The Sheikh Doc's Marriage Bargain

“I too am sorry you did not have time to see them, to have been able to say a proper goodbye. Family is important.”

She lowered her chin and gave him a narrow-eyed look. “I appreciate that but I don’t plan to be gone long.”

His expression didn’t waver and he said nothing. What was he thinking? She turned her attention to her plate. “My brothers and sisters were jealous. They all wanted to come with me.” She leaned back as the steward removed her plate then the Prince’s. “About us getting married, are you sure there is no other way?”

The question hung in the air as the steward put a plate down in front of them with a decadent-looking chocolate cake on it.

“Positive.”

After the steward left, she said softly, “Sorry.”

“He is loyal and knows that nothing he sees or hears is to be repeated. But you should still be careful what you say.”

Laurel picked up her fork and concentrated on the cake. “I will be.”

“Good.” Tariq just looked at her a moment with those unreadable eyes. He blinked. “Did you have to give up any other commitments to come to Zentar?”

“You’re asking that now?”

“I just wanted to make sure some man wasn’t going to show up unannounced and create a problem.”

“You don’t need to worry about that happening.” She refused to let him know why it wouldn’t be an issue.

“That’s good to hear. I suspect you live for your work.”

That might be true but she didn’t like the way it sounded out loud. He didn’t think she had a personal life? His attitude made her think too much of her childhood years when she had been made fun of for reading all the time. She glared at him, which she seemed to be doing a lot of. “It would be my guess we both tend to do that.”

“Agreed.” He dug into his cake.

He made it sound like she had given him a compliment. “You mean I actually have something in common with a prince!” Laurel made her tone as cynical as possible. Who was she kidding? She had little in common with him and never would.

Tariq smiled. Her breath caught. Having it directed at her made her feel special, all warm and gooey inside. “It sounds like we do.”

This laid-back, easygoing aspect of his temperament she could learn to like.

“You know, I’ve been wondering about where I’m going to be living. Do I need to rent a car? Can I just walk to the lab?”

“You will be my wife. You will live on the palace grounds, in my apartments. All you have to do is ask for anything you need.”

Live with him? At the palace? She hadn’t thought this through. A palace wasn’t where she belonged. She wouldn’t fit in with royalty. She wasn’t like them. “There’s no other arrangements that can be made?”

“Not if you are my wife. There are plenty of rooms in my apartment. You will not be disturbed. Nasser or one of the other drivers will always be available to take you to and from the clinic.”

“Am I going to need an escort for some reason?” Was there something going on she needed to know about?

“You do not.” He almost sounded hurt. “Zentar is a very safe country. You are welcome to wear Western dress but be aware of the sun. It can often be very strong so you may want to consider a hat and sunglasses whenever you’re out. Cover your fair skin in the middle of the day.”

It gave her a peculiar feeling to have him note something as personal as her skin. As if she mattered to him. That wasn’t possible.

He continued, “I think you will find that everything you might wish for will be at the lab, which will be fully under your direction. I’ve already hired six highly qualified employees. They have impeccable qualifications.”

“Okay.” She wanted to do research, not wrangle people, and she had no intention of starting to do that now.

“The lab is housed in the same building as our public clinic, which will be opened five days a week. You will find that it is extremely busy. Anyone who comes to the clinic with hemophilia will automatically be referred to the lab for testing.” His voice took on a certain ring of excitement as he spoke. “The lab will also handle any special cases, like cancer.” His phone buzzed and he frowned at the screen.

“I don’t know if you have made any notations in your paperwork or talked to people who know me, but I’m not a manager. That’s part of the reason I went into research. I don’t give orders well.”

He glanced at her. “That is hard to believe. You have had no difficulty making it clear to me what you like or dislike.”

She leaned forward in her seat. “Even you have to admit this is an extraordinary situation. Or do you demand women marry you all the time?”

“I do not. You are the first. I think you will be fine in the lab.” Tariq’s attention went back to the phone.

“I don’t want the responsibility of telling people what to do.” That was an aspect of her personality that had always been a struggle.

“You should not have a problem. I have hired professionals who know their jobs. If you do have an issue, let me know.”

“You can bet I will,” Laurel murmured. “My research comes first.”

His attention was on her now. “And I fully intend that it should be.”

“Is there anything else you expect from me?”

Tariq studied her a moment too long, his eyes not wavering. Laurel shifted in her chair. Was Tariq thinking about what they were discussing or had his focus shifted to them being husband and wife? Once again she wished she could have a hint of his thoughts.

“No, I just expect you to do what you have been brought here to do and nothing more.” He stood. “It’s another seven hours before we land. Feel free to use the bath and bedroom. I’ll have the steward wake you an hour before we arrive. There is a TV in the bedroom that you are free to watch. If you are interested in tracking our flight, turn to Channel Three. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a matter to handle.” With that he walked to an office area toward the front of the plane.

Laurel hadn’t felt at ease about this job arrangement or fake marriage from the beginning. Her recent discussion with Tariq hadn’t improved her attitude. Unease filled her. Tariq. She had no business calling a prince by his first name alone. This entire situation was surreal.

Maybe a shower and a little reading would help settle her nerves. It had turned dark since she had fallen asleep earlier.

She found her small bag sitting beside the bathroom door. Apparently the steward had placed it there while they’d been having dinner. After a hot shower in the roomy bathroom she dressed and crossed the hallway to the bedroom.

After locking the door, she tested the bed like Goldilocks, sitting on it and giving a little bounce. It was as plush as the rest of the plane. Somehow it was unnerving to think of sleeping in Prince Tariq Al Marktum’s bed. How many others had? That wasn’t her business. She needed rest if she planned to have he

r wits about her when they landed.

Curious about where she was in the world, she turned on the TV. Finding out that she was over the center of the ocean didn’t reassure her and she quickly turned the TV to another channel. Finding little interest in any show, she turned it off and slipped under the covers. Where the Prince planned to sleep she had no idea.

Laurel ran her hand across the ultra-soft material. What would it be like to sleep in such luxury all the time? With Tariq? She shuddered. Where had that impossible thought come from?

* * *

She was jolted awake by a knock on the door and the steward announcing it was time for her to rise. Choosing a blue suit over a pale pink knit top, she quickly dressed, hoping she appeared confident and professional. Blue flats finished her outfit. She would need that self-confidence to face what was coming her way today. Laurel rubbed her hands along the front of her jacket. This wasn’t what she’d dreamed of wearing to her wedding. But hers wouldn’t be a real one so it really didn’t matter.

She found Tariq already sitting at the dining table with a plate of eggs in front of him. The smell of strong coffee circulated in the air.

She stopped short.

He was no longer dressed in a Western business suit. Instead he wore a white robe. Over it was a long mint-green vest with a wide decorative braid running the length of the front opening. His beard had been meticulously trimmed under his neck and at the hollows of his cheeks, creating a thin chic fashionable look that only emphasized the ruggedness of his appearance. He was every bit the picture of a desert prince. A lightning bolt of awareness shot through her core.

Trying to ignore the sudden warmth in her nether regions, she managed, “Uh...good morning.”

“Join me.” The sound of his deep voice ran across her nerve endings like a bow over a violin string. As usual his request was more of a statement than an invitation. Her awareness of his virility was so acute, his simple demand had her hands trembling. She swiftly sat across from him, grabbed the napkin and twisted it in her lap. This surreal physical reaction to Tariq had to stop.