Surgeon Prince, Cinderella Bride

by Ann Mcintosh

  Sara wasn’t like Ali’s wife, who’d been worldly and supremely elegant, and Farhan hoped she didn’t suffer by any comparisons.

  As he’d suffered from being compared to Ali.

  Before going to surgery, he went looking for Sara to tell her about his father’s invitation, or command, depending on how one chose to look at it. He found her in the clinical area, where non-emergency patients came for treatment.

  “You’re lucky this wasn’t worse, but because of how it happened, I’ll be prescribing antibiotics. Are you allergic to any medications?”

  Even over the hubbub of the clinic, his ears picked up her soft, calm voice immediately, and he drifted toward the cubicle it was coming from.

  “No, Your Highness.”

  The curtains weren’t pulled closed, so he peeped in, glimpsing Sara stitching a gash on an elderly woman’s leg. Then he stepped back so as not to be noticed, leaning on the wall across from the cubicle to wait for her to finish.

  “Will your son or daughter-in-law be able to help you for a few days? You should stay off this leg as much as possible to give it a chance to heal. And I want you to come back and get the bandages changed for at least three days, so we can make sure it’s healing properly and there’s no infection.”

  As he listened to her instruct the patient, interjecting little comments that made the elderly lady laugh, he was struck by the way she connected so easily with the other woman. It was apparent she’d learned a lot about the patient’s situation in their time together, not just a medical history and information about her immediate ailment. Farhan liked to think he had a pleasant bedside manner, but now he wondered if it was as sorely lacking as he was beginning to think.

  Realizing Sara was finishing up with her patient, he moved over to the nurses’ desk, so neither of the women exiting the cubicle would realize he’d been eavesdropping.

  They both saw him as Sara helped the limping lady toward the waiting area, and the elderly patient whispered something to Sara that had her blushing and saying, “Hush, you!”

  Her patient laughed, and paused to greet Farhan in traditional Kalyanese fashion, her palms together, head bowed.

  Before he could offer his assistance, a younger woman came hurrying over and, with much bowing and thanks, the patient was helped on her way.

  Sara stripped off her gloves and tossed them into the nearest medical waste receptacle.

  “Took a fishhook to the thigh, poor soul. And she’s diabetic, too.”

  It seemed she’d been avoiding looking at him, but suddenly faced him head on, a frown between her brows. “I gave her a prescription for antibiotics. Do you think she’ll be able to fill it? I can see she’s not terribly wealthy. Is there another way I should have handled that?”

  Totally unprofessional to want to hug her in the middle of the clinic, but that’s exactly the urge Farhan had to fight.

  “No,” he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets so they wouldn’t embarrass him and grab her. “It should be fine. The government has a subsidy program in place for medications and if she can’t pay the rest, there are other programs for that too. I think you’ll find the patients who can’t afford it will say so, because often they can get the drugs free here in the hospital dispensary before they go, and they want the voucher immediately.”

  The palpable relief on her face made a flash of warmth fire along his spine, and he quickly told her about his father’s invitation, and hightailed it back to his office.

  Putting thoughts of anything other than his patient out of his mind was imperative before going into the operating theatre, but it wasn’t as easy as usual. His wife had a very unsettling effect on him. One he knew had to be curbed, for both their sakes.

  Scrubbing in, he went over the upcoming surgery in his head. The patient lived on a small island forty-five minutes away from the capital, accessible by private boat or public ferry. Unfortunately he’d ignored his symptoms for a while, thinking he had a gastrointestinal ailment, but after four days of vomiting and beginning to have trouble breathing, he’d gone to the local clinic. X-rays had shown an anomaly in the left thoracic cavity, and the doctor had told him to make the crossing to the hospital in Huban.

  Subsequent tests had revealed the presence of a Bochdalek hernia, strange in that those were usually congenital and the patient couldn’t recall any trauma he’d suffered to explain its sudden development.

  Farhan was glad, however, that it appeared, at this point, repairable by laparoscopic surgery. Of course, if once he got a look inside there was a sign that any of the displaced organs were gangrenous, they would have to open the patient up. Then what was normally a ninety-minute operation would be much longer.

  As the nurse put on his gloves, Farhan found his mind drifting once more to Sara. The blush that had bloomed in her cheeks when the patient had whispered to her had him wondering what had been said.

  “Your Highness, they’re ready for you in the OR.”

  The nurse’s quizzical tone brought him back to the moment, forced him to put it all from his mind as he shouldered his way through the swinging doors.

  Perhaps his fascination would fade if they spent even more time together? Farhan couldn’t decide if that would be the best or worst thing ever.

  * * *

  “Your Highnesses will make beautiful babies.”

  While busy in the clinic, Sara tried to put her patient’s words out of her head but they lingered.

  Farhan had made it clear there would be no intimacy between them, yet twice now he’d kissed her senseless. Mind you, immediately afterward, while she’d been trying to figure out up from down, he’d reverted to his usual autocratic self as though nothing had happened.

  His blowing hot and cold was so confusing.

  And Mrs. Ramakesh’s comment had made her wonder something she’d not given any thought to before.

  Wasn’t one of Farhan’s duties to produce an heir? Thinking about it, there was no doubt in her mind that Uttam was demanding one.

  Was that why Farhan kept initiating intimate moments between them? Was the entire population of Kalyana watching and speculating about when she’d become pregnant?

  His assertion about them having to be comfortable with each other to make their marriage seem real had made sense at the time, but now she questioned his motives.

  And his kisses hadn’t made her more comfortable. If anything, her awareness of him, already intense, had been heightened. She’d tossed and turned for the last few nights, reliving each moment, every touch of his hands, lips, tongue. Just thinking of it now made her temperature rise and tingling, needy warmth trail through her body.

  As a doctor, she knew her physiological reactions were normal. After all, there was nothing wrong with her libido; no trauma in her past to give her a psychological fear of sex. Yet it had never been terribly important to her either. She’d been too darned busy studying, working, and trying to keep her family afloat to give it much headspace. The one relationship she’d thought might lead to intimacy had died on the vine, a casualty of her complicated life, and she’d put that aspect of life on hold.

  And it might have stayed that way until she’d opened her front door and seen Farhan standing on the other side.

  Now desire infiltrated any brain cell not otherwise occupied, which seemed to be far too many of them. Work usually completely consumed her, but although she was fully engaged in the jobs at hand, doing whatever came her way with customary care, Farhan was constantly on her mind.

  And what had been the expression on his face earlier, when he’d told her about his father’s invitation to dinner? One moment he’d seemed pleasant, approachable, the next closed off, looking down that arrogant nose at her. It was horribly confusing, and just one more reason not to trust that his kisses stemmed only from attraction.

  Confrontation wasn’t in her comfort zone when it ca
me to personal matters, but by the end of the day she realized that speaking to Farhan about the matter of an heir was imperative. For her own peace of mind, if nothing else.

  So, on the drive home, while they were alone, she took a deep breath and said, “I get the feeling we’re under scrutiny, everyone watching to see if I get pregnant. I hope that wasn’t part of your plan in marrying me.”

  The look he slanted her from the driver’s seat was so autocratic it almost made her courage flee.

  “It was not.” There was no mistaking the steel in his voice. “I have no plans to procreate with you, or anyone else.”

  Shocked, she turned in the seat so as to better see his face. “Why not? Well, I know why not with me, but why not with anyone else, after our marriage is over?”

  “Being ruler of Kalyana is a full-time, twenty-four-seven job. Fatherhood would have to take a backseat, and I don’t think that’s fair to a child.”

  His cool, controlled tone didn’t fool her. Behind it was a shadow of pain, of rejection, and her heart ached for him. For the little boy, the young man she could somehow picture. The one who’d needed his father in a way the older man had been unable to fulfill.

  She’d come to know Farhan, at least a little, over the time they’d spent together and couldn’t, somehow, bear the thought of him going through life depriving himself of something she was positive he would excel at.

  Carefully, trying to tread lightly, she replied, “Perhaps your reign will be different, because you’re different from your father. I think you could be both an excellent father and King at the same time.”

  Farhan shrugged slightly, his eyes firmly on the road ahead. “My father is a good ruler, well respected and effective. I’d like to be the same.”

  “I have no doubt you will be, when the time comes, but what happens if you fall in love and the woman wants children?”

  “Love doesn’t come into the equation. I’m not even sure I’m capable of it, since I’ve never felt it, or sought it out. It’s never been a part of my plan, since arranged marriages are traditional in my family. Once Ali died, I knew one day I’d enter into one, and since I couldn’t offer a real relationship, I made sure not to lead women on.”

  He’d shielded his heart, she thought, rather than risk having it broken by falling for someone and then having to let them go. Still intent on his profile, she contemplated the loneliness he must have felt, both as a youngster who’d just wanted his father, and as a man who didn’t dare to love. She’d often felt an outsider, alone because of not knowing where, exactly, she came from. Now she realized that having the deepest of roots didn’t make everything magically better. In fact, it could isolate you from the world even more.

  She ached for him, wished she knew the right words to make him see how amazing he was, and make him believe it.

  His eyes met hers, caught her staring. Trapped, she froze, her heart suddenly hammering. Then he looked back at the road, and she gazed down at her fingers, knotted in her lap, able to catch her breath again, although the air in the SUV felt thick.

  Then Farhan broke the silence. “I’ve decided to push really hard on the idea of women’s clinics across the kingdom, but I’m going to need your help.”

  Surprised, she glanced back up at him. “My help? In what way?”

  He made the turn into the palace grounds, raising his hand to the soldier at the gate before he replied.

  “I’m going to arrange a tour of the islands for us. We, you in particular, can speak to the women and get their input on what’s actually needed. What they say will hopefully make it harder for the minister to keep putting it on the back burner.”

  That sounded innocuous enough. “You know I’ll help however I can.”

  “Good,” he replied, in that stern way he had of speaking.

  Why, then, did her heart jump and her body tingle in anticipation?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THEIR PLAN, ACCORDING to Farhan, was to take three weeks or so, going from island to island, working their way from north to south. What she hadn’t really considered was that they would be going alone, since usually they were constantly surrounded by people.

  Yet here they were, just the two of them in an amphibious plane, heading to the northernmost island, Agung.

  No Kavan.

  Or Maazin.

  Or even assistants Mara and Seth.

  Just her and the man whose mere presence made her want to jump out of her skin. Whose large, capable hands were controlling the plane with ease and assurance, reminding her of how masterfully they’d held her.

  It was still so confusing, though. He’d kissed her so passionately, yet otherwise kept a respectable distance, keeping her on edge, waiting, wanting to be intimate that way with him again. The memories of his kisses kept her awake at night, need a constant tingle in her veins, shaken to her soul with desire.

  Worse was imagining what else they could do together, how it would feel to be skin to skin with Farhan, having her every need met.

  “We’ll be there in just under an hour.”

  His voice came through the headset she was wearing, the warm, rich tone raising goosebumps along her arms.

  “Okay.”

  He seemed different once they got to the airport. More relaxed. Perhaps it was just being able to get out of the capital for a while, or out of his father’s sphere.

  King Uttam had commanded their appearance at dinner twice more during the preceding couple of weeks, and there was no mistaking the chill between the two men. Father and son had a distant way of interacting and Sara now had an idea of why, even as she realized where Farhan had inherited his arrogance.

  Yet seeing him in that light didn’t ring true to her anymore. What she’d ascribed to bone-deep haughtiness was overshadowed now by what she’d seen since they’d come to Kalyana. The way he spoke to his patients and the staff at the hospital, his interactions while doing his royal duties all spoke of a man deeply connected to and concerned about others.

  If anything, seeing him that way made her want him more. How many times had she caught herself staring at his mouth, entranced and aroused? Thinking about it now had heat gathering in her belly, rising up to her cheeks, and she turned to look out over the azure water below so he wouldn’t see her blush.

  Over the last few days she’d found herself wondering if Farhan might not be the perfect man to gain some sexual experience with. After all, their temporary marriage was without all of the emotional baggage that could make a physical relationship messy, and at least now she knew he wasn’t trying to seduce her in hopes of producing an heir.

  On top of which, she had no intention of falling for him, and after their talk had no fear he’d fall for her either. If he truly was interested in sleeping with her, why not give in to her own desire?

  Her brain shied away from the thought, too exhausted to process it properly. Besides not sleeping well, it felt as though they were constantly on the go. Not that she minded working at the hospital. That, at least, brought some normality to her life. Practicing medicine was what she was born to do, and it made her happy to help people. But all the other stuff? Trying to remember the correct protocols, watching every word coming out of her mouth, every gesture she made? All that did was tire her out and give her tension headaches.

  Not to mention the constant barrage of texts from Canada, none asking how she was doing but all wanting her to help or advise in some way. There was no let-up.

  Farhan had told her she was doing well, but she knew she’d made some missteps. Caught between wanting to be herself and not embarrass Farhan, the strain was immense.

  “Look over there,” he said, pointing to the east, the motion of his hand wafting his compelling scent her way. “That’s Patang, or Kite Island. It’s not much more than a sand bar, but because of the reef on the western side it’s a great place to swim, and on the east,
if the conditions are right, you can surf.”

  “Why’s it called Kite Island?” she asked, twisting slightly in her seat to get a better view. The water surrounding the part of the island she could see was a shade of aqua so intense it looked as though it had been enhanced digitally.

  “It’s roughly diamond-shaped, with the reef coming off one end like the tail of a kite. When we come back I’ll fly closer, so you can see. Actually, since we’re not really on a tight agenda, we could go there.”

  “If you like,” she replied, too tired to really care.

  “It was one of our favorite places to go as children. Ali loved it, especially when the waves were high and he could surf. Believe it or not, my father was a good surfer too, and even my mother enjoyed a day at the beach.”

  Her ears pricked up. Here was a memory that seemed to belie his sense of his father having no time for his family. It was the first time he’d spoken of him in such a fond, reminiscent way.

  “I can’t imagine your father surfing.”

  He chuckled, then replied, “I’m not surprised, but remember, he grew up in Australia and was already surfing by the time he moved here.”

  She still couldn’t picture it. “I can’t even think of your father ever being a child, much less a surfer dude.”

  Farhan laughed. Not a chuckle but a full-on laugh. It was such a rare thing she wanted to watch him at it, but forced herself not to look. Except she could still see his reflection in the glass beside her, and realized she was already fixated on that.

  “So he was more approachable when you were young?”

  Amusement dropped from his face, and she regretted its fading as he replied, “Approachable isn’t a word I’d ever use to describe my father, but he was a bit more...mellow...before my grandfather died and he took the throne.”

  “Perhaps he was patterning what he’d seen as a child. From what you said and I’ve read, your grandfather inherited a mess when Nargis died. He was probably consumed with trying to put the country to rights, without a lot of time to spare.”