The Sheikh Doc's Marriage Bargain. Susan Carlisle

hand came to rest over hers for a second. A shiver of awareness zipped through her. “You do not want to miss this view of Chicago.”

      Laurel opened an eye a slit. She met the Prince’s look.

      “Look out here.” He nodded toward the oval window but made the statement with enough authority she didn’t dare not do as he requested. With her eyelids raised only enough to make out the window, she leaned toward it.

      Her fingers remained glued to the leather arms of the seat. To have recognized the material covering the chair was making progress with her terror. For the last thirty minutes she had been almost comatose. Slowly she opened her eyes until she had clear vision then peeked out the window.

      He was right. The view was amazing. Below was the sparking blue of Lake Michigan. Along its bank were the glistening skyscrapers of Chicago in the afternoon sun. She could make out the river running through the center of the city. The picture was like nothing she had ever seen before. Her breath caught—in a good way.

      She glanced at the Prince.

      “Aren’t you glad you took a chance?” His eyes didn’t waver.

      Was he talking about something more than looking out the window? “I am.”

      He gave her hand a pointed look. “Do you think you could let go of my seat? I’m afraid you’re going to crush it to sand if you do not.”

      She quickly clasped her hands in her lap until her knuckles hurt.

      “I was just kidding you, you know,” he said in a dry tone.

      Laurel hadn’t known. Had no idea what this man considered humor. They were strangers. The Prince studied the view out the window as well. It was dizzying to think that he would try to joke with her. He looked far too serious most of the time. She had seen a couple of breaks in his unbending expression but they were rare. He usually looked as if he supported the weight of the world on his shoulders. As the Minister of Health, he must carry a heavy burden.

      “Prince Tariq, are you making fun of me?”

      “No Dr. Martin, I’m trying to ease your mind.”

      “Thank you, I think.” Had he really been that concerned about her?

      “Try to sit back and relax, Laurel.”

      She like the nuances of her name on his lips too much. He made it sound exotic and a little bit naughty. Until he’d used it she’d thought it a simple name and too sweet.

      “By the way, you may call me Tariq when we are in private. I know my title is a mouthful. Would you like to have something to drink? Some crackers to settle your stomach?”

      He had even realized that? “Yes, that would be nice.” Laurel wasn’t much of an alcohol drinker and she certainly didn’t need to start now at ten thousand feet in the air with a man who had such an effect on her.

      Tariq lifted a finger and the steward came to stand beside them. “Dr. Martin will have some—”

      “Ginger ale, please.”

      “And I will have the same. Please bring crackers as well.”

      The steward nodded and left as quietly as he had approached.

      Having relaxed a little, Laurel looked around the plane. It was decorated in pale gray with darker gray curtains on either side of the windows. Her fingers rubbed the arm of the seat. The leather felt ultra-smooth. She looked across the aisle at another seat. On the headrest was what she guessed was the Zentar coat of arms. It consisted of a blue emblem with a yellow dragon over it. Since this was her first time on a plane she had no others to compare it to but she thought this one had to be one of the most luxurious ever built.

      Lauren couldn’t fathom living in a world like this all the time. The expense of it alone boggled her mind. Her upbringing didn’t allow for that kind of lifestyle. She was so out of her element. What was she doing here?

      The steward returned. He didn’t have the expected can of soda. Instead he held a silver tray with two clear glasses and a china plate holding crackers. He unfolded a small table from within the arm of the seat. After placing a napkin on it, he put her glass and the plate on it. He did the same for the Prince then quietly backed away.

      Could she feel more out of place? She glanced at Tariq. He had opened his laptop. Without looking up, he said, “Dinner will be served in a couple of hours. Feel free to roam the plane. There is a bedroom at the back if you would like to lie down. I have work to do so you will need to entertain yourself.”

      Nothing like being dismissed. He’d gotten what he wanted in her coming with him to Zentar so he apparently felt no need to keep her happy any further. Not that he’d really been trying anyway. Most of their interaction had gone his way and not hers. With a sigh, she closed her eyes. It was just as well anyway.

      Tariq. Would she ever get used to calling him that?

      The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of activity. Nasser, Tariq’s driver, had seen her home after her meeting with the Prince at the hotel. She’d phoned her parents and explained where she was going but had strategically left out the part about getting married. She hated lying to them by omission but she couldn’t find another way that made the situation any better. They had sounded confused, concerned and a little excited for her. She assured them she would video-chat regularly. Her brothers and sister were more enthusiastic. They all asked if they could come for a visit. Especially if the Prince would agree to send the plane for them. Laurel assured them she wouldn’t be asking him to do that.

      She’d spent the rest of the day on the phone, arranging things and packing. Tariq had insisted that his assistant take care of the business end of her departure so she could handle the personal. Overwhelmed by the time crunch, she’d agreed. Once again he had gotten his way.

      Winter was approaching in Chicago, where it could be bitterly cold, and now she was off to a hot, arid climate. What few clothes she owned that might suit, she’d stuffed into her ancient suitcase. She didn’t plan on being gone long so she would make do with what she had. Her heavy coats she left behind. She had to admit she wouldn’t miss the freezing windy weather of the upper mid-west.

      By the time Nasser had pulled to the curb in front of her apartment just after midday, Laurel had been standing on the sidewalk with two suitcases and a box of books ready for him to load into the car. As a reluctant voyager off on a grand adventure, she had watched her apartment get smaller in the window.

      Sometime later, a large warm hand on her shoulder shook her awake. Laurel jerked straight. She’d been asleep. As emotional as she had been about flying, and equally disturbed by being in Tariq’s presence, she wouldn’t have thought she could have fallen asleep. “Uh. What?”

      “Dinner is being served when you are ready.” Tariq stood at her right shoulder. “The bathroom is down the hall toward the rear of the plane if you need it.” He moved away.

      She looked back at him. He pulled out his phone and sank into a chair beside an elegantly set table, with the silent steward standing attentively nearby. Even high above the earth he ate well. Had the man ever had a hamburger?

      Making her way to the bathroom, Laurel discovered it was twice as large as the one her family had shared growing up. Even this room was elegant, with gold fixtures and plush towels. Returning to the cabin, she took the chair across from Tariq.

      The steward efficiently served their meal. She smiled. To her humor and amazement the food being offered was less sophisticated than practical. There was breast of chicken, roasted potatoes and steamed broccoli with a roll. Despite the simplicity of the menu it was tasty and filling. Since she’d missed her other meals that day, the food was welcome.

      Tariq was a charming dinner companion. He kept a light dialogue going about what he had done and seen while in Chicago, asking her small insignificant questions about her favorite things to do there. When he had finished with his meal, he leaned back in his chair.

      Her