Date with a Surgeon Prince Read online

‘He always blamed himself for how my mother turned out, always seeking love in the wrong places. So it was Nelson who had to check I knew about the birds and the bees—he actually used those words—and he’d call me darling girl when he talked about growing up, and give me little lectures about believing in myself, and about honour and respect and loyalty—all the things he felt were most important in the way we live our lives, all the things Pop lived by but couldn’t put into words.’

  She looked up at the man she’d been leaning on, suddenly embarrassed by all she’d revealed.

  ‘Not that you need to know all that! It’s just the words brought it all back. I’m sorry. You’ve already been so good, and here I am babbling on about Nelson bringing me up.’

  The dark eyes were unfathomable, but as he moved she sensed what was coming and her body tightened as he dipped his head and kissed her on the lips.

  ‘I think I owe your Nelson a big favour,’ he said quietly, breathing the words against her skin, then his lips returned to hers and the kiss deepened, taking her away from the past and the present, to where sensation swamped all thoughts.

  CHAPTER NINE

  COULD SHE BLAME the relief that had set in after talking to Nelson, or was it just that this man had been so good, so kind and considerate, so there for her, that her response was so heated when he kissed her the second time?

  Somehow, as the kiss deepened, they’d moved, Ghazi in the chair, she mostly on top of him, her arms wound around his neck, her body snuggling against his.

  His hands were on her breasts, brushing across them, teasing them to a heavy longing, while his lips explored her face, kisses brushing eyelids, temple, the little hollow beneath her chin.

  Her hands explored his back, feeling the hard muscle beneath the white robe, and ranged across his head, his beautifully shaped head, dark hair cut close to the scalp, her fingers teasing at his ears, wanting more contact with his skin.

  Now his lips found hers again, deep, drugging kisses, while his hands travelled lower, fingers seeking sensitive parts while she squirmed against his hardness and wanted more and more of him, wanted the feel of his skin on hers, wanted to know him by touch, to tease him as he was teasing her.

  Could she?

  Awareness that she had never felt this way before—had never known she could—was somewhere in her consciousness, but buried deeply beneath the sensations she was experiencing.

  The sensations she was enjoying!

  Inflamed by his fingers, trembling on the brink, she heard him saying something but the words didn’t penetrate the fog of longing enveloping both her body and her brain.

  She moved and felt a shudder of release, a promise of things to come that she didn’t fully understand but knew she wanted.

  Her excitement must have stirred more arousal in him, for now they were joined in a macabre dance as they tried to strip each other’s clothes off, while still kissing, still touching, still stoking the fires in both their bodies.

  ‘There’s a couch, for emergency overnight stays,’ Ghazi said, half leading her, half carrying her towards an open door at the side of the office.

  She glimpsed a small bathroom then an even smaller room, as plain as a monk’s cell, one narrow bed against the wall, but Ghazi had stripped off his robe and stood before her, a snowy-white sarong tied around his waist—untied now, the full magnificence of the man revealed.

  Her lungs jammed, she couldn’t breathe—had to—

  He drew her close, her trousers and tunic gone, her bra disposed of next, his lips suckling on her breast, her body in a torment of need as his fingers slipped beneath her knickers, touching her already sensitised nub, and she knew the little whimpering noises were coming from her, although an occasional groan suggested he was as aroused as she was.

  Now on the bed, his fingers inside her, feeling the hardness of him against her soft abdomen, need outweighing any lingering doubt she might have had—need, and fear that he’d stop if she admitted—

  He mustn’t rush! Ghazi told himself.

  How could he not?

  Control was about the last thing on his mind now this woman who’d been driving him insane with desire was finally naked beneath, or nearly beneath him.

  Yet he wanted to savour this first experience of the two of them together, for her sake as much as for his, and the way he felt now he’d be rushing towards a finish like an adolescent boy!

  He cupped her flushed cheeks in his hands and pressed a kiss on her lips, slowing himself down, breathing deeply, allowing her time to…

  To say no?

  Could he stand it?

  He didn’t have to—not if the way she was returning his kiss was any indication. The kiss was surely her answer to his unspoken question, a kiss that burned along his nerves while her fingers teased his skin, trailing across his abdomen, his chest, brushing against his nipples.

  He knelt above her, pressing kisses on her pale skin, sliding his tongue across her nipples while she squirmed beneath the attention, her breath rasping in her throat.

  Trailing kisses down her chest, he teased her belly button with his tongue. Her hands were on his head, half holding him back, half urging him on.

  He kissed her lower, felt a flinch of uncertainty and returned to use his lips and tongue in torment on her breasts while his fingers did the exploration.

  He felt her tightness, warmth and slickness—heat—felt a tremble that told him she was ready, more than ready, her response to his attentions exciting him beyond reason—beyond control.

  He took her hand and cupped it around his length, urging her to guide him in. Her fingers were shaking, and he slid his hands beneath her buttocks, easing her off the bed so he could slide inside that hot, moist sheath.

  Slide inside now in one quick thrust, the idea of not rushing forgotten in his need to take her, make her his, and himself hers in the give and take of sexual pleasure.

  Her fingers slipped away, he thrust again, heard her cry out but it was too late—far too late—her movement beneath him driving him on. Her cries were different now, asking for more, needing more, seeking her satisfaction as well as his.

  Her body gripped him, her legs lifted to link around his back, they moved as one until he burst apart, collapsing on her, feeling the quivers in her body that told him she had found her own pleasure and release.

  But as common sense returned he realised what had happened and anger surged through him—anger at himself.

  He’d taken advantage of this woman at a time when she was most vulnerable, comforting her with kisses that had led to this, never for a minute dreaming she might be a virgin. Then he’d let the desire he’d held in check since he’d first met her take over, when he should have—

  Well, there was a lot he should have done.

  Al’ana! How was he to know? Women her age…

  He heaved himself away from her, sat up on the very edge of the narrow bed, his back to her, searching for something to say.

  ‘You should have told me,’ he finally managed, then realised the words had come out as an accusation, not an excuse.

  He felt her move behind him and watched as she slid off the bed, briskly gathering up her discarded clothing, her beautiful, slim body silvered by the moonlight through the window.

  His body stirred again, almost ready, but she’d straightened now and faced him.

  ‘And have you ridicule me?’ she demanded angrily. ‘Tell me men expect women of my age to be more experienced? Tell me you’re beyond wanting to teach a virgin about sex? I wanted it as much as you did, and I’m sorry if I disappointed you. Now, I’m going to have a shower and get dressed and I’d be grateful if you’d call a driver to take me back to Tasnim’s.’

  He sat on the bed as the bathroom door closed behind her, trying to make sense of the situation. First the virgin thing, then the things she’d said—she’d been mocked because of it?

  How hurtful!

  How damaging to her.

  And now he’d made things
worse.

  Or he thought he probably had.

  Seven sisters and he didn’t have any understanding whatsoever of women and the stuff that went on in their heads.

  Seduced by tears in grey-blue eyes and lips as soft as rose petals, he’d done the one thing he’d been determined not to do—made love to Marni.

  And having had her once…

  It didn’t bear thinking about, but he did know he couldn’t sit in the back of a dimly lit limousine with her while his driver took her home.

  He picked up the phone and asked Tasnim’s major domo to send a car to meet Marni at the entrance to the hospital, but his phone call alerted someone to where he was, because now the phone was ringing, Mazur asking him if he could call in at Nimr’s dinner on his way home. He was arguing about the uselessness of that as Marni slipped out of the bathroom, nodded once in his direction then headed out through his office towards the door.

  ‘Wait, I’ll walk you to the car,’ he called, while Mazur listed reasons he should do this one thing for his cousin.

  Marni turned then shook her head and disappeared from view.

  Lost in thoughts of what might have been, of should she have done it or shouldn’t she, and all the other questions that had arisen out of their coupling, it took Marni a while to realise the car she was entering already had a passenger.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Tasnim asked. ‘I know you phoned earlier to say you’d be late home, but I was a little worried, so when Hari, Nimr’s youngest brother, who was visiting, offered to come and collect you, I came along as well.’

  Marni took her hand and squeezed her fingers.

  ‘You are far too kind to me,’ she said. ‘I visited Safi, the little boy I’ve told you about, then Ghazi kindly said I could wait for my phone call from home in his office.’

  ‘Your grandfather’s operation? It was today? It went well?’

  ‘Yes, and, yes, and, yes,’ Marni said, and for a moment in her pleasure and relief at being able to report that she forgot what had happened after the phone call.

  But only for a moment.

  What on earth must Ghazi think of her?

  How could she have been so stupid as to think it would all be okay?

  ‘What was that?’

  She turned to Tasnim, aware the other woman had said something—had sounded concerned.

  ‘We’re going the wrong way,’ Tasnim repeated, pointing out towards the road.

  ‘I can’t help you but surely Hari knows the way. Ask him.’

  She hoped she didn’t sound as distracted as she felt. As far as she was concerned, Hari could take her out into the desert and drop her there.

  Tasnim rapped on the glass that separated the passengers from the driver but when Hari didn’t turn, she picked up the handpiece for the intercom, talking into it, then yelling into it.

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘The wretched boy! I don’t know why I agreed to let him drive us tonight. It’s just that his brother’s away somewhere—Fawzi, the other young one he hangs around with—and I thought he must be lonely to have come for a visit. Then when he wanted to play chauffeur I went along with it. This will be some bet they’ve had, or some daft joke they’ve dreamed up. The two of them are always up to something.’

  Tasnim was sounding angry and concerned enough to distract Marni from her morbid thoughts.

  ‘Can you phone your home? Tell someone what’s happening?’ Marni asked.

  Tasnim shook her head.

  ‘I was only coming for the ride to collect you. I didn’t think to bring my mobile. But you’d have yours.’

  Marni felt around her on the seat then remembered Hari—only she hadn’t realised it was Hari—taking her handbag as she’d got into the car. He’d put it on the front seat—behind that nice, impenetrable barrier.

  A smidgen of concern sneaked into her already tortured thoughts but considering Tasnim’s condition, surely it was best to pretend that it was all some kind of joke.

  ‘Well, as there’s nothing we can do, we’ll have to relax and go along with it,’ Marni said, almost pleased to have something other than Ghazi to consider. ‘Think of the baby and don’t let yourself get upset.’

  ‘Don’t let myself get upset? It’s ten o’clock at night and I’m usually in bed by nine these days. I was only up because Hari was there and he seemed to want company.’

  Tasnim’s voice was becoming more and more strident, and concern for her and her unborn child soon outweighed Marni’s guilt and anxiety over what had just happened with Ghazi.

  ‘Breathe deeply,’ she told Tasnim. ‘Calm yourself down. We’re in the car, we’re safe, and we really can’t do anything other than sit back, relax and wait to see what happens.’

  ‘I’ll kill him!’ Tasnim declared, leaning forward so she could hammer on the heavy screen.

  ‘Later!’ Marni said, capturing Tasnim’s hands and massaging them, forcing her to lie back against the seat, talking quietly until the distressed woman calmed down.

  Forget the joke, Marni now felt almost as much anger and murderous intent towards Hari but she kept it hidden, knowing the most important thing was to keep Tasnim as calm as possible. Eight months into her first pregnancy, a bout of hysterics was the last thing she needed.

  ‘We’re out on the desert road,’ Tasnim told her, and Marni looked out the car windows, surprised to see the city must be far behind them for there was nothing as far as she could see—well, nothing but the dunes and sand, lit by the headlights as the car raced up the broad highway.

  ‘It’s the road to the old palace. That’s Hari’s joke. He’s taking us to join the harem—he probably thinks that’s where all the women should be.’

  The idea that they were going somewhere specific seemed to calm Tasnim and she rested her head back against the seat, wriggled around to get comfortable, and promptly fell asleep.

  Leaving Marni alone with nothing but her memories of what had happened before she’d left the hospital—memories she didn’t want, things she most definitely didn’t want to think about.

  She thought of Pop instead, of how he must be feeling, picturing him in the CCU, all wired up to machines, tubes anchoring him to his bed. How he’d hate it, being so helpless, so reliant on others. Hopefully he wouldn’t be conscious enough to be aware of it.

  Her heart ached for him, but Nelson would be there…

  The car stopped, but definitely not at any palace for, looking around, Marni could see nothing but desert and more desert, and perhaps a cloud of dust, just visible in the distance, gradually revealing another vehicle as it came into the beams of the headlights.

  Hari got out of the car and opened Marni’s door.

  ‘You will die in the desert if you do anything foolish,’ he said, startling Marni so much she could only stare at him.

  ‘Die?’ she finally echoed weakly. ‘But you’re Hari, Nimr’s brother, why would you want us to die?’

  ‘I don’t want you to die, I’m just telling you what would happen if you ran off into the desert,’ he said, shifting uneasily, and looking anxiously towards the approaching vehicle. ‘Fawzi will explain.’

  ‘Have we been kidnapped?’ Marni asked, and Hari looked even more embarrassed.

  ‘Not for money,’ he finally blurted out. ‘We wouldn’t do anything like that.’

  ‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’ Marni demanded, but Hari had moved away from her and didn’t reply.

  The other vehicle was pulling up now, off the road but close enough for Marni to see it was a big four-wheel drive painted in the sandy camouflage colours of desert war vehicles.

  ‘Here’s Fawzi now,’ Hari said, with such evident relief that Marni knew that whatever was going on, it was Fawzi who was the organiser—Hari was the weak link, should she and Tasnim need one.

  ‘You’re talking to her,’ Fawzi said as he strode towards them. ‘I said no communication.’

  ‘But she asked—’ Hari began.

  ‘Bah!’
his brother said. ‘Just get her in the car and no talking. Where’s Tasnim?’

  ‘She’s asleep.’ Marni answered for the younger brother. ‘And she’s eight months pregnant so whatever arrangements you’ve been making, I do hope you’ve got an obstetrician or a midwife on hand because an upset like this could bring on the birth any minute.’

  Even in the dim light shed by the muted headlights she could see Hari’s face pale, but Fawzi only swore—well, Marni imagined he was swearing—and waved at his brother to get her into the bigger vehicle.

  ‘No, I’ll wake Tasnim and help her,’ Marni said, thinking she could slide in beside Tasnim and they could both refuse to budge. She doubted the young men would drag them out forcefully, their inbred respect for women too powerful to overcome. ‘You don’t want her going into shock,’ she added, for good measure.

  Both brothers looked concerned this time, and Marni realised, whatever was going on, and whatever they intended doing, she could use Tasnim’s condition as a weapon against them.

  Weapon! Was that a gun stuck in the belt of Fawzi’s tunic?

  If it was, then refusing to leave this car and get into the other one was no longer an option.

  Marni frowned at him.

  ‘Is that a gun?’ she asked, and heard the incredulity in her voice.

  He glanced down at it, telling her all she needed to know.

  ‘Then hide it somewhere else on your person. The last thing Tasnim needs is to see people with guns!’

  Especially young foolish people, she thought but didn’t say.

  The two young men began muttering at each other, Hari obviously getting more and more upset about the situation, but Fawzi seemed able to calm him in some way.

  Marni slid back into the car and shook Tasnim awake.

  ‘We’ve met up with Fawzi and have to get into his car,’ she told the sleep-bewildered woman. ‘I’m sure they don’t intend to harm us because every time I mention your pregnancy they get worried. Let’s just go along with things for now. I’m here with you and I’ll look after you, whatever happens.’

  Tasnim’s reaction was to burst into tears, which was hardly helpful, but eventually Marni got her transferred to the other vehicle, needing the help of both their kidnappers to get the heavily pregnant woman up into the high-set four-wheel drive.