Chosen as the Sheikh's Royal Bride

“The other women.”

Beth frowned. “Why?”

“I’m curious about the opinion of someone who, as you say, doesn’t have a chance with the king. If you don’t, then who does?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you promise you won’t tell the sheikh?”

“Why would you care if I did?”

“I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s chances.”

He put his hand to his heart in a strangely old-fashioned gesture. “I promise I won’t repeat it to anyone.”

She believed him.

Reluctantly, she said, “The movie star is his obvious choice. She’s the most famous beauty on earth right now.”

“You’re talking about Sia Lane?”

“Yeah. It’s true she’s incredibly beautiful. And charming.” She paused. “She’s also just plain mean. She harassed the flight attendants for hours on the private jet from New York, just because they didn’t have the sparkling water she wanted. Then when we arrived at the hotel this morning, and the porter nearly dropped her designer suitcase, she threatened to destroy his whole family if she saw a single scratch. She’s the kind of person who would kick a dog.” She tilted her head. “Unless, of course, she believed the dog might be helpful to her career.”

He snorted. “Go on.”

Guilt made her pause. “I shouldn’t have said that.” She shook her head. “I’m sure she’s a lovely person. Perhaps I just caught her on a bad day.”

His dark eyes gave nothing away. “If she’s the worst choice, who’s the best?”

“Laila al-Abayyi,” she said instantly. The man looked oddly pained, but she continued eagerly, “Everyone loves her. She’s, like, Mother Teresa or something. And she’s from Samarqara, so she knows the language and culture—”

“Who else?” he cut her off.

Confused at his sharp reaction, Beth frowned. “Bere Akinwande is beautiful and kind and

smart. She’d make a fantastic queen. And there are others. Though to be honest, I don’t know why any of these women would want to marry the king.”

“Why?” he demanded.

“Oh, I don’t know, because he’s the kind of man who set up something like this to find a wife?” She rolled her eyes. “Seriously. This whole thing is just one camera short of a reality show.”

“It is not easy for a man in his position to find a worthy partner,” he said stiffly. He tilted his head. “Any more, I imagine, than it is easy for a lauded scientist such as yourself to take time from your important work to waste on the painful process of finding a husband the old-fashioned way.”

Beth stared at him, disgruntled, then sighed as her shoulders relaxed. “You’re right. Who am I to judge? At least he’s paying us for our time. We’re not paying him. I should thank him,” she said cheerfully. “And I will, if I ever get the chance.”

A voice came behind her.

“Dr. Farraday? What are you doing out here? You’re needed in the ballroom.”

One of the handlers was standing in the open doorway to the ballroom, impatiently motioning her inside. Then his eyes widened as he saw the stranger behind her. Glancing back, she saw the handsome stranger give a small shake of his head.

“Forgive me, Dr. Farraday,” the handler’s voice changed strangely, “but if you’d be so kind as to return to the ballroom, we’d be very grateful.”

“Well, well. It seems I finally get to meet His Highness.” Beth gave the handsome stranger a crooked grin. “Wish me luck.”

Reaching out, he touched her bare shoulder. He looked into her eyes. His voice was deep and low, and made her shiver. “Good luck.”

Beth’s knees went weak. Trying to act cool, she pulled away and said good-naturedly, “It doesn’t take luck to fail. I fail at everything. I’m a pro at it.”

The man frowned, puzzled. And she remembered too late: Beth had failed. Edith hadn’t.