The Sheik's Arranged Marriage (9 page)

So here he was…alone. No other women and a wife who didn’t want him in her bed.
Right back where he’d started.
Marriage was, he decided as he took a large swallow of his drink, a highly overrated institution.

Heidi flung herself on the bed and let go of the sobs she’d been holding back. They ripped through her, making her hug a pillow to her chest in a futile attempt to find comfort. Only there wasn’t any. It was all so much worse than she’d first thought.

Jamal still loved Yasmin.

Why hadn’t she seen that before? Why hadn’t she guessed? No wonder he’d been so angry with her on their wedding night. Her being in that tent with him had probably reminded him of his first night with Yasmin…when their love had been fresh and new. When they’d both thought they would have all the time in the world together.

But Yasmin had been cruelly taken away from him long before either of them was ready. Jamal had been left alone to suffer.
To learn to deal with his grief and to get on with his life.
He’d described that time as hell and had vowed he never wanted to live through it again.

Her breath caught in her throat as a fresh wave of pain washed over her. She’d been such a fool. None of his rejection was truly about her. He’d been longing for Yasmin.
Longing for his one true love.
What he had instead was her.

It wasn’t
fair,
she thought as more tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Now she could never win Jamal. Their marriage was doomed before it even began. He would always hold himself back. He would always love Yasmin best.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there on the bed, wishing she’d never agreed to the marriage. Not because she didn’t want to be with Jamal, but because she did. She’d wanted to find a way to make their marriage work. Now, that was impossible. She didn’t have a clue as to how to get through to him. Besides, she could never compete with Yasmin.

Heidi sat up and sniffed. It was all so horrible. She had met Yasmin several times during her summer visits to El Bahar. Jamal’s late wife had been beautiful, elegant and self-assured. Her clothes were of the highest quality. More importantly, the colors and styles always flattered her. She wore exactly the right outfit for each occasion. Her jewels had glittered, as had her conversation. If she wasn’t exactly kind to a gawky young woman from
America
, well, Heidi couldn’t blame her. Being around Yasmin had always left her tongue-tied. Jamal’s late wife had probably thought her a dolt.

Is that what Jamal thought of her too?
That she was inept and stupid and a joke?
She swallowed hard, fighting a wave of tears. She had to get control and figure out what she was going to do now.

Maybe she should just leave. Maybe it would be better for everyone if she gave up her dream job and her marriage and returned to the States. She could find work of some kind and try to forget this had ever happened.
Except…except she didn’t want to leave.
El Bahar had always been the closest thing she’d ever had to a home. She loved it here. She adored her work, the palace, and the country itself. How could she leave the king and Fatima? How could she leave Jamal?

Heidi walked into the bathroom and splashed water on her face. She was clueless as to how to keep her husband, yet she wasn’t ready to let him go. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place.

She reached for a towel and dried her skin. As she peered in the mirror, trying to figure out if her eyes looked as puffy as she thought, a slight movement caught her attention. She turned her head and saw a dress hanging on the back of the bathroom door. The air-conditioning had come on, and the breeze from the vent overhead made the skirt flutter.

Heidi tossed down the towel and fingered the hem of the dress. The light silk fabric was as soft as fairy wings, while the deep red color screamed sexiness. There weren’t any sleeves, and the tiny straps didn’t look strong enough to hold up the bodice of the dress for any length of time. The short skirt would expose more thigh than it covered. Heidi McKinley would never wear a dress like this, but then it hadn’t been meant for her. This dress was for Honey Martin—mistress in the making.

Heidi bit her lower lip. She didn’t know how to win her husband. She knew she couldn’t compete with the memory of the ever-perfect Yasmin. But Honey was different. Honey had potential. Maybe everything wasn’t lost after all. If she couldn’t get Jamal’s attention as herself, maybe she could do it as someone else.

Jamal sat in his office trying to work. So far he wasn’t making much progress. So far he’d been unable to get Heidi out of his mind.

Last night she’d been crying, and he still didn’t know why. Of course, he hadn’t bothered asking her what was wrong, so he shouldn’t be surprised that he didn’t have more information. He ought to go speak with her. If nothing else, they had to stop misunderstanding each other, or they would never have a shot at making their marriage work.

Maybe he should call her and see if she was available for lunch. They could try talking again, although so far every conversation since the wedding had been a disaster. Maybe he could—

The ringing of the telephone cut through his thoughts. He reached for the receiver.

“Yes?”

A woman laughed softly into the receiver. “Good morning,
Your
Highness. Don’t you sound
intimidating.
I’m not sure I want to talk to you now. You’re going to scare me to death.”

Jamal frowned. The voice was vaguely familiar, although he couldn’t place it. Also, the woman sounded a little strange. Almost as if she was reading something instead of speaking naturally.

“Who is this?” he asked sharply.

“That’s not important, Prince Jamal. What is important is that I have something of yours, and if you’re very, very nice, I just might let you have it back.”

“This is never going to work,” Heidi muttered as she paced the parlor of the huge suite
Fatima
had rented for her.
“Never, never, never.
Why did I think it would? Why am I doing this? It’s crazy. It’s worse than crazy. I need professional help.
Therapy and medication.
Or worse.”

She paused by the foyer where her high heels waited for her. Those hideously torturous devices that still made her stumble like a one-year-old learning to walk for the first time. How ever did other women manage to look elegant and put-together all the time and still walk around in those shoes?

“I’m going to be sick,” Heidi told herself aloud. “Right here on the white rug, I’m going to toss my cookies and won’t Jamal be impressed.” She clutched her stomach and bent over, groaning. “Oh, Lord, I can’t do this. Save me from myself. Let the earth open now and crush me like a bug.”

There was no reply. Not that she’d really expected one. Instead, she was still hunched over in the white-on-white suite in which she was expected to act as a woman of the world and seduce her husband.

“Oh, that’s me. Just call me the saucy, seductive vixen,” she said as she straightened.

Her throat was still a little tight from her low-voice practicing. Calling Jamal had been the worst. She’d been in the harem with Dora and Fatima hovering around, miming suggestions while she’d tried to act natural as she read her lines. No doubt he’d thought she was deranged. Or maybe he’d recognized her. Heidi shivered. That would be the worst, she decided.
Having her husband recognize her and her pitiful attempts at seduction.

“Be positive,” she told herself in a frantic attempt to get her nerves under control. “It’s going to be fine. I’ll dazzle him.”

Right.
Assuming she didn’t trip or blink too much. How on earth did people stand wearing contact lenses? Right now her eyes felt as if there was half a ton of sand under each lid. At least her vision had cleared up a little.

“Concentrate on something else,” she whispered.
“Deep breaths.
Relax.
Deep, cleansing breaths.”

She slowly inhaled, then exhaled. In an effort to distract herself, she looked around the lovely suite.

Fatima
had certainly outdone herself, she thought. The penthouse rooms had at least fifteen-foot ceilings and marble floors. Rugs were scattered around to create a warm atmosphere, despite the white-on-white sofas, chairs and walls.

To the left was a large arched doorway leading into the dining alcove. To the right
was
the hallway and the master bedroom. She’d taken a quick look in there, but the huge bed had scared her, so she’d backed out right away.

Like many of the rooms at the palace, the suite faced the
Arabian
sea
. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered an expansive view of the sparkling blue water. All in all, it was a lovely group of rooms.
Certainly as nice as anything at the palace, although lacking the little architectural touches, not to mention the history.
Hopefully, Jamal would be impressed by the rooms and pay more attention to them than her.

She glanced at her watch. He should be here any minute. Her sick feeling returned, but this time she tried to ignore it. Instead, she stepped into her high-heeled sandals and attempted to steady herself. Fortunately she only wobbled a bit before regaining her balance. Maybe she was going to be all right in the shoes. Now, if only she could do something about the dress.

Heidi tugged at the bodice of the red silk sundress that had only two days before been hanging in the bathroom. The spaghetti straps meant she couldn’t wear a bra, which made her uncomfortable. She felt as vulnerable as she did at the doctor’s office, naked except for the silly paper gown. She hoped she would remember to keep from crossing her arms over her chest all the time, but it was going to be difficult. She wasn’t used to flaunting herself this way. It was as if half her dress was missing.

To distract herself from that unpleasant thought, she cleared her throat,
then
began practicing her sultry, low voice. It hurt her throat to talk that way, but at least it meant Jamal wouldn’t recognize her voice. But what if he did? What if he knew it was her the second he walked in the door? The humiliation would kill her. She sighed. At least then many of her present problems would be solved.

A knock at the door broke through her scattered thoughts. Her stomach lurched once,
then
settled down. Heidi sucked in a breath, sent up a heartfelt prayer and walked toward the door.

Jamal waited impatiently in the hallway. He didn’t want to be here at all. He didn’t have time to deal with a woman who had a thing going because he was a prince. If she’d claimed possession of anything but his new Lamborghini, he would have let one of his staff handle her. But he’d been waiting for the car for months. When the mystery woman announced it had been delivered to her by mistake, he’d wanted to get it away from her as quickly as possible. With his luck, she’d already taken it for a test drive.

He could only hope the woman wasn’t going to be too much trouble. He wasn’t in the mood to reject anyone gently. If she planned to come on to him, she was going to find herself on the receiving end of his short temper.
In fact…

The door opened to reveal a young woman in a pitiful excuse for a dress. Jamal quickly took in the red hair, bright green eyes and well-shaped but trembling mouth. She was pretty enough, he thought, but so were thousands of others.

“Prince Jamal,” she
said,
her voice low and almost familiar. “I’m Honey Martin. Please come in.” She stepped back to allow him to enter.

Jamal held in a sigh. So she wasn’t just going to hand him the car keys and let him go. Why wasn’t he surprised? No doubt this was her one chance to meet a prince. He might as well play along. The quicker he did that, the quicker he could leave.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Martin,” he said and reached out to take her hand.

Apparently his gesture surprised her. She gave a little start,
then
put her hand in his. As she did, a warning sounded in his brain. Something wasn’t right.

He studied the woman more closely. Her red hair curled around her face and neck in a way that brought attention to her nearly bare shoulders. Her green eyes regarded him with a mixture of anticipation and panic. She blinked several times. He couldn’t tell if she had something in her eye or if she was flirting with him. He decided he didn’t really care about either.

He released her hand and lowered his gaze to her body. She was impressive, he admitted to himself.
High, full breasts, a narrow waist and long, lovely legs.
But the information was simply that—information. He didn’t care about her appearance.

“Thanks for coming by,” she said and gave him a quick smile that didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. “I mean, I guess you had to. I have your car. It’s a great car,” she gushed.
“Looks like it goes really fast.
Not that I drove it, of course. I wouldn’t. I mean, I would, but I didn’t and…would you like a drink?”

She turned tail and hurried to the bar tucked into the corner. Jamal stared after her. The woman—what was her name—was surprisingly unsteady on her feet. Was she drunk?

“I don’t need anything except my car keys,” he said quickly. “I have a busy afternoon planned, so if you don’t mind, I need to get going.”

The woman—Honey, he thought as he remembered her name—stopped by the bar and turned to face him. “Oh, you can’t go yet. The afternoon is young and so am I.” She gave a little trill of a laugh.

Jamal stared at her. This wasn’t happening, he thought desperately. Women had come on to him before.
Dozens of times.
But at least most of them were more subtle and practiced. Honey acted like an innocent schoolgirl determined to change her status. He wanted no part of that.