Accidentally the Sheikh's Wife by Barbara McMahon Page A

life. It would take another monumental deal to have him consider the institution again soon.
    Lucky break, Haile’s running away.
    He wondered if his mother would ever see it that way. He’d have to be careful in what he conveyed to her this evening. She could accept things or constantly stir things up in her desire for answers.
    How good an actress was Bethanne Sanders? Could he depend upon her? How ironic the woman he was looking to for help was the daughter of a man his family despised. If she was anything like her father, he was playing a dangerous game.
    He entered the villa a short time later and paused in the large foyer. The stairs leading up were to his left. The space to the right led to various rooms and eventually back to the kitchen. The evening breeze circulated, keeping the house cool and inviting. Why didn’t he stay here more often? he wondered. His grandmother had left it to him when she died last summer. She’d bequeathed another dwelling and surrounding land on the other side of the city to his twin. Khalid had yet to take up residence. Both too busy.
    Fatima started down the stairs, surprised to see him. “I didn’t know you were here, Excellency,” she said. She clung to the railing and looked back up. “I can tell her you have arrived.”
    “Please ask her to join me in the salon.”
    Rashid waited by one of the French doors. The entire estate was cooler than his flat in the city. He liked living closer to the action, but he had forgotten how much he’d enjoyed visiting when his grandmother was alive. Only a few minutes’ drive from the heart of the capital, yet the estate was serene and lovely, and quite different from the glass and steel of the high-rise where he had his flat.
    When he heard the rustle of silk, he turned and watched as Bethanne entered the room. She looked lovely in a rose-colored dress that was most demure. Her hair was done in a neat style, up and off her neck. She wore no jewelry, but her modest attire would please his mother.
    “Good evening,” she said with a bright smile. For a moment Rashid wished she meant the smile, that she was actually happy to see him. It was a foolish, fleeting thought.
    “You look lovely,” he said.
    “Thank you—it’s the dress.” She turned slowly and grinned. “I could get used to dresses like this. Most of the time I wear my uniform or shorts when hanging around at home.”
    He’d like to see her in shorts or a bathing suit. Or nothing at all.
    Looking away quickly lest he give a hint of his errant thoughts, he walked to one of the chairs and gestured for her to sit in another.
    She did so elegantly. What were the odds of having a suitable woman arrive just when Haile disappeared? One who seemed as at home here in his villa as she did behind the controls of the jet?
    “So let the inquisition begin,” he said whimsically.
    She shrugged. “I looked you up on the Internet. There’s quite a lot written about you and your brother. You have a lot of good press. Is that designed? Or are you genuine?”
    “I’d like to say genuine. We are not given to excesses. We enjoy our work and do our best for it.”
    “Your brother is harder to find out about, but you are often in the press. But no special woman—hence the arrangement with Miss Haile, I suppose.”
    He kept his face without expression. At least the old press about his and Marguerite’s disastrous breakup was old news, probably not in the top articles brought up when his name was entered in a search engine. He had his father to thank for that.
    “So I know more about you than this morning. Enough to fool your mother? That I’m not sure. There’s not much personal, like what your favorite food is or if you had a dog when you were a child.”
    He relaxed. She was not probing for intimate details, just basic facts.
    “My favorite food is candied dates. My brother and I had a wonderful dog when we were children. I miss him to this day. But my life is too busy and hectic to