I Married a Sheik (16 page)

"You're an incompetent idiot," Meredith railed, pacing the floor. This was a complication she didn't need right now, not when everything else seemed about to unravel. "Listen to me carefully. You blew this and you're going to have to make this right."

"How? I don't know where she is. What do you expect me to do?"

"I don't know. Just let me think." Meredith paced, her mind spinning. "Listen," she finally said. "I think I've got a plan. She didn't come home last night, so if she saw you that means she's scared, maybe she ran. She didn't contact her father or we would have heard something by now." She walked to the bedroom door and listened. "Everyone's sleeping so obviously she didn't call here. So for right now we're the only ones who know Emily's missing. So here's what I want you to do. We're gonna pretend she's been kidnapped."

"How are you gonna do that?" he whined.

"Shut up and I'll tell you. I want you to write a note."

He scowled. "A note? What kind of note? I'm not a good writer," he complained.

"You don't have to be Hemingway to write a damn ransom note. Say you've got Emily and you're holding her for a million dollars."

"But I don't got her."

"I know that!' she snapped, rolling her eyes in frustration. "And you know that. But
they
don't know that. Joe Colton will pay any price to get one of his precious kids back. It'll seem like a drop in the bucket to him."

The thought of all that money had his attention. "So what are we gonna do with the money?"

Meredith grinned. "Split it." She wasn't giving him a dime. It would be her own little stash, a little nest egg to help her get away if everything came tumbling down around her. Something to tide her over. Hell, she deserved it.

"All I gotta do is write a note?"

"And have it delivered here to Joe Colton." Meredith paused. "Do you think you can manage to do that without screwing it up?"

"Yeah, I think so." Silas didn't like the way she was talking to him, like he was stupid or something. "But do you think Colton will believe it?"

Meredith's eyes gleamed wickedly and she laughed. "Trust me on that. He'll believe it. I'll make sure of it."

Eight

"Y
ou are completely and totally out of your mind," Faith raged, as she marched toward the lounge with Ali following behind. "I can't believe you lied to your parents—right to their faces! It was despicable, Ali. Absolutely despicable. Telling them we were engaged. Honestly, I could just…spit!"

She came to an abrupt halt, fists clenched, and whirled on him, causing him to nearly run into her.

"How on earth could you do that to them?" Eyes blazing, she glared at him. "They are absolutely wonderful, just wonderful, and you lied to them!"

"Faith." With a sigh, Ali placed his hands on her shoulders, shifting her out of the doorway so another couple could pass.

She flinched as if to pull away, but he held her tight. She had not stopped screeching at him from the moment his parents had left the table.

Surprisingly she hadn't run out of steam by now. She just kept going and going, like that silly little television bunny, never giving him an opportunity to explain.

He was going to take that opportunity now whether she liked it or not.

"Listen to me." He tightened his hands on her shoulders.

"There's nothing you want to say that I want to hear."

"Oh, but you are wrong, Faith dear," he said, struggling to hold on to his dwindling patience.

"Stop calling me dear." She shrugged his hands off her shoulders. In spite of her anger, his touch still made her pulse skitter wickedly, and it annoyed her to no end. Especially now.

How on earth could she have such a physical reaction to a man she found so totally reprehensible?

"I'm not your dear and I don't care what you have to say, what your reasons are. You're…you're…a jackass!"

She whirled away from him, but he caught her arm and spun her back around. Her eyes widened at the look on his face. She'd seen raging storms look calmer.

"That is enough." His voice was deep and husky, all trace of patience gone. Still holding her arm, he steered her toward a quiet corner of the bar.

"Sit," he ordered, pointing to the empty booth.

Faith felt a healthy dose of alarm. Though her own temper was simmering, she realized from his tone of voice and the dark look smoldering in his eyes that she'd gone a bit too far.

"I'll sit," she said with a haughty lift to her chin. "But not because you ordered it. I don't take orders from anyone," she clarified, sliding into the booth and shooting him a scathing glance. "Especially you."

She scooted over to the farthest side of the booth and glanced around the dimly lit room. There was a four-piece combo in the farthest corner of the lounge, playing a blues number, oblivious of the sparse sprinkling of people comprising the midweek crowd. "I'm sitting because I want to."

"Very well." Weary now, Ali slid in beside her. "I am going to try to explain this to you so that you can understand why I have done what you consider a reprehensible thing. And you are going to listen to me, Faith." He reached out and caught her chin, turning her to face him. "Do you understand me?"

"I speak English," she snapped. "Of course I understood you."

He muttered something under his breath in his native tongue. She couldn't understand it but she recognized the tremendous anger. Still she had no fear of him.

Everything she knew about him, everything she'd learned about him since they'd first met told her that in spite of his very male-oriented traditional culture, where women generally did not have the same rights or privileges as men, let alone the respect, Ali
did
have a deep and abiding respect for women, her especially. If he didn't, he would never have been able to accept her advice or business expertise. And he had, and he'd shown her nothing but deference and respect in that area, for which she was grateful.

He might infuriate her with his pompous, arrogant attitude, which she was dismayed to see had returned in full force, but he would never, ever hurt her.

Of that she was sure.

"Faith." Ali steepled his fingers and tried to put his thoughts together to explain this to her in a manner she could understand. "I love my parents very, very much."

"Then why the hell did you lie to them?" Her eyes blazed like emeralds and he could see the sheen of tears glistening on their surface. "You don't lie to someone you love."

There it was again, he realized, watching her carefully. Once before, when Faith had thought he lied to someone he cared about, someone he loved, she had worn that same look of pain, of hurt. Tears had glistened in her eyes then, too, he remembered.

Someone had lied to her, hurt her, he realized with deep sadness. Someone obviously important. But who?

Something strange and unfamiliar tugged at his gut, softened his heart. The urge to protect her, to comfort her came out of nowhere, stunning him, softening his anger at her.

"Did we not have a similar conversation once before?" he asked quietly, wanting her to understand that he was not deliberately being cruel. "Did you not jump to conclusions once before with Maureen Jourdan?"

Her anger stalled for a moment and Faith blinked away unshed tears. "But that—that was different," she stammered, wondering where he was going with this. This she hadn't misunderstood. She'd heard him lie to his parents with her own ears.

"And how can you be so sure, Faith? You are always so quick to judge me, to condemn me. Why?"

Because he looked so hurt, she felt a flash of guilt. She'd never deliberately hurt anyone.

"Do you despise me so much, Faith? Do you think so very little of me that it's easier to believe the worst than to hear the truth?" His words hung in the air for a moment.

For the first time since Jalila, he realized he did not wish to have a woman think ill of him.

Faith's opinion of him mattered, and it stunned him and alarmed him.

When had he become so concerned with her feelings, her opinions?

He could not remember.

None of the other women who had occupied his time in the past ten years had ever, ever touched his heart.

But Faith, with her viperous mouth, her independent streak, and her clear disdain for him and his entire lifestyle, had managed, somehow, to penetrate the frosty barrier of protection and wiggle her way to his impenetrable heart.

He could not—would not—allow her to matter to him, nor allow himself to be vulnerable to love, to having his heart ripped out and his life destroyed. He'd already lost a woman who had become important to him.

Never again.

"I don't despise you, Ali," Faith admitted grudgingly, honest to a fault. "I despise your actions. You lied to your parents, and I cannot and will not condone that."

"Yes, I can understand that, Faith, but perhaps if you will listen…" His voice trailed off. He realized he needed to phrase this correctly so that she would understand. Not because he cared about her opinion of him, he assured himself, but because she was a business associate.

"You have met my parents," he said carefully. "They are…" How did he put into words what his parents meant to him? How important they were to his life, his well-being, his very essence?

"Ali, your parents are wonderful." Faith touched his hand. She managed a smile, unable to bear the sudden play of emotion in his eyes.

He smiled and covered her hand with his other one, trapping hers between his, enjoying the sweet silk of her skin, the warmth of her touch.

"Yes, they are wonderful, Faith, and I love them with everything inside of me." He paused, glancing down at their hands. "I would never do anything to hurt my parents," he said quietly, lifting his gaze to hers. "Which is why I have lied to them."

"You lied to them so you wouldn't hurt them?" Faith nodded her head. "Well, I'm sure on some planet that makes sense, but surely not this one."

He would not be amused by her sharp tongue, he told himself, struggling with a smile. This was too important.

He took a deep breath, then continued. "Faith, many years ago something happened in my life, something that caused me great pain."

"Jalila."

His head jerked up and he turned to her, struggling with the emotions Jalila's mere name had awakened.

There was such bleakness in his eyes, her heart ached for him. She recognized the bleakness only because she'd seen the same thing in her own eyes for so many years growing up.

"How did you know?" His voice was a hollow, haunting whisper.

"It's not important," she said quietly, unwilling to betray Kadid's confidence. "You loved her very much."

"Yes." He nodded slowly, wondering why he could no longer conjure up Jalila's image. For years, her face had haunted him, but now he could not seem to focus on exactly what she looked like. "We grew up together. Her father worked for mine, and our families were close. It was always expected we would marry."

"But she was killed."

He blew out a breath and glanced toward the combo in the corner, not hearing a word of the music.

"Yes." He turned to Faith and his eyes had cleared. "But since that time, my parents have worried that I will not find a suitable bride."

"So that's why they're always fixing you up?"

"Yes." He nodded again. "I am well past the age when a man in my position should have married, settled down and started a family. With each passing year, I see the fear and worry in my parents' eyes grow. The alarm that perhaps I shall end up alone. In my culture, for a man to spend his life alone, without a wife to bring him happiness, to bear him children, is a tragedy. My parents fear that I shall become the object of scorn and pity."

"But it's only natural that your parents worry about you, Ali. They love you. They want you to be happy."

"Yes, Faith, I understand that. Which is why I have told them this lie—about us and our engagement." Still covering her hand with his, he stroked a finger over her silky skin. "My parents are returning to Kuwait in just a day or two, and I thought if they believed that I had finally found a bride, then they could go back home without worrying any further about me."

"And then of course, there is the little matter that if they thought you were engaged to someone, they'd stop fixing you up with boring blind dates."

"Yes, there is that as well." Relieved, he smiled. "So you do understand."

"I understand," she admitted. "That doesn't mean I like it."

"But what harm can one little lie do if it brings contentment to my parents?"

She blew out a breath. "I don't think I can ever condone lying, but I think perhaps I understand your twisted way of thinking."

"Last year, Faith, my father had a heart attack. It was mild," he rushed on at her panicked look, "but the doctors told him that he must slow down, he must learn to relax and take it easy. They ordered him to divest himself of day-to-day business interests both at home and abroad."

"But he hasn't done it?"

"My father is a very proud and stubborn man."

"Sort of like someone else I know."

He chuckled softly. "Yes, I suppose I am very much like my father. If he believes that I am happy, that my life is finally settled, then perhaps he will relax a bit. He needs to unburden himself of some of the responsibilities of his business, and he won't do that if he does not believe I am settled and happy. In my country, a man is not really considered an adult until he has a wife and family to care for." He lifted her hand, held it. "Do you understand now?"

"Yes," she admitted reluctantly. She didn't like the fact that after the way Ali put it, she could understand perfectly why he'd lied to his parents.

Her mind starting considering. "What happens, though, when they return to Kuwait? Your mother already wants to start planning the wedding. How are you going to get around that?"

"Quite simply, really. I will merely tell them that you have had a change of heart and decided not to marry me."

"
I
decided?" One brow rose. "So you're going to make me the bad guy in this?"