The Sheikh Doc's Marriage Bargain

“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 her 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.

The steward came to stand beside them.

“What would you like for breakfast?” Tariq asked.

Laurel looked at the steward. “Toast and a cup of tea will be fine.”

“I fear that you’ll need more than that for today,” Tariq commented as he continued to look at the papers spread out on the table. “Some eggs with that, please.”

The steward nodded and stepped away.

“I don’t know how you expect me to be intelligent enough to run your lab if you don’t think I know my mind well enough to order what I want to eat.”

He looked at her, a brow cocked, and nodded. “I apologize. It will not happen again.”

“What? I actually get my way for once?” For the brief time she’d known Tariq every disagreement had gone his way. This tiny victory she planned to savor.

There was a twinkle of something in his eyes that looked suspiciously like mirth. “It would appear you have. I trust you slept well last night.”

“I did.” She smiled.

“Excellent.” He moved a paper and picked up another beneath it. “I wanted to share today’s schedule.”

Laurel hadn’t stepped off the plane and he’d already planned her day. Would he always be controlling her time? When was she supposed to do her research? Between his calendar and managing the lab, how was she supposed to get anything done?

“We will be arriving midmorning Zentar time. From the airport we will go straight to the palace. We will have a small ceremony there. A few of my family will attend. Afterwards we will visit the lab then we will return to the palace. I have a late afternoon meeting I must not miss.”

Nothing like marrying and running. Didn’t sound much different from what Larry had done to her. After all, he’d gotten what he’d wanted and gone on his way. The Prince was manipulating her as well. But in return she was getting something she sought too, the chance to continue her research. For that she would do anything.

“Laurel, are you listening to me?” Tariq sounded put out. From the look on his face he didn’t make a practice of repeating himself.

She looked at him.

“After that your time is your own. Take it from an experienced traveler that you should rest. Jet lag is a real thing.” He let the paper he’d been reading flutter to the table.

“I’ll be fine, I’m sure.” She’d had enough of him dictating to her. “I’ll want to get to work at the lab as soon as possible.”

As usual his eyes revealed nothing of his emotions. “That is your choice, but I fear you will pay dearly for that decision. You need not concern yourself with being there before the day after tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there first thing in the morning. I was close to a breakthrough in my research and I want to get started again as soon as possible.”

“As you wish.” He went back to his papers.

Her breakfast arrived. While she ate, Tariq continued reading. Occasionally he would make a note on one of the papers or look at his phone. When she put her fork down for the final time, his gaze met hers. She cheeks went warm. Despite not wanting much food, she’d cleaned her plate. The fact Tariq had been right about her appetite irritated her.

He stood. “Come and have your first look at Zentar.” He indicated the window she had looked out the night before.

Curious about the place she would be calling home for the next few weeks, for that was all she planned to stay, she went to the seat she’d occupied the evening before. Gripping the armrest, she slowly leaned toward the window.

“I see you have not overcome your fear.” To her astonishment there was a note of sympathy in his observation.

“No, I haven’t. I doubt I ever will.” About many things. However, making this trip was a huge step toward doing so. She couldn’t deny the pride forming in her chest for having found the courage to come to Zentar.

“I promise you will be glad you looked if you only will.” His beautiful voice seductively coaxed her.

Fortifying herself, Laurel rested her head against the side of the plane. Below she could see the sapphire Arabian Sea.

“See that small white dot in the distance? That is Zentar.”

Laurel jumped and glanced around to find Tariq’s head close. Too close. Her lips were an inch from his face. His citrus aftershave filled her nose. He had a hand braced against the bulkhead, leaning over her, as they looked out the same window.

Laurel wasn’t sure which made her dizzier—Tariq’s nearness or the sensation of the plane skimming over the water toward the small crystal jewel ahead. Tariq remained where he was, his breath ruffling her hair. Yes, he was much too close.

“You must learn not to flinch every time I am near or when I touch you. My people will think you do not like me. That will not do.”

What his people didn’t know was that she reacted too much to their Prince for her comfort. “Maybe you should leave some distance between us so they’ll not notice.”

“I am not sure that will be possible.” Had his lips touched the top of her head?

Laurel forced herself to focus on the sight outside the window. Zentar grew larger, turning into a pallet of off-white with spots of green here and there. The plane banked to the right. Laurel hissed and grasped the seat with both hands.

Tarik laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. We’re just lining up for our approach.”

His soothing voice and touch reassured her. “I bet the pilot thought that was a lot more fun than I did.”

Laughter deep and full rolled from his throat. “I will remind him next time not to be quite so dramatic with his banking when you are on board.”

Again she looked out the window, fascinated by the land below. Now she could make out buildings. Some were a pale pink while others were yellow and blue. High on a rise off to the north was a sparkling mass of buildings that overlooked the others.

“That is the palace off on the horizon. It is beautiful, is it not?”

It was. That they could agree on. How would it feel to have a man like Tariq speak about her with such pride and love? Squelching that unacceptable idea, she heard a distinctive ding ring throughout the cabin.

Tariq moved to take the seat across from her. “It is time to prepare for landing. You need to buckle up.”

Laurel shivered as she settled into her seat. It was suddenly cool in the cabin without Tariq so near. Fumbling a moment, she finally secured her belt.

The plane started its descent and she clasped her hands in her lap, closed her eyes and pushed her head back into the chair. She didn’t like the landing any better than she had the take-off.

“It is painful to watch you. You must stop. I want to wrap you in my arms and hold you.”

Her eyelids whipped open. The Prince’s intense stare held her captive.

“That is better.” His words were gentle and encouraging, easing her anxiety. “At least I shocked you out of the misery you were in.”

He had only said that to help her? Why did that disappoint her? In a tight voice Laurel said, “Please don’t make fun of me.”

“I would never do that. I believe you are very brave, to leave all you know and for your first trip to be one halfway around the world when you have experienced so little of it.”

She’d never thought of herself as brave. It was rather a heady experience to hear Prince Tariq say she was. As a child she had always been afraid. She’d accepted early in her life that her only way of coping with being the butt of her classmates’ cruelty was to hide in her books. The only time she’d felt accomplished had been when she’d made good grades. Which in turn had added something more for her peers to use against her.

In college she hadn’t faired any better. After Larry had dumped her she’d overheard a couple of his buddies laughing about the “brainiac” Larry had laid to win a bet. Instead of facing them and telling them she was a person with feelings, she’d slipped away. They never knew she’d been there. She’d vowed not to trust a man again. Now here she was with her entire world dependent on one she didn’t really know or trust. This time she would guard her heart more closely.

Even after becoming a licensed physician she hadn’t had the strength to venture further than two hours away from where she’d grown up. It had been a major event to move to Chicago by herself and she’d only managed it because of her burning desire to continue her search for a cure for hemophilia. She’d attended only those medical conferences that were close to home. Even though she’d made the flight to Zentar she wasn’t so sure it had as much to do with courage as it did with how badly she wished to have access to a lab. Her research was what drove her. Aware she had a number of admirable traits, bravery wasn’t one of them.

Seconds later the tires touching the tarmac with a screech of brakes made her tense again. Tariq placed a hand over hers. His look held hers as heat shot through her.

Soon the plane was rolling slowly and smoothly to a stop. She was safe on the ground. Tariq removed his hand. Laurel watched him nonchalantly release his seat belt and stand. Without a word he walked toward the back of the plane.

Through the window Laurel observed the heat haze just above the tarmac and the low tan-colored building that was the airport terminal. It looked simple yet modern. A flag flew above it that held the same emblem adorning the seats of the plane. Beyond the airport were buildings after buildings. None were over two stories high. In the distance stood the sprawling, gleaming pearl—the palace. The place she would call home, at least temporarily. She was out of her league. Fitting in here would be harder than it had been when she’d been a child.

The whoosh of air when the steward opened the door brought her back to the present. She hurriedly unlatched her seat belt.

Tariq reappeared. He’d placed a white headdress with gold braid on his head, and it flowed around his shoulders.

Laurel stared. As striking as he was in Western wear, this island Prince’s attire made him more appealing.

“I am expected to look the part of the royal family when I arrive home after official trips. It is the King’s way of reminding the people that we honor our traditions. As Minister of Health I have a position to uphold.”

Why did he feel he must explain his choice of clothing to her? In the last few days he hadn’t seemed to take any notice of her feelings or concerns. When did what she thought of him start to matter?

“I understand. I just didn’t expect...” She shut her mouth and waved at him in frustration. Laurel wasn’t about to tell Tariq she hadn’t planned on him taking her breath away with his Arabian Nights good looks, charm and impressive lifestyle.

“Expect?” He watched her too keenly for comfort.

“I, uh...don’t know. I guess I just assumed you always wore Western clothes.”

“Most of the time I do, but the reporters will be here. I must look the part.”

“I get that.” For him this attire was like when she’d pulled on her lab coat to meet him. It was the uniform that specified status.

He stepped near and took her elbow. “It is time to go. We have a schedule to keep.”

She was too aware of that. Getting married to him was at the top of the list. The mere idea made her middle flutter like a flock of birds taking off. Laurel suddenly wished she hadn’t eaten so much breakfast.

Tariq’s hand remained on her elbow as they walked down the stairs that had been precisely placed at the open cabin door. The Prince greeted the group of people waiting at the bottom with a wave.

Laurel had never dreamed the press would be interested in her. She was so out of her element. A couple of cameras flashed. She closed her eyes and turned her head.

Tariq raised a hand and everyone quieted. “This is Dr. Laurel Martin. She will be heading our new research lab as well as becoming my wife. We will be having a small family ceremony this afternoon at the palace. A celebration will be planned for a later date.”

The crowd gasped. Cameras flashed.

He didn’t let that deter him. “Please be kind enough to give her a warm Zentaran welcome. Also hold all questions for later. We’ve had a long flight and have much to do today.”

Laurel had never identified more with Dorothy arriving in Oz than she did at that moment. What had she gotten herself into?

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