Engaged to the Doctor Sheikh

by Meredith Webber

  Lila laughed.

  ‘And not one word of it will I understand,’ she said. ‘I should have thought of learning the language before I came rushing over here.’

  She’d already ducked into the tent and was heading for the purple curtain so she wasn’t certain, but she thought she heard him say, ‘I’m glad you didn’t.’

  * * *

  The meal was a riotous affair, with men, women and children all seated on the ground around a large carpet covered with a patterned cloth, on which platters and dishes of every imaginable food had been laid.

  She was seated at the side, Tariq on one side of her, Rani and Sybilla on the other. Rani explained the food as each dish was passed to Lila, while Tariq translated bits and pieces of the conversation.

  ‘It’s like Christmas at home when all the family come, with the children and in-laws and usually a few neighbours who have nothing else to do. But these people, do they all travel together? And do they always eat together? Is everything shared?’

  Tariq smiled at her questions, not a good thing because Tariq’s smiles were becoming increasingly unsettling.

  ‘It is how they have survived for so long in a very unforgiving environment,’ he told her. ‘Sharing builds a bond that is hard to destroy.’

  And looking around the happy faces of those gathered on the carpet, Lila could sense the feeling of belonging they all shared. A feeling of belonging she, too, might share.

  The thought made her shiver, but in a good way. Testing to see if she was compatible enough to give Khalil stem cells would also give them a picture of her DNA.

  Would it match, in part, those of other members of Second Mother’s family?

  Prove she was Nalini’s daughter?

  Prove she, too, belonged...

  Or prove that she didn’t.

  That thought was like having a bucket of iced water poured over her. To have come this far, found hints and clues, then lose it all and have to start again.

  It was a reminder not to get too close—to Sousa, to Barirah, to the people...

  To Tariq?

  Definitely to Tariq.

  * * *

  The second day was, if anything, busier than the first, as parents who had been too shy to approach the clinic the previous day gained courage from their friends and family and brought along children with a variety of medical conditions.

  ‘Are more people coming into the camp, so that we’re seeing children we haven’t seen before?’ Lila asked on the third day, as Tariq walked her back to her sleeping tent.

  ‘No, it just takes some people a little longer to accept that there might be something wrong with their child, and then to believe we might be able to help.’

  They stopped at the opening into the tent, Tariq peering into the darkness within.

  ‘Are you on your own tonight? Would you like me to come in and light the lamps? Check for scorpions?’

  Lila’s body tensed. They were close enough for her to pick up the uniquely male smell of him—close enough for the attraction she’d been trying desperately to deny to shiver within her.

  But did he mean come in and light the lamps—and check for scorpions—or was he asking something else?

  She didn’t have a clue, but rather thought the words might be literal.

  Which was for the best, for she was still finding herself...

  ‘Or perhaps you’d like to take a walk to the top of the first crest in the mountains, so you can look down at the camp from above?’

  Was it just her own attraction that made her want the invitation to be more than a suggestion of a walk? There was only one way to find out...

  ‘Yes, I’d like that,’ she said.

  Madness, Tariq told himself, walking along the narrow path with Lila close to his side. He knew it was his libido not his heart that drew him to her, but why make things harder for himself by walking with her in the moonlight?

  Seeing the way she moved, her body swaying beneath her concealing clothes as she picked her way along the rocky track.

  And the way her eyes widened in delight when she paused and turned to look out over the dunes, silvered by moonlight, rolling on for ever.

  Her lips, rosy against her paler skin, parted as she breathed a little gasp of delight.

  She was close, so close.

  If he bent his head just so—

  His head had actually begun to move—to capture those parted lips—when he heard the growl nearby and cursed his folly for coming up the path, putting Lila in danger.

  ‘Stay very still,’ he said quietly, sliding one arm around her waist in case he had to lift her to safety.

  ‘What is it?’ she whispered, the breath of the words feathering against his neck.

  ‘It’s a leopard, possibly a female. We might have ventured too close to where she’s hidden her cubs.’

  ‘A leopard?’ She paused before adding very softly, ‘It means something to me, the leopard. It clicked in my head when you talked about them before, but I can’t find the thread to unravel whatever it is.’

  ‘Don’t push it and it will come.’

  He turned back towards the camp, easing Lila in front of him, keeping her body close to his with his left arm while his right hand broke off a piece of thorn tree.

  He knew it would be practically useless as a weapon if the leopard attacked, but he felt better having something he could swing, thrust or throw, if necessary.

  They walked slowly at first, not wanting to upset the unseen beast with any unnecessary movement, then quickened their steps as they drew closer to the camp, Lila slipping out of his protective clasp as the ground levelled out.

  People were leaving the big campfire, drifting back to their tents in groups or couples, Rani and Sybilla meeting up with them outside their guest tent.

  ‘I hope you didn’t walk up the hill,’ Rani said, nodding in the direction they’d come from. ‘One of the elders was telling us there’ve been leopard sightings there recently.’

  And even in the moonlight they saw the radiance of her smile as she added, ‘Isn’t it marvellous that they’ve been saved from extinction?’

  ‘Marvellous,’ Tariq echoed drily, before saying goodnight to the women and heading for his own tent.

  But the feel of Lila pressed against his body remained with him, and he wondered if he would have kissed her had not the leopard warned him off.

  And where kissing her would lead?

  She was possibly family, he reminded himself sternly. You didn’t fool around with family.

  There were plenty of attractive, intelligent women in the city who enjoyed no-strings-attached affairs, women who had their own agendas in life, usually agendas that didn’t include marriage.

  Marriage...now, there’s a thought, a small voice whispered, and he was almost certain it wasn’t his head.

  Tomorrow he’d talk to the men, check out any health problems, and discuss their plans for the year ahead. With tourism increasing, and more areas under oil exploration leases, these people’s lifestyle was changing.

  But it shouldn’t vanish for ever, and it was up to the government and his father to protect the lands these people roamed.

  * * *

  ‘Many of the women are fearful for the future,’ Lila announced as she sat down next to him at the dinner mat next evening.

  He had to smile.

  ‘How have you managed to talk to them to glean that information?’

  ‘Rani translated and some words I know now, but also a number of the women speak English. Apparently they were sent to the city to school so they could learn it, and French as well, which made me feel very inadequate.’

  ‘But not totally inadequate if you’ve picked up on their concerns.’

  He explained how the
men felt the same way and talked a little about the measures that could be put in place to preserve the nomads’ lifestyle.

  ‘I’m glad you can do something,’ Lila told him, eyes bright with the compliment. ‘It’s a little like the leopard, isn’t it? A lifestyle that’s thousands of years old should be saved from extinction.’

  ‘But adapted to modern ways as well,’ he argued. ‘There’s no reason now for children to die from measles, for instance.’

  The dark eyes looked thoughtful.

  ‘You’re right, of course, but everything’s compromise, isn’t it?’

  CHAPTER SIX

  THEIR DAYS PASSED SWIFTLY, and Lila was amazed at how quickly she was picking up the language. Walking with Tariq through a date grove, in a rare lunch break, she said, ‘I’m wondering if I knew the language as a child. If both my parents came from Karuba they would have spoken the language.’

  Tariq was quiet, but Lila was no longer put off by this man’s silences—in fact, she rather enjoyed the fact that they could walk together without need for words. She found it...well, not comforting exactly but right, although the reaction of her body told her walking with him, talking with him, being anywhere near him all held inherent dangers.

  Attraction could grow so easily...

  But today she had thoughts she wanted to sort out in her head and maybe talking would help.

  ‘When I was found—after the accident—I didn’t speak at all, not for months. I clung to Pop, who’d rescued me, and followed him around like a puppy, but I couldn’t, or wouldn’t, talk.’

  Tariq had stopped and turned to look at her.

  ‘And when you did, did you speak in English?’

  She thought back, then nodded, adding, ‘But the family all spoke English so that was natural, although I wonder if not speaking at first was to do with being bilingual originally? If I’d picked up bits and pieces of both languages then the shock of the accident—of losing my parents—took both languages away, or simply confused me so I didn’t know how to talk.’

  ‘So, you’re thinking if both your parents spoke Karuban, then your father must also have been from here.’

  Lila knew she was frowning as she looked at him, taking in his words.

  ‘But why not? I always assumed he was. Where else could he have come from? Where would my mother have met someone else? Who else could he have been?’

  Tariq sighed.

  ‘It could have been a foreigner, someone from a diplomatic posting, even someone working for an oil company—it could have been anyone. All we know is that your mother left alone.’

  Which was even more puzzling as far as Lila was concerned. Tariq had walked on again and she reached out to catch his arm.

  ‘But if it was a foreigner, how could he have got into where ever the Ta’wiz was kept? How could he even have known about it, let alone steal it? We need to talk about this. I need to know. If my mother has been branded a thief, I need to know why. As far as I’m concerned, she could have bought the Ta’wiz from someone second or third hand just because it reminded her of home.’

  Another sigh, then Tariq led her to a stone step beside the little canal that fed the date palms and, sitting in the cool green grotto formed by their bending leaves, he began to talk, his voice gentle, as if fearing his words would hurt her.

  ‘It wasn’t only the Ta’wiz that disappeared, and although it was the most important piece, it was the least valuable in monetary terms. You must understand my family have been guiding traders through the deserts for thousands of years, and grateful customers, I suppose you’d call them, have given my family many gifts. That is what became our nation’s treasure—its defence against bad times. And as well as the Ta’wiz, many other things were stolen.’

  This was getting worse and worse but Lila wasn’t about to give up.

  ‘What kind of things?’ she demanded.

  ‘Jewellery mainly—a diamond and emerald necklace, a wide belt studded with precious stones, things that could easily be sold for money.’

  ‘How much money?’

  The words were little more than a whisper, but she had to know, and better to hear it from Tariq than a gossiping palace employee.

  Another sigh. He wasn’t enjoying the conversation one little bit, that much was obvious.

  ‘At the time, over twenty years ago, the total was valued at about five million.’

  Lila heard the gasp come out before she could catch it.

  ‘Five million what?’ was the best she could manage, knowing Karuban money was of less value than Australian. Praying he was talking Karuban money...

  ‘US dollars,’ came the terse reply, and Lila bowed her head, fought back tears, and tried to imagine a theft of such magnitude.

  ‘But...’ she said, as her brain began to work again and memories of the gentle mother she’d known came flooding back ‘...how could my mother—well, Nalini, who probably was my mother—have done that? I presume you don’t leave millions of dollars’ worth of treasure lying around for anyone to pick up. Surely it is kept somewhere special. And she hadn’t lived in the palace all her life. You said she’d come with her sister not long before she disappeared.’

  A long silence met her impassioned speech.

  Maybe he wasn’t going to answer her, but at least he hadn’t walked away.

  Although he did stand up, and put out his hand to help her to her feet.

  The touch was nothing more than courtesy, but its warmth flared through her traitorous body.

  But focussing her mind on Nalini’s supposed crimes helped her squash the warmth he ignited, letting the coldness of defiance and perhaps a little fear take its place.

  ‘The treasury collection is kept in a special room,’ he continued, ‘a large, walk-in safe, to be precise.’

  ‘And Nalini, who was relatively new to the palace, knew this and could not only find it but get into it. Surely that would have been impossible. I mean, finding it maybe, but getting into it?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘No, it was safely guarded and hidden away, looking just like another door in a wall. It is thought she seduced the Keeper of the Treasury, who was my father’s youngest brother, and he either let her in or stole the jewellery for her.’

  Lila shook her head, unable to believe that the gentle mother she remembered so hazily could have done such a thing.

  ‘Did this Keeper man say that?’ she demanded. ‘Did he admit the theft? Did he say she seduced him?’

  Tariq shook his head.

  ‘He refused to admit to anything. He never said a word. But the loss was put down to him—he was the Keeper after all, so it had been his responsibility. Had he not been my father’s brother, had he not been family, he would have been executed. As it was, he was banished from the Kingdom, never to return.’

  ‘But that’s appalling! And surely my mother—Nalini—would have known he’d be punished, so I don’t believe she’d have let him take that risk. Execution?’

  She shuddered.

  ‘This is wrong, I know it is,’ she said vehemently. ‘I cannot prove it, but I know it’s wrong.’

  ‘You were four when your mother died,’ Tariq said gently. ‘It is hard to judge a person at that age.’

  Lila shook her head.

  ‘I might have accepted her taking the Ta’wiz if she was leaving the country she loved, but putting someone else at risk? Even at four you know the essence of your mother.’

  ‘But not her name?’ Tariq replied.

  ‘That’s unfair!’ Lila yelled at him, the composure she’d been clinging to finally broken.

  She spun away, wanting to get as far away as possible from this man as she could, but the paths they’d followed were like the labyrinth at the palace and she was uncertain which way to go.

&
nbsp; He should let her go, Tariq decided. Let her lose herself in the meandering groves. Rani could help him change the dressings on the boy’s wound and donor sites.

  How ridiculous to think she could judge her mother’s honesty at four!

  If Nailini was her mother...

  Yet hadn’t he, at eight, refused to believe the stories that had spread through the palace about Nalini?

  Not that eight-year-olds would have much better judgement of character than four-year-olds. It was a gut instinct thing. He’d liked Nalini and hadn’t wanted to believe her guilty, and Lila had loved her mother...

  He sighed and headed off after her, wondering why he, who rarely sighed, seemed to have made a habit of it lately.

  It was the woman, and the way she’d stirred up the past.

  Stirred up more than the past?

  No, he wasn’t going there.

  Not catching up with her in the palm grove, he returned to the clinic, to find her sitting on an old carpet in the sunshine outside the door, a small child, maybe two years old, resting comfortably in her lap.

  ‘I think this little prince is the last of the triple antigen recipients, and he didn’t even make a sound as he had his needle,’ she said, and although he detected a trace of strain in her voice, she smiled brightly up at him.

  Too brightly?

  ‘So, we could leave tomorrow,’ she added, ‘if the young boy’s wounds are okay.’

  He almost retorted that it was he who made arrangements, but as this mobile clinic was to be her job, she had every right to be taking command of it.

  ‘I’ll speak to the driver,’ he said. ‘We’ll re-dress the boy’s wounds now, then you, Rani and Sybilla can pack up. Just make sure everything is secure.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she said, throwing him a cheeky salute, but the smile on her lips wasn’t dancing in her eyes as other smiles had, and he knew she was still thinking about her mother and the magnitude of the theft.

  And because he didn’t believe that the sins of the fathers—or mothers, in this case—should be visited on their children, he said, ‘You have done nothing wrong.’