He studied her as she opened her suitcase, noticing faint lines of strain in her pale face.
Tiredness from the flight or something else?
He wondered why he was considering it—why he was concerned she might be tired or stressed…
Because the memories of their time together had haunted his dreams for the last four months?
Or because he cared more for her as a person than he’d allowed himself to admit?
Impossible! It had been an enjoyable affair, nothing more.
A very enjoyable affair…
The customs official gave the bags a cursory examination and another official stamped the passports, then the porter wheeled the baggage towards the car, Arun escorting Bob Stapleton while behind him he could hear Melissa chatting quietly to Jane.
They settled into the big limousine, the three guests fitting comfortably in the back seat while Arun rode beside the driver in the front. He pointed out the landmarks in the city, naming the new hotels that had sprouted from the ground to accommodate first visiting oilmen and now the tourists who came to marvel at the desert and the facilities oil money could provide.
‘Oh!’
Melissa’s cry made him turn and he saw her pointing, wide-eyed with wonder, towards the west, where the sinking sun was reflecting the red of the desert into the sky, so it looked like a molten golden orb in a sea of red. Closer to them the rounded dome and tall spire of a citadel stood silhouetted blackly against the red glow, and through the visitor’s eyes Arun saw again the daily magic of a desert sunset.
He spoke quietly to the driver, who turned off the main highway, taking them to a vantage point from which they could watch the final glories of the day.
‘I can’t believe the beauty of it,’ Melissa whispered, as much to herself as to those accompanying her. ‘I thought the sunsets over the river where I grew up were the most beautiful in the world. I never imagined a desert sunset could be like this.’
She turned from the view towards Arun.
‘And you’re right, it does remind me of the ocean.’
Wonder warmed her voice, and this, more than her physical presence, started Arun’s body stirring again. They’d matched so well, enjoyed each other’s company so much it had gone beyond sex in that brief interlude, although both of them had known from the start that had been all it was. He’d explained he had no intention of ever marrying again—had even spoken of Hussa, his wife, and the tragedy of that gentle and beautiful young woman’s death—while Melissa had admitted to being married to her job, and to finding all the satisfaction she needed in her life in the work she did with very fragile infants.
So why was she upset that they’d met again? Why could they not be friends, if not lovers?
Inwardly, he laughed. As if that would be likely, with the fire that had flared between them. One touch, he was willing to bet, and it would flame again.
Just one touch…
‘Jenny?’
Jane Stapleton’s gentle reminder made him realise the nightly show was finished, the sky having changed from red to gold to pink and purple and now was a darkening blue. He spoke to the driver and they continued towards the family compound.
Shaken by the beauty she had witnessed, Mel sat quietly. How could she remain stiff and un-yielding, impervious to all around her, when all around her was new and exciting, and so unexpectedly beautiful? But if she opened herself up to the experience, might not Arun slip in as well?
She stole a glance towards him. The pristine white scarf that covered his head was kept in place by two black twisted braids held together with a binding of gold thread. At the front, the pinpoint corners of the scarf fell to hide most of his face so all she saw, as he turned again towards the Stapletons, acting the perfect tourist guide, was his profile—the strong beak of a nose, the determined chin, and between them a glimpse of the lips she knew could fire her body to melting point.
In Western clothing, he’d been exotic, the most fantastic-looking man she’d ever seen, but in the robes—it was as if they spread an aura around him, a sense of command, of power, of…
Reined-in, hidden sexuality?
Don’t think about him! Concentrate on the tour. The alley leading off that main street was the souk—the market—which accounted for the teeming crowds pushing down the narrow passageway.
‘We will go there tomorrow,’ he promised. ‘During the day it is not so crowded and you will be more comfortable. And now here we are.’
They were approaching a corner where two high walls met, the area lit by bright lights both inside and outside the wall. They drove along one side until they came to a huge gate, hastily pulled open by two men who had been dozing by the wall.
Inside was another world, the courtyard they entered as bright as daylight, so the beautifully laid-out gardens and ornamental pools were clearly visible.
‘You will wish to see your daughter immediately,’ Arun said. ‘She has been living in the women’s house but has moved into the house she will share with Kam after her marriage, so all three of you can stay with her.’
‘The women’s house?’ Melissa echoed, and Arun turned so she saw all of his face.
‘It is custom,’ he said. ‘Strange to outsiders but it has worked this way for thousands of years, although, of course, in times gone by, they were tents, not houses.’
The bland explanation told Mel he’d got the message that what they’d shared was definitely in the past. He was as mentally removed from her as his body was behind the all-concealing gown.
So why did she feel a tremor of disappointment?
The car pulled up in front of one of the many large houses surrounding the courtyard. Long, shallow steps leading to a cloistered entrance where sandals were lined up outside marked the custom of the land.
Mel followed the Stapletons up the steps, but at the top, as she bent to remove her shoes, Arun touched her arm.
‘Perhaps they would like some time alone, the family. If you wish, I will show you around the gardens.’
She studied him for a moment, knowing he’d probably read the situation correctly—Jen would like some time alone with her parents—but was wary of his offer.
He waved an arm towards the gardens.
‘We will walk through here to the stables. As you see, there are plenty of people around so I am unlikely to—what is the expression?—jump on your bones?’
Another tremor sneaked through Mel’s body, but this time it wasn’t disappointment. Memories of the times he had ‘jumped her bones’ and she his brought a rush of warmth to her face, and she adjusted her shawl more closely around her face, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
He took her silence for assent and led her back down the steps, then turned so they walked along a gravel path, neatly raked into intricate whorls and patterns, between perfectly manicured hedges that formed a border for the still ponds that ran down the centre of the courtyard.
The houses on either side were mirrored in them, so everywhere there were buildings, but above all a sense of calm and peace.
So calm, so peaceful, Mel was reluctant to ruin it with a declaration of her pregnancy. Although she’d have to tell him some time, and the sooner the better.
‘You will explain?’ Arun had touched her arm to guide her on to a side path leading between two of the sparkling pools, and now slowed his steps to ask the question.
Had he read her mind?
Did he know there was something she had to say?
Half her brain worried over this while the other half shrieked, Not here, not yet. You’re tired and confused…
That half won!
‘Explain?’
‘This is awkward for you—the two of us meeting again? You are embarrassed?’
Could she lie—nod her head—let him believe embarrassment was the reason for her lack of response to him?
Of course she couldn’t. Lies became too complicated.
‘I’m not embarrassed,’ she said, then realised she had no o
ther explanation to offer for her behaviour. Not right now—not until she’d sorted it all out in her head.
Like that was going to happen!
‘You have a new man in your life?’ Arun persisted, no doubt seeking some valid reason for the fact that the magic which had brought them together was well and truly dead as far as she was concerned.
If only he knew how far that was from the truth! How skittery her skin was, and how her nerves were jumping like circus fleas.
‘No,’ she managed, offered what she hoped was an acceptable a smile. ‘Commitment-phobe, remember?’
Arun nodded, but was obviously not satisfied.
‘Your job? You had hoped to get a place on the team in Boston, had been interviewed and told you’d done well, yet you have flown here from Australia. You didn’t get it? You are disappointed?’
This was getting worse. So bad, in fact, Mel had to smile—a proper smile this time—accompanied by a shake of her head, although she’d better not do that too often or she’d lose her scarf.
‘Does there have to be a reason?’ she asked, stopping by a still pool and lowering her body to sit on the edge of it so she could trail her hands in the water—cool her blood. ‘Does your pride demand a valid excuse as to why a woman might not want to leap back into bed with you?’
The barb struck home, leaving Arun speechless—but only momentarily.
‘I was not aware I’d offered you my bed,’ he said, denying all the urges his body had been feeling since she’d stepped out the door of the plane. ‘I was speaking more of friendship. But if your unwillingness to commit extends even to friendship, I am sorry for you.’
The light was good enough for him to see the colour leave her cheeks, and the blue eyes raised to his were stricken. She reached up and touched his arm, her wet fingers leaving damp marks on his robe.
‘No, I’m the one who’s sorry, Arun. It’s just…’
The stricken look had been replaced by a plea. For understanding? How could he offer that when he had no idea what was going on?
How could he understand when the strong woman he remembered seemed—brittle? Vulnerable?
Surely not!
Then she smiled again, a weak effort, but it still had the effect of lighting up her face.
‘Can I plead jet-lag for not being terribly coherent right now?’
She could, but he wouldn’t believe her. This woman could think clearly—could even deliver a brilliant lecture at a high-level symposium—after a night of passion had prevented all consideration of sleep, so he doubted a trifle like jet-lag would faze her.
He settled beside her on the low balustrade, and leaned towards her, aware they were now completely alone in this side courtyard, aware he could kiss her.
‘Is that all you want to plead?’ he asked, remembering their love-making so vividly he could feel his body harden.
Another wavery smile.
‘At the moment,’ she said, ‘but later, tomorrow, or after the wedding. Later we’ll talk.’
‘That’s a promise?’
He’d leaned closer and she hadn’t edged away, but her nod was distinctly nervous.
‘Here in Zaheer we seal promises with a kiss,’ he whispered.
He didn’t give her time to protest, his head moving the couple of inches necessary for him capture her lips, to feel her mouth open to his demands, to taste her, to test the warm cavern of her mouth—to claim her with a kiss.
CHAPTER TWO
SURELY sheikhs shouldn’t be doing this kind of thing in their own courtyard! That was Mel’s first desperate thought.
Thank heavens they were both sitting so the bump kind of disappeared into her lap, was her second.
Then the heat Arun’s kisses had generated from the beginning burnt through her and she gave in to sensation. Her breasts tingled, her bones turned to jelly, her insides to liquid, and she quivered with the need that only he had ever made her feel.
Damn it all, this was the last thing she wanted to happen, yet here she was responding to him like some sex-starved virgin. Well, maybe not a virgin, but certainly sex-starved…
She kissed him back, though she knew she shouldn’t, revealing her need, admitting the power he had over her. Although the harsh sound of his indrawn breaths suggested she held equal power over him.
Shared passion! It had been so new to her four months ago—so new and so exciting, like exploring a different world.
If only…
Cool air brushed across her damp, kiss-sensitised lips and she realised he’d moved away. Not only moved away but was standing up, looking down at her.
‘So it isn’t that the attraction’s died,’ he said quietly, and though his face was shadowed she knew his green eyes, pale and clear, would be studying her intently, trying to read beyond whatever stunned expression might be plastered across her face, to fathom what lay beneath.
To feelings…
Or was she imagining that? Would he even care about her feelings?
‘No,’ she said, answering his question, not her thoughts, for he was a sensitive man and would care about her feelings.
‘Good,’ he replied, then took her hand to help her to her feet. ‘I’ll take you to Jenny now. You are right. You will be busy. The excitement of the wedding has been building in the women’s house all week, for all that Jenny says it’s just a formality.’
He led her back to the large building where he’d left the Stapletons, introducing her to a young woman who met them at the door, telling Mel her luggage would already be in her room and Keira would show her where that was.
But Keira wasn’t needed, for Jenny came bursting out of a side room into the huge vestibule.
‘Mel! I thought Arun had whisked you away on the back of a camel, and was even now riding across the desert with his prisoner in true desert warrior style.’
Mel glanced at Arun before crossing the room to greet her friend. She could see the desert warrior in him today—and being carried off across the desert wasn’t all that unappealing an idea…
Aaargh!
She had to get her head sorted!
‘I’m a horse man, Jenny,’ he was saying, but he smiled warmly as he spoke, as if Jenny was already someone special in his life.
‘Mel rides,’ Jenny told him. ‘Mel, you should see the stable and the horses. They are beautiful. You’ll love them. Arun rides most mornings, don’t you, Arun?’
They had reached each other, and kissed cheeks, Mel careful not to get into a full hug, although her bump was hardly recognisable as pregnancy. Now Jen was standing with her arm around Mel’s shoulders and matchmaking so obviously Mel knew she was blushing.
She looked from Arun’s expressionless face to her friend’s, glowing with happiness and excitement. ‘I doubt I’ll have time for riding for a few days at least,’ Mel said, letting Arun off the hook, although he’d hardly rushed in and offered to take her riding. ‘We’ve got a wedding to get ready for, remember?’
‘If you wish to ride—’ Arun began, and Mel had to laugh.
‘You’re far too late making that offer,’ she teased, pleased the riding conversation had eased the tension she’d been feeling. ‘And I understand, I really do. When I lived with my grandmother I rode a lot and, though cousins and friends often rode with me, there was never anything quite as good as riding on my own. Especially early in the morning, the dew still on the grass, and the world smelling fresh and new again. Just me and the horse and the countryside. I can understand your reluctance to have company.’
He smiled and she was sorry she’d relaxed her guard, for the return tease in that smile crept through her already crumbling defences.
‘With me it’s the horse and the desert,’ he said quietly. ‘And a way to sort out the problems of the world when my brain is first awake and my senses alert to everything around me.’
His smile broadened as he added, ‘Well, what I really think about are the problems of the hospital, and some of the problems of our country—not quit
e all the world.’
‘But your world, the one that matters to you,’ Mel reminded him, and was pleased to see she’d surprised him for he looked at her for a long moment before nodding agreement.
‘I’ll leave you now,’ Arun said, and turned away. Not a moment too soon, he decided as he stopped outside the door to slip his feet into his sandals. It was all right to be physically attracted to Melissa Cartwright, and he’d enjoyed her sharp mind and probing intelligence as well as her body when they’d had their brief affair. But he didn’t like the feeling that she might be in tune with his emotions or keying in to his thoughts. Such intimate closeness was the one thing he’d avoided since Hussa’s death.
Jenny led Mel into a vast room, adorned with ancient tapestries, bright rugs, soft sofas and thick cushions. But the immediate impression was of colour—reds and golds, pinks and purples, unlikely mixes of geometric and floral designs, hidden corners behind drapes and screens. It was like something out of a fairy-tale, and Mel paused as her senses struggled to take it all in.
Bob and Jane Stapleton were sitting on a long leather ottoman, studying something that looked like a map. In front of them a low table was laden with platters of fruit, nuts, cheeses, bread, and small cake-like delicacies.
‘Come,’ Jenny said. ‘You need to eat and drink and I’m dying to tell you all my adventures. Then, when Mum and Dad have gone to bed, you can tell me all of yours.’
She paused and turned to study Mel, touching her hand to her face.
‘You’re well? Things are all right with you?’
Mel knew she was searching for disappointment—or perhaps some hint of a reason why Mel was not working in the hospital in Boston, in the job of her dreams. But the answer lay not in her face but in the shape of her body…
‘We’ll talk later,’ Mel confirmed, although she knew she couldn’t talk to Jenny—not properly—not until she’d told Arun.
But how could she tell him?
How could she explain why she hadn’t told him earlier?
She followed Jenny across the room, hearing, and envying, the happiness in her friend’s voice, although if anyone deserved happiness, it was Jenny.
The Sheikh Surgeon's Baby Page 2