The Sheikh’s Forced Bride(8)

Stepping out of the shower, she grabbed one of the huge white towels—sinfully thick—and wrapped it around her body. She walked into the bedroom and stood in front of the dress.

Okay—so the dress was amazing. That didn’t mean Khalid wasn’t raised in the traditions of his family—he’d been willing to marry a girl just because his father told him to. And, okay, so she didn’t know all his reasons, but still, she had to remember he was a guy who didn’t know a damn thing about women or the rights of women.

But he sure knew clothes.

Fingering the silk again, she wondered what she was going to wear underneath. She didn’t have anything that seemed suitable—sports bras and cotton boy briefs were going to show up like lumps under this fabric.

“Time to see if Khalid really has thought of everything—or had someone do it for him.”

Heading to the dresser, she pulled open the top drawer and found an array of beautiful silk underwear in a variety of sizes. She could have her pick.

She had to hand it to Khalid— he was on top of things. Or he had one killer staff working for him.

She was just struggling with the zipper in back when a knock came at the door.





4





Casey opened the door wearing the dress Khalid had hoped she would choose. She had been attractive before, but this—ah, this was a woman of beauty. The blue suited her perfectly, showing her dazzling eyes. While the high neckline and long sleeves covered her shoulders and cleavage, the dress conformed to the shape of her body—and a lovely body it was.

“Beautiful,” he told her.

She offered a nod as if she had been told such a thing before. “Thank you. You look…well handsome sounds a little lame. You’d think a journalist could come up with something more appropriate.

Khalid smoothed the lapels of his suit. Armani and custom and rather expensive, but he’d gone formal. His father would expect nothing less. Stepping into the room, he closed the door behind him. “We need to go over a few things before you meet my father.”

She had stepped back and now she held up one hand. “I’ll warn you now, I want no part in outright lies.”

“Oh, that is not to be thought of. My father would know when you are lying to him.”

She groaned, headed to the couch and sat down.

Heading to the other side, Khalid sat down and leaned his elbows on his thighs. “He must recognize you—how can he not. So he will ask how this happened. It is very simple. After you were arrested, I went down to the police station. I had already admired your courage and your beauty…and we started talking.”

“And then he’s going to ask what we talked about.”

He frowned. “We tell him the truth. We spoke of my family—and the fact that I no longer was engaged. And then we will show him that despite how sudden this is, that we fell instantly in love..”

Casey laughed. “Seriously? He’s going to buy that?”

He straightened, then leaned toward her. Her eyes widened, but she did not move away. “The truth is I am attracted to you—will you deny that you feel the spark between us?”

Looking away, she cleared her throat. But she glanced back. She smelled of soap and nothing more. This, he decided, had to be the most direct woman he had ever met. She wore no makeup—or so little he could not see it. But she needed none. Sooty lashes swept down over her eyes, and then she looked directly at him. “Spark doesn’t mean forever love.”

“Ah, but we just need to worry my father enough that he releases me from my promise to marry. He does not dislike Americans, but you are a different story, given that you disrupted his plans.” Taking her hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring he had selected. He slipped it onto her finger.

Eyes huge, she pulled her hand away and held it up. The solitary diamond caught the light, reflecting back a rainbow of colors. “This has to be the biggest stone I’ve ever seen.” Her voice cracked slightly.

“This is your engagement ring—you must have one. And you can be truthful when you say I asked you to marry me right there in prison.”

Casey took a deep breath and settled both hands in her lap. “How do I get my part of the deal—the story—if he throws me straight out of the palace tonight?” Khalid smiled and stood. “Such poor manners would be a breach of honor to him. That will never happen. You are safe for tonight—and perhaps a few days more. But once he sees you will never give up your reporter habits, ah, then things will change.” He held out his hand. “And now we must not be late.”

She stood and took his hand. She had lovely hands, he decided, delicate with long, shapely fingers.