Date with a Surgeon Prince Page 6

  ‘Right now they are all at the old palace where one of my nieces is preparing her wedding chest. Years ago it would have meant a trip to London and Paris and taking over hotels, having stores like Harrods opening at night especially for them, but now they’ve discovered the internet, shopping has taken on a whole new dimension.’

  There was more than a touch of cynicism in his voice so it took a moment for Marni to absorb what he’d said—taking over an entire store?—and then she wondered about the wedding chest. Should she ask? No, another diversion would take her further from where she needed to be.

  ‘Okay,’ she began then found she didn’t know how to continue. She gazed out at the desert sands but there was no help to be had there. What had he been saying before she was thrown off track?

  Shopping, suitable clothes, protocol—

  ‘Okay?’ Gaz prompted gently, and she turned to face him once again, his gentle smile causing so much confusion she stuttered into speech.

  ‘B-b-but if it’s just pretend—just for your sisters—do I have to do all that formal stuff? The “by your side” stuff? I’ve got my job, you know—well, of course you do—so surely…’

  The words fell off her lips as something in his eyes—intensity, or was it intent?—caused such severe palpitations in her chest she couldn’t breathe.

  It had been intent she’d read. She realised that the moment his lips, once again, closed on hers.

  Her mind shut down completely.

  Was it a minute or an hour later that he released her? She had no idea, only knew she felt so weak and shaken she had to lean against him, her breath coming in little gasps, her brain slowly returning to work, though not offering much by way of explanation as to why this man, of all the men she’d met in her life, should have such a disastrous effect on her.

  Nothing to do with the fact he’s the most gorgeous guy in the known universe, the voice in her head suggested.

  There was that, of course, but why her?

  He eased away, smiling at her, a teasing smile, as if he knew exactly how much damage his kisses did to her.

  ‘I don’t think we have to pretend about the attraction between us,’ he murmured, and the shiver that ran down Marni’s spine told her just how dangerous this situation was.

  ‘But that’s different. It’s the betrothal thing—that’s the pretence.’

  She was babbling again!

  ‘So you’re not denying the attraction?’

  The words may have been innocent but she heard the challenge behind them and glared at him.

  Pulling herself together with a mammoth effort, she tried again.

  ‘I’m not talking about the attraction, Gaz,’ she began, then hoped she wasn’t breaking some unknown protocol by continuing to call him that. ‘I know I started this nonsense about the betrothal by showing you the picture and, yes, when you said it would help you out, I kind of went along with it. But appearing in public, wearing clothes, meeting people, deceiving them really, well, I don’t think that’s quite me.’

  ‘You’d rather meet people naked?’

  It was the glint in his eyes as much as the words that made her want to belt him one. Except she probably would be thrown into a dungeon if she hit the ruling prince.

  Would that be such a bad idea? A nice cool jail cell with no diversions?

  ‘You know what I mean,’ she retorted. ‘It’s not so much the fuss and public stuff, though that’s mind-boggling enough, but the—the deception. I mean, your family, your mother, people who care about you, what are they going to think when the pretence ends and I go back home?’

  He smiled and took her hand, rubbing his thumb across the backs of her fingers, sending tingling messages along her nerves and searing heat through her body.

  ‘Don’t worry about that for an instant—they’ll all blame me. I’ve been a lost cause to the family ever since I insisted on studying medicine instead of business or commerce. It’s one of the reasons I thought I was safe from the ruler’s job, but as it turned out, there are so many people in our parliament and public service with all the right degrees, the fact that I don’t have a huge amount of knowledge about international business isn’t a disadvantage.’

  Somehow his mood had changed and Marni sensed hidden depths in this man, for all he joked about the ‘job’.

  ‘But you do know people, surely that’s more important than a business degree,’ she said softly, and his hand tightened on her fingers.

  ‘Ah!’ he said softly. ‘So someone understands.’

  Uncertain what he meant, Marnie was about to ask, but he’d turned to look out at the desert again, and she sensed a remoteness in him, as if he was disconnected by his thoughts.

  Disconnected from her as well.

  Did someone not want him to be the ruler?

  Someone in his family?

  Or did he feel detached from his family?

  Had it been a real problem for him, going against their wishes to follow his own path? He had certainly seized on her silly betrothal photo, grabbing it like a drowning man would grab a tiny stick, so his sisters’ representations must have been bothering him.

  And now you’re back at the betrothal!

  Had he guessed that her thoughts had returned to it that he turned back to her and lifted his hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear?

  ‘Maybe our betrothal could turn out to be more than a pretence, Marni,’ he suggested, his voice deep and husky.

  With desire?

  She was still wondering when he continued, ‘We may not know each other very well, but there’s time enough to remedy that, and you can’t deny the attraction between us.’

  His eyes held hers.

  No, she couldn’t deny the attraction, but…

  She shook her head.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I simply cannot imagine what would lie ahead, so how could I possibly agree to anything?’

  ‘I would be there with you all the way. I would give you every support, give you anything you needed or wanted,’ he said, his voice so serious she found herself shivering, although the air was warm.

  The tension in the shade of the tent was palpable now, so thick Marni imagined she could feel it pressing against her skin and taste it on her lips.

  But how to break it?

  ‘Let’s just go with the betrothal for now,’ she said. ‘And maybe keep it quiet—just letting your sisters—your family—know. You can use the excuse of Pop’s operation—blame me for not wanting a fuss at this stage. Then if you need me to accompany you to official functions, I can start slowly, so it isn’t some big deal but something people gradually get used to. Would that be possible?’

  He rested his palm against her cheek.

  ‘Anything is possible,’ he said, as he slid the hand behind her head to draw her close.

  The kiss was so gentle she responded in spite of herself.

  Responded and was lost.

  Admittedly, with Pop and Nelson’s opinion of her always in her mind, she’d come late to the kissing scene, although she’d eventually made up for lost time, exchanging kisses with any number of young and not so young men over the years.

  But had she ever experienced a kiss that made her toes tingle?

  A kiss that sent shivers spiralling along her nerves, sensitising the skin at the back of her neck, along her arms, across her breasts, not to mention other places previously immune to spiralling shivers?

  Not that she could recall.

  And surely if she had, she wouldn’t have the other problem.

  Dear heaven, she was melting, disintegrating, a helpless mass of quivering flesh.

  His hand was moving on her arm, leaving lines of heat where it had touched yet still his lips held her in thrall, held her and seduced her, his searching tongue making promises she barely understood.

  Eventually he lifted his head, looking down into what was undoubtedly a face flushed scarlet by her reactions.

  ‘I’ll need to find you somewhere to live
,’ he said as calmly as if he hadn’t just destroyed any common sense and will-power she might once have had. ‘The harem would swamp you, drive you mad with all their so-called help. My sister, Tasnim, the pregnant one, would be best. Her husband is away so she’ll enjoy the company. She’s banished all the women in her family to the main harem because they were fussing over her too much, but she’ll love to have you visit.’

  Still trying to collect herself post-kiss, Marni could only stare at him. Then, as the words took on a slightly suggestive air, she pulled herself together.

  ‘I have a perfectly good little flat at the hospital,’ she reminded him.

  He smiled in such a way the shivers started all over again, but rather than pointing out that he couldn’t be seen visiting her at the nurses’ quarters, he merely said, ‘Security!’ and helped her up off the mat, leading her back to the car, seeing she was buckled in.

  Was he really intending to go through with this absurd betrothal? Gaz asked himself as he eased the vehicle back down the dune.

  He thought of the kiss and the fires it had lit within him, then shook his head at the absurdity of the situation.

  Was it lust or simply one-upmanship against his sisters that was making him push it?

  And if it was lust, wasn’t becoming betrothed to her the one certain way of ensuring he couldn’t act on the lust—well, not beyond a few very heated kisses?

  Very, very heated kisses, he amended, thinking of the taste of her, the softness of her lower lip as he’d sucked it gently into his mouth…

  He glanced at the woman who sat so quietly beside him, the colour subsiding from her cheeks. If he could only get past his visions of how good they’d be in bed, maybe he could think clearly about the future—the immediate future anyway.

  Men in his family didn’t marry for sex. Such appetites could be satisfied in other ways with willing partners who were well looked after financially when the arrangement ended.

  Not that he’d had any such arrangements, though there’d been affairs, some almost serious, during his student and university days.

  But marriage?

  Essentially, one married to produce children, but also, more often than not, for political reasons—uniting warring tribes, gaining power against a neighbour, improving the bloodlines of their breeding horses or camels.

  He found himself chuckling at the thought and when the blonde who’d exploded into his life turned towards him, he shared his thoughts—not the children part, but the rest.

  She grinned at him.

  ‘Well, if your camels need some improvement in their genetic make-up then even being betrothed to me might ruin your chances with someone whose father has vastly superior camels.’

  He reached out to touch the silvery fair hair.

  ‘My camels will just have to take their chances, although you have no idea what a sacrifice I’ll be making. My family have bred beautiful camels for generations. And we expect to win most of the prizes at the annual camel show.’

  ‘A camel show? The camels all on show? How are they judged?’

  Her interest was so apparent he felt warmth stirring inside him—something quite different from the heat he’d experienced earlier. This was pleasure, pure and simple—pleasure at how this woman took such an interest in everything about his country, a genuine interest that went beyond politeness. He wanted to stop and talk to her again, this time about the camels—his camels—but the palace was in sight and he’d already stolen too much time out of his schedule.

  He slowed the car then stopped so he could explain.

  ‘I must go back to my office before someone sends out a search party, but Fayyad will drive you to the hospital and wait while you pack, then take you to Tasnim’s house. Fayyad will let me know when you are on your way and I will meet you there. In the meantime, I will phone her and explain and organise a permanent driver for you if you want to continue to work while we make the necessary arrangements for our betrothal.’

  He saw the objections rising in her mind but before she could launch them he claimed her lips once again, thankful for the darkly tinted windows in the vehicle for they were right outside the palace gates.

  He felt her resistance, but only momentarily…

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MARNI SANK DEEP into the softly cushioned seats in the black limousine and battled to make sense of the day. Not even a full day, for it was still early afternoon. Yet here she was being driven to her flat under orders to pack and go off to stay with a total stranger—a pregnant stranger—who would help her deal with being betrothed to the country’s ruler.

  How had this happened to her?

  She certainly hadn’t set out to become betrothed to the man—all she’d wanted was for Pop to have his operation.

  Pop!

  What on earth could she tell Pop?

  She heard the groan that escaped her lips then realised she needn’t tell him anything—not yet. All she had to do was email to say she’d kept her part of the bargain and met Ghazi, and she expected Pop to let her know the date of his operation.

  Ghazi!

  The Gaz-Ghazi thing was a whole different problem. Yes, she’d been attracted to Gaz right from the beginning, but the man she’d been kissing wasn’t Gaz, he was Prince Ghazi and given that the betrothal was a pretence, she really should stop responding to his—Gaz’s? Ghazi’s?—kisses.

  Shouldn’t she?

  Nothing was going to come of it—of the kissing business. Given her private reason for coming to Ablezia, she might well have had an affair with Gaz if things had turned out differently, like if he’d been Gary from Australia, but she had a nasty suspicion that rulers of places like this didn’t have affairs with women to whom they were publicly betrothed. With other women probably, but not their betrotheds.

  And as for the other nonsense he’d been talking—about how maybe the betrothal would not be a pretence—well, that was just ridiculous. He was the ruler of his country. He might have joked about a suitable marriage for the good of his camels, but surely, in all seriousness, there would be certain expectations of him in regard to marriage—either political or familial—and she doubted she’d be considered suitable by any of his advisors or powerbrokers.

  She buried her face in her hands. ‘Oh, Pop, what have you got me into?’ she whispered, but Pop was a million miles away and hopefully in hospital so he was no help. She’d just have to sort this out on her own.

  Why in the name of fortune was he doing this? The question lurked in the back of Ghazi’s brain as he talked with supplicants who had been given lunch while waiting for his final decisions on their claims. His officials looked into all the claims then gave him their opinions so he could make a judgment. He discussed land rights, and the sale of camels, and fixed a bride price for the father of a young woman keen to marry out of her family—marry a foreigner, in fact.

  Ironic, that! Should he be offering a bride price to Marni’s grandfather?

  Marni!

  Her name sang its way into his conscious mind and he needed Mazur’s discreet cough to bring him back to the subject at hand—an altercation over the placement of two stalls in the souk.

  ‘Your families have worked stalls side by side for generations,’ he told the two men sitting cross-legged in front of him. ‘Why the trouble now?’

  ‘It’s his daughter,’ one said.

  In chorus with, ‘It’s his son,’ from the second man.

  ‘They like each other?’ Ghazi guessed.

  ‘Too much,’ the father of the daughter spat. ‘But she is already betrothed to a distant cousin—from when she was four—but young people these days!’

  The situation was far too close to this morning’s astonishing revelations, and he was feeling more and more uncomfortable as the two men explained all the reasons why their children should not marry, and therefore why their stalls should be moved so the young people were not in constant contact.

  ‘A betrothal at such a young age need not stand,’ G
hazi said cautiously, ignoring the fact that he was pushing for just such a betrothal to stand in his own situation. ‘Times have changed, my friends, and if these two love each other, instead of fighting, can you not put your heads together and work out a way for them to marry and be happy? After all, you could then combine your stalls and have twice the space and twice the customers, surely. I could possibly arrange extra space for the expanded stall, by way of a marriage gift for the couple.’

  Behind him, he heard Mazur’s sharp intake of breath, and knew he’d overstepped some invisible barrier, but if the two young people were genuinely in love…

  He heard the phrase—genuinely in love—echo in his head and wondered if he’d lost his mind.

  ‘I want to see both of them,’ he said, ‘to hear from them how they feel. Make sure they are at the next citizens’ meeting.’

  Thus dismissed, the two men departed, united now, he had no doubt, in horror over what he had suggested.

  ‘Genuinely in love!’ Mazur mocked. ‘What on earth has got into you, Ghazi? Since when was love a factor in the settlement of disputes? Or in marriage, for that matter?’

  Ghazi turned to the man who was not only his first advisor but also his best friend, aware he had to be careful.

  ‘We must move with the times, Mazur,’ he said. ‘You know full well that the system of arranged marriages is not infallible—many such marriages fail and many of our people seek and are granted divorces. Maybe marrying for love will be more successful—and don’t start quoting me figures from the West where people do it all the time. I know about their divorce rates. But young people have always longed for love, so surely if they find it, can we deny it to them? Can we break up two families by standing in the way of these young people?’

  He was obviously losing his mind, Ghazi decided as Mazur gave a disbelieving snort and walked away.

  Surely it couldn’t have been the couple of kisses he’d shared with Marni that had him turning an age-old tradition on its head.

  Marrying for love?

  No wonder Mazur was snorting.

  Marni packed her things then sat on the bed in the small bedroom and tried to work out exactly what she was doing.