Marrying the Scarred Sheikh Read online

  She cleaned up, resisting the temptation to peer into the lower part of the annealer to check the progress of the piece she’d done yesterday. She hoped it would be spectacular. Maybe Khalid al Harum was right. She should not waste time creating glass pieces if they would never sell. The slight income from Alexander’s insurance would not carry her forever. If she couldn’t make a living with glass, she should find another means to earn her livelihood.

  Only, she didn’t want another means. She loved making glass.

  Once she finished cleaning the studio, she grabbed her notebook and went to sit on the terrace. The arbor overhead sheltered it from the hot sun. She enjoyed sitting outside when planning. It was so much more pleasant than the hot studio. She opened the pages and began to study the pictures she’d taken of the different pieces she had already made. She had more than one hundred. Some were quite good, others were attempts at a new technique that hadn’t panned out. Dare she select a few pieces to offer for sale?

  What if no one bought them?

  What if they skyrocketed her to fame?

  She did not want to rock the boat. She liked life the way it was. Or the way it had been before Khalid al Harum had arrived.

  Idly she wondered what it would take to get rid of him. The only thing she could think of was moving out so he could sell the estate. She wasn’t going to do that, so it looked as if she were stuck with him.

  He was so different from his grandmother. Distracting, for one thing. She’d known instantly when he appeared in the doorway, but had ignored him as long as she could. Of course he had the right to visit his property, but his grandmother had always arranged times to come see what she was working on. There was something almost primordial about the man. He obviously was healthy and virile. She was so not interested in another relationship, yet her body seemed totally aware of his whenever he was near. It was disconcerting to say the least.

  And distracting.

  Ella stayed away from the beach that night. She listened to music while cataloging the pieces she thought might do for a first showing. She only had a couple of photos of the first batch of vases and bowls she’d made when she moved here. She needed to take more pictures, maybe showcase them in one of the salons in the main house. It was an idea she and Madame al Harum had discussed.

  Good grief, she’d have to ask Khalid and she could imagine exactly what he’d say to her proposal. Or maybe she could sneak in when he wasn’t there. Surely there was an oil field somewhere in the world that needed consulting. If he’d take off for a few days, she was sure Jalilah would let her in to photograph the pieces sitting in prominent display in the main salon. It would add a certain cachet to her catalog and maybe garner more interest when she was ready to go.

  She went to bed that night full of ideas of how to best display the pieces she would put in her first catalog. The only question was if she dare ask Khalid for permission to use his salon for the photographs.

  By the time morning arrived, Ella regretted her decision to forego her walk. She had slept badly, tossing and turning and picturing various scenarios when asking Khalid for his help. Maybe she should have been a bit more conciliatory when discussing her lease. She planned to stand fast on staying, but she could have handled it better.

  Only she disliked subterfuge and manipulation; she refused to practice it in her own life.

  After a hasty breakfast, she again dressed up a bit and headed for the villa. Walking through the gardens, she tried to quell her nerves. The worst he could do was refuse. The guesthouse had a small sitting area, not as lavish as the main dwelling. She could use that, but she longed for the more elegant salon as backdrop for her art.

  Jalilah opened the door when she knocked.

  “I’d like to see Sheikh al Harum,” Ella said, hoping she looked far more composed than she felt.

  “He has someone visiting. Wait here.”

  Ella stood in the foyer. Her vase was gone. She peered into the salon; it wasn’t there, either. Had something happened to it? Or had Khalid removed it once he’d learned she made it? That made her feel bad.

  “Come.” The maid beckoned from the door to the study.

  When Ella entered, she stopped in surprise. Two men looked at her. Except for their clothing, and the scar on Khalid’s cheek, they were identical.

  “Twins?” she said.

  Khalid frowned. “Did you want something?”

  “Introduce us,” the other man said, crossing the room and offering his hand.

  “My brother,” Khalid said.

  “Well, that’s obvious.” Ella extended her hand and smiled. “I’m Ella Ponti.”

  “I am Rashid al Harum. You’re the tenant, I take it.”

  She nodded. “Unwanted to boot.”

  “Only because I want to sell,” Khalid grumbled. “Rashid is trying to talk me out of it, too.”

  “Good for you. I told him your grandmother wanted him to have the house. She could have left it to a charity or something if she hadn’t hoped he’d live here,” she said.

  “It’s a too big for one man,” Khalid said.

  “So—”

  He raised his hand. “We’ve been over that. What do you want?”

  Rashid glanced at his twin. “Am I in the way?”

  Ella shook her head, bemused to see her vase in the center of Khalid’s desk.

  “Not at all. I came to ask permission to photograph some of my work in the salon. Give it a proper showing—elegant and refined. The guest cottage just doesn’t have the same ambiance.”

  “You want to take pictures of my house?” Khalid asked. “Out of the question.”

  “Not the house, just some of my special pieces sitting on a table or something which would display them and give an idea of how they would look in another home. The background would be slightly blurred, the focus would be on my work.”

  “Use the table in your workroom.”

  “That’s elegant.”

  He frowned. “I don’t see—”

  “—any problem with it,” Rashid finished before his twin could finish. “I was admiring your vase when you arrived. Khalid explained how you made it. I’d like to see more of your work. I bet Bethanne would, as well.”

  “She’d do anything you say,” Khalid grumbled.

  “Bethanne?” Ella asked.

  “My fiancée. She’s making some changes to my villa in preparation of our marriage and moving in there.”

  “So the consumed one is getting married—wouldn’t my grandmother love to know that?” Khalid asked.

  “What are you talking about?” Rashid asked, glancing at his twin.

  “Nothing, only something your grandmother said to me once. I’m happy for you and your fiancée. You might tell your brother how happy you are so he could go find someone to make a life with and leave me alone,” Ella said hastily.

  Rashid looked at her and then Khalid.

  “Forget it. We’ve been over this before. I’m not marrying,” Khalid growled.

  Rashid looked thoughtful as he again looked back and forth between the two others in the room.

  “I, uh, have to be leaving. I’ll bring Bethanne by tomorrow if that suits you, Ella. She’d love to see the glass objects. Khalid, you have what you asked for. Let me know if you need more.” He nodded to both and left, a small smile tugging at his lips.

  Ella hated to see him go. He was much easier to be around than his brother.

  “So I can use the salon?” she asked. Rashid had indicated yes, but it was still Khalid’s place and his decision she needed.

  “What if I say no?” he asked, leaning casually against the side of the desk.

  “Then I’ll pester you until you say yes,” she replied daringly. “Maybe it’ll help sell some of my work earlier than originally planned and I could move away sooner.”

  “How much sooner?”

  “I don’t know, five days?”

  A gleam of amusement lit his eyes. “For such an early move, how can I refuse?”<
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  “Thank you. I’ll give credit in my brochure so everyone will know you helped.”

  “No. No credit, no publicity.”

  She started to protest but wisely agreed. “Okay. I’m cooling a couple of pieces now and once they are ready, I will begin taking pictures. I appreciate this.”

  “You weren’t on the beach last night,” he said.

  He had been, obviously.

  “I, uh, needed to get to sleep early. Big day today.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Coming to ask you about the salon” sounded dumb. What else could she come up with?

  He watched her. Ella fidgeted and looked around the room. “Just a big day. Why is my vase in here?”

  “I was looking at it. I thought it was mine.”

  “I guess. I should have said why is the vase I made in here instead of the foyer.”

  “I wanted to look at it. I like it.”

  She blinked in surprise. “You do?”

  Amusement lurked in his eyes again. “You sound surprised. Isn’t it good?”

  She nodded. “I just can’t imagine you—”

  “Having an eye for beauty?”

  “I wasn’t exactly going to say that.”

  “You haven’t held back on anything else.”

  “You are very exasperating, do you know that?” she asked.

  “Makes a change from other names I’ve been called.”

  If he drove the other people he knew as crazy as he did her, she wasn’t surprised.

  Khalid stood and moved around to sit at the desk.

  “So, you’ll be on the beach tonight?” he asked casually.

  Ella shrugged. “Thanks for letting me use the salon for the photographs.”

  “One caveat,” he said, glancing up.

  She sighed. It had been too good to be true. “What?”

  “I get to give final approval. I don’t want certain prize possessions to be part of your sales catalog. No need to give anyone the idea that more than your glass is available.”

  “Done.” She nodded and turned. At the door she stopped and looked at him over her shoulder. “I do expect to take a walk tonight as it happens.”

  She wasn’t sure, but she suspected the expression on his face was as close to a smile as she’d seen.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ELLA and Khalid fell into a tentative friendship. Each night she went for a walk along the beach. Most evenings Khalid was already on the sand, as if waiting for her. They fell into an easy conversation walking in the dark at the water’s edge. Sometimes they spoke of what they’d done that day. Other times the walks were primarily silent. Ella noted he was quieter than other men she’d known. Was that his personality or a result of the accident? She gathered the courage to ask about it on the third evening after he said she could use the salon.

  “How did you get burned?” she asked as they were turning to head for home. She hadn’t wanted to cut the walk short if he got snippy about her question.

  “We were capping a fire in Egypt. Just as the dynamite went off, another part of the well exploded. The shrapnel shredded part of my suit, instant burn. Hurt like hell.”

  “I can imagine. I’ve had enough burns to imagine how such a big area would be almost unbearable. Were you long in hospital?”

  “A few months.”

  And in pain for much of that time, she was sure. “Did you get full mobility back?”

  “Yes. And other parts were unaffected.”

  She smiled at his reminder of her attempt at being tactful when he said he wouldn’t marry. A burned patch of skin wouldn’t be enough to keep her from falling for a man. She suspected Khalid was too sensitive to the scar. There were many woman who would enjoy being with him.

  “Good. What I don’t get is why you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Put your life at risk. You don’t even need to work, do you? Don’t you have enough money to live without risking life and limb?”

  He was quiet a moment, then said, “I don’t have to work for money. I do want to do what I can to make oil production safe. Over the last fifty years or so many men have died because of faulty equipment or fires. Our company has reaped the benefit. But in doing that we have an obligation to make sure the men who have helped in our endeavors have as much safety guarding them as we can provide. If I can provide that, then it’s for the good.”

  “An office job would be safer,” she murmured.

  “Rashid has that covered. I like being in the field. I like the desert, the challenge of capturing the liquid crude beneath the land, or the sea. I like knowing I’m pitting my skills and experience against the capricious nature of drilling—and coming out on top more than not.”

  “Still seems ridiculously dangerous. Get someone else to do it.”

  “It’s my calling, you might say.”

  Ella was silent at that. It still seemed too dangerous for him—witness the burn that had changed his life. But she was not someone to argue against a calling. She felt that with her art.

  She turned and he caught her hand, pulling her to a stop. She looked up at him. The moon was a sliver on the horizon, the light still dim, but she could see him silhouetted against the stars.

  “What?”

  “My mother is hosting a reception on Saturday. I need to make an appearance. I want you to go with me.”

  Ella shook her head. “I don’t do receptions,” she said. “Actually I don’t go away from the estate much.”

  “Why?”

  “Just don’t,” she murmured, turning to walk toward home.

  He still held her hand and fell into step with her.

  “Consider it payment for using the salon,” he said.

  “You already agreed to my using the salon. You can’t add conditions now.”

  “Sure I can—it’s my salon. You want to use it, consider this part of the payment. It’s just a reception. Some people from the oil company, some from the government, some personal friends. We circulate, make my mother happy by being seen by everyone, then leave. No big deal.”

  “Get someone else.”

  He was silent for several steps.

  “There is no one else,” he said slowly.

  “Why not?”

  “I’ve been down that road, all right? I’m not going to set myself up again. Either it’s you, or I don’t go. My grandmother helped you out—your turn to pay back.”

  “Jeeze, talk about coercion. You’re sure it’ll only be people who live here in Quishari?”

  “Yes. What would it matter if foreigners came? You’re one yourself.”

  “I am trying to keep a low profile, that’s why,” she said, hating to reveal anything, but not wanting to find out her hiding place had been found.

  “Why?”

  “I have reasons.”

  “Are you hiding?” he asked incredulously.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Exactly what, then?” He pulled her to a stop again. “I want to hear this.”

  “I’m in seclusion because of the death of my husband.”

  “That was over a year ago.”

  “There’s a time limit on grieving? I hadn’t heard that.”

  “There’s no time limit, but by now the worst should be behind you and you should be going out and seeing friends. Maybe finding a new man in your life.”

  “I see my friends,” she protested. “And I’m not going down that road again. You’re a funny one to even suggest it.”

  “When do you see friends?”

  “When they come to visit. I’m working now and it’s not convenient to have people over. But when I’m not in the midst of something, they come for swimming in the sea and alfresco meals on my terrace. Did you think I was a hermit?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it. I never see these friends.”

  “You’ve lived here for what, almost a week? No one has come in that time. Stick around if you’re so concerned about my social life.”

  “M
ostly I’m concerned about your going with me to the reception this weekend.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. Or no salon photos.”

  Ella glared at him. It missed the mark. He couldn’t see her that well. And she suspected her puny attempts at putting him in the wrong wouldn’t work. He did own the estate. And she did need permission to use the salon. Rats, he was going to win on this one. She did not want to go. She was content in her cottage, with her work and with the solitude.

  Only sometimes did it feel lonely.

  Not once since Khalid had arrived.

  Dangerous thoughts, those. She was fine.

  “All right, we’ll go, greet everyone and then leave.”

  “Thank you.”

  They resumed the walk, but Ella pulled her hand from his. They were friends, not lovers. No need to hold hands.

  But her hand had felt right in his larger one. She missed the physical contact of others. She hadn’t been kissed in ages, held with passion in as long. Why did her husband have to die?

  “I’ll pick you up at seven on Saturday,” he said.

  “Fine. And first thing tomorrow, I’m coming to take photographs. I don’t want to miss my chance in case you come up with other conditions that I can’t meet.”

  He laughed.

  Ella looked at him. She’d never even seen him smile and now he was laughing in the darkness! Was that the only time he laughed?

  “I expect I need to wear something very elegant,” she mumbled, mentally reviewing the gowns she’d worn at university events. There were a couple that might do. She hadn’t thought about dressing up in a long time. A glimmer of excitement took hold. She had enjoyed meeting other people at the university, speaking about topics far removed from glass making. Would the reception be as much fun? She felt a frisson of anticipation to be going with Khalid. She always seemed more alive when around him.

  “You’ll look fine in anything you wear,” he said easily.