Teresa Southwick - To Kiss a Sheikh

“You have a brother, Crystal?” Rafiq asked.

“Four,” she clarified, straightening. “I’m the youngest. And I’m ashamed to admit I was a bit of a tattler in my day.”

Fariq looked at her. “How did your brothers deal with that?”

“Not well. But there wasn’t much they could do after my dad ordered them not to lay a hand on me. ‘You don’t hit girls,’ he always said.”

“A man who would strike a woman is swine,” Rafiq agreed.

“According to my father he’s worse than the stuff cleaned out of swine cages,” she said.

“Your father is undoubtedly an honorable man.” Which boded well for his raising an honorable daughter. Fariq met her gaze. “My country has no tolerance for abusers of women. The transgression is dealt with severely.”

“As are lies and deceit,” Rafiq interjected self-righteously.

Fariq caught a look on Crystal’s face and thought her lovely skin paled. He looked at his brother and asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Your lies and deceit have corrupted my good name. I am an honorable man who speaks only the truth. I do not know why our father holds me responsible for that woman’s reprehensible behavior. It’s not my fault.”

“What was it Shakespeare said about protesting too much?” Fariq asked.

But maybe his brother couldn’t help it that women found him charming. It was easy if one had never been deceived and played for a fool. When that happened, a wise man went out of his way not to attract attention from the opposite sex.

Rafiq looked at Crystal. “Do you think I’m the kind of man who would be dishonest?”

“I hardly know you,” she answered. Then she blinked and her eyes widened. “What I meant to say is—”

“Never mind,” Fariq interrupted. “No need to sugarcoat it as you Americans say. Your first answer was accurate.”

“So get to know me,” Rafiq invited. “At dinner tonight. The whole family will be there. Decide for yourself.”

Here he goes again, Fariq thought. Ever the charmer. But for some reason, his brother’s attentiveness toward Crystal bothered him. Was it her artless remark about the order of love, marriage and children? Damn him. She was far too innocent to deal with Rafiq’s flirtations.

“Yes, please,” Hana said, putting her hands together in a gesture of supplication directed at Crystal.

Fariq knew his daughter. The little girl who didn’t usually trust easily had taken to this woman right away. “My brother is correct. You must meet the family. Dinner is at seven.”

“Very well. Thank you.”

She said the correct words easily. But Fariq wondered why his newest employee looked more as if she’d been sentenced to a beheading in the Casbah square. He would make it a point to find out.

Four hours ago Crystal had left the palace business wing pale as a ghost after receiving an invitation from her boss to dine with the entire royal family. Now she was sitting at their table wondering if any color had returned to her face. Even the fact that she was eminently qualified for the nanny position didn’t make her feel better about taking her ruse out for a test drive in front of the entire family. For goodness’ sake, Rafiq had joked about beheading the last nanny. He’d looked as if he was kidding, but many a truth was spoken in jest.

“I believe the new nanny is a fraud.” Princess Farrah studied her.

Crystal froze. Heart pounding, she ceased and desisted rubbing the gold edge on her china dinner plate and felt that if any color had returned to her cheeks, it had just drained away again. She forced herself to meet the princess’ gaze. “Excuse me?”

“You’re quiet—not at all the vivacious young woman you were when we met in New York.”

Okay. Royal humor through exaggeration. She tucked the info away. “According to my mother it’s always better to not say anything and risk being thought simpleminded than to open your mouth and prove it.”

“A wise woman, your mother,” King Gamil commented.

“Yes, she is.”

Crystal glanced to her left toward the head of the table where the king sat watching her. She guessed his age to be somewhere in his mid to late fifties. He was still quite handsome, and the silver glistening at his temples also streaked his black hair, giving a distinguished air to his good looks. Her mother would have said he worked for her in a big way.

Vicki Rawlins would have loved dining with the royal family of El Zafir. Married and a mother before saying goodbye to her teens, she’d frequently vocalized her regrets at never experiencing life outside of Pullman, Washington. After Crystal graduated from college, her parents had finally been in a position to do the traveling her mother had always longed for. But that wasn’t to be. They’d divorced, shocking everyone. Then there’d been her mother’s devastating car accident, followed by a slow, painful and expensive recovery.

In spite of that, or maybe because of it, she’d encouraged her youngest child and only daughter to do everything she wanted before settling down with a husband and starting a family. She’d been giddy with excitement when she’d learned about Crystal snagging this job. That and the generous salary were the reasons Crystal was so determined to make this employment experience a success. Failure was not an option. She’d rather be beheaded.

“The fact you are so quiet,” the king continued, “does this mean you are not enjoying yourself this evening?”

“On the contrary, Your Majesty. I’ve never had such a wonderful dinner.”

It was being scrutinized by the entire royal family that had her nervous as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.

“I’m glad you are enjoying the food.” The king set down his gold fork.

“And the company is exemplary, too,” she said.

Glancing around the table, she noted that the king’s sons had inherited superior DNA, probably from their good-looking and distinguished father. During the cocktail hour before dinner, she had finally met Crown Prince Kamal, the third of the three princes. Like his brothers, he was tall, dark and devilishly handsome. Although, in her humble opinion, Fariq was by far the best looking. But anyone could see the royal family of El Zafir was extremely photogenic, which was no doubt one of the reasons they frequently appeared in the tabloids.

Princess Farrah was the king’s sister and seemed to fill the family post of feminine guiding hand for the widower. Her age was impossible to guess. She could be anywhere from forty to sixty, although Crystal leaned toward the low end. The woman looked fabulous with her dark hair stylishly cut into a sleek style that barely brushed the collar of her royal-blue Chanel suit. Her black eyes appeared huge with the assistance of subtle cosmetics.

Princess Johara, the king’s youngest child and only daughter, was seventeen. She was a strikingly lovely girl with large black eyes and a delicate look. She sat on the same side of the table with Crystal. Hana was between them with Nuri on the teen’s other side.

“I can’t help feeling there’s another reason for your restraint,” Fariq commented. “Something other than caution.”

“Really?” she said, stalling. The man was far too perceptive for her own good.

“Is it possible that you are intimidated by your surroundings?” he asked.

“Me? Intimidated?”

She was a small-town girl from eastern Washington. Tonight her surroundings included the entire royal family of an oil-rich country swiftly emerging onto the world stage. She was in a large room filled with the most expensive furnishings she’d ever seen. Candles flickered in crystal wall sconces, and fragrant flowers graced the dining table, as well as numerous arrangements artfully placed on occasional tables. The cloth covering the dining table probably cost more than she could earn in a month. It would be just her luck to spill something on it in front of the entire royal family and stain the sucker so badly even homemaker high priestess Martha Stewart would have no removal remedy.