The Sheikh and the Virgin

‘Don’t be like that, Bea. There’s someone out there for you … a soul mate.’

Sometimes Emma’s incurable romanticism could be irritating. ‘I won’t hold my breath—’ She stopped, tilting her head in a listening attitude. ‘Did you hear that? It sounded as if it came—’

Emma threw a nervous look at the closed bedroom door, before perching on the arm of a chair and asking quickly, ‘What on earth did the lawyer say to put you in this mood?’

‘It wasn’t the lawyer I spoke to. The man I did speak to offered me a small fortune.’

Actually, Beatrice thought, not so small! The number of noughts on the paper he had handed her had looked like a misprint, but apparently it wasn’t.

Emma looked bemused. ‘And that made you angry?’

‘The money was conditional on me … I warn you, Emma, you’re not going to believe this.’ She unclenched her fists, sucked in a deep breath and tried to smile—it really was absurd. ‘It was conditional on me not marrying Khalid!’

She paused, fully expecting Emma’s incredulous laughter, but not expecting to see the colour seep from her friend’s face.

‘What did he say when you told him you weren’t engaged to Khalid?’

‘He didn’t give me the chance. And then I got so mad, because he was so utterly detestable and smug, and … Well,’ she admitted ruefully, ‘I lost my temper and told him I fancied the idea of being a princess. Princess Bea …’ She struck a pose and chuckled. ‘What do you think? Shall I suggest it to Khalid? Incidentally, I must give him a ring and warn him what his brother is up to.’

‘Oh, God, Bea!’ Emma moaned, looking if it was at all possible, even paler. ‘Why did you say that to him …?’

Beatrice was perplexed by her friend’s attitude. ‘Could it have had something to do with the fact the man treated me like some cheap little tart? I don’t think you understand, Emma.’ Beatrice spelt it out. ‘Poor Khalid must have fallen in love with some girl. His brother is trying to buy this girl off, and for some weird reason he thinks it’s me.’ She laughed, lifting her hair from the back of her neck and stretching with feline grace. ‘Weird doesn’t really cover it.’

‘Oh, Emma understands, Bea.’

At the sound of the rueful voice Beatrice jumped up—in time to see Khalid emerge from the bedroom, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his bronzed torso.

‘Khalid …?’ She looked blankly from the man in the doorway to her friend and back again. ‘But you’re …’ Colour flooded her face as comprehension dawned. ‘How long?’ She stopped and shook her head. ‘Never mind. It’s none of my business.’

Emma looked stricken. ‘We wanted to tell you, Bea, but …’

Khalid put a protective hand on Emma’s shoulder. ‘Tariq and my family have very traditional views on this matter.’

Things were slowly beginning to sink in for Beatrice. ‘I knew something was going on, but I never—’ She stopped, her eyes widening. ‘SO you and Emma—you’re getting married?’

Beatrice watched her friend struggle with tears as she glanced at her lover. ‘It’s difficult,’ she said unhappily.

‘Yes, we are getting married,’ Khalid contradicted her, sounding firm. He sounded less firm as he added bleakly, ‘Somehow.’

How difficult could it be?

Beatrice bit her tongue and forced a smile. ‘That’s …’ She was still finding it hard to get her head around the situation, but now she thought about it, it made perfect sense. Khalid and Emma made a perfect couple. ‘It really is fantastic news.’

Well, it would be if you took one apparently oppressive and old-fashioned sibling out of the picture.

Frowning, she expressed her bewilderment and indignation out loud. ‘What is your brother’s problem anyway? He’s the one who’s going to be King, isn’t he? Why does it matter who you marry?’

‘Tariq is King in all but name. Since our father had his stroke he isn’t seen in public.’

‘If it was me you were going to marry I could understand.’ Beatrice could see realistically that she wasn’t anyone’s idea of a royal bride. ‘But Emma. Well … if I said you could do better, Khalid, I’d be lying. Emma is perfect.’

‘I think so,’ Khalid agreed.

The glow in his eyes as he looked at his prospective bride brought a lump to Beatrice’s throat. She had to do something for them. They were meant to be together.

‘Tariq has strong views about marriage. He thinks we shouldn’t marry—’

‘Beneath you?’ Beatrice cut in, unable to repress the bitter retort. ‘Yes, I sort of got that.’

‘It’s not that … Our mother was English, and when our parents’ marriage broke up it was pretty rough. I was small, so I don’t really remember, but I think that it made a big impact on Tariq. When they finally split up she came back to England. She wasn’t allowed to take us with her.’

‘That must have been terrible for her.’ And pretty tough on the boys, deprived of their mother, she privately conceded.

‘We saw her in the holidays or I did. Tariq always refused to see her and our half sister—then there was the accident.’

‘He blamed her,’ Emma, who clearly knew the story, explained.

‘You said the accident …?’

‘A car smash on the motorway. She was killed instantly.’

‘I’m sorry, Khalid,’ Beatrice said, her tender heart touched by the story.

Not that it offered any excuses for the dreadful brother’s behaviour. She too had lost her own mother, at a similar age, but it didn’t make her feel she could go around sitting in judgement on total strangers!

Khalid took Emma’s hand. ‘And I’m sorry, Bea—that you had to go through that with Tariq.’

‘Better me than Em,’ Beatrice retorted, adding with a shrug, ‘I was mad, not hurt.’

‘Tariq will love Emma once he meets her. It just has to be the right time.’

Beatrice’s heart went out to the unhappy lovers. From her experience that morning, she was pretty certain that the right time would be of the ‘when hell freezes over’ variety, and from Khalid’s expression she was sure that he knew it too.

She felt a surge of frustration. She’d been hoping that she could laugh off this morning, but that was before she knew what was at stake.

‘There must be something I can do or say to this brother of yours.’ A brother who seemed to live in another century and who thought everyone had a price. Then it hit her. The solution was right under their noses and so blindingly simple that they couldn’t see it!

‘He’ll never accept me,’ Emma retorted bleakly. ‘Khalid would have to choose between me and his family, and I couldn’t let him do that.’

‘What if there was another way?’

The lovers looked at her with a mixture of doubt and hope.

‘He might see you, Em, in a entirely new light if he’s just endured a visit from the bride from hell.’ Bea’s green eyes, dancing with devilish excitement, were at stark variance with her butter-wouldn’t-melt expression. She smiled at the bemused-looking couple. ‘It’s perfect,’ she enthused as she warmed to the idea forming in her head.

‘What are you talking about, Bea?’ Khalid asked impatiently.

‘Don’t ask,’ Emma advised. ‘Look at her face—she’s got one of her crazy plans.’