to,” she said.
He spoke to Fatima and the woman came to take Bethanne’s bags, then retreated.
“Is anything wrong?” Bethanne asked once the two of them were alone in the salon.
“Not at all. I have some spare time and came to see if you wanted to have lunch together. I have not forgotten you wanted to see some of my country. Where did you go this morning?”
“To a place in the old town. I walked around a square there, saw a small market. Then went shopping for the dress.”
“I’d be delighted to show you more of the old town, and some of the countryside north of the city, if you’d like.”
“Yes. I would. I probably won’t get the chance to visit Quishari again after I leave.” Especially if she didn’t find her father, or convince Rashid he was innocent.
“And I remember you like exploring new places,” he commented, studying her for a moment.
“I’ll run upstairs and freshen up. I can be ready to leave in ten minutes.”
“There’s no rush.”
She smiled again and dashed up to her room. She should have been better prepared for Rashid, but had not expected him to disregard work to spend time with her. She was delighted, and hoped they’d find mutual interests for conversation. She could, of course, simply stare at him all day—but that would look odd.
Rashid walked to the opened French doors. He gazed out at the gardens, but his thoughts centered on his American visitor. Bethanne fascinated him. Her profession was unusual for a woman. Yet whenever she was around him, she appeared very feminine. He liked looking at her with her fair skin, blue eyes and soft blond hair. Her casual manner could lead some to believe she was flighty—but he’d checked her record and it was spotless. He also found her enthusiasm refreshing after his own rather cynical outlook on life. Was that an American trait? Or her individual personality?
Rashid knew several American businessmen. Had dined with them and their wives over the years. Most of them cultivated the same aloof cosmopolitan air that was so lacking in Bethanne. Maybe it was that difference that had him intrigued.
His mother had called again that morning, bemoaning the fact Bethanne was visiting and that Haile had not come. When he’d told her he was just as well out of the deal, she’d appeared shocked. Questioning him further, she’d become angry when he’d said he wasn’t sure the arrangement had been suitable in the long run. He didn’t come out and tell her of firm plans with Bethanne, but let her believe there was a possibility.
He almost laughed when his mother had tentatively suggested Bethanne wasn’t suitable and he should let her help him find the right bride. He knew he and Bethanne didn’t make a suitable pair. Yet, if he thought about it, she would probably have beautiful children. She was young, healthy, obviously intelligent.
He stopped. It sounded as if he were seriously considering a relationship with her. He was not. His family would never overlook what her father had done. And after the aborted affair with Marguerite, he didn’t fully trust women. He would do better to focus on finalizing the details of the agreement with al Benqura.
His mother had reminded him she expected a different guest, and so would others.
“Until they see Bethanne. Then they’d know why she’s visiting,” he’d said, hoping to fob her off. It would certainly give a shot in the arm to the gossip circulating. And, he hoped, throw off any hint of scandal the minister might try to expose. Animosity ran deep between them. Rashid would not give him anything to fuel their feud.
He’d already invited Bethanne to the polo match. Perhaps a dinner date or two, escorting her to a reception, would give gossips something else to talk about. It would not be a hardship. And al Benqura was in a hurry to finish the deal, as Rashid had suspected. Once the papers were signed, Bethanne would be leaving. Life would return to normal and no one except he and she would know the full circumstances of the charade. The thought was disquieting. Maybe he wouldn’t be in so much of a hurry to finalize everything.
Bethanne took care when freshening up. She brushed her hair until it shone. Tying it back so it wouldn’t get in her face, she refreshed her makeup. She felt like she was on holiday—lazing around, visiting old town, now seeing more of the country. Spending time with a gorgeous man. What was not to like about Quishari?
She was practical enough to know she wasn’t some femme fatale; she’d never wow the sheikh like some Arabian beauty would. Haile had had that sultry look with the fine features, wide choco-late-brown eyes and beautiful dark hair so many Arab women had. Next to them, she felt like a washed-out watercolor.
Leaving her room, she started down the stairs.
“Prompt as ever,” he said from the bottom.
She glanced down at him, gripping the banister tightly in startled surprise. She could take in how fabulous he looked in a dark suit, white shirt and blue-and-silver tie. His black hair gleamed beneath the chandelier. His deep brown eyes were fixed on her. Taking a breath, she smiled and tried to glide down the stairs. Was this how Cinderella felt going to the ball? She didn’t want midnight to come.
“You look lovely,” he said.
Bethanne smiled at him. “Thank you, kind sir.”
Once seated in the limo, Rashid gave directions to the driver. Bethanne settled back to enjoy being with him.
“So if I’m to watch a polo match on Saturday, maybe I should learn a bit of the finer points of the game,” she said as they pulled away from the villa. “What should I watch for?”
Rashid gave her an overview of the game. Bethanne couldn’t wait to see Rashid on one of the horses he spoke about. She knew he’d looked fabulous. She had to remind herself more than once on the ride—sheikhs didn’t get involved with women from Galveston, Texas.
When they arrived at the restaurant, Bethanne was impressed. It was on the shore of the Gulf, with tall windows which gave an excellent view to the beautiful water. Their table was next to one of the windows, tinted to keep the glare out, making Bethanne feel as if she were sitting on the sand.
“This is fabulous,” she murmured, captivated by the view.
“The food is good, as well,” he said, sitting in the chair opposite.
The maître d’ placed the menus before them with a flourish.
After one glance, Bethanne closed hers and looked back out the window. “Please order for me. I’m afraid I can’t read Arabic.”
“Do you like fish?”
“Love it.”
“Then I’ll order the same filet for us both and you’ll see what delicious fish we get from the Gulf.”
After their order had been taken, Bethanne looked at him. “Do you ever go snorkeling or scuba diving?”
“From time to time,” he said. “Do you?”
She
