Surgeon Prince, Cinderella Bride

by Ann Mcintosh

  Her awe only intensified when she was presented to her new father-in-law.

  At first Farhan’s resemblance to his father made her want to smile, but King Uttam’s steely scrutiny made her nape prickle with discomfort.

  “Princess Sara.” His voice matched his cool gaze, increasing her nerves.

  “Your Majesty,” she murmured, as she curtsied the way Mara had taught her, feeling slightly silly as she did so. Sara secretly thought all the pomp rather pointless. Nevertheless, despite the transient nature of her involvement, she wouldn’t embarrass Farhan by not following protocol.

  Well, unless it involved watching the school children, dressed in tropical colors, faces bright with pride and excitement, sing a traditional folk song. Then protocol and schedules could go hang.

  The Queen gave Sara a small smile, but had little to say beyond welcoming her, and Sara noticed the sadness in her eyes. It was so very similar to what she’d noticed in Maazin’s and she wondered if it had anything to do with the death of Crown Prince Ali and his wife, ten years before. When she’d read about the tragedy in the book she’d been given to familiarize herself with the country’s history, there’d been little detail. She’d wanted to ask Farhan what exactly had happened, but it seemed too intimate a subject to bring up.

  Now, even more than before, her curiosity was piqued.

  Thankfully, the King and Queen didn’t seem inclined to get to know her better, and they only exchanged small talk regarding their trip and the welcome ceremony. There was to be a family dinner later, but she breathed a sigh of relief when Farhan escorted her from the throne room after less than an hour.

  With the long flight from Dubai and the excitement of the day her neck muscles were aching and her body felt heavier than usual.

  Yet, when Farhan suggested she might want to rest for a couple of hours before she had to dress for dinner, she found herself saying, “Actually, I’d like to go to the hospital and check up on the people who were hurt this afternoon.”

  “That isn’t necessary, you know. There are perfectly competent doctors to look after them.”

  She shrugged lightly. “I’m sure there are, but I feel somewhat responsible. I just want to know how everyone is doing.”

  The glance he gave her made butterflies start fluttering in her stomach, and she was reminded of the moment they’d shared at the airport, when he’d looked at her in a way he never had before. When her heart had leapt, heat creeping through her veins to warm her through and through.

  Thankfully, this time his gaze didn’t linger on hers. Instead he turned back to look where he was walking.

  “We can certainly do that, if you wish, but it might cause a bit of a commotion. You are, after all, royalty now, not just a doctor popping in to check on her patients.”

  “Don’t remind me,” she muttered.

  He chuckled. “It gets easier, believe me.”

  As he summoned a car for them, and after she’d refused his offer for her to change, since he wasn’t going to, Sara went back over the events of the day.

  Farhan had been angry with her for running to help the young woman earlier. She’d seen it in his eyes. But there was something else bothering her, and she was in two minds about whether to tax him with it or not.

  Then she got distracted by the fact it was an SUV that was brought to a side door for them, and that Farhan, rather than a chauffeur, was going to drive it.

  “No Kavan to drive you?” she asked, since the other man had hardly seemed to leave Farhan’s side while they’d been in Canada and Paris.

  “When I’m here in Huban I usually drive myself, and don’t feel as though I need a bodyguard. I sometimes take him with me when I visit the other islands, but more for convenience than out of necessity. He has a pilot’s license, so he can fly if I want him to, and if I’m tired after a long day at a clinic, it’s often nice not to have to think about navigating narrow, winding roads.”

  There was something reassuringly normal about getting into the passenger seat, having him get behind the wheel.

  And that sense of normality made her relax for the first time that day, and gave her the courage to ask, “Earlier, I noticed you didn’t try to examine the baby’s mother. Was there a reason for that?”

  She was almost fearful of what he might say, since she couldn’t think of any good reason why he wouldn’t have done so, but there were a number of what she would consider bad ones.

  “Some of our more conservative residents don’t look kindly at their female family members being touched by males outside their family, even a prince. When I took her pulse, she pulled her arm away, so I didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for her, and didn’t try to do anything further.”

  Her relief was sharp, and a bit ridiculous. Why should she care whether he was a snob or not? She already knew he was arrogant, didn’t she? His being elitist shouldn’t make any difference, but it would have.

  “Ah, that makes sense, and explains the two female paramedics.” Rolling her head against the headrest so as to look at his profile, she asked, “Have you set up a women’s clinic yet? Somewhere the women can go, knowing for sure they will see a female doctor?”

  As they were saluted through a gate, Farhan brought the SUV to a stop to check for oncoming traffic, then made the turn before he replied.

  “It’s on my list of recommendations, which I suspect is gathering dust on the Minister of Health’s desk, or perhaps has already found its way into the dustbin.”

  That surprised her. “But you’re the Crown Prince. Shouldn’t they be doing what you say?”

  Farhan chuckled, but there was little amusement in the sound. “I was gone for a long time and, since coming back, have been made completely aware of how little influence I really have. It was a fight just to get more female paramedics trained. Perhaps if I’d been here over the last ten years it might be different but, as it is, I have to pick my battles.”

  Sympathy wasn’t something she’d ever expected to feel for her arrogant husband, but it moved through her now.

  “That must be incredibly frustrating for you. And, now that I think about it, would you have to set up a series of such clinics, for the various islands? I didn’t really consider the logistics of it.”

  He nodded. “For administrative purposes the islands are clustered into eight districts, each district having as few as one island or as many as five. My recommendation was to start with two clinics, one here in Huban and the other in the Southeast District, which is the next most populous, to serve as many women as possible.”

  “That makes sense,” she replied, distracted by the various sights they were passing.

  Beyond the windows was a combination of newer buildings and older, some colonial in style and others simple wooden structures. The city glowed like a jewel in the bright afternoon sun and, with the cerulean sea visible in the distance, it all made Sara’s heart lift and soar with pleasure.

  In Canada the winter winds were howling still, snow or slush and ice on the ground, everyone bundled up against the cold. Here in the southern hemisphere it was summer, and she knew from her research that the temperature wouldn’t get much lower even in the winter season.

  It felt so right. She’d always disliked winter. Oh, she was used to it, and fully equipped to get through it, but she’d had to monitor her moods to ensure she didn’t fall into depression, and use a daylight lamp to get the Vitamin D her body demanded.

  “It’s so beautiful,” she murmured.

  “Some of the other islands are even more so,” he replied, as they turned into the hospital grounds. “We’ll have to make arrangements for you to see some, if not all of them.”

  There was no more time to talk as they drew up beneath a portico, and she saw two women in somewhat old-fashioned nurses’ uniforms and a man in scrubs standing outside turn to stare.

  “Don’t
be surprised at the fuss that’s about to ensue,” he warned, as he opened his door, but there was a teasing tone to the remark, so Sara didn’t pay him too much mind.

  She should have though, as their arrival created excitement far beyond what she’d expected.

  “Y-Your Highnesses,” the young man outside the front door stammered. “I don’t think anyone told the director you’d be coming, or he’d be here to greet you.”

  “That’s fine, since he didn’t know. The Crown Princess wanted to check on the people hurt this afternoon,” Farhan replied.

  He looked as stern as usual, and both the doctor and nurses looked terrified, so Sara tried to defuse the situation by smiling at them and saying, “This isn’t an official visit, just a spur-of-the-moment thing. There’s no need to disturb the director.”

  “He’d be very displeased, Your Highness, if no one informed him. May I suggest coming with me to his office, or giving me the opportunity to call up and let him know you’re here?”

  Silently sighing to herself at the proposed delay, which would no doubt mean not seeing what she wanted to, Sara replied, “Of course you must tell him if you think that’s best.”

  Farhan interjected, “Dr...?”

  “Patel, Your Highness. Imran Patel.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Patel. You must have been exceptionally busy whenever I’ve been here in the past for us not to have crossed paths before.”

  The young doctor’s eyes blinked rapidly a few times before he replied, “I’m still very new here, sir. Doing a residency under Dr. Anwar.”

  “Ah, one of our finest internists.” He turned to Sara, and she couldn’t help noticing the twinkle in his eyes. He was up to something. “My dear, we should find Dr. Andrade, the director, so we don’t get Dr. Patel into trouble. While he and I do that, I’m sure these ladies will be happy to show you to the wards where the patients are.”

  She couldn’t help smiling back at him in appreciation. Their time was limited, and he knew she didn’t want to waste it with nonsense.

  “That’s a wonderful idea.” When she turned to the nurses, she only just stopped her smile turning into a grin at their expressions of mingled amazement and pride. “As long as it won’t be any trouble. I know how busy you nurses always are.”

  “Oh, no, Your Highness. No trouble at all,” the older of the two replied, while the younger one’s face glowed with a blush.

  Before any of them could change their minds, Sara headed into the hospital, the nurses a step behind.

  But, even with Farhan’s warning, she found it difficult to understand the upheaval that took place wherever she went in the hospital. People bowed, often with palms together, fingers pointing upward, some of the women curtsied, and work stopped as people stared at her going past. Many of the staff and patients seemed too tongue-tied to answer her questions, so she checked charts and said encouraging things to the injured, letting them know she hoped they recovered soon.

  It was tiring, and made the quick check-in she’d wanted take far longer than she’d expected. She’d been glad, but also disappointed, to hear the young mother and baby she’d helped at the airport had already been discharged. While she was happy neither had been seriously hurt, she’d also hoped to get one more chance to hold the baby.

  She also noted that while the hospital wasn’t as modern as those she was used to, with some of the wards open to the outer air and the layouts somewhat inefficient, it was scrupulously clean, and the equipment was up to date.

  As they were leaving the last patient on the women’s ward, she heard a low moan from behind a curtained bed, and stopped, arrested by the utter agony of it.

  “That’s not one of the patients from the airport, Your Highness,” Kadiah, her nurse and guide, said quickly.

  Too quickly, Sara thought.

  Ignoring Kadiah’s apparent hope she wouldn’t investigate, Sara stepped across and slipped between the curtains.

  There was a woman lying on the bed, curled into a ball, holding her abdomen. Perspiration dotted her face, and her lips were dry and cracked, but it was the low, rhythmic groaning that made the hair on the back of Sara’s neck stand up.

  Touching the patient’s face told Sara her temperature was elevated, as was her pulse when she checked it. Stepping to the foot of the bed, she picked up the chart stored there and quickly scanned the information. What she read made her blood boil.

  She turned to the younger nurse.

  “Deena, please go and find Prince Farhan. Ask him to come here, immediately.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE TWO NURSES froze for a moment, but before Sara could reiterate her command, Kadiah nodded at Deena, and the younger woman took off, speed-walking out of the ward.

  “Why hasn’t this woman been taken to surgery already?” Sara could hardly contain the anger in her voice. “It shows here that Dr. Patel diagnosed her with a ruptured appendix and abscess over three hours ago, and she’s been ill for over a week. If she’s not operated on as soon as possible she could develop sepsis, if she hasn’t already.”

  Kadiah explained, “Dr. Patel has been trying to contact the surgeon on call, Your Highness, but hasn’t had a response.”

  “But Prince Farhan is here now. Dr. Patel should have informed him of the problem and asked for his help.”

  “Yes, Your Highness, but we were specifically told not to bother the Crown Prince while he was on his honeymoon.”

  Taking a deep breath, Sara tamped down her emotions, consciously relaxing her grip on the clipboard in her hand. It was no use arguing about it now. The patient was all-important.

  “He’ll need an operating room, surgical nurses, and an anesthesiologist. Can you arrange that, please? As quickly as possible.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  She too rushed from the room, leaving Sara with the patient, whose name, according to the chart, was Eshaal Saleem. Anger still shimmered under her skin, but she acknowledged the unfairness of blaming either Dr. Patel or the nurses. They had been doing as they were told.

  Blowing out a calming breath, she slotted the chart back into its holder and looked around for something positive to do while she waited.

  There was a bowl of water beside the bed, a washcloth submerged in it. Fishing out the cloth, she wrung it out and leaned over to wipe the woman’s face.

  “You’ll be all right, Eshaal,” she murmured, hoping she was pronouncing her name correctly. “We’ll take good care of you.”

  The woman’s eyelids fluttered then lifted for a moment, before wearily closing again.

  As she ministered as best she could to the patient, Sara was suddenly struck with a disturbing thought.

  She had no way to know how Farhan would react to being volunteered to operate. It wasn’t something she’d given a moment’s thought to. In her eyes, it was the right thing to do.

  But would he feel the same way?

  Dread swamped her, making her hands tremble as she wrung out the cloth again. Despite earlier reveling in the heat, now the sultry air suddenly seemed so oppressive she could hardly catch her breath. When brisk footsteps heralded Farhan’s arrival, nausea threatened, and Sara swallowed thickly against it, afraid of revealing her weakness in front of strangers.

  In front of him.

  “Sara, you wanted to see me?”

  Why did he have to sound so grim, so terrifying, most of the time?

  Gathering all her courage, she turned to face him and, hoping he wouldn’t notice the sheen of perspiration on her forehead, lifted her chin.

  “Yes. I think you should examine this patient.”

  Farhan’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze sharpened. Without taking his eyes off Sara, he stepped farther into the cubicle to pick up Eshaal’s chart.

  “Oh?”

  He looked down to read the notations and Sara almos
t gasped with the relief of being released from the hold of those deep, inscrutable eyes. Taking a deep breath, she decided to go all in.

  “I’ve asked for an anesthesiologist to be called and an operating room be prepared for you, since they’ve been unable to contact the surgeon on call.”

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Sara had been so focused on Farhan she hadn’t paid any attention to the other man, who she now assumed was the director, Dr. Andrade. “I’m sure the on-call surgeon will be found soon enough, Your Highness.”

  “Will he?” Farhan asked, his deep voice quiet but with what sounded like a dangerous tone to Sara. “It says here that Dr. Patel made these notes three hours ago. Is that accurate, Dr. Patel?”

  Poor Dr. Patel looked from Farhan to Dr. Andrade and back again, his Adam’s apple bobbing convulsively a few times, before he answered, “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “And there’s been no response from the surgeon?”

  Farhan had replaced the chart and moved to Eshaal’s bedside, beginning his examination.

  “No, sir.”

  Kadiah slipped back into the cubicle and Sara raised her eyebrows, sending her a questioning look. The nurse nodded in reply.

  Farhan spoke gently to the pain-racked woman as he palpated her stomach. Then he straightened.

  “Has Mrs. Saleem signed the consent form?”

  “Yes, sir,” Dr. Patel replied. “And her husband is waiting outside to hear from the surgeon too.”

  “As soon as the anesthesiologist arrives and is ready, I’ll operate. Does anyone know when he or she’ll be here?”

  Kadiah spoke up. “Dr. Tam is on call, sir, and Dr. Patel had already put her on notice that she’d be needed, so she’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

  “Thank you. I just need to make a phone call and speak to my wife, then I’ll go and scrub in.”

  Sara’s heart raced, her anxiety ratcheting up a notch. All she could hope was that he wasn’t too upset, and wouldn’t tear a strip off her where anyone could hear. She didn’t think he would. More likely he’d be cold and cutting, but that would be just as bad.