Accidentally the Sheikh's Wife / Marrying the Scarred Sheikh. Barbara McMahon

did she ask about material things.

      Finally she stopped. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, looking as if she were about to jump to her feet.

      Rashid looked at her. “My turn.”

      “I thought you had all you needed from the report Starcraft sent,” she said, looking amused.

      “Ah, but I didn’t realize all the nuances of information necessary for an almost-engaged couple’s knowledge bank. I do not know your favorites or your passions.”

      “Favorite color—blue. Food, anything with dark chocolate. Passions—flying. I have no boyfriend, which is lucky for you or we couldn’t be doing this stupid charade. I am not close to my mother—nor the man she married after she divorced my father when I was little. I love traveling and seeing the world. I have experience shooting down other aircraft.”

      She looked adorable as she recited her list ending proudly with her startling fact. He was fascinated by the play of emotions across her face. Now sitting on the edge of her chair, her animation was a delight. Would his mother like her? What was not to like? As long as she didn’t find out Bethanne’s father’s name.

      “I hope there will be no need of the latter while you are in Quishari.”

      She laughed aloud. “I should hope never again, but it was training I received and just knowing I could do it improves my confidence. If I get into situations that make me uncomfortable, I remember I could shoot down a plane if needed and probably no one else in the room could.”

      “A strange way to improve confidence.”

      “It’ll help when meeting your mother.”

      He laughed at that. This American woman was intriguing. He had even more reason to thank Haile for fleeing. If nothing else, Rashid planned to enjoy the next few days with Bethanne by his side. Without expectations on either part, they were free to enjoy the other’s company without looking for hidden nuances or motives.

      He rose. “Come, we’ll be late if we don’t leave soon. And tardiness is something my mother does not like.”

      “Tell me about her—I want her to be satisfied with the story we tell. Will she be hurt when the truth comes out?”

      “Why should the truth ever come out?” he asked.

      She looked at him in surprise. “Truth always comes out. You just make sure you put the right spin on it so she’s not hurt by your deception.”

      “I would do nothing to hurt my mother.”

      “Good answer.”

      They were soon ensconced in the limo and on their way to the city.

      “Where does your mother live?” Bethanne asked.

      “In a penthouse apartment near the heart of the city, overlooking parts of the old section. She loves being in the center of things. It helps being close to friends since my father died.”

      “The soup is delicious,” Bethanne said later, sipping the savory concoction. “So far I’m really enjoying the food here. I have a real sweet tooth and the candied walnuts really appeal. I shall have to buy a large package to take home when I leave.”

      Madame al Harum looked at her.

      “And when do you leave?” she asked.

      Bethanne smiled and glanced at Rashid. “Not for a long time, I hope.”

      She also hoped she was playing the role assigned her to his satisfaction. She’d been as gracious as she knew how when meeting his mother. She could tell at once that Madame al Harum did not like her. For one thing, she seemed to disapprove of tall, willowy blondes. She probably wanted a proper Arab woman for her son.

      Then she expressed dismay that Bethanne was a pilot. It was too dangerous and too unseemly for a woman. Bethanne decided not to mention shooting down planes. She knew his mother would not appreciate that tidbit.

      Dinner was easier. The food took some attention. She counted the minutes until they could finish and leave.

      “And where is home for you?” the older woman asked.

      “Galveston, Texas, right on the water. Galveston’s an island that has been home all my life.”

      “What does your father do?”

      “He’s an antique dealer. But I have to say, history in Texas doesn’t go back as far as here in Quishari. The old part of the capital city is thousands of years old. Texas has only been around for a few hundred years.”

      Rashid looked as if he were enjoying the meal. But Bethanne didn’t think she was winning Brownie points with his mother.

      “Tell me how you became interested in flying,” Rashid said when the main course was served.

      Grateful for the change of topic, Bethanne plunged right in.

      “My father loved to fly and took me up in small planes almost as soon as I could sit up by myself.” She smiled in memory. “It seemed logical when I got older that I, too, would love to fly. I actually learned when I was a teenager, to my mother’s dismay. When I was accepted to the Academy, she really flipped. But I think Dad talked her in to letting me choose my own way. Anyway, I learned to fly a variety of aircrafts and here I am.”

      “So your father taught you to fly?” Rashid asked.

      “No. That I had to do on my own. He was away more than home, actually. Probably why I’m following in his footsteps and seeing the world.” She met his eye, holding it for a moment, silently refuting his ideas about her father.

      “And that was your reason for choosing to attend a military academy?”

      His mother’s eyes grew large at that.

      “Some of the recruitment material said join up and see the world. I knew I’d have the best education and pilot’s training available. And I had a variety of aircraft to train on. I loved learning. And the service requirement enabled me to see Minot, North Dakota, in the dead of winter. Then a tour of Alaska. Can you imagine? I’m one who loves the sun and sea, and my two duty stations were the coldest in the U.S. I left the service when my commitment was up and landed a spot with Starcraft.”

      Rashid enjoyed watching Bethanne talk. He glanced at his mother. She had on that polite face she wore when tolerating others, but not connected to them. He felt a twinge of compassion for her. She would have been so happy to have Haile sitting where Bethanne was sitting. She had met the woman on a trip to Morocco and had definitely approved of her.

      He had seen pictures. She was a pretty woman. But not striking as Bethanne was. And he doubted she’d have shown much personality around his mother.

      What would be his mother’s reaction when he told her about Haile’s fleeing? Nothing would bring her more happiness than to see one of her sons married—especially to a woman she liked. The fact he was the eldest—by seven minutes—made it seem as if the destiny of his family rested on his shoulders. One day he would have to marry—to father the next generation. He pushed aside the thought. As soon as the deal with al Benqura was finalized, he’d tell his mother Bethanne hadn’t turned out to be the one for him after all. Maybe he’d even ask her help in finding him a suitable bride. Being a grandmother would delight her, he was sure.

      “Tell me about North Dakota,” he invited. “The only time I see snow is when we ski in Switzerland.”

      He was charmed by her storytelling skills. She made her experiences seem amusing while also revealing her reactions to different situations. She was skilled at entertaining and in giving him what he wanted—a devoted companion intent on meeting his needs. He hoped his mother saw her in that light. For a little while he could imagine what life would be like married to Bethanne. Never boring, of that he was sure.

      She was having way too much fun, Bethanne thought at one point. This man was being polite in asking questions so she could talk, but she