The Sheikh Doc's Marriage Bargain Page 4

  The steward came to stand beside them.

  “What would you like for breakfast?” Tariq asked.

  Laurel looked at the steward. “Toast and a cup of tea will be fine.”

  “I fear that you’ll need more than that for today,” Tariq commented as he continued to look at the papers spread out on the table. “Some eggs with that, please.”

  The steward nodded and stepped away.

  “I don’t know how you expect me to be intelligent enough to run your lab if you don’t think I know my mind well enough to order what I want to eat.”

  He looked at her, a brow cocked, and nodded. “I apologize. It will not happen again.”

  “What? I actually get my way for once?” For the brief time she’d known Tariq every disagreement had gone his way. This tiny victory she planned to savor.

  There was a twinkle of something in his eyes that looked suspiciously like mirth. “It would appear you have. I trust you slept well last night.”

  “I did.” She smiled.

  “Excellent.” He moved a paper and picked up another beneath it. “I wanted to share today’s schedule.”

  Laurel hadn’t stepped off the plane and he’d already planned her day. Would he always be controlling her time? When was she supposed to do her research? Between his calendar and managing the lab, how was she supposed to get anything done?

  “We will be arriving midmorning Zentar time. From the airport we will go straight to the palace. We will have a small ceremony there. A few of my family will attend. Afterwards we will visit the lab then we will return to the palace. I have a late afternoon meeting I must not miss.”

  Nothing like marrying and running. Didn’t sound much different from what Larry had done to her. After all, he’d gotten what he’d wanted and gone on his way. The Prince was manipulating her as well. But in return she was getting something she sought too, the chance to continue her research. For that she would do anything.

  “Laurel, are you listening to me?” Tariq sounded put out. From the look on his face he didn’t make a practice of repeating himself.

  She looked at him.

  “After that your time is your own. Take it from an experienced traveler that you should rest. Jet lag is a real thing.” He let the paper he’d been reading flutter to the table.

  “I’ll be fine, I’m sure.” She’d had enough of him dictating to her. “I’ll want to get to work at the lab as soon as possible.”

  As usual his eyes revealed nothing of his emotions. “That is your choice, but I fear you will pay dearly for that decision. You need not concern yourself with being there before the day after tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be there first thing in the morning. I was close to a breakthrough in my research and I want to get started again as soon as possible.”

  “As you wish.” He went back to his papers.

  Her breakfast arrived. While she ate, Tariq continued reading. Occasionally he would make a note on one of the papers or look at his phone. When she put her fork down for the final time, his gaze met hers. She cheeks went warm. Despite not wanting much food, she’d cleaned her plate. The fact Tariq had been right about her appetite irritated her.

  He stood. “Come and have your first look at Zentar.” He indicated the window she had looked out the night before.

  Curious about the place she would be calling home for the next few weeks, for that was all she planned to stay, she went to the seat she’d occupied the evening before. Gripping the armrest, she slowly leaned toward the window.

  “I see you have not overcome your fear.” To her astonishment there was a note of sympathy in his observation.

  “No, I haven’t. I doubt I ever will.” About many things. However, making this trip was a huge step toward doing so. She couldn’t deny the pride forming in her chest for having found the courage to come to Zentar.

  “I promise you will be glad you looked if you only will.” His beautiful voice seductively coaxed her.

  Fortifying herself, Laurel rested her head against the side of the plane. Below she could see the sapphire Arabian Sea.

  “See that small white dot in the distance? That is Zentar.”

  Laurel jumped and glanced around to find Tariq’s head close. Too close. Her lips were an inch from his face. His citrus aftershave filled her nose. He had a hand braced against the bulkhead, leaning over her, as they looked out the same window.

  Laurel wasn’t sure which made her dizzier—Tariq’s nearness or the sensation of the plane skimming over the water toward the small crystal jewel ahead. Tariq remained where he was, his breath ruffling her hair. Yes, he was much too close.

  “You must learn not to flinch every time I am near or when I touch you. My people will think you do not like me. That will not do.”

  What his people didn’t know was that she reacted too much to their Prince for her comfort. “Maybe you should leave some distance between us so they’ll not notice.”

  “I am not sure that will be possible.” Had his lips touched the top of her head?

  Laurel forced herself to focus on the sight outside the window. Zentar grew larger, turning into a pallet of off-white with spots of green here and there. The plane banked to the right. Laurel hissed and grasped the seat with both hands.

  Tarik laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. We’re just lining up for our approach.”

  His soothing voice and touch reassured her. “I bet the pilot thought that was a lot more fun than I did.”

  Laughter deep and full rolled from his throat. “I will remind him next time not to be quite so dramatic with his banking when you are on board.”

  Again she looked out the window, fascinated by the land below. Now she could make out buildings. Some were a pale pink while others were yellow and blue. High on a rise off to the north was a sparkling mass of buildings that overlooked the others.

  “That is the palace off on the horizon. It is beautiful, is it not?”

  It was. That they could agree on. How would it feel to have a man like Tariq speak about her with such pride and love? Squelching that unacceptable idea, she heard a distinctive ding ring throughout the cabin.

  Tariq moved to take the seat across from her. “It is time to prepare for landing. You need to buckle up.”

  Laurel shivered as she settled into her seat. It was suddenly cool in the cabin without Tariq so near. Fumbling a moment, she finally secured her belt.

  The plane started its descent and she clasped her hands in her lap, closed her eyes and pushed her head back into the chair. She didn’t like the landing any better than she had the take-off.

  “It is painful to watch you. You must stop. I want to wrap you in my arms and hold you.”

  Her eyelids whipped open. The Prince’s intense stare held her captive.

  “That is better.” His words were gentle and encouraging, easing her anxiety. “At least I shocked you out of the misery you were in.”

  He had only said that to help her? Why did that disappoint her? In a tight voice Laurel said, “Please don’t make fun of me.”

  “I would never do that. I believe you are very brave, to leave all you know and for your first trip to be one halfway around the world when you have experienced so little of it.”

  She’d never thought of herself as brave. It was rather a heady experience to hear Prince Tariq say she was. As a child she had always been afraid. She’d accepted early in her life that her only way of coping with being the butt of her classmates’ cruelty was to hide in her books. The only time she’d felt accomplished had been when she’d made good grades. Which in turn had added something more for her peers to use against her.

  In college she hadn’t faired any better. After Larry had dumped her she’d overheard a couple of his buddies laughing about the “brainiac” Larry had laid to win a bet. Instead of facing them and telling th
em she was a person with feelings, she’d slipped away. They never knew she’d been there. She’d vowed not to trust a man again. Now here she was with her entire world dependent on one she didn’t really know or trust. This time she would guard her heart more closely.

  Even after becoming a licensed physician she hadn’t had the strength to venture further than two hours away from where she’d grown up. It had been a major event to move to Chicago by herself and she’d only managed it because of her burning desire to continue her search for a cure for hemophilia. She’d attended only those medical conferences that were close to home. Even though she’d made the flight to Zentar she wasn’t so sure it had as much to do with courage as it did with how badly she wished to have access to a lab. Her research was what drove her. Aware she had a number of admirable traits, bravery wasn’t one of them.

  Seconds later the tires touching the tarmac with a screech of brakes made her tense again. Tariq placed a hand over hers. His look held hers as heat shot through her.

  Soon the plane was rolling slowly and smoothly to a stop. She was safe on the ground. Tariq removed his hand. Laurel watched him nonchalantly release his seat belt and stand. Without a word he walked toward the back of the plane.

  Through the window Laurel observed the heat haze just above the tarmac and the low tan-colored building that was the airport terminal. It looked simple yet modern. A flag flew above it that held the same emblem adorning the seats of the plane. Beyond the airport were buildings after buildings. None were over two stories high. In the distance stood the sprawling, gleaming pearl—the palace. The place she would call home, at least temporarily. She was out of her league. Fitting in here would be harder than it had been when she’d been a child.

  The whoosh of air when the steward opened the door brought her back to the present. She hurriedly unlatched her seat belt.

  Tariq reappeared. He’d placed a white headdress with gold braid on his head, and it flowed around his shoulders.

  Laurel stared. As striking as he was in Western wear, this island Prince’s attire made him more appealing.

  “I am expected to look the part of the royal family when I arrive home after official trips. It is the King’s way of reminding the people that we honor our traditions. As Minister of Health I have a position to uphold.”

  Why did he feel he must explain his choice of clothing to her? In the last few days he hadn’t seemed to take any notice of her feelings or concerns. When did what she thought of him start to matter?

  “I understand. I just didn’t expect...” She shut her mouth and waved at him in frustration. Laurel wasn’t about to tell Tariq she hadn’t planned on him taking her breath away with his Arabian Nights good looks, charm and impressive lifestyle.

  “Expect?” He watched her too keenly for comfort.

  “I, uh...don’t know. I guess I just assumed you always wore Western clothes.”

  “Most of the time I do, but the reporters will be here. I must look the part.”

  “I get that.” For him this attire was like when she’d pulled on her lab coat to meet him. It was the uniform that specified status.

  He stepped near and took her elbow. “It is time to go. We have a schedule to keep.”

  She was too aware of that. Getting married to him was at the top of the list. The mere idea made her middle flutter like a flock of birds taking off. Laurel suddenly wished she hadn’t eaten so much breakfast.

  Tariq’s hand remained on her elbow as they walked down the stairs that had been precisely placed at the open cabin door. The Prince greeted the group of people waiting at the bottom with a wave.

  Laurel had never dreamed the press would be interested in her. She was so out of her element. A couple of cameras flashed. She closed her eyes and turned her head.

  Tariq raised a hand and everyone quieted. “This is Dr. Laurel Martin. She will be heading our new research lab as well as becoming my wife. We will be having a small family ceremony this afternoon at the palace. A celebration will be planned for a later date.”

  The crowd gasped. Cameras flashed.

  He didn’t let that deter him. “Please be kind enough to give her a warm Zentaran welcome. Also hold all questions for later. We’ve had a long flight and have much to do today.”

  Laurel had never identified more with Dorothy arriving in Oz than she did at that moment. What had she gotten herself into?

  CHAPTER THREE

  TARIQ ESCORTED LAUREL to the limousine waiting nearby. He had had to nudge her arm twice before she moved. Her body trembled. She was terrified. In hindsight he should have told her about the press. When he had seen how much she hated flying he had worried she would not get off once they landed if she knew the media would be there to greet them.

  Had he made a mistake by bringing her so far from home? Insisting that she marry him? One was stressful enough but both might be too much for Laurel. Never in his wildest imaginings had he believed a woman of her intelligence and reputation would be such a novice where the world was concerned. Yet it was refreshing to see each new experience replace her fear with excited amazement. It made him see life in a different light.

  Pride swelled his chest at her reaction to her first sight of Zentar. Her appreciation of its beauty was the same as his own each time he returned home. Sharing it with someone was nice. He never had before.

  With Laurel settled in the backseat of the car, he instructed Nasser to take them to the palace. Normally he would be busy on his phone but Laurel enthralled him. He turned to her. Seeing her fascination with the city he loved had become more important than some email about an issue he needed to resolve.

  She was busy looking out the windows of the car from one side to the other, as if trying to take it all in on one drive. He had no idea if she was aware of his presence until she said in reproach, “You should’ve told me that the press would be waiting, instead of ambushing me.”

  “I was afraid you would not get off the plane.”

  Laurel looked over her shoulder at him. “And that statement about us marrying?”

  He shrugged. “It must be announced.” He leaned back into the cushions of the seat, enjoying the snap in her eyes. At least they were not panic-filled, as they had been earlier.

  She turned to him. “I guess that’s true. Are you still sure it’s necessary?”

  “Marrying? Yes.”

  Laurel resumed watching the scenery but the air around them now held tension. They said little the rest of the way. He had anticipated her reaction to the onion-domed palace but it was more flattering than he’d expected.

  They were pulling in front of the palace when Laurel said with a whispered awe, “You’ve lived here all your life?”

  Again wonder filled her face. He had looked at the palace almost every day of his life but thanks to her he was seeing it anew—its white walls, arched entrances, high battlements with shiny tops and flags flying—the grand scale of it. “Well, most of it. I lived abroad when I was at university and a few years after that.”

  “I can’t imagine growing up in a place like this. My family had a three-bedroom, two-bath home. My sister and I shared a room until I went off to college.”

  They really were from two different worlds. He had learned long ago that was the case with almost everyone when you were a prince. He rather liked the sound of the low-key quality of Laurel’s life. “The size of a house has nothing to do with the closeness of a family.”

  The car pulled up in front of the arched doors of the official entrance to the palace.

  “I’ll get the door,” he said to Nasser as he stepped out and offered his hand to Laurel. She hesitated a moment, then placed her soft, small, shaking fingers in his. The inescapable comparison to their hand sizes had a peculiar effect on him. There was such a marked difference between them in so many ways.

  Laurel quickly pulled her hand away and raised her chin
to look at the massive ornamental exteriors of the palace state rooms. “We’re getting married here?”

  “Yes.”

  She gave him a worried look. “In an office?”

  “No. The Grand State Room.”

  “This isn’t right,” she hissed, looking around as if she feared someone was listening.

  “I am a member of the royal family, and we do not have a lot of time. So it is the way it must be done.”

  Her lips pursed before she burst forth with, “You know I’ve just about had it with you pushing me around about everything. We have no business getting married.” She pointed to the palace. “Much less doing it here and in front of your family.”

  “Laurel...” Tariq lowered his voice to the one he used when trying to reassure a skittish filly. “I think you are right.”

  She stared at him as if confused. “You do?”

  “Yes, but plans have been set in motion that cannot be changed. Come, it will be over soon and then we will go to your lab.” He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over the top. If he was in her position he would not like feeling out of control either.

  “I still think this is a bad idea but I’ll go along with it for now.”

  He smiled. “I am glad to hear it.”

  Tariq placed his hand at her waist and directed her toward the entrance. As they approached, a man in a uniform opened the door and they entered the dim and refreshingly cool stone building.

  “Oh, wow.” Laurel’s whisper carried across the worn marble floor. “It’s so beautiful.”

  Zara, with Roji in hand, came toward them and drew Laurel’s attention. Her body stiffened beneath his palm. “This is Zara. She is my sister-in-law and is here to help you dress.”

  “Dress?” Laurel looked down at herself. “I hadn’t even thought about that.”

  Tariq was not surprised. Her mind remained on one track, her work. As important as he believed it was, she still needed to step outside her glass box. It also pricked his ego that Laurel thought so little of their marriage she had no concern for what she wore. Did not all women want to look nice at their wedding? Even if it was a marriage of convenience?