Wifed By The Sheikh Read online

  “Oh, is that so?” Abdul said. “And you think it has always been this way, thoughout your history?”

  Zach went to respond again, but Lucie cleared her throat, prompting him to think about it a little bit more, and remember periods in the past where the United States had swung towards its own brand of isolationism.

  Abdul seemed primed for an answer, but Lucie could only imagine the thinly-veiled animosity between the two erupting into something more overt if she didn’t change the way the conversation was going.

  “And what has prompted this?” she asked quickly.

  It felt very forward to say it out loud, and Lucie found herself blushing a little as Abdul’s eyes focused on her.

  “I mean, I heard about your father’s passing…”

  She trailed off. Matters of state felt a lot harder to ask about when they were also matters of family.

  The Sheikh’s father’s passing was, to Lucie, a matter of history. It was the changeover from one ruler to another, and in many ways a logical and unemotional thing. But even though it was a few years ago now, she could tell that for Abdul, the wound was still fresh. She saw his eyes dart to the portrait hanging on the wall behind Zach.

  Abdul cleared his throat and replied. “My father was many things. And I admired him greatly. But the way he saw Al-Brehoni interacting with the outside world was more…” He tilted his head back and forth, as though rolling the words around in his brain.

  “Traditional?” Lucie offered.

  He smiled. “I would have said pigheaded.”

  “But not so pigheaded you still don’t follow some of his policies.”

  Zach had interrupted, his mouth full as he spoke. For someone raised in such a high social class, he sure did let his emotions overpower his good manners. There was something about the tone of his voice that made Lucie sit up a little straighter in her chair, as though she were subconsciously preparing for a full-on brawl.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Abdul replied, but even though she’d only met him that day, Lucie already knew the Sheikh well enough to be certain that that was not the case.

  “I mean, you still don’t allow archeologists outside of your little program to access your sites.”

  Zach’s tone had gone from mildly upset to a boiling, barely-controlled anger. He seemed a little drunk, and Lucie noticed that the glass of sweet-smelling liquor before him was mostly empty. He must have gotten a good head start on it before she came in.

  “The program that we are very, very grateful to have been a part of,” Lucie added, trying to salvage the situation.

  The Sheikh reached out a hand, as though to reassure Lucie, while gesturing for Zach to continue at the same time.

  “Please, I’m afraid I’m not sure what you are getting at. If you’d be so kind as to enlighten me?”

  Again, Lucie thought, he did know. But Zach was already responding.

  “I spoke with my parents this afternoon. They were really curious about what the dig was like here, and wanted to know how the trip was going. They had a lot of questions, and said they wished they could be here, too.”

  At these words, Lucie experienced a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t like conflict, and it seemed as though there was more to come.

  “I thought that was a little weird, because if they wanted to come here, certainly they would have. But they said they applied to work down on the southern site, and were denied.”

  Lucie was mortified, but also intrigued. She’d grown up reading about the exploits of the Millards. They’d been all kinds of places, and been the first to make many discoveries—why hadn’t they flocked to Al-Brehoni as soon as the regulations on archeological explorations began to loosen?

  The Sheikh let that fact—which Zach had somehow manufactured into an accusation—hang in the air. When he did respond, it was with a careful, controlled tone.

  “As I said earlier, I look into the reputations and previous work of those who wish to do work in my country. Our history is precious, and we do not have a second chance to uncover the gems we are discovering now.”

  Zach’s tone went from angry to sneering. “My parents are two of the foremost archeologists of their generation. If you knew half the places they’d been, and the projects they’d led—”

  “I do, actually. And what I found led me to decide not to allow them access.”

  It was like something snapped in Zach’s head. Lucie had never seen him lost for words for so long. Normally he had a quick comeback to everything, but now he was just sitting there, staring straight ahead, but not seeming to see anything.

  And then he gave his head a quick, clearing shake, and reached for his glass of liquor, which he downed in one final sip.

  “Come,” Abdul said, very consciously and graciously changing the subject. “I think we’ve all finished eating, and you seem to favor our local spirit. Let me show you how we usually drink it.”

  The Sheikh stood and walked to the door, leading the way out into the hallway. Lucie stood, too, but Zach stayed seated.

  “Well,” Abdul said calmly, “whenever you’re ready.”

  And then he left, and Lucie and Zach were alone.

  “Can you believe him?” Zach asked, as though there weren’t servants just outside that could hear every word.

  “I believe him. I’m not sure I believe you.”

  She wouldn’t have thought that she could wound Zach. He was all bravado, and had been since the day she’d met him. But at those words, Zach finally stood. He looked defeated, but not hopeless. More like bitter.

  “Well, go get drunk with the corrupt dictator if you want,” he spat. “I’ll be getting over my jet lag so I’m ready to do some real work tomorrow.”

  Lucie watched him stumble to the doorway and disappear through it. Now, if she asked the servants to escort her to where the king was, it would be just the two of them. They would be drinking together, alone, into the night.

  The thought of it sent a thrill of fear and excitement shooting up her spine. She could make an excuse about jet lag. She could do the proper thing, and take more time to study up for the work they would hopefully be able to do once the storm was over.

  But even as she thought about it, she knew she wouldn’t do it. This was happening. This was, it felt like, the first real thing that was happening in her whole life.

  SEVEN

  A servant led her to the room where the Sheikh was waiting. He looked up when she entered, and shot her a long, lingering look. He didn’t seem surprised to see that Zach wasn’t with her.

  The room they were in now had not been an interior part of the original castle. It must have been the top of a rampart, Lucie surmised. She could see how part of the wall had been blown away—probably in battle, if she had to guess.

  The area had been transformed into a sitting room by encasing it in glass, and adding a huge fireplace in one corner. A fire crackled in it, now, with a glow just low enough so as not to encumber the view of the stars.

  Lucie could see out across the desert from here, and the whole of the perfect, star-laden night sky. It was breathtaking, and again made her conscious that she was, in a very real way, in the middle of nowhere.

  “For a man that’s in love with the past,” she said, “you sure seem to have a love for the modern, as well.”

  He smiled at that. “I try not to limit myself.”

  There was no furniture, and the room was empty save for the fire, a few floor cushions, the bottle of alcohol, and the two of them. The tiled floor was covered by a thick, luxurious rug, alive with bright and intricate patterning.

  Lucie slipped off her shoes. The carpet was a piece of art, and subjecting it to shoes seemed wrong. Something about the combination of her bare feet and the slinkiness of the dress made her move with delicate, smooth movements. She felt like a dancer. She felt like the room, and the night, and the man before her had somehow transformed her into the kind of graceful, sophisticated l
ady that her life had never led her towards becoming.

  As she settled down next to the Sheikh, she felt like the stars were settling in around her. It was the strangest combination; feeling exposed to the night air, while still being cozy with the cushions, the soft rug and the warm fire.

  “I’m sorry about Zach,” Lucie said. She didn’t pass along his excuse about jet lag, feeling it would be disrespectful to be so blatantly dishonest. “I find it hard to understand the way he acts sometimes—we come from very different places.”

  “As do you and I.”

  He left it at that, and poured her a glass of the alcohol Zach had been so fond of. With the liquor in her glass, Lucie could see it had a faint murkiness to it that she hadn’t noticed before.

  She took a sip, and grimaced at its strength, making Abdul laugh in surprise.

  “I thought you’d be a bit of a drinker. I don’t know why.”

  She rolled her eyes dramatically. “You all think the underclasses just have to drink to make it through the day, don’t you?”

  Somehow, the booze seemed to have attacked her inhibitions right on. She was playfully joking with a ruler, who before she’d been almost afraid to directly address.

  She took another sip, this time expecting the hit.

  “Is that honey I can taste?” she asked, and the Sheikh nodded. “Is this what I think it is?”

  His smile was wider, now that it didn’t have to be hidden. “That depends entirely on what you think it is.”

  She took another sip, again grimacing at the burn, trying to see past it.

  “I thought they stopped making this years ago.”

  He topped up her glass as he replied. “Centuries. I’m trying to revive the practice, actually.”

  Lucie could feel a tension releasing in her shoulders that she hadn’t even realized was there. She leaned back a little on the plush cushion she’d selected as her seat.

  “Well, Zach certainly approves.”

  She regretted bringing Zach back up again. She wanted to forget him, and focus on enjoying her time with the Sheikh. She hoped Abdul would just ignore the reference and move on, but she had no such luck.

  “Tell me, are the two of you together?”

  Lucie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at that.

  “We’re travelling together,” she answered flatly.

  “And nothing more?”

  She shot the Sheikh a look that she hoped conveyed the disgust she felt at the thought of dating Zach.

  He laughed. “Well, it certainly seems like he wants to be.”

  “I’m not in charge of what he wants,” she replied. “And besides, I’m too busy to date anyone at the moment. Far too stressed.”