The Sheikh's Virgin Bride(18)

“You’re not, Mom; this is something I want to do, something I know is right.”

“Do you, though? Do you know that it’s right?”

Her insistent question caught me off guard. I found myself speechless, staring off into space. I’d known Rashid for less than a week, and after today’s strange occurrences, did I really know for certain that this was a wise decision?

“Mom, I…”

“Just think about it, Lacie, please. I always imagined that the day of your wedding would mean so much more, would be the culmination of a beautiful love story, a love story that my beautiful daughter deserved. So, please, before you decide, before you throw your heart away to save me, please, just think about it. Really think if this—living away from your family and friends, married to a man you don’t love—is really what you want. Please, promise me that you’ll at least think this over.”

Filled with doubt and emotion, all I could manage to say in my own strained voice was, “Okay, Mom, I promise. I will.”

I stayed on the line for another minute, my head buzzing with things to say, more explanations. Like how Rashid and I had the same sense of humor, how this did feel right…mostly. But then, I thought of Rashid’s strange silences today, the scene at the dinner table, and I realized that as charming and handsome as this man was, I didn’t really know him at all.

I could hear my Mom’s sad rasps of breath and, after another futile minute, I couldn’t take it. So, with a husky “Bye, I love you,” I hung up the phone.

There was nothing left to do but turn off the light, collapse into bed, stare at the ceiling and, once again, will myself to sleep—this time, miserable for an entirely different reason.





Chapter Thirteen





Rashid




The next morning, I apologized by having breakfast delivered to Lacie’s room, then going there myself to apologize in person. She was as understanding as could be expected, especially since I could only offer her a weak promise that I’d explain everything later.

I was shocked, however, when she then stomped her foot at the floor and raised her voice at me. “Do you mean to tell me that you’re not going to tell me every single thing about you, after I just did that for you?”

It was only as I gaped at her, that I saw the corner of her mouth twitching.

“You…”

She giggled. “I totally got you.”

I assumed a noble expression, turning my head away. “I suppose you aren’t interested in our day trip, then.”

“What—no!”

“I mean, we were going to go to the beach, but if you’re too angry at me…”

“Rashid!”

Finally, turning back to face her, I let the grin come onto my face.

“Okay, okay. You have thirty minutes to get ready. Let me know if you need anything.”

And then I turned to leave, not quite so fast that I didn’t catch her little excited whoop behind me.

The day went better than I could’ve dreamed of. Lacie was enchanted with everything—from the white sand beach I took her to that was reserved only for the royal family, to the sweet, traditional treats of Zayed-Kharan that I had delivered to our private cabana. I even got her to paddle in the ocean with me, and her nervous apprehension was made worth it when we spotted a pod of dolphins.

That night, I gave her a chaste kiss goodnight, turning away and leaving immediately afterwards. It was only once I was halfway down the darkened hall that I left myself catch my breath.

I had done the right thing, leaving like that. I couldn’t kiss Lacie on the lips, not yet. I couldn’t quite let myself give in to the growing passion within me, which had only grown as I spent more time with her. Although I was developing feelings for her, I was unsure if she felt the same.

The rest of the week was more of the same: day trip after day trip, days and nights talked and laughed through. We hit up every tourist destination I knew of—old and new, popular and off the beaten track. I showed her the tallest mall in the world and bought her an entire wardrobe-full of new clothes; we adventured through the ruins of my ancestors as I gave her mini-history lessons on my homeland.

As we sat on our camels and prepared to journey deep into the desert, I reflected on all of our adventures and, most of all, Lacie. How, through fancy dinners and sandstorms alike, she’d stayed the same appreciative, pleasant joy to be around.

Lacie broke me out of my reverie. “What? Worried I’ll out-camel you?”

“Certainly not. This isn’t my first camel rodeo, but it is yours!”

I urged my camel into a jog, and Lacie followed close behind. It wasn’t long, however, before we tired of the chase, so we agreed on a truce and let our camels resume their normal, lazy pace. As they trekked, we talked quietly, of our favorite movies and foods (I made a mental note that hers was mango). After a while, the sun had set and my camel’s braying fatigue became my own.

“Want to stop? We’re about half an hour from the hotel; we could have our picnic here,” I called to Lacie.

She agreed, so we got off our camels and set out our supplies. The red blanket my mother had woven did the trick as a nice blanket on the sand, while the plastic containers of chicken and rice she’d packed were delicious.

We sat there, Lacie and I, our sides touching, quietly eating our meals, while our camels stayed tied to the stick I’d shoved into the sand. Every once in a while, I’d look over, sure that the adorably awestruck look on Lacie’s upturned face would be gone, worn off. And yet, each time I looked over, she looked happier than the last time.