The Sheikh Surgeon's Baby

by Meredith Webber

  She’d been far too long! Had she fallen asleep? Fool that he was! He should made sure Olara stayed with Melissa while she bathed. But he’d sent Olara out to buy some clothes for their guest and Arun had assured her he could look after Melissa.

  Did that include checking if she’d drowned in the bath?

  He’d knock.

  No answer.

  He slid the door open, saying her name, softly at first and then more loudly, but she didn’t hear, not because, as his first heart-stopping thought had been, she’d drowned, but because she was so deeply asleep.

  And so nakedly beautiful his heart stopped again, though only for a moment, before speeding up, thudding with desire—terrible in a man who had guaranteed her sleep.

  But as his gaze slid across her body, the shame he should and did feel turned to fascination. For there, protruding in a gentle curve, was her pregnant bump.

  Water…

  The ocean swim…

  His baby?

  ‘Melissa?’

  This time he said it louder, kneeling by the bath, his hand under her chin lest she startle and slip beneath the water.

  ‘Wake up, sleepyhead. If you need to rest, you’ll be far more comfortable in bed.’

  She turned her head towards him, the blue eyes puzzled at first, then, recognising him, she smiled.

  ‘Arun,’ she said softly. ‘You’re in my dream again.’

  But the words were barely out when she sat up, sloshing water over him, moving so quickly he grabbed her slippery wet shoulder to steady her in case she slipped and fell back.

  ‘Wait! Take it slowly. You’ve been asleep. Here!’

  He wrapped her in a bath-sheet so her nudity wouldn’t panic or embarrass her, and steadied her as she climbed from the deep bath, then he dried her carefully, working so his hands stayed always on the towel, not her skin, not wanting to startle her again.

  And once dry he let her keep the towel while he lifted a white robe from the bench and slipped it over her head, helping her ease her arms through the sleeves then pulling the towel from underneath it so she stood, fully clothed, but no less desirable because the white silk was no softer than her skin, and the flaming hair stood out around her head like a beacon, drawing him towards her.

  ‘I have set out some food by your bed, and a Thermos of tea should you want it—cool drinks as well, fruit juices and yoghurt. I will show you.’

  He turned away from that beckoning beacon and led her into the bedroom, showing her the tray on wheels that held the food and folding back the bedclothes for her.

  ‘I was famished before but now all I want to do is sleep. It must be jet-lag,’ she said, turning from her survey of the room to face him. ‘You’ll wake me in time to see the baby before I have to leave for the party?’

  ‘I’ll make sure you’re woken up,’ he promised.

  ‘Thank you.’

  She said the words shyly, but maybe he was imagining it, and it was only tiredness muting her usually strong voice.

  But he answered her in kind.

  ‘It is my pleasure,’ he said gently. ‘Sleep well, and from the bottom of my heart I thank you. You have done my family great service today, Melissa. It will never be forgotten.’

  Mel heard the words and wanted to protest—to say she’d done nothing more than any other person with her training would have—but she felt that might trivialise what Arun had just said, and it had sounded so beautiful she didn’t want to do that.

  So she smiled and, still smiling, carried his thanks to bed, where she curled her hands around her small bulge, patted it and spoke to it, apologising for being so neglectful in their communication today.

  But as she spoke the ease the bath had given her and the joy of Arun’s words faded, leaving room for worry about what the future held.

  For her and her small bulge…

  She woke up to a soft voice saying her name—‘Dr Miss’—it was close enough. Opening her eyes, she took in the young woman by the bed and slowly remembered the flight, the ride, the revelation—and then the newborn infant.

  Jen, she’d barely spoken to Jenny. And where was Arun? How could she get back to the ICU to check the baby, then from the hospital to the compound where Jenny lived? Would she be in time for the party?

  The young woman had disappeared. Had her job been to wake her up? Nothing more?

  Too many questions that were impossible to answer so she lay for a while, thinking about fate, until hunger drove her from the bed. She washed and pulled on the satiny silk robe that matched the gown she wore, refusing to wonder why a bachelors’ apartment would have such things at hand, then ventured forth.

  The young woman was in the kitchen, looking anxiously at a bar laden with cut fruit and dishes of cold meat and cheese, small pancakes stacked on a silver platter and condiments in patterned jars and bottles.

  ‘I do not know what you like to eat, but His Excellency said you would wake hungry and to feed you then show you the gowns.’

  ‘I eat anything—but probably won’t manage all of that,’ Mel teased, hoping to take the anxiety from the soft, dark eyes.

  She settled on a stool, picked up a pancake and wrapped some meat and cheese in it. The young woman offered her a jar.

  ‘This is good, not too spicy.’

  Mel dobbed a spoonful on her pancake, folded it over, and ate. Taste sensations she had never experienced before exploded in her mouth.

  ‘It’s delicious,’ she said, and the young woman smiled and turned away, returning with a tall flask.

  ‘It is tea,’ she said. ‘His Excellency said not coffee for you—not good for your baby.’

  She smiled as she added the last phrase, saying, ‘It is exciting, having a baby. So many babies, with my sister having one last week and Tia’s and now you will have one. It is a sign the country will do well under the new sheikhs—a good omen.’

  The woman was positively glowing with pleasure, and though Mel’s main focus was on discovering all the various combinations of flavours of the food in front of her, a small part of it was wondering just how widespread the news of her pregnancy was. Jenny would be upset if she heard it secondhand and did this woman—had Arun mentioned her name?—know Arun was the father of her baby?

  The pancake, her third, or maybe her fourth, lost its flavour and with a sigh she dropped it, half-finished, on her plate.

  ‘I need to see the baby, but I have no clothes to put on. I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name—’

  ‘Olara,’ the woman said, ‘and there are gowns and underwear and other clothes for every day in the bedroom. His Excellency sent me to find things for you while you slept. You are going to the party—the wedding party tonight. He knew you would need something nice to wear. I will show you.’

  The gowns were beautiful. Fine silk, decorated around the neck, on the sleeves and hem, with exquisite embroidery in gold and silver thread, they were so light it would be like wearing air.

  Mel looked at them all, thinking choice would be impossible, finally settling on a dark blue, shot with purple. Purple was a little daring with red-gold hair, but tonight was special—Jenny’s pre-wedding dinner—so daring should be OK.

  Would she need a scarf?

  She was wondering about this when she saw a row of hangers, each one holding a shawl to match a gown. Blue shot with purple on red-gold hair?

  Olara hovered in the background—applauding her choice, producing a choice of new, still packaged, delicate underwear, showing Mel an array of make-up in a case as elaborate as a model’s.

  ‘I don’t usually get dressed up like this,’ Mel said, touching the soft silk of the knickers and the lacy confection that was a bra.

  ‘But it is for the party,’ the young woman told her. ‘Everyone will be dressed up—I have a special dress as well.’

  ‘You’ll be going?’

  Mel was sorry as soon as she’d said it, then hoped she didn’t sound too surprised, but Olara seemed unbothered.

  �
�Of course, we all go. We are the tribe, the family. You understand?’

  ‘Not really, but I think it’s wonderful that everyone can enjoy the party.’

  She excused herself to shower, remembering as she towelled herself dry how gently Arun had dried her earlier—how circumspectly! Had she been less tired, she might have been disappointed that he hadn’t touched her differently.

  Oh, dear—what was she thinking?

  In an attempt to block all thoughts of Arun—especially thoughts of him touching her—from her head, she dressed swiftly, pleased with the way the gown looked, even more pleased when Olara came back into the room and clapped her hands in delight, assuring Mel she looked very, very beautiful.

  Searching through the make-up collection, she found a dusky mauve eye-shadow. Full war paint, she teased herself as she spread a skim of make-up on her face and added colour to her cheeks and eyes.

  For Arun?

  An enticement or a defence?

  She couldn’t answer either question, but as she pulled on the silver sandals Olara had produced, Mel decided it didn’t matter. Tonight she was going to meet new people, learn new customs and have fun.

  ‘You are beautiful!’

  Arun was standing in the living room when she reached it, and his voice was so full of awe Mel knew he meant it. And suddenly she felt beautiful, although she knew, by and large, she was attractive at best, and that was mostly because of her colouring.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, then to hide the delight his compliment had caused she added, ‘You look pretty spiffy yourself!’

  He was back in traditional dress, a white robe, although this one had rich and heavy gold decoration on the sleeves. The robes removed him from her—the remoteness she’d felt before—but at the same time they added another dimension to the attraction she felt towards him. She looked into his eyes, seeking the other Arun who was more familiar, and what she saw there made her mouth go dry.

  Desire, so rampant she could feel it spreading from him through the air to touch her skin and through it to permeate deep into her body.

  She had to resist, at least until they’d talked and sorted out the future of the baby—their baby.

  Play it light.

  She touched the gold.

  ‘Special occasion robes?’

  He smiled his agreement.

  ‘Shall we go?’

  He waved her towards the door and followed, and it wasn’t until they were waiting for the lift that she remembered the other baby.

  ‘Tia’s baby—I must check him.’

  She heard him sigh.

  ‘I don’t suppose my telling you I checked before I came up to collect you will make any difference.’

  Mel shook her head, then remembered she was carrying her shawl over her arm. If she was going into the ICU she’d better put it on, although in such finery they were surely over-dressed for hospital visits. She lifted it to put it on, but Arun took it from her, draping it over her head, then crossing the two ends loosely under her chin before throwing them back over her shoulders.

  ‘To cover that hair seems a sin,’ he said, ‘although many here would tell you not covering it is a worse sin.’

  How could he speak when just his closeness had dried her mouth again? How could he speak calmly when her body was so rattled by his proximity, and the intimacy of the action, she was surprised she was still upright?

  Fortunately the lift arrived and they stepped inside then took the short journey down two floors to the ICU.

  ‘How was he when you checked?’ she asked, mainly to hide her reaction to his presence.

  ‘Your charge is well. The monitors show his heart is not labouring too much, his kidneys are working without diuretics to help them, and Tia is badgering the nurses in an effort to get them to tell her more and more of what is happening and what the treatments mean. She has banished all the family except her mother, and has shifted into the ICU next to the baby.’

  Arun smiled again.

  ‘You worked a miracle in helping her accept the baby.’

  ‘The miracle was the baby,’ Mel said. ‘Once she accepted that he might live, she was ready to fight both for him, and with him. She seems an intelligent young woman, so it will help her to know what is going on.’

  Arun nodded, understanding and accepting what Melissa was telling him, but beneath the talk of the baby and Tia was his awareness of this woman.

  The baby was indeed doing well, watched over by an exceedingly anxious-looking young woman, whose voice, when she spoke, suggested she was American. And if she was surprised to see a doctor in a flowing blue and purple robe and silver sandals entering the ICU room, she didn’t show it, although Mel thought she read admiration in the younger woman’s eyes.

  But maybe that was for Arun…

  ‘How do you do?’ she said to Mel when Arun introduced her as Sarah Craig. ‘I’ve read a paper of yours on the use of pericardial tissue for patches, and another on the pros and cons of not sealing the chest wound after open-heart surgery on very small children. Will you seal this one after the operation?’

  Mel smiled at her, remembering the awe she’d felt—still felt—when she met people whose papers she’d admired.

  Where had Arun magicked this woman from in the few hours while she had slept?

  ‘You were working here in the hospital?’ Mel asked Sarah, then turned to Arun for more information. ‘You did have someone with paeds training already here?’

  Sarah answered for him.

  ‘I flew in an hour ago, and though I’ve been hoping to specialise in paediatrics, so far I’ve only got as far as spending a lot of time in kids’ wards. The al’Kawalis interviewed me for a job here last week, and I was waiting to hear whether I’d been successful when Dr al’Kawali phoned me earlier today.’

  Mel turned to Arun.

  ‘No wonder the story of genies coming out of old lamps to grant wishes originated in this part of the world.’

  He said nothing and though she wondered if money rather than rubbing a cloth on a lamp had produced the young doctor, Mel wasn’t going to complain. She turned back to Sarah.

  ‘As far as closing the chest, I won’t decide that until we do the op,’ she told her. ‘In the meantime, it’s our job to see this little lad is as strong as we can get him before we do it.’

  ‘I think you’ll find he’s doing well,’ Sarah told her, stepping back so Mel could examine the infant.

  ‘That’s his warrior blood,’ she heard Arun’s deep voice say behind her, but she was doing her best to ignore the owner of that deep voice so she didn’t turn or falter in her examination.

  ‘You’re weighing him, and measuring his fluid input and output?’ she asked, and Sarah handed her the chart.

  ‘As I said, I’ve not long arrived, but the doctor who had been here gave me this.’

  ‘It looks fine.’

  Mel spoke easily, happy and relaxed now she’d seen the baby and knew he was doing as well as could be expected. She’d watch his weight gain and, if possible, do the operation before two weeks.

  ‘As long as the heart muscle is strong enough—echoes should tell us.’

  Sarah stared at her, a puzzled frown on her face, while behind her Arun was also looking a little bewildered—although she wasn’t sure a face as strong as his could show such a feeble emotion.

  ‘Sorry, thinking aloud—it’s a bad habit. Usually there’s just me and the baby and I’m telling him or her my thoughts. With a newborn, the heart muscle is weak and flabby, like a balloon full of water. I need that muscle firmer for a successful operation, that’s why we have to feed him well and try to get him as strong as possible in as short a time as possible.’

  She turned back to Arun, who was watching her with interest. Had he not expected her to be professional about this, considering her personal turmoil?

  ‘Tia, is she about? Should I speak to her before we go?’

  It was Sarah who answered.

  ‘She’s just gone
to have a rest. She’s not happy to be away from the baby for even the shortest time, but the other lady—is it her mother?—reminded her she needed her strength and took her off to eat then sleep.’

  ‘I’ll see her later, then,’ Mel said, and turned to Arun. ‘Shall we go?’

  CHAPTER SIX

  THEY walked out of the hospital through a wide entrance-way, decorated with so many lush plants it could have been a jungle.

  ‘A jungle in a desert,’ Mel murmured, noticing bright orchids flowering among the greenery.

  ‘The magic of water,’ Arun told her, ‘and money, I suppose. Because the hospital was set up to attract wealthy clients, mostly from overseas, this foyer, their first view of the hospital, was designed to look as if they were entering a six-star hotel.’

  ‘The familiarity of it making them relax,’ Mel teased, but Arun wasn’t smiling, and she guessed he was thinking of all that still needed to be done as far as medical services for his own people were concerned. ‘Could you have done anything to change things before your father died?’

  He sighed and shook his head.

  ‘We did a little, here and there, encouraging doctors other than surgeons to come to work in our city, and we started on the modernisation of the old hospital, using our own money. No one in the government cared what we did there, but this was the place that had the equipment and the space to be a truly great hospital for our people as well as the foreigners.’

  A long sleek black car had pulled up in front of them, and a porter from the hospital opened the back door.

  Mel touched Arun’s arm.

  ‘Then you shouldn’t have regrets—you shouldn’t be looking back. You did what you could, and now you can do more. Holding onto the past adds to the burdens of the present, and you don’t need that.’

  He paused beside the open car door, turning to look at her—to study her—then he smiled, the kind of smile that made Mel’s toes tingle and started a quivering hunger deep in her belly.

  Had he felt a similar desire that he pressed a button, raising a darkened glass screen between the driver and the back seat?

  But when he spoke she realised desire was the last thing on his mind.