Accidentally The Sheikh's Wife Part 3

At the airport an hour later, Bethanne's att.i.tude changed from bemused delight to efficient commander. She talked to the ground crew through a translator the sheikh had provided, reviewing items on the checklist. She listened to how they had refueled the aircraft. She did a visual inspection of the jet. She wasn't sure when the sheikh would want to take the maiden flight, but she was ready when he was. Now she had nothing to do but await his arrival.

She beckoned the translator over. "Can you ask among the crew if any of them knew Hank Pendarvis? He was a pilot and probably flew from this airport," she said.

He nodded and walked back to the group of men.

Two spoke to his question and both looked over at Bethanne. Breaking away from the rest, the two men and the translator walked to her.

"These men knew him. He was a pilot for His Excellency's father, Sheikh Rabid al Harum."

"Is he dead?" she asked bluntly, studying the two men who had known her father.

One man looked away when the question was posed in Arabic. The other looked sad and shook his head at Bethanne, speaking rapidly.

"It is unfortunate, but it appears he has vanished. Was he a friend of yours?"

Bethanne didn't want to reveal her connection to all and sundry. "An acquaintance. I heard he had a job in Quishari and hoped to look him up while I am here."

There was lengthy conversation between the three men, with a couple of glances thrown her way as the one man grew quite pa.s.sionate.

Finally the translator turned to her. "The man was a pilot. One day he took a plane without permission. He never returned. It is surmised he either flew to another country or the plane crashed. No one has heard from him in almost three years. And the plane has not flown over Quishari skies since then."

She wanted to protest that her father was not a thief, but these men confirmed what Rashid had said. But it couldn't be. Her father was nothing like that. He was loyal to the al Harum family. Loved his job. He would not risk it to steal a plane, no matter what the provocation.

"Did they search for a crashed plane?" she asked, holding on to her composure with effort. Had no one been concerned when he disappeared? Had they so quickly condemned him as a thief that no one searched in case there had been an accident? Her heart ached. Her father had to be dead. He would have contacted her long before now if he could have. She refused to believe he stole the plane.

Another bout of conversation and then one of the men shrugged and turned to walk back to the group. The other continued talking and then watched Bethanne when the translator told her a search was impossible when no one knew where he'd gone. The desert was vast, uninhabited for the most part. Without knowing the direction he'd taken, it was fruitless to search.

"And no one knew why he took the flight?" she asked. How far could she push without giving away her avid interest?

"He was pilot to the old sheikh who died shortly after the man disappeared. His son had no knowledge of the reason he took the plane. There is no more," he ended sadly.

"Thank you." She forced a smile at the man who had conveyed the information. Refusing to let her dismay show, she walked back to the plane.

She wished she had some time alone to a.s.similate the cold facts. What would have compelled her father to take a plane if not authorized? He hadn't owned a plane, just flew for whoever hired him. Where could he have been going? Why was there no debris if he'd crashed? Someone flying over an accident site must have seen it. Maybe he'd flown off the normal route. Maybe he had not filed a flight plan and no one knew where to look. Yet, how could he have flown without filing a plan? She'd had to fill out enough paper to fill a box when requesting routes into Quishari. Even this morning when saying she wanted to take the jet up, she'd had to fill out a half-dozen forms.

She entered the plane and wandered through the sumptuous cabin. The interior had been designed to the specifications requested by Rashid al Harum. She sat on the sofa, encased in comfort. The microsuede fabric was sensuous to the touch, feeling like velvet. The thick Persian rug on the floor felt sumptuous beneath her feet. She'd like to take off her shoes and scrunch her toes in the luxury. It was like a fine drawing room. The only time she flew, when not piloting an aircraft, she was crammed into the cheapest seats possible returning to base. What would it be like to fly high above the earth in such elegant furnishings? Nothing like the flights she knew.

For a moment she imagined herself sitting next to the sheikh as they cruised high above the Arabian desert. He'd offer her a beverage. They'd sit close together, heads bent toward each other, enjoying each other's company.

Rashid Al Harum entered, ducking his head slightly to clear the lintel. He looked surprised to see her.

Bethanne jumped to her feet instantly, her face growing warm with embarra.s.sment. Bad enough to be daydreaming, but to be caught sitting as if she had nothing to do was problematic.

"I'm sorry. I just took a moment to test the sofa," she said in a rush. She had no business imagining herself as a guest aboard this lovely plane. She was here to work!

"And is it as comfortable as it looks?" he asked, taking her presence in the cabin of the plane instead of the c.o.c.kpit with equanimity.

"Fabulous. The seat belts are discreet. I feel like I'm in a small living room somewhere. I hope it meets your expectations." She stepped toward the front of the plane, hoping to squeeze by, but his presence filled the narrow s.p.a.ce.

"If you're ready to depart, I'll begin the preflight checklist," she said, overwhelmed a bit by his proximity. It wasn't only his sheer masculinity, which made her feel quite feminine, it was the way he carried himself-with all the confidence in the world. And his good looks would give anyone a run for his money. Tall, dark and handsome was such a cliche-and now Bethanne knew exactly why. He looked like the dream of every young woman anywhere with his fabulous features, dark hair and chiseled lips that she'd like to touch hers just once.

Get a grip, girl, she admonished herself. They would never have met in other circ.u.mstances. And the only thing he wanted to touch was the fancy furnishing of his new jet. Or the signed copy of the contract for the deal he was working on.

To further her efforts to return to reality instead of indulging in fantasy, she reminded herself the man thought her father a thief. But instead of putting a damper on things, it strengthened her resolve to find her father to clear his name. For his sake, and for hers. She wanted Rashid to think well of her no matter what.

He stepped aside and Bethanne squeezed by, careful to make sure she didn't touch however much tempted. Breathless with the encounter, she hurried to the pilot's seat and sank down, grateful for the few moments' solitude. She ran through the preflight checklist in the c.o.c.kpit, hoping she could concentrate on flying and not have her mind winging its way back to the cabin and the s.e.xiest man she'd ever encountered.

"Ready when you are," Rashid said, slipping into the second seat a few minutes later.

"You want to fly up here?" she squeaked.

"Why wouldn't I? Wouldn't a man want to spend time with his special friend?"

She glanced out the window at the scurry of activity in preparation for departure. The ground crew could easily see into the c.o.c.kpit. Of course he wanted to bolster the conception they were involved.

"Okay. Ever flown up front before?"

"From time to time."

In only minutes they were shooting into the sky, the power of the rear engines thrusting them effortlessly into the air. Bethanne had no trouble focusing on the controls. The best part of everything was soaring above the earth. She had calculated the route south along the coast and had it approved by ground control. Flying for one of the top businessmen in the country gave her special privileges not normally afforded.

Slowly Bethanne leveled out and then gradually climbed to their cruising alt.i.tude. She prided herself on her smooth flights. The smaller planes were more susceptible to variations in air currents. Today was all about showing off how smoothly the jet rode.

Once they reached cruising level, Rashid nodded. "Good ride."

For a few moments, she'd forgotten he was there. Now, suddenly the s.p.a.ce seemed to shrink. The scent of aftershave lotion the sheikh used tickled her nose and made her heart beat faster. She kept her eyes ahead, but could still envision every inch of his face as if he had put a photograph in front of her.

"Do you fly?" she asked.

"No. I leave that to the experts. But I sit up here with my pilot sometimes. I like the panoramic views which I don't get from only one side of the airplane. And I like the feeling of freedom. Must be one reason you enjoy it."

"The primary reason, I guess. It's fabulous." She wished her pulse would slow.

"Unusual profession for a woman, at least in Quishari."

"Not that many women pilots in the U.S., but we're growing in numbers."

"Did you always want to fly?"

She nodded. "From when I was a little girl. It was always magical to me. Soaring high above the earth. My dad-" She stopped abruptly. "Sorry, I'm rambling on."

"If I didn't want to learn more, I wouldn't have asked the question. Your father got you interested?"

She nodded stiffly, still feeling raw with what she'd learned this morning. She wanted to defend him to the sheikh. But she had only a daughter's loyalty to offer. She needed more facts.

"I, too, am following in my father's footsteps. He and my uncles built the oil company to the stature it is today before they died. The loss of them has been a tragedy for my family. My father built an empire through hard work and integrity. My brother and I and one remaining uncle are hoping to build it to even new levels."

"Lofty plans. From what I know, Bashiri Oil is already a leader."

"I hope to be remembered as my father is-someone with vision and the ability to achieve results."

Rashid was charming, Bethanne thought to herself. It was probably second nature to him, which would go a long way in achieving his ends.

"So how is our charade going? No accusations of impossibility?" she asked.

"No one would dare question my word," he said.

"Good."

"My mother expects us for dinner tonight. I accepted on behalf of both of us."

"She'll spot the incongruity."

"I fully expect her to question you about everything. It's up to you to make sure you allay any suspicions. One thing to keep in mind, if she discovers who your father was, she will never believe the relationship."

She resented his suggesting she would be less than worthy of being considered as a wife for the sheikh because of her father.

"I have done nothing wrong. And I don't believe my father has, either."

"Nevertheless, don't volunteer that information."

The sooner she found out the truth, the better, Bethanne fumed.

"Down there, circle around," he said.

Spotting a chain of oil rigs off the sh.o.r.e, she angled down slightly. "Are those the rigs you wanted to see?" One in the distance seemed to shimmer in the heat, gold flames reaching high. "Is that one on fire?" she asked in disbelief as they flew closer.

"d.a.m.n. I was hoping it wasn't. If Khalid is in the midst of it, I'll skin him alive."

She blinked at the vehemence of his tone. Who was Khalid? Did Rashid suspect the man had started the fire?

She contacted air traffic control to alert them to her altered plan, then began a wide sweep to the right around the chain of derricks. The last one in the line billowed flames, easily seen from their height. How frightening it would be if they were closer.

"How do you put out oil fires?" she asked, keeping a distance from where the heated air would be rising. Even at this distance they rocked slightly from the thermals.

"Best left to the experts. Which Khalid is. Not that it's any guarantee of his safety."

"And Khalid is?" she asked quietly, taking in his tenseness as he stared at the scene below.

"My brother."

"Oh."

Bethanne made the wide circle twice, then Rashid told her to return to the airport. "I need a phone."

"Don't forget this aircraft is equipped with the latest in satellite technology," she said, feeling a bit like an ad on television.

"I had, thank you." He rose and headed for the back of the plane.

"Whoosh," Bethanne said, feeling the atmosphere around her grow lighter with him gone. She hoped Khalid wasn't in the thick of things or he was sure to get the full brunt of his brother's anger.

How odd that his brother fought fires. They had more than enough money to hire the best. Why put his life on the line?

She wished she knew more about Rashid and his family. Her father had held the family in high esteem. He had enjoyed working for them, although he hadn't told her much about them. She couldn't deny she was attracted to the man, but it would be wiser to ignore that attraction. Where did she think it could lead? The pretense would end once Rashid finalized his important deal.

A short while later, she lined up the jet on the glide path the tower indicated. The landing was as smooth as silk. She taxied to the hangar and cut the engines.

"Now what?" she wondered aloud as she began the end of her light checklist.

"You return to the villa, I to work," Rashid said from the door. "Nice flight, thank you."

Bethanne felt a rush of pleasure at his words. Not every multigazillionaire even noticed the people who worked for him, much less offered any praise for a job well done.

"Nice aircraft," she responded. "Were you able to use the phone feature?"

"It worked perfectly. The ride was comfortable. The appointments are just as I wanted. I'm sure I'll have years of use from it."

Bethanne pictured him lounging in the cabin for flights around the Middle East or as far as Europe. This model was the best plane Starcraft produced and she was pleased the buyer seemed satisfied.

"Was your brother at the fire?"

"Yes, and says he has it under control."

"Scary job."

"Dangerous, too. I have instructed one of my drivers, Teaz Suloti, to drive you wherever you wish while visiting. Teaz speaks English. Of course, you have complete use of the villa. The library has a number of books in English."

"Thank you."

"I'll pick you up at six-thirty tonight. We'll dine with my mother at her place at seven."

"Right. Shouldn't I know more about you if we're pretending to be involved?"

"Like?"

"Oh, come on. People who know each other and are attracted to each other want to know more about the other person. The early stages are questions and reminiscences and all. Did I misunderstand or do you want people to think we are on the brink of an engagement?"

"You are correct. I had forgotten."

"Forgotten what?"

"How people who are involved act."

She frowned. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Nothing you need be concerned with. I'll come earlier than planned and brief you on important parts."