The Sheikh Surgeon's Baby

by Meredith Webber

  ‘It’s impossible!’ he said. ‘You’ll never see them all. We’ll have to leave by four to drive out for the wedding and you need to wash and dress. You should stop now.’

  She checked her watch then smiled at him.

  ‘Give me until three. I’ll leave then. And this is worse than it looks. I’ve seen a lot of these children, their mothers are just waiting for follow-up appointments or medication. The staff here have been overwhelmed but they’re doing a great job handling so many people at once—and the children, they are so good, waiting patiently with their mothers.’

  ‘We are good at patience,’ Arun told her, and knew by the flush that rose in her cheeks that she’d understood the double meaning in his words.

  Would she marry him?

  She hadn’t said no, which gave him hope, but she certainly hadn’t leapt at the idea.

  And she was speaking in terms of staying four weeks, which wasn’t a good sign.

  Although surely a woman as intelligent as she was would see all the positives of such a union?

  So why hadn’t she said yes?

  Was she fonder of this paragon Charlie than she admitted?

  Anger fired and he knew he had to find a solution for it was unthinkable that another man should rear his child.

  He set the subject aside, although he realised it must have been preying on his subconscious mind when, later, they settled into the car to take them back to the compound for the wedding.

  Melissa was wearing a long gown in the palest blue, with darker blue flowers embroidered wildly all over it. A darker blue shawl hid her vibrant hair, making her eyes look bluer and her skin creamier. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, but saying it then asking her again about the marriage option might make the compliment sound hollow.

  ‘Jenny’s wedding,’ he began, wondering how to approach the subject again, and surprised at his own unfamiliar hesitation. ‘Has it made you think of my suggestion?’

  Blue eyes studied him, and the smile he so enjoyed flitted momentarily across her lips.

  ‘No,’ she said, and smiled properly now. ‘That’s answering your question literally—Jenny’s wedding has made no difference to my thinking but yes to what you’re really asking. I have been giving your proposition some thought.’

  Proposition?

  ‘It was a proposal,’ he said stiffly, angered that she seemed to be making a joke of a situation he found so difficult.

  The smile disappeared.

  ‘I would have thought a proposal had an element of love in it, Arun,’ she said quietly, and once again he was struck by how little he understood the female half of the human race.

  Which made him even more irritated.

  ‘You were willing to accept Charlie without love—without even attraction, from what you tell me,’ he snapped, then regretted opening his mouth for he’d sounded petty even to his own ears.

  Once again she studied him, although now there was no hint of a smile.

  ‘That was intended to be a safeguard for the baby. I have no family and Jenny, my best friend, at the time I decided on it, was committed to travelling to far-off places. I needed to know there was someone to take care of the baby if anything happened to me.’

  ‘And you chose this Charlie, not the baby’s father!’

  Had she heard the anger simmering close to rage that she put her hand on his and said his name? All she said was ‘Arun!’ but it was enough to calm him slightly.

  ‘I didn’t know you’d be interested,’ she added quietly. ‘When we met you’d been adamant children weren’t in your future. I had to make some contingency plans—just in case.’

  He heard a quaver in her voice as she spoke and the uncertainty of it killed the remnants of his anger. Now it was his turn to study her, to remember something she’d said earlier—something about fear, about terror.

  ‘Why don’t you have a family?’ he asked, but knew the question had come too late. The car had stopped and the crowds gathered in the compound were looking expectantly towards it.

  Today there even more people around, all obviously in their best attire, although a lot of the women wore black gowns over their colourful dresses, the purples, blues and richest greens peeping shyly at the hemlines or the sleeves.

  ‘This is the extended family, all of our people, come to celebrate with Kam and Jenny,’ Arun explained, taking Mel’s hand to lead her up the steps.

  But when he was waylaid, someone touching his sleeve to attract his attention then talking to him urgently, she went on ahead, knowing there’d be someone somewhere to show her where she had to go.

  Miriam rescued her, taking her arm and leading her to where Jenny was being prepared by a multitude of sisters.

  ‘Look,’ Jen said, holding up her hands to show a hennaed pattern on them.

  ‘That’s beautiful,’ Mel told her, seeing the delicacy of the tracing of leaves and buds.

  ‘We’d do it to you but it’s too late,’ Jen told her. ‘You have to mix it to a paste and put it on thickly then hold it near heat to dry it so it leaves the stain on the skin. See Miriam’s feet.’

  Miriam lifted one foot to show the hennaed sole.

  ‘I didn’t do my feet because they’re too ticklish to have someone painting them,’ Jen explained.

  Mel saw the happiness in her friend’s face and heard the delight in her voice and was so glad for her. That Jen, who’d suffered so much with the loss of her husband and unborn son, should find such joy again was a miracle, but while Mel was happy for her, she also felt a tiny twinge of not jealousy but regret that this joy had found Jen twice while somehow it had bypassed her completely.

  She closed her eyes against the thought and found an image of Arun on the inside of her eyelids. Just his face, strong and clean-cut, the dark brows above his green eyes, the beautiful lips, moving, telling her they’d marry.

  She blinked him away, although she knew in reality it would take more than a blink to get rid of him.

  Especially now…

  Then Jen was ready, her beautiful blue silk gown covered with a black one, her unbound golden hair covered with a black veil so she looked like a black parcel, wrapped ready for her husband to unwrap. The women escorted her out of the room into the big room where Jane and Bob Stapleton came forward to greet her with a kiss. Then everyone was shuffled into place, Mel beside Arun one step behind the bride and groom, and the ceremony began.

  Had Kam explained what would be said to Jen before this started? Mel wondered, listening to the music of the words and understanding none of them, but what she did understand was a gasp from the crowd of people in the room, and she turned to Arun, eyebrows raised, hoping there was enough of a murmur going on behind them for him to explain.

  Which he promptly did!

  ‘He is saying there might be another wedding in the family soon,’ he said, his eyes daring her to argue, to make a scene in front of what must have been several hundred people.

  ‘Yours?’ Her whisper might have been quiet but it was definitely a demand.

  ‘Of course,’ he said.

  Mel looked around desperately. On one side white-gowned men stood, most with prayer beads clicking through their fingers. On the other side the women, like bright butterflies, their black veils dispensed with because all the men present counted as family.

  There was no help at hand but she wasn’t going to give in just like that.

  ‘I’m not marrying you!’ she muttered at Arun, who turned with a smile and murmured,

  ‘He didn’t say who I was to marry.’

  ‘Oh!’

  She felt flat—deflated—although she’d known he had to marry. He’d promised Jen…

  Then his smile broadened and somehow sneaked beneath Mel’s guard, warming and exciting her at the same time.

  ‘But I haven’t given up on my first choice,’ he told her. ‘Have you not heard the legends? The stories of the desert sheikh who takes the woman of his desires and rides off with his bride a
cross his saddle? Shall we ride in the morning?’

  The question was as seductive as his touch had been the previous night, and Mel found her body trembling with remembered desire.

  How could he do this to her, with no more than words and glances? And how could they be having this conversation in the middle of Jen’s wedding? All around them people were chanting now, rhythmic words Mel didn’t understand, while Arun alternately joined in and spoke to her, tormenting her with his special magic, moving close enough for their bodies to be touching.

  And how could she fight him when he had such an effect on all her senses?

  No, not all her senses—surely she retained some common sense!

  ‘I’m not the woman of your desires,’ Mel said, edging away from him to evade his touch. ‘And as for riding off across the desert, this is the twenty-first century in case you didn’t know.’

  ‘Oh, I know it,’ he said, still smiling and still exciting her traitorous body. ‘And I applaud what the new age has brought with it, but men and women still meet and are attracted. Can you deny that?’

  ‘Attraction’s not enough as the basis for a marriage,’ Mel muttered at him.

  ‘But attraction, combined with a baby on the way, surely is.’

  Was that true?

  Or was it a false presumption that would lead to certain disaster?

  Mel looked around at the people gathered in the room, at the children, some standing quietly, others playing, also quietly, all of them happy and healthy, secure in this, to Mel, strange environment.

  ‘Secure’—that was the killer word. What Arun was offering was security for her baby, security that went far beyond anything else Mel could put in place—security that eased the terror hidden in her heart.

  She slid a glance towards Arun, ignored the shivers of desire, and studied his face.

  Given his own childhood, she knew beyond a doubt he would provide the best possible life for this child, and his best would be a wondrous thing. But he would also give it the love that had been missing from his own life.

  He might not be able to give Mel love, but the child, she knew without a doubt, would always know his or her father’s love. That love tipped the scales.

  She sighed.

  ‘Yes, I’ll ride with you in the morning,’ she said, thinking to tell him then, where she’d first told him of the baby.

  He seemed startled and she realised it had been a long time since he’d asked the question, but then he smiled and she knew he’d guessed her thoughts.

  People began moving, Jenny was whisked away. Mel wondered whether she should follow, but Arun gripped her arm.

  ‘Jenny will be dressed in the golden headdress and collar of the family now. It is very heavy but it is the bride’s gift, so to speak, her financial future should things not work out between her and Kam. She has to wear it for a short time so everyone can marvel at it, then she and Kam will leave. Normally, they would go to the bride room and stay there for a week.’

  The look that accompanied these last words made Mel’s skin heat, but she hid her reaction as she was fascinated by this glimpse of a different culture.

  ‘And then,’ she asked, ‘does she live with Kam or in the women’s house?’

  Arun smiled.

  ‘Can you imagine your friend wanting to live separate to her husband? If you can, I assure you I can’t imagine Kam wanting to spend any unavoidable time apart from Jenny. In the past, when men like my father had up to four wives, all the wives lived in the women’s house, having specific nights they spent with their husband. Their husband was supposed to treat all of them equally, but that didn’t always happen. Miriam was my father’s favourite and she could have played up to that, but she is a fine woman and made sure the other wives were happy, or at least contented with their lot. But as well as wives, there are aunts and grandmothers and women who may not be related but are friends from long ago. Many women live there—it is the hub of the compound. Everything is organised from there, as far as family is concerned, and that way the men are free for business dealings.’

  ‘It’s very different,’ Mel said, but she could understand how the tradition would have grown, the women crowded together for safety while their menfolk were away.

  Then Jenny returned with such a weight of gold jewellery on her head and around her neck that she needed Kam’s support to walk.

  ‘Take a good look at it,’ she said to Mel, ‘because I’ll give it ten minutes at the most then it’s coming off. It’s a wonder all the married women don’t have tendonitis.’

  Jenny paraded around the room, men and women nodding their approval, then she and Kam disappeared, to spend their first night as man and wife in a hotel in the city, and the partying began.

  Mel was on a settee by the wall, listening to the Stapletons’ latest account of their exploration of Zaheer, when Arun approached.

  He excused himself to the Stapletons, put out his hand and drew Mel to her feet, his eyes studying her face.

  ‘You are ready to leave?’ he said, surprising her, for although she was feeling exhausted after a night of love-making and a hard day’s work, she had doubted he would leave the party until it was finished.

  ‘I am,’ she admitted, ‘but there’s no need for you to leave as well. I’d like to go back to the hospital to check the baby before I go to bed, but all I need is a car and driver.’

  ‘And another in the morning to bring you back so you can ride?’ He smiled, not his seductive smile but the kind one that made her feel weak and woozy inside. ‘I have just returned from the hospital. The baby is doing well. Your clothes are still in Jenny’s house. You can spend the night there.’

  Alone? she wondered, and was surprised by the spurt of disappointment she felt. But, of course, it would be alone. Arun would be unlikely to cause a scandal in this obviously close-knit community by spending the night with her.

  So Mel did the only thing she could, she thanked him and allowed him to lead her out of the big building and across the courtyard towards Jenny and Kam’s house.

  ‘I can’t believe it’s only three days since I arrived and we walked through here,’ she said, looking up to where the full moon rode high in the sky, visible in spite of the lights in the compound.

  ‘Three days since I kissed you just here,’ Arun whispered, drawing her into the side passage where they’d talked—and kissed.

  But not like this. Not with heat and passion and an intensity that burned through Mel, made hotter and brighter and harder because tonight they wouldn’t take their kisses to the logical conclusion…

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MEL woke to the sound of Keira’s gentle voice urging her to wake up. The spacious room was still dark, although the young woman had turned on the bathroom light so Mel could see the doorway and pick out various pieces of furniture as she slowly remembered where she was and why.

  ‘You are riding?’ Keira asked, and Mel nodded, then realised a tray, set with a teapot and cup and a plate of pastries, had been place on the bedside table. ‘You might like something to eat before you go.’

  Mel thanked her and poured a cup of tea, although now she was fully awake she remembered why she’d agreed to ride with Arun, and a feeling somewhere between excitement and apprehension churned in her stomach.

  Setting down the tea, barely tasted, she left the bed and hurried into the bathroom, wanting to shower and get out to the stables—wanting to tell him before she lost her nerve!

  He was waiting where he’d been last time, although this time there were two horses saddled.

  ‘Haven’t lost your nerve?’ he said, echoing her thoughts so perfectly she could only stare at him.

  How had he known she intended telling him this morning?

  Or that her answer would be yes?

  Although maybe she’d have been just as nervous over saying no.

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she said, refusing to acknowledge his cleverness.

  He smiled a
nd held Mershinga while Mel mounted.

  Would she read his doubt behind his smile? Arun wondered, thinking of the preparations he had made and wondering if they were all for naught.

  But as he mounted Saracen he glanced towards the woman he hoped to soon make his wife and knew he hadn’t guessed wrong, although she certainly didn’t seem overwhelmingly happy about her decision to marry him.

  In fact, she seemed very tense, her face pale, her lips set—more like someone going to the gallows than a woman contemplating marriage.

  Which bothered him, although, thinking about it, if she was willing to go to this Charlie for security, surely what he, Arun, was offering, was more appealing.

  They rode out of the compound and he heard her sigh and saw her stiffly held shoulders relax as she eased Mershinga to a halt and looked around.

  And now he did know what she was thinking, for the look of wonder on her face told him as clearly as writing on a pad. He sat beside her, filled with joy that she could see and appreciate the beauty of the desert.

  ‘You said rosy-tipped and I didn’t take it in,’ she breathed, whispering the words as if afraid noise might break the spell of early morning. ‘But, look, the dunes are rosy, dark beneath and rosy-tipped, just as you said, the colour changing to gold while we watch.’

  She eased her mount forward so the horse picked its way slowly across the sand, Arun falling in behind, content to watch her wide-eyed wonder at the spectacle.

  They rode to the cairn where she’d told him of the baby, and there, as she was about to dismount, he joined her, stopping further movement with a hand on her arm.

  ‘You have come here to answer me?’ he asked.

  She turned and looked at him, looking up as Mershinga was a full three hands shorter than his black stallion.

  ‘I have,’ Mel answered solemnly.

  ‘You’ll marry me,’ Arun asked, a tightening in his gut suggesting he was really anxious about this.

  ‘I will,’ Mel said, and although he watched her as she spoke he could read no sign of joy in the declaration.