Susan Mallery - The Sheik's Arranged Marriage

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I haven’t thought that much about it. Why do you ask?”

“I have a problem,” Givon told her. “One only you can help me with.”

He paused just long enough to let her know this was a most delicate issue. Which was also long enough for her to remember how much she owed the king. He had always been a wonderful friend to her and her grandfather. As a child, she’d spent part of every summer in El Bahar. When her grandfather had died six years ago, King Givon had been the one to make all the arrangements, to hold her while she cried, then to help her get ready for college. He’d had a kingdom to run, yet he’d taken her to New York so she could shop for clothes. Then he’d personally seen her settled into her dormitory. He was the one—the only one—who now remembered her birthday and made sure she knew she was always welcome in El Bahar.

“I will do anything,” she told him and meant it.

King Givon smiled. “Very good. I was hoping you would say that. You see, I would like you to marry my son, Jamal.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Jamal Khan asked as he leaned back in his leather office chair.

His older brother, Malik, stretched out on the sofa at the far end of the room. He propped his feet on the armrest and stared gloomily at the ceiling. “You don’t want to know.”

Jamal glanced at the clock. The U.S. stock exchange was about to come on-line, and he wanted to check his stock portfolio. The market had been a little volatile in the past couple of days.

The middle of the king’s three sons, Jamal was in charge of the personal fortune of the Khan family. In the past five years, he’d tripled their net worth. Some of their increase in wealth was due to a growing world economy, but it was also due to his own philosophy of investing.

“I have work to do,” Jamal reminded his brother.

Malik glared. He was the oldest and crown prince of El Bahar. If anyone had more to do than Jamal, it was Malik. Still, he couldn’t resist tweaking the tiger’s tail from time to time.

“She’s back,” Malik said, returning his attention to the ceiling.

“Who is back?”

“Heidi the Horrible. Grandmother told me the bad news. This means she’ll be with us for dinner. Dear God, what if I have to sit next to her again? She has that way of looking at a man. As if he’s slightly less appealing than a worm with sores.”

Jamal laughed. “A worm with sores? She said that?”

“She doesn’t have to. She gets this kind of pinched expression in her eyes, and her nose gets all scrunchy. And then she’s oh so polite.” He shuddered.

Jamal stared in disbelief. Malik was acting out of character. “You’re afraid of a woman?”

Malik sat up and glared again. “I’m not afraid. I don’t like her. There’s a difference.”

“She makes you feel inadequate?”

“Don’t go there, little brother,” Malik warned him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jamal could not believe a mere woman had his imperious brother running scared. He didn’t remember much about Heidi McKinley. She’d been around on and off most of his life. Something about her grandfather and the king being friends. “She’s a child. Father only pays attention to her because he never had any daughters.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ve been gone during her most recent visits. She’s not a child anymore. She’s in her twenties. Grandmother always sits her next to me. As if I’m going to suddenly fall in love with her and want to marry her.” Malik stilled. “Do you think that’s it? Are they trying to arrange a match?”

“I hope not for your sake,” Jamal said honestly. “Especially not if she’s as horrible as you say.”

“She’s worse. A prim and proper virgin who knows too much about everything. She’s studied El Baharian history and likes to talk about it endlessly. Her goal in life is to translate texts, if you can believe it.”

He could not. “Is she unattractive?”

Malik hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“You have to know. You’ve seen her.”

“Yes, but it’s not that simple. She wears these clothes.”

Jamal didn’t remember ever seeing his brother this disconcerted—and by a woman, no less. “Most females wear clothes. It’s tragic but true.”

“I don’t mean that,” Malik told him. “Her clothes are different. I’d say she dresses like a nun, but I don’t want to insult the fashion sense of the holy sisters. She’s fussy and wears high collars and glasses. She has her hair in a bun.” He threw up his hands. “Heidi McKinley is a dried-up, old spinster whom I will never sit next to again.”

Jamal leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “I must see this frightening female who has the crown prince running scared.”

Malik rose to his feet and reached into his trouser pocket. “You, my brother, are the most successful with the ladies, but even you won’t be able to seduce this one. Fifty dollars says you can’t make the Prune Princess crack a smile at dinner.”

Jamal rose to his feet as well. He leaned forward and pressed his hands against the desk. “I have a better bet. Your new Ferrari for a week.”

“In your dreams,” Malik scoffed.

“Your new Ferrari for a week,” he repeated, ignoring Malik. “If I kiss her tonight.”

Malik’s eyebrows drew together. “If you don’t, I get your new stallion to cover six of my mares.” He grinned. “One for each day of the week with Sunday to rest, of course.”

Jamal considered. The mysterious Heidi McKinley must be formidable indeed if his brother was willing to consider putting his new car on the line. But Jamal wasn’t concerned. He hadn’t met a woman yet who was able to resist his considerable charm. Both he and his stallion would be safe.

“Done,” he agreed and held out his hand.

“On the mouth,” Malik added, pressing his hand into his brother’s.

Jamal tightened his grip and grinned. “Leave it to a professional.”

“M-marry?” Heidi repeated, convinced she’d heard the king incorrectly. “You want me to marry…?” Her voice trailed off.

This wasn’t happening, she told herself as she shakily got to her feet. The room that had been so wonderful just a few short minutes before seemed to spin and bend. Marriage! She’d never thought of marrying. She wasn’t the type. She didn’t find men all that interesting, and to be completely honest, they didn’t seem to find her appealing either.

“Are you so very surprised?” Givon asked. “You’re well into your twenties, and you’re certainly sensible.”

Old and sensible. Two fine reasons to marry, she thought, trying to find humor in the situation. Trying to find something—anything—to keep herself from losing her mind.

“I am surprised,” she managed to say at last. “I never thought…”

“Then you should think about it now. You and Jamal have much in common. Granted, he’s a few years older, but that’s a good thing in a husband. You both love El Bahar. Jamal is a great one for history. You both like to ride.”

“I haven’t been on a horse since I was twelve,” she murmured, as if that would make all the difference in the world. Of course we would have married , she would say years from now. But I didn’t ride .

“So you’ll learn again,” he said. “It’s not so difficult.”

Heidi paced to the far wall, the one with the mural of the Garden of Eden. The tiny pieces of tile formed a perfect picture of Eve being tempted by the serpent. The red tiles of the fruit seemed to gleam with an inner brightness. Was she being tested as well? Was Givon the serpent, or was he the answer to her prayers?

“Jamal needs you,” the older man continued, his tone low and persuasive. “His life is empty. It’s been nearly six years since his wife died, and in all that time he’s been alone.”