‘Arun!’
She found herself whispering his name, pressing the word against the tight tendon of his shoulder.
‘Melissa,’ he murmured back, scything his teeth across her nipple so the next time she said his name it was gasped, not whispered.
So much sensation, her fingers reading his desire, her lips teasing him, while all the time the pressure built within them both, until Mel wondered who would give in first.
She did, for all his touch was gentle it was expert, while he watched her as if in wonder of the pleasure he could bring her, making her feel so special she floated on a sea of bliss, shattered only when the climax came, zinging first down to her toes then shuddering through her body, too dramatic to hide, too exhilarating to want to hide it.
Only then did he slide inside her, and once again he teased, so the pleasure built and built again until they could peak together, shattering with cries they couldn’t control, then lying, spent, in each other’s arms.
Mel felt his weight against her and revelled in it, holding him close, hearing the sharp, deep intakes of the air he needed to replenish what he’d lost. She revelled in that, too. She hadn’t had many lovers but she knew enough to know she pleased him, and that added to her own pleasure.
Then he was talking, but as she stopped thinking about pleasure and concentrated on his husky murmurs, she realised he was speaking in his own language, and from the way his hand pressed against her protruding belly, he was talking to the baby, not to her.
Oh, dear!
‘Don’t do that!’ she pleaded, and she must have sounded anguished for he lifted his head to look at her, his hand pushing her wild hair back from her face so he could see her better in the moonlight.
‘Don’t talk to my child?’
He sounded more puzzled than affronted and she lifted her hand to press it against his lips.
‘No, I didn’t mean that—well, I did, but not that way. Nothing’s decided. I know you mentioned marriage, but that’s not a solution, you must see that. Your brother’s married someone from outside your culture, and if you’re marrying for children—to provide an heir—then surely you should marry one of your own people. Wouldn’t that make it easier for him—the heir—to take over later? Make it easier for him to rule?’
She sighed and rolled away from him.
‘I’m probably not making sense but I was in a muddle about this before you mentioned marriage, so imagine how much worse that muddle is now.’
‘Why?’
Why?
She peered at him, searching for a valid reason, aware of the excited beating of her heart—but that was just, she was certain, because they were so good together in bed.
‘Because it’s silly even thinking of it.’
‘Is it?’
He slid up in the bed and propped his hand on his elbow so he could look down into her face.
‘I have promised Jenny and Kam I will marry and have children. I was happy to arrange a marriage of convenience. I already had Miriam looking for a possible wife. Then here you are, pregnant with my child, willing to share your life with someone called Charlie of all things to give that child a father—so why would you not marry me?’
Mel tried desperately to think of a valid response but he touched his finger to her lips before she could frame a single word.
‘You wish to keep working—you can do that here. We are setting up the paediatric surgical unit—it will be yours to order and staff as you wish. And while you work you can rest easy about the child. Children are brought up, to a large extent, in the women’s house—going between there and their parents’ houses as happily as the young kids play among a goat herd. You will have your child yet when you are working you will know he or she is in a secure and happy family environment—in an environment of love.’
Here was something she could refute.
‘You weren’t,’ she reminded him. ‘You were sent overseas to school at six.’
‘Which is why,’ he said, his voice cold, ‘my child will not suffer in that way. Oh, I have doubts, too, Melissa. What kind of father will I, who never knew a father’s love, make? I have real doubts, but that will not stop me doing the best I can.’
‘Oh, Arun,’ she said softly, and reached up to wrap her arms around his shoulders.
She sounded so genuinely unhappy for him Arun sat up, turned on a bedside light and looked at her properly. She was beautiful—flushed and rosy, her wild hair splayed across the pillow, her pale body with its nest of curls beneath the barely swollen belly the source of such delight…
But this reluctance to give in to marriage…
‘You like me?’
It seemed a strange question to be asking after they’d made love so satisfactorily, but it seemed important to find out.
She nodded, opened her reddened lips to add words then closed them again, allowing him to continue.
‘We’re good together in bed?’
Another nod, this time with a slight smile that made him want to take her again—right now.
But he couldn’t do that—not until a lot of things were sorted out.
‘So why are you hesitant about marriage?’
Mel looked at him. Long and lean, but well muscled with the leanness because he could lift and hold her with ease, although she was no lightweight. Intelligent, caring—his love-making showed that—apparently wealthy, if what she’d seen at the party was any indication, great in bed, so why not marry him?
Because he didn’t love her! How could he when he was still in love with the memory of his beautiful young wife? It would be like competing with a ghost…
The answer came so unexpectedly and was so pathetic Mel decided it must be wrong. She was thirty-five. Surely she wasn’t still lost in a dream of finding the perfect love?
But it was the only answer she could find to explain why she was so hesitant.
‘I can’t explain,’ she said, then she added, ‘And now I have to sleep. I have to see Tia’s baby in the morning, then it’s Jenny’s wedding in the afternoon. Are you staying or going?’
‘Staying or going?’ he repeated.
‘In my bed.’
And as she said the words she wondered again why they’d ended up in her bedroom, not his, but this time the obvious answer came to her—his bed was the one he’d shared with his wife, the wife he’d loved.
With a sigh that hid the sudden surge of sadness in her heart, she turned over on her side, pulled the sheet up to her shoulder, tucked her hands beneath her head and prepared to go to sleep.
She felt the bed move and thought he was leaving but then his body curved around hers, warming her back, and his hand rested gently on her hip.
‘Technically, this is my bed,’ he whispered, nestling closer, reminding her of how good it had been, four months ago, to have him sleep beside her.
He should have gone back to his own room. He knew that. But he also knew he wanted, more than was wise, to sleep with her again. Just sleep. At least until the morning, when anything might happen, and probably would…
CHAPTER SEVEN
MAKING love in the morning, Mel decided as she stood in the large shower with Arun making soapy circles on her back, was probably one of the nicest things in the whole wide world. She had set aside her worries about the future and what it might hold, refusing to think about Arun’s suggestions until she was on her own and could think clearly. So right now she was relaxed and at ease and ready to take on whatever the world had to offer her right here and now, although if he kept soaping there, taking on stuff might be a bit delayed.
‘I have to get to work,’ she scolded him, and he laughed, then turned her so she faced him.
‘You do not have to go to work!’ he told her sternly, although the words lost a little of their firmness with the hot water streaming all around them.
‘But I do—there are things to organise if we’re operating here, and the baby to see. I do wish he had a name—Oh!’
The thought
was so shocking she forgot about playing with Arun in the shower and stepped out, winding one towel around her hair and drying herself on another.
‘Do you think,’ she asked, as Arun turned off the water and stepped out himself, ‘that she doesn’t want to give him the name they chose because she’s still uncertain that he’ll live? How awful if she’s thinking that way. How unhappy she must be!’
Arun shook his head.
‘Despite a plenitude of sisters, I have not and will not ever understand women. How could you be thinking of Tia’s happiness or otherwise while we were in the shower?’
Mel smiled at his disbelief.
‘Multi-tasking?’ she responded, tucking one towel around her body then taking the one off her hair to rub at the wet tangled mess. ‘It’s a woman thing! See, I can dry my hair, wonder how long it will take to get the tangles out, plan out the day—I’ll see Tia’s baby first but later I’m going to need to work out exactly how we’ll do the operation. And when do you work? See patients? You seemed to be looking after me most of yesterday.’
He stared at her for a little longer, then shook his head, wrapped a towel around his waist and left the bathroom, poking his head back in long enough to say, ‘I’ll tell Olara breakfast in ten minutes—does that suit your schedule?’
Mel’s towel had slipped so she wadded it and threw it at him, then saw the desire leap again in his eyes and knew it was a mistake. But easing that desire would have to wait—there was so much to be done.
A young man was in the ICU room with the baby—a doctor from A and E, Arun explained, relieving Sarah until another paediatric registrar could be brought on staff. Arun took Tia to one side as Mel examined her small patient, smiling as she realised the little one was doing well.
‘How can you tell? What do you look for?’ Tia asked, and before Mel could explain, Arun took the chart and carefully pointed out to his sister the different measurements and what they meant, assuring her the baby was more than holding his own.
‘See,’ he said, gently, ‘he has even gained some weight.’
Tia hugged him hard, then hugged Mel as well, before changing the subject to ask about the party. Had Mel enjoyed it? Had Jenny looked beautiful?
‘It was great and Jenny looked gorgeous,’ Mel assured her, happy that Tia was showing an interest in things other than the baby. They talked for a while, Zaffra, the nurse, returning to take over as the baby-watcher.
The young doctor from A and E remained near the door, hovering with some purpose, Mel suspected. Then Arun spoke to him and frowned at the young man’s reply.
‘What is it?’ Mel asked.
‘He was wondering if you could spare some time to go down to the A and E department,’ Arun replied, although he still looked perplexed.
‘If he and the other doctors sharing duty with Sarah are from there, they might want to know more about the baby’s condition,’ Mel suggested. ‘I’m only too happy to go down, but someone will have to point the way. I’ve a feeling I could get lost in this place for ever if left on my own.’
‘I shall be your guide,’ Arun said, investing the words with a deeper meaning so Mel found herself not only shivering but thinking thoughts that should be far from her head in a hospital situation.
‘Don’t you have a job to go to?’ she teased, hoping to hide her reaction.
‘It will wait for me,’ he said easily, then added, ‘Though not for much longer. Come, the baby is being well cared for. We will go.’
Mel followed him, trying to take note of the corridors along which they passed, feeling she no longer knew which way was up and which down.
Feeling she no longer knew where she was in other ways as well. Was Arun serious about marriage?
She watched him as he paused to exchange words with a colleague.
Would it work?
As he’d said, marriages of convenience had worked in his country for centuries so he saw no reason for it not to work.
Yet he’d married Hussa for love…
‘Now, this one takes us down,’ he said, ushering her inside, and nodding to those already packed in the lift.
A polite man, but used to command.
If they did marry, then her biggest—and most irrational, she had to admit—fear would be allayed. Should something happen to her, her child would have Jenny to be a mother to him or her, and that was a far better option than leaving Charlie holding the baby…
It would, in fact, be the perfect solution.
‘And down this corridor.’
He pushed open the double doors into the A and E department. And for a moment Mel could only stare, for the room in front of her was jam-packed with people, women, she now saw, women and children. Some babies in arms, some older children, but everywhere black-clad women, most of them with their faces masked or veiled, holding children.
A young man in a short white coat, stethoscope dangling from his pocket, rushed towards them, speaking not to her but to Arun.
‘We didn’t tell them,’ he said helplessly. ‘Somehow word just got around that there was a baby doctor in the city. They’ve come from everywhere, even desert people. There are camels parked outside.’
‘Camels?’ she said, the thought making her turn and smile at Arun, but he was staring at the crowd and shaking his head, a look of profound sadness on his face.
‘What is it, Arun?’ she demanded as the young man moved away to speak to a woman who was bringing her baby forward.
‘It is shame, Melissa, that I did not know—we did not know, Kam and I—how very bad things are here. We thought we had time to fix the wrongs, but look at this. I must get help here quickly, must get onto the other paediatricians we have contracted to start shortly. The list is back in my office. Come, it is not your problem.’
‘Not my problem? Women with sick children are not my problem? Of course they are. Now, where’s that young man gone? He needs to get them organised. Do the nurses understand triage? I’ll be more use to children with heart problems, so maybe if I see them first while the other doctors on duty do the initial examination of the others and pass on anything serious to me. Can we get Sarah Craig down here? As long as I’m in the hospital, she doesn’t need to be with Tia’s baby.’
Arun stared at her in disbelief.
‘You can’t do this!’ he said.
She shook her head and smiled.
‘That’s where you’re wrong. This is one thing I can do, and if I’m staying here for two weeks to operate on Tia’s baby, I can work here for the next two weeks, maybe four because I can’t leave straight after the op. That should give you and Kam time to set up your paeds ward and get it staffed, OK? Now, find me the young man, and a nurse who can translate for me, and let me get to work.’
It was Arun’s turn to shake his head, but Mel knew there wasn’t a moment to be wasted if she wanted to see even half of these women today and still get to Jenny’s wedding.
‘Shoo!’ she said, and made a pushing motion with her hands.
He stared at her, his chin tilting upward as if to defy her order. Who, after all, was she to be giving orders to a sheikh? Then he smiled.
‘I’m shooing,’ he said quietly, but his eyes said something else. His eyes said, Thank you, though the gratitude was still tinged with shame.
And seeing that expression, knowing the beating his pride must be taking as he realised the extent to which his people had been neglected, her heart ached for him…
By lunchtime she had seven children lined up for radiological examinations but because the radiology staff had been hired for their skills with adults, not children, she wanted to be in the room with the children being scanned.
‘I need to see for myself,’ she explained to Arun, who had appeared from nowhere to insist she stop working to eat lunch. ‘And I won’t get them all done this afternoon because we have to get to the wedding. As well as that, some of the little ones might need to be sedated, so maybe in the morning, if I could have time in the radiology rooms a
nd whatever staff are available, we can work through the day.’
He sighed and shook his head.
‘I don’t want you doing this,’ he said, and she smiled at him.
‘Liar! What you mean is that you feel bad that it is me doing it when I came over for a week of fun and celebration of Jenny’s wedding. But, in fact, you’re delighted to have someone who can do this.’
‘And mortified to see the extent of the need,’ he said quietly, the pain in his words so clear she could feel it. ‘My father was ill for a long time before he died, but he kept control of what he could. He allowed the foreigners to spend their money where and how they wanted but he actively discouraged the local people from using any of these facilities. The wealthy families, of course, weren’t swayed by this, and instead of going to Europe for their medical and dental treatment, they welcomed the new hospital and its attendant services, but we have always been a people who have shared whatever we’ve had, so this division between those who have the best and those who have nothing is very much against our traditional ways.’
Mel thought of the compound with huge houses encircling the inner courtyard and wondered about traditional ways, and Arun, perhaps guessing her thoughts, continued.
‘People see our family—the houses we have—as wealthy, but our compound is like a city, housing maybe three hundred people, many families, all living together. And if some work at one thing, preparing food and serving it, others, like Miriam, work at other things. She has made the loose trousers the children wear for as long as I can remember. Even my mother, who thought herself a princess and above work, made perfumes for everyone in the family, including those you might see as servants. It is our way.’
It is our way! Such simple words, but like the pain she’d heard earlier it pierced Mel’s heart and for an instant she felt regret that he didn’t love her, for it would be so very easy for her to love him…
Especially if they were married…
Satisfied that she had eaten well, Arun escorted Melissa first to the ICU where the baby continued to do well then back to A and E where still more women waited with their children.
The Sheikh Surgeon's Baby Page 10