CHAPTER TEN
THE afternoon was pleasant in the shade. Khalid had brought blankets to spread on the sand. The picnic lunch was delicious. Ella ate with relish. The cool water from the pool completed the meal. Afterward, Khalid made sure the blankets were in the shade and lay down. Closing his eyes, he looked completely relaxed.
Ella watched him for a time, growing drowsy. Finally she lay down and closed her eyes. The quiet and peace of the oasis enveloped her and before long, she slept.
When she awoke, Khalid was nowhere to be seen. The Jeep was parked where he’d left it so she knew he hadn’t gone far. She splashed cool water on her face and then rose, folding the blankets and putting them in the back of the Jeep.
“Khalid?” she called.
He appeared a moment later from behind a sand dune. “Just checking things out,” he said, walking back to the shady area.
“Sandstorms can wreak havoc in this area. That’s what brought down the plane my father’s daughter was on. Yet time and again, this oasis reappears. I was trying to figure out why. Ready to return to town?”
Ella nodded, feeling reluctant to end the afternoon. She looked around, imprinting every bit of the scene in her mind. It would forever be special—because of Khalid.
The sooner they were back among others, the sooner she could get her emotions under control. She really wanted to stay. To camp out under the stars. To share feelings and thoughts on the vastness of the desert and the beauty found despite the harshness.
To tell him he was loved.
That she could not do. She hurried to the Jeep and jumped in.
Quraim Wadi Samil seemed to shimmer in the late sunshine as heat waves distorted the air. They drove into the town and straight to the hotel. Ella felt wrung-out with the heat. She would relish the coolness of the hotel. She began to long for the cottage by the sea. At least there seemed to always be a breeze by the Gulf.
“Dinner at seven?” Khalid asked as they entered the lobby.
“That’s perfect.” It would give her time to shower and change and cool down.
Her room was spacious with little furnishings to clutter the space. She lay down for a few moments, wondering if there could be any future between her and Khalid. His fake engagement had been to help her out, made public by the minister. Since he already had it in for Khalid’s family, they dare not end the engagement so soon without negative gossip. Yet the longer it lasted, the more people would expect to see them together, and expect plans for a wedding to be forthcoming.
She wished she was planning a wedding with Khalid. She would so love to spend the rest of her life with him. It would be very different from the life she had before. Khalid had a stronger intensity with life than she was used to. Was it because he flirted with death whenever dealing with oil fires?
The thought of him being injured again had her in a panic. Would he consider not doing that in the future?
As if they had a future.
Ella rose and went to take her shower. She had some serious thinking to do. She could not bear to fall more in love with the man and then have fate snatch him away. Maybe it was time to consider going back to Italy and finding a life she could live there. She’d already lost one man she loved. She could not go through that again.
At least if she left, she could always remember Khalid as he was today. And hope to never hear of his death. As long as he was living in the world, she could find contentment. Couldn’t she?
Khalid met Ella at the elevator when she stepped off in the lobby at seven. He had been tempted to go to her room, but had mustered what patience he could to wait for her in a public place. She’d looked perfect that afternoon sleeping in the shade at the oasis. He’d wanted to touch her cheeks, faintly pink. Her hair looked silky and soft. He had touched her hair before and knew its texture.
He was playing a fool’s game, tempting fate by spending time with her. What if he became attached? He knew what he could expect from life. He’d made his peace with being alone years ago. His work was interesting and challenging. Especially when fighting fires. He liked the men he worked with. Liked being consulted by Rashid from time to time.
But he couldn’t change reality. A scarred and bitter man was not going to appeal to a pretty woman like Ella. He’d help her out because he disliked the way her brother was handling things. And her family sounded totally unlike his. Despite the scarring, his family rallied around when needed.
He moved away from the pillar where he’d been leaning when she stepped out. Her look of expectancy touched him. When she spotted him, she smiled. Khalid felt it like a punch in the gut. It always made him feel whole again. She didn’t seem freaked out by the scar. He still remembered the night she had cupped his cheeks, touching the damaged skin without revulsion. He’d never forget it.
“I thought I wouldn’t want to eat again after that lavish lunch,” she said as she hurried over to meet him. “But now that I’ve cooled down, I’m famished.”
“Then let’s hope they have enough food to fill you up.”
She laughed. He almost groaned. Her laugher was like water sparkling and gurgling over rocks in the high country. Light and airy and pleasing. He wished he could hear it all his life.
“So tomorrow we return home?” she asked as they walked to the restaurant.
“Yes. We’ll summon a plane if you like.”
“I’d love to see the country between here and the coast, but not in a hot Jeep like today. It was fine for a short foray into the desert, but for the long drive home, I’d like more comfort.”
“Your wish is my command,” he said. He did wish he could do anything for her she wanted. An air-conditioned car would be easy. Could he help with selling her artwork? He knew nothing about that. But his mother did. If she’d just warm up to Ella a little, she’d be a tremendous help.
He had a life-size picture of that ever happening. Rashid was head over heels in love with Bethanne, and his mother still chided him for not seeking the woman she had wanted him to marry. He wasn’t head over heels in love with Ella. But he liked being with her. Liked hearing her take on things. It gave him a different perspective.
He loved hearing her talk period. Her voice carried a trace of accent. Her Arabic was quite fluent, but softer than most women’s. He liked it.
“Khalid!”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“I asked how long it would take to drive back to the coast. Where were you?” She peered up at him.
“Woolgathering. It takes about eight hours. It’s a long and boring drive. The road is straight as a stick and there’s nothing but sand and scrub bushes as far as the eye can see. We can do it, but I’d rather fly home and spend the afternoon at the beach.”
“That does sound nice.”
The maître d’ appeared and showed them to a secluded table. He presented the menus with a flourish then quietly bowed away.
“No argument? I thought you wanted to drive home,” he said.
“Well, you’ve obviously been across the desert and if it looks all the same, maybe I don’t need to experience it for eight hours. You can take me on another trip to the desert if I need more inspiration,” she replied, looking at the menu.
“Maybe.”
She looked up and grinned. “We are supposed to be engaged, remember?”
“I thought you wanted to talk about that,” he said. He had not planned for things to get complicated when he’d told her brother they were engaged. How was he to know it would come out and his mother would make a big production about it?
“So I do. How do we get out of it?”
He stared at her—realizing for the first time he did not want to get out of it. He could understand her haste in ending the agreement. Hadn’t his fiancée tossed him over because of the scar? But he wanted Ella to pretend a bit longer.
“We can say we fought on this trip and the deal is off,” he said slowly.
She looked at him thoughtfully. “So whose fault was it?”
He met her gaze, almost smiling. “Does it matter?”
“People will ask. And if they don’t, they will speculate.”
“Have it be mine. It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does,” she said passionately. “If you break it off, that’s not very nice of you. And if I do, that doesn’t reflect well on me.”
“So I play the villain. It won’t impact my life.”
She shook her head slowly. “Not fair. You tried to help me out. And I appreciate it. Antonio would still be here trying to coerce me back to Italy if you hadn’t.”
“So if I can’t break it off and you can’t, we don’t.” Was that the solution? Keep the engagement going long enough for her to feel more comfortable around him. Would she ever see beyond the exterior to what he thought and felt? Could she ever fall in love with him?
Unlikely. She still loved her dead husband. And he sounded like a paragon. Intellectual. A professor. What did an oil field roustabout have to offer in comparison? Granted he had position in the country, but she hadn’t been very impressed being seen with a sheikh. He had money, but she came from money herself and was unimpressed. Not like other women he’d dated years ago. In fact, nothing seemed to impress Ella. That was one thing he loved—liked—about her. Money and stature and material items others were impressed by seemed inconsequential to her. She liked people—and it didn’t seem to matter what they had or did; if they were of interest to her, she was friendly. If not, she was cordial. And someone who knew her well could easily tell the difference.