A Wife for the Surgeon Sheikh Read online

  ‘You must do what you have to do,’ she told him, resting her hand on his shoulder. ‘With the helpers you have given us, Nim and I will be fine.’

  He nodded and touched her hand where it still lay on his shoulder—a thank-you kind of touch, she knew, for all it sent a cascade of shivers down her spine.

  ‘I’ll drop you home,’ Malik said quietly, and although the word evoked images of the home she’d had and the life she’d led, she knew, given time, she could get used to their new ‘home’. Especially once she went back to work and life began to feel normal...

  * * *

  Malik literally dropped Lauren at the house, feeling bad that he did no more than open the car door for her and kiss her lightly on the cheek, before heading back to the council chambers in the palace where things were in such turmoil he wondered if he really wanted the job of sorting it all out.

  But apart from it being the right thing to do—taking Lauren to the hospital—he’d also wanted to.

  Wanted to spend a little time in her calming presence, to feel her close to him, smell the lingering scent of roses in her hair.

  He groaned to himself, aware there’d be less turmoil in the council if he went along with marrying a Madani woman, aware also, if he pushed through his marriage to Lauren, the decision could make life here difficult for her.

  And that was the last thing he wanted, for the more he saw of her, the more he respected and admired her—loved her, even?

  No way! It was attraction he was feeling, and her response to his kiss the previous evening suggested it wasn’t all one-sided.

  But love?

  It was a concept that sat uncomfortably in his mind, for love—apart from his love for Tariq and their younger sister—hadn’t featured much in his life.

  Besides which, he’d lost both of them—both the people he’d loved.

  Would he risk it again?

  He shook his head, more to shake away the thoughts than to answer an unanswerable question.

  So, back to the endless arguments, and back to his search through the palace occupants for the person who had killed his brother, because while that person was alive and still plotting, Nimr could be in danger.

  He drew up at the palace, aware that the place where he’d grown up had changed.

  Or had his own suspicion charged the atmosphere around him?

  The day dragged on, with arguments and counter-arguments, the council breaking into small discussion groups—talking, talking, talking, something his people loved to do.

  And all he could think about was getting back to his mother’s house in time to sit with Nimr while he had his dinner, read him a bedtime story, then maybe persuade Lauren to dine with him, to spend some time alone with her, walk in the rose garden, perhaps.

  Excitement stirred, and he forced his mind back to whatever discussion was currently raging around him.

  * * *

  ‘Is there trouble?’ Lauren asked, seeing the lines of tiredness in Malik’s face.

  ‘I will sort it,’ he said, but Lauren knew when they’d sat with Nim while he’d had dinner, then read the bedtime story together, that something had been worrying Malik.

  Would he tell her?

  Let her share the burden?

  It was what she wanted if they were to have a real relationship—a sharing of concerns as well as joys.

  And just where had the idea of a ‘real’ relationship come from? A few touches? A kiss?

  But as she asked herself the question, she knew, for whatever reason, that was what she wanted.

  ‘I will handle it,’ he said again when she asked over dinner. ‘Let’s talk about Nimr. Who are these friends he spoke of?’

  So he wasn’t going to share, but that was okay—they were still virtual strangers, really.

  Added to which, this was a very different culture from her own, and even in the short time she’d been here, she had become very aware of that.

  She changed the subject, talking about Nim, hoping some general chat might help him relax.

  ‘Keema’s sister has two boys, one a year older than Nim and one a year younger. The sister brought them over to play and Nim just loved having the company, although he’s turning into a show-off, acting as though the leopard cubs, and camels, and even your falcons are his.’

  ‘Boys have their own way of levelling things out,’ Malik said, smiling at some memory of his own. ‘But that is good. He needs some friends and I know Keema’s family.’

  ‘Is that important?’ Lauren asked. ‘Will you always have to be aware of who his friends are? Is it because you think he’s still in danger?’

  And if Malik had looked weary when she’d first seen him, he looked exhausted now.

  ‘My instinct—no, my belief—is that no one would openly attack a member of the royal family here in Madan. We are too revered by the people. There would be public outrage, and that is why I wanted you here, not in Australia. But until I find who harmed his father, I cannot take any chances,’ he said, anger twisting through the tiredness in his voice.

  Lauren waited, knowing there was more—wishing she could do something, help him in some way.

  ‘So, until I do find the person behind Tariq’s death, Nimr will be guarded, not by soldiers with rifles but by people who will shadow him at all times. Ordinary people in appearance—unobtrusive, but still there.’

  He turned to her with a tired smile.

  ‘Did I not promise you that?’

  He sounded so stressed she was sorry she’d brought it up, so she stood up and held out her hand.

  ‘Let’s walk in the garden—forget all the bad stuff and just enjoy the peace and beauty.’

  They walked in silence, arm in arm, Lauren happy to be with him, this man she was getting to know. She’d seen him as a caring professional at the hospital, had watched his gentle interaction as he eased himself into Nim’s life, and read his tortured soul when he’d spoken of his brother and of the plight of his people as they entered a new age.

  But as they walked the scented paths, she felt him relaxing, and when they kissed in the shadowy colonnade she knew he wasn’t thinking of his country’s problems, or of revenge, for his body told her of his need for physical comfort—something that had been missing from her life too in recent years.

  ‘We are not married yet, but I will marry you—even if it means leaving my country to live in yours, or anywhere you choose.’

  He’d interrupted her in mid-kiss so it took her a few seconds to catch on to what he was actually saying.

  She drew back far enough to see his face, although their arms still linked their bodies. And although it had shaken her, she’d leave the last bit of his explanation for another time. Right now, tired and worried as he was, he needed reassurance, and something inside her wanted to give it to him.

  ‘I don’t need a promise of marriage from you to take this further, Malik. We’re both adult enough to admit there’s an attraction between us—our kisses have proved that—so what’s to stop us finding pleasure in each other without strings, or ties, or any thought for the future?’

  He kissed her again, so deeply and thoroughly Lauren felt herself melting, sagging against his body as her body demanded more.

  Lifting her effortlessly into his arms, he strode with her along the colonnade and in through filmy curtains to a room in one of the smaller suites.

  A lamp glowed faintly beside a massive bed that enveloped them both as he set her down and lay with her, kissing, murmuring words she didn’t understand, hands learning her body as hers learned his.

  But for all they’d slowed their pace, in the end desire took control and it was a frantic coupling, both of them half-dressed, until they lay exhausted, still entwined, their bodies exchanging silent messages where skin met skin, or pulse met pulse.

  ‘This is not how it should have
been!’ Malik muttered, what seemed like a long time later but was probably just as soon as he could breathe normally enough to speak.

  ‘You didn’t enjoy it?’ Lauren teased, and he took her in his arms, turning her to lie on top of him, holding her close.

  ‘More than I could ever say,’ he murmured against her neck. ‘But I must go, and Nimr will want to find you in your own bed in the morning. Shall we walk together before we part?’

  It was more than a question, yet not quite entreaty. This man, she knew for certain, would never beg.

  But she understood he needed her to walk with him, to normalise things once again.

  ‘Of course,’ she teased. ‘However would I find my bedroom if I don’t come in the front door and count the rooms I pass until I come to mine?’

  He laughed and held her closer.

  ‘You are special,’ he said, and the unexpectedness of the words—not a declaration of love or even desire—warmed her body in a way she’d never felt before.

  An everyday word, but it drove deep into her heart and banished the bits of uncertainty his earlier words had left behind.

  And much as she longed to know what was going on in his world, she knew he was a man brought up to protect the womenfolk in his life from trouble and concerns.

  Sharing these with a woman would be totally alien to him, which didn’t stop her hoping that one day he might.

  * * *

  Malik drove back to the palace where he was staying until they could marry. Back to the discord and scheming and some people’s determination he should not marry Lauren.

  He’d kind of let that slip tonight when he’d spoken of marriage, but doubted she’d picked up on it. He hoped she hadn’t as he didn’t want to worry her. She’d already carried fear as her shadow for four years—did she not deserve some peace and security?

  And how could he explain the council of elders to a newcomer anyway? Explain that while he might eventually be regent and head of the country until Nimr came of age, the elders acted more like a Western parliament with the right to make laws.

  In this case a particularly divisive and inexplicable law.

  But could he leave his country?

  Betray his people by leaving when they needed him most?

  He knew he couldn’t—wouldn’t—for all it would be the easiest of solutions.

  So he’d have to fight, and after tonight, and a taste of what could be between Lauren and himself, how could he not?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE MEASLES EPIDEMIC struck swiftly and viciously, five children presenting at the hospital with a rash giving warning of what was to come.

  ‘Five in one day—how bad is it out there?’ Malik growled at Lauren, who’d come in answer to an urgent summons, leaving Aneesha and Keema to entertain Nim.

  ‘Has no one been vaccinated?’ she asked, and saw him shake his head gloomily.

  And much as she’d have loved to touch him on the arm, to offer comfort of some kind, they were at the hospital, there were people everywhere, and a touch was out of the question.

  Which was probably just as well, considering how his touches distracted her.

  ‘I did set up a vaccination programme when I first returned from my specialty four years ago, fired up with enthusiasm to save the children of my country. But my father was ailing and the elders didn’t push it. I should have overseen it but, with Tariq missing and then dead, and the new hospital being built, it was all I could do to keep working at my job, let alone think of other things.’

  ‘And the hospital staff?’

  ‘At least they have all had every vaccination and inoculation available.’

  ‘That’s great! Can we get a good supply MMR vaccine flown in?’ Lauren asked. ‘If we can get enough from outside sources, we can start vaccinating now, children first, then the adults because it won’t spare anyone. School children we can do at school.’

  Offering practical help was better than touching, but he paled and said, ‘Nimr, he’s vaccinated?’

  He really, really needed that touch.

  She made do with a nod.

  ‘Me too, and you should have been before you worked in a hospital. What about palace staff? The staff at your mother’s house?’

  ‘I did them myself, back when I started it.’

  ‘So some of them can help by going out and convincing people to come. Have we staff enough to cover the actual vaccinations?’

  * * *

  Malik had to smile at the passion in this woman, who had leapt on the problem like a—well, tiger—and was following thought alleys he hadn’t even considered.

  And much as he’d have liked to drag her into the nearest broom cupboard for a quick kiss—or just a hug—he ignored the physical sensations that being near her always brought, and went with practical instead.

  ‘I will get whatever we need. Some vaccine is on the way, but you are right. Using the media to tell people to come will not be enough, we need women talking to other women. Adults who contract it can be at more risk of complications than children.’

  ‘And maybe we can designate a space in a ward for the vaccinations or—’

  She stopped and looked up at him.

  ‘Would they come to your mother’s place? We could do it in the garden—in the colonnade—so the children could play outside while parents waited in line.’

  ‘And we’d be keeping them well away from the hospital where the infection could easily be spread.’

  He smiled at her, so aware of her it was a wonder she couldn’t feel the heat.

  ‘It will be an added incentive—visiting a big house and a garden. All people are curious.’

  * * *

  And Lauren, when she had time to think about it, had been amazed at just how quickly her idea turned into reality. Refrigerators were set up to hold the vaccine, experienced nurses brought in to administer it, house staff set to keeping order in the queues while others went out to markets and meeting places to hand out information and talk to families, both offering vaccinations for the well and explaining how to care for the sick, with plenty of fluids and bed rest until the rash began to disappear.

  But that was happening in a different world, for at the hospital both children and adults with serious complications had been admitted, and the staff, Lauren included, were run off their feet caring for the influx of patients.

  She saw Malik most days, though often he was there when she was snatching some sleep in the nurses’ quarters at the back of the building while he took on the night duty. At least Nim was safe and happy, and over the last two years had become used to her odd hours. Sometimes, when she’d been on duty at home—especially on split shifts—she’d caught only glimpses of him for a few days, but had made it up to him on her days off.

  Graeme was a constant daytime presence on the wards, dispensing both drugs and advice. The most common problems were flu-like symptoms and high fevers, although many of the children also suffered from sore eyes.

  Their most complicated case was a young girl who’d had seizures brought on by her fever, and though she was stabilised, she was listless and pale—uncomplaining but far from well.

  ‘Let’s take some blood, there has to be something else going on,’ Malik suggested, on a rare day he’d appeared on the ward while she was there.

  And simply standing beside him as they looked at the child was enough to keep Lauren going.

  ‘Encephalitis,’ she said, remembering a list she’d read of possible complications. About one in a hundred children could contract pneumonia and one in a thousand encephalitis. ‘Can we do a spinal tap for some cerebrospinal fluid?’

  Malik nodded.

  ‘I’ll speak to her parents, get a brain scan too, to check for swelling, not that there is much we can do—although anti-viral medicines and immuno-suppressants might help.’

&nb
sp; He moved towards the door of the darkened room, the blinds drawn to protect the child’s eyes, then turned back to Lauren, who was checking on the bag that dripped fluid into the sick girl.

  ‘I don’t know how I would cope if it was Nimr,’ he said, and the gruffness in his voice told Lauren just how deeply his feelings were for his new-found nephew.

  ‘Nim will be fine,’ she told him, keeping the arms she wanted to put around him firmly by her side. ‘So let’s get these other kids better.’

  But as more people were answering repeated radio and television broadcasts to be vaccinated, the situation at the house became overwhelming. More vaccine was flown in, and Lauren, aware the children’s hospital was managing—just—turned her attention to vaccination.

  With Aneesha beside her to translate when necessary, she joined the nurses at the house, reforming the system so they had three orderly queues—women with children, men with children and adults on their own.

  ‘In a story, romance could blossom in the adults’ queue,’ she said to Aneesha as they took a break on the edge of the fountain, eating watermelon from a tray, replenished often and left on a bed of ice, for everyone to help themselves.

  ‘Is it my imagination of are there more children here than earlier?’ she asked, and Aneesha smiled.

  ‘Those at school come when it finishes at one o’clock. They want to play with Nimr in the garden.’

  ‘Girls and boys?’ Lauren asked as she peered at the children dancing along the garden paths, seeking the head of one she knew.

  Aneesha smiled.

  ‘At this age they are just children and it is good for them to play together. Your Nimr is a leader, see him there...’ She pointed to the far corner where some kind of fort seemed to have appeared. ‘He organised that old building into a pretend castle—I think a castle, although sometimes it is a spaceship. While I am with you, Keema watches from afar, while other staff are always nearby.’

  Lauren closed her eyes, thinking how little she knew of her son’s life these days. They still had their morning cuddles when he filled her in on what he’d been up to and most days she was home from work in time to sit with him at dinner—Malik joining them when he could—but it had been a shift in the level of their togetherness.