Promised to a Sheik (4 page)

“Donny wanted me to speak to Mr. McNair, his math teacher. He wanted me to get McNair to change his final grade. When I told Donny I couldn't do that, he pulled out a gun. He held me at gunpoint for three hours before I finally talked him into giving up to the police, who by then had surrounded the building.”

Horror shot through Omar, and he halted in his tracks, drew her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. He couldn't imagine the terror she must have gone through.

She leaned into his embrace, as if gathering strength from his arms. The clean scent of her hair filled his senses, and he tried not to focus on the evocative sensation of her warm breasts pressed against his chest.

“You must have been terrified,” he murmured as he ran a hand up and down her slender back.

She sighed once again, then stepped back from him, and they continued to walk. “It's funny, I wasn't frightened while it was all happening. I never believed Donny would actually shoot me. What I worried about more was Donny getting hurt by the police.”

The fact that she had been concerned for the boy impressed Omar. “If that had happened to you in
Gaspar, I would have thrown the boy into a dungeon.”

“Do you have dungeons in Gaspar?” she asked.

“No, but I would build one specifically for people who threatened the safety of what belongs to me, for people who would attempt to harm you.”

Her eyes brightened, and she smiled at him. “While I don't necessarily approve of the method, I appreciate the sentiment.” Her smile fell away. “Besides, Donny didn't need a dungeon. He needed help. We learned later that both his parents were severe alcoholics and that Donny had spent the previous two years raising his three younger sisters. He was frantic about his diploma because he was certain without it he wouldn't be able to get a good job, and he was trying to save up enough money to take his sisters and leave his parents.”

“A sad affair,” he replied. “However, I can understand why you were reluctant to return to the school.”

“Actually, I returned the next day and finished out the school year and thought I was fine.” Again the shadows appeared in her eyes.

“But you weren't fine.”

She shook her head, dark strands flying on either side of her heart-shaped face. “I think for a couple of days I was kind of in shock, then I started having nightmares about the whole thing. The nightmares don't come as often anymore, just occasionally. But I made the decision that I didn't want to go back this year.”

“I don't blame you. I'm sure the idea of entering that building again must be difficult.”

“That isn't why I decided not to go back.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Then, why?”

She waited until they had left the pasture and she'd carefully locked the gate behind them before she replied.

“I think that whole incident with Donny made me realize just how short life is, that it can be taken away from you in the snap of a finger. I just decided I wanted to take some time off and enjoy life to the fullest.”

“Ah, so what you seek is a confirmation of life,” he observed.

“Yes, something like that,” she agreed.

He grinned at her teasingly. “They say the best way of doing that is to make love.”

Her cheeks warmed with sweet color. “I wouldn't know about that.”

He looked at her in surprise. “You have never made love?” he asked incredulously.

She raised her chin. “Well, it certainly hasn't been from lack of opportunity,” she exclaimed defensively.

“I wouldn't have dreamed anything to the contrary,” he replied with amusement. “I just assumed in this day and age that you had enjoyed an intimate relationship before.”

They had almost reached the cottage, where his car was parked out front. “I guess I'm more old-
fashioned than I pretend. Besides, I simply haven't met the right man,” she said.

Omar pulled her into his arms once again, enjoying the way her eyes flared in surprise. “You have met him now, Elizabeth. I will be the man who will introduce you to the pleasures of making love.”

“Omar…”

Whatever she was about to say was drowned out by Rashad yelling his name and holding up the phone. Omar frowned, torn between his desire to spend more time with Elizabeth and the duty that called him yet again.

“I must take that,” he said. “Rashad would not have called me if it wasn't an important call.”

She nodded, and he hurried to where Rashad stood and took the cell phone. The call required Omar to return to his hotel room, where he had the paperwork required to deal with the problem. He hung up the phone and went back to where Elizabeth waited.

“I am so sorry,” he said. “I'm afraid I must return to the hotel room to attend to some business.”

“Of course, I understand,” she said, but he thought he saw a whisper of disappointment in her eyes. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Dine with me tonight?”

“I'd love to,” she replied.

“Good, then I will send the car for you around seven.”

“I'll be ready.”

How he wanted to gather her back into his arms
and taste the sweetness of her lips. But he knew now was not the time or the place.

“She is perfect,” he said to Rashad moments later, when they were driving back to the hotel. “She is perfect, just like I knew she would be. I have made a wise and good choice.”

He stared out the window, thinking of the woman he'd just left, then looked back at Rashad. “She is intelligent and sensitive and has a compassion inside her that will make her valuable not only to me as a man, but to my country as my queen.”

“And it doesn't hurt that she is not hard to look at,” Rashad said slyly.

Omar grinned at his assistant and friend. “No, that certainly doesn't hurt.”

He redirected his gaze out the window, his thoughts once again filled with Elizabeth. He liked her even more than he'd thought he would. He'd known from her letters that there were many things he admired, but he hadn't expected to enjoy her company quite as much as he did.

Of course, his feelings for her would never deepen into anything remotely resembling love. His father, Sheik Abdul Al Abdar, had warned him from an early age that love took away a man's power, made him look dependent and weak in the eyes of his countrymen.

Love was out of the question—but desire certainly wasn't, and the thought that Elizabeth had never been with a man before stirred Omar with anticipation.

If he could seduce her tonight, he had a feeling she would easily succumb to his wishes that she marry him.

He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, planning the seduction of the lovely Elizabeth Fiona Carson.

 

In a jungle in a rain forest in the Central American country of Mezcaya, Luke Callaghan leaned his head back against a tree trunk, closed his eyes and for a moment imagined he was back home in Texas.

The sound of distant gunfire, the buzz of the infernal mosquitoes and the exhausting humidity seemed to fade away as he thought of home.

Luke had grown up on an estate twenty miles north of Mission Creek. Orphaned at seven, he'd been left an amount of money that made him a millionaire many times over, but he'd never cared much about the money.

The military had provided the family Luke had wanted, and now at the age of thirty-four he had achieved his desire. He was a double agent, working for the military in a position so secretive even his best friends didn't know about it.

He smiled grimly and raked a hand over his jaw as he thought of his buddies back home.

They would all probably think he was off on another party jaunt, wining and dining women all over the world. None of them would believe that he was in a stinking jungle fighting terrorists.

His mouth watered as he thought of a rack of ribs
dripping with barbecue sauce. Ribs and a cold beer—that was the first thing he'd order when he got back to Texas.

If he ever got out of this infernal jungle alive.

F
or the first time in her life, Cara felt just a little bit like Fiona as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The red silk dress she'd borrowed from Fiona's closet, and now wore, made her feel flirty and sexy and desirable. Or was it Omar who made her feel that way?

She had spent the afternoon after he'd left, playing and replaying in her mind the entire time with him. Each time he'd looked at her with those beautiful dark eyes of his, she had felt a shiver of excitement. For in his eyes she'd seen desire.

When she'd told him about her trouble at school and he'd pulled her into his arms, she'd wanted to remain standing there forever.

His arms surrounding her had made her feel more safe than she ever had, and for just a moment she'd thought she could hear his heartbeat against her own.

A knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts, and she whirled away from the bedroom mirror and hurried to the door, certain it must be the car to drive her to Omar.

She opened the door, surprised to see not Rashad
standing on her front stoop, but her father. “Daddy!” she exclaimed in surprise.

“Hi, darlin'. Don't you look like a picture of prettiness?”

“Thank you,” Cara replied, and smiled affectionately at her father.

Ford Carson was a big man, with broad shoulders, a belly that just overhung the large belt buckles he favored, and hair that had gone a snowy white in the past couple of years. Since Cara had moved into the cottage two years before, Ford often dropped in un-announced just to visit with her.

He stepped into the living room but remained standing. “I guess you're on your way out,” he said. “Your mama told me Sheik Al Abdar is in town and you've been spending time with him. I hope this isn't anything too serious.”

Cara looked at him in surprise. “You don't like Omar?”

“Hell, I like him fine, but I'd hate to see my little girl taken off to some foreign country, even if the country is friendly with the United States.”

Cara smiled. “Daddy, I'm not a little girl anymore, and I'm sure I could come home to visit whenever I wanted.”

Ford frowned, his bushy dark eyebrows pulling together in the center of his forehead. “So, this
is
serious.”

“Oh, I don't know. But I like him a lot,” she replied honestly.

Ford sighed. “I always figured it would be your
sister who'd eventually go off to live in some foreign place. She's never seemed satisfied in Mission Creek. But you…I just always thought you'd be around.”

With a small laugh, Cara threw her arms around his neck. “I'm not gone yet,” she said. “I'm just enjoying Omar's company at the moment. Don't look so worried.”

Ford kissed her soundly on the cheek. “I always worry when it comes to my family.”

Cara stepped back from him. “Well, you know you don't have to worry about me. I'm not about to do anything foolish or impulsive.”

“I know that, honeybunch. I came by to tell you that we're planning a little barbecue tomorrow afternoon. Your brothers and their wives will be there, and I thought you might want to invite Sheik Omar. We're going to eat at about three.”

“I can't give you an answer right now. We'll see what the plans are,” she hedged as they stepped back out on the porch.

The last thing she wanted was for Omar to spend any time around her family and for somebody to slip and call her Cara. Until she told him the truth, the best thing to do was keep him isolated from her family.
A tangled web,
she thought to herself, wishing she'd never begun the subterfuge in the first place.

“I suppose I'd better head back to the house. Your mama will think I'm out here trying to sneak a smoke, but with that damn diet she's got me on, I'd be more apt to sneak a big juicy steak or a platter of ribs.”

Cara laughed. “You know Mama just wants what's best for you.”

“I know, but if I have to look at another string bean or piece of dried-up chicken breast, I just might have that heart attack everyone is so worried about.” With another quick kiss to Cara's cheek, he waved, then headed back toward the main house.

Cara watched him until he was out of sight, her heart filled with love for the man who had been such an influence in her life. Fiona had been his parrot, squawky and vivid and bright. But Cara had been his sparrow, and he'd always been especially gentle and loving with her.

Her nerves went on alert as she heard the approach of a car and saw in the distance the familiar limo approaching her cottage. She raced inside and grabbed her small beaded purse, then hurried back outside.

“Good evening, Ms. Carson.” Rashad greeted her with a beaming smile as he opened the door to allow her into the luxury limo.

“Good evening, Rashad,” she replied. She climbed into the back seat, then leaned forward. “I would be pleased to have your company back here for the ride into town.”

His dark eyes lit with surprise. “Thank you, I would enjoy sharing your company.” He got into the back with her and sat opposite her, with his back to the driver. He knocked on the window that separated the driver from them, and the limo took off.

“Are you enjoying your time in Mission Creek, Rashad?” she asked.

He nodded. “I'm finding it most interesting. Texans seem to be larger than life.”

Cara laughed at the apt description, then sobered. “Have you worked for Omar a long time?”

“For many years, and for his father before him.”

“Tell me about him,” she said, wanting to know anything and everything about Omar, including about his family.

“Sheik Abdul Al Abdar was a good and wise ruler and much beloved by his people. There was some concern when he handed the reins to Omar on Omar's thirtieth birthday.”

“Concern? About what?”

Rashad cast her an impish smile. “Sheik Omar had something of a reputation as a playboy. There were some who thought he wasn't ready, wasn't man enough to take his father's place. But he has proved the cynics wrong. He has become as beloved in Gaspar as his father before him.”

He glanced at her slyly. “And the woman he marries will be as beloved as he.”

“Matchmaking, Rashad?” she teased.

“But, of course.” He grinned broadly. “I know how much Sheik Omar enjoyed your correspondence with him over the past year. I could always tell when he'd received a letter from you. He'd smile more on those days.”

Rashad's words thrilled Cara. She'd felt the same way when she'd received Omar's letters. They had
always managed to brighten her day and warm her heart.

My words,
she thought to herself.
It was my words that he read, my words that made him happy. Not Fiona's.
Somehow this knowledge made her impersonation of her twin seem less dishonest.

She was still feeling the glow of pleasure when the limo pulled up outside the Brighton Hotel. Rashad saw her out, but instead of escorting her to the same dining room where they had eaten the night before, he led her to the elevator.

“Sheik Omar has made arrangements to dine in his suite this evening,” he explained as they stepped into the awaiting elevator.

His suite.
Complete privacy. Cara felt a shiver of anticipation. It would be a perfect opportunity for her to confess her secret to him.

She gazed down at the ring on her finger. Though telling him was the right thing to do, she had a feeling it would end their time together.

Heaven help her, she wasn't ready for that.

When they reached the eighth floor, they got out of the elevator and walked down a hallway to another elevator.

Rashad used a key and the doors shooshed open. “I will leave you now,” he said with a small bow. “This elevator will take you directly to Sheik Omar's suite.”

“Thank you, Rashad.” She stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed.

She smoothed her hands down her dress, suddenly
worried that perhaps the flirty, sexy red dress was a bit much. She should have worn basic black. Somehow she felt that it would be easier to tell him the truth if she were dressed like herself, instead of like her sister.

The elevator came to a halt, the doors opened, and Omar stood before her. The red dress was the right choice, she immediately thought as she saw the glittering fires that ignited in his eyes.

“Elizabeth, you take my breath away with your beauty,” he said as he took her hand and led her out of the elevator.

“You take my breath away,” she replied. She had never before seen him dressed in his traditional Middle Eastern clothing.

He wore an elegant silk floor-length white robe that emphasized the sun-darkened tones of his olive skin. A turban encrusted with brilliant jewels hid his hair, but brought attention to his bold, handsome facial features.

He looked foreign and mysterious—until he smiled, and then he simply looked like Omar, the man who was precariously close to winning her heart.

“Please, come in.” He gestured toward the overstuffed white sofa. “Dinner will not be served for a little while. Would you care for a glass of wine?”

“That would be nice,” she replied as she sat on the sofa and looked around the room with interest. It was a large living area done all in pristine whites and rich golds.

A small alcove provided an intimate area for din
ing. The table was set with white china and sparkling crystal, and a centerpiece of half a dozen candles.

A door was open to the bedroom, the luxurious king-size bed visible from where she sat. The bedroom was dimly lit, and she could see that the bed had been turned down as if in anticipation of someone sliding between the sheets.

For just a moment her mind granted her a vision of her and Omar beneath the white sheets, his large hands stroking down the length of her as his lips plied hers with heat. Her pulse leaped in response, and she quickly shoved the image away.

Exotic music played softly—an orchestra of lutes, triangles, cymbals and other instruments she didn't recognize. She knew it must be music from his country, and she felt as if he were attempting to seduce her with pieces of Gaspar.

As he handed her the glass of wine, his fingers lingered momentarily on hers, the touch shooting electric currents up her arm. “Thank you,” she murmured breathlessly.

“You're welcome.” He sat next to her, his dark eyes lingering on her. She could smell him, the scent of mysterious spices and masculinity, a scent that stirred her senses.

“You look more stunning tonight than you did six years ago at the cotillion,” he said. He reached out and touched a strand of her hair, as if unable to stop himself from making some sort of physical contact.

“And you look quite majestic,” she replied. She
took a drink of her wine. “I've never seen you dressed like a sheik.”

He laughed. “And just how does a sheik dress?”

“In long silk robes and jeweled turbans.”

He dropped his hand from her hair and leaned back, his dark eyes holding the same smile that his lips formed. “Actually, few sheiks in this day and age cling to the traditional clothing. Most wear suits and shirts and have their feet firmly planted in the modern world.”

“Then, you are not quite a modern sheik?” she asked.

“My father sent me to a private school in England, then university in Paris, and finally business school in New York City. He wanted me to experience the world, learn the modern ways and bring them back to my country so that Gaspar would continue to prosper. But he also taught me the importance of tradition. Besides,” he said, his smile widening, “the traditional clothes are extremely comfortable.”

“And very attractive,” she added, then quickly took another sip of her wine. She was slightly overwhelmed, not only by the romantic setting, but by Omar's dark handsomeness and the glow that flamed in his beautiful eyes each time he looked at her.

She'd thought it was the dress that made her feel sexy and desirable, but she realized now it was him. Each time he looked at her she felt unbelievably beautiful. It was a heady, wonderful feeling.

“I enjoyed seeing the ranch this afternoon. It's an impressive spread.”

“It was a wonderful place to grow up,” she replied, relaxing slightly as the conversation turned to her birthplace. “There were always people around. Not only the ranch hands, but we often had a houseful of guests. There's nothing that my father loves more than to smoke a mess of ribs and have a huge barbecue.”

She thought of the barbecue her father had mentioned earlier. She was supposed to invite Omar, but she was torn. She knew there was no way he could spend time with her two brothers and their wives and not discover that she was Cara.

But perhaps it would be best to invite him and let the chips fall where they may. “In fact, my father stopped by the cottage right before the car came to pick me up and mentioned that he's planning a little barbecue tomorrow afternoon. He wanted to make sure I invited you to attend.”

“What time?” Omar asked.

“About three.”

A deep frown creased his broad forehead. “I'm afraid I'll have to take a rain check. I've scheduled the entire afternoon tomorrow for conference calls.”

Guilt swept through her as she realized the tremendous relief she felt. “How are your negotiations coming along?”

His frown deepened. “Not as well as I'd hoped.” His nostrils flared slightly, and for a moment he looked positively fierce. “The men I am dealing with take me for a fool. They want me to give away our oil, but they will discover that I am not a man to
compromise.” He drew a deep breath and the frown disappeared. “But tonight we won't talk about business.”

He picked up the bottle of wine from the coffee table and offered her some more. She held out her glass, recognizing that she had just caught a glimpse of Omar the Sheik, fierce and proud and unwilling to compromise his beliefs or his people.