Date with a Surgeon Prince

by Meredith Webber

  And Nelson wasn’t here…

  Ignoring her own momentary weakness, Marni concentrated on Tasnim.

  The rash was spreading, and Tasnim was getting more and more upset, undoubtedly because she was becoming more and more uncomfortable.

  Ignoring the dune where she’d raised her flag, Marni climbed another dune, back in the direction they’d come in from. Once at the top she shouted for the boys, alternating their names, yelling that Tasnim needed help, they had to come.

  Her voice seemed a pitifully weak instrument out there in the vastness of the desert and she was certain they wouldn’t hear her. She slid and slithered back down the dune, persuaded Tasnim to come inside and put on her own abaya, which she’d been wearing over her clothes when they’d been kidnapped.

  Too tired and upset to argue, Tasnim dressed, then lay down to sleep—on the floor, not on a mattress.

  She was still asleep when Manir heard the engine of a vehicle break the endless silence in which they’d lived since they’d reached the shelter.

  ‘Come on, we’re moving you,’ Fawzi announced, when Marni met him outside the hut.

  ‘Did you hear me calling? Tasnim’s ill. She has a rash across her stomach and it could be affecting the baby. She needs to get back to town and see her doctor.’

  ‘No can do,’ Fawzi said, although Hari looked only too happy at the idea of getting rid of their captives. ‘But it won’t be much longer,’ Fawzi continued. ‘The imposter has our letter of demand and he’ll be giving in any minute now.’

  ‘The imposter? You mean Ghazi? Why is he an imposter?’

  ‘Because he took the throne from our brother,’ Hari said, apparently repeating a lesson Fawzi had drummed into him.

  ‘But I heard Nimr didn’t want the job,’ Marni argued.

  ‘He should still have taken it,’ Fawzi said. ‘It was his birthright.’

  ‘Well, I don’t understand the politics of your country and even if I did I’d have no right to comment, but it’s silly to be standing out here in the heat. Tasnim’s asleep so we can’t leave yet, but if you move around the side into the shade I’ll bring you some mint tea and biscuits.’

  Hari, appearing only too happy to indulge in tea and biscuits, led the way, and Fawzi followed, though, Marni felt, more reluctantly.

  She set everything out on a makeshift tray and joined them in the shade, knowing it would be to their advantage if she could make friends with the young men, rather than hitting them on their heads with rocks.

  And as they talked, relaxing quickly as young people did, she realised just how much they loved their country, especially the desert.

  ‘I’ll get some of Fawzi’s photographs to show you,’ Hari offered, when he’d finished his tea.

  He raced over to the car, returning with a computer tablet, opening it up at a picture of an Arabian gazelle, a beautiful picture, taken so close up you could see the reflection of the camera in the animal’s eyes.

  ‘How on earth did you do that?’ she asked, and Fawzi explained that they had many hides in the desert, like this place, only built for photography rather than for shelter.

  ‘So you’re still hunters, the two of you, but your gun is now a camera?’ she said, and Fawzi looked pleased that she understood.

  She slid her fingers across the screen, looking at one photograph after another, amazed at how good they were.

  ‘You should put these into a book. I had no idea there was so much wildlife in the desert. It would be wonderful publicity for Ablezia.’

  ‘This is what people are forgetting,’ Hari said. ‘That’s what Fawzi and I don’t like about the way our country is going. People move into the city and lose their interest in the desert, forgetting that the desert is part of their hearts and souls.’

  ‘I can understand what you mean,’ Marni said, but her visitors’ attention had shifted from her, and as she watched the tension build in their bodies and their heads turn skywards, she heard the distant thud, thud, thud of a helicopter.

  ‘It’s Nimr, he’s found us,’ Hari said, looking as if he’d like to burrow deep into the sand and disappear.

  ‘Quick, we have to leave!’ Fawzi stood up and looked ready to flee but couldn’t quite bring himself to haul Marni to her feet.

  ‘Sit down again,’ she said. ‘You can’t go rushing all over the desert with a helicopter chasing you. That’s only for the movies and even in the movies the vehicle usually crashes. And there’s no way on earth I’d let Tasnim get into the vehicle with you. She’s too far gone in her pregnancy. Stay here, I’ll talk to Nimr. I’ll show him we’re both quite all right and you’ve been very kind to us and that it’s all just been a joke.’

  ‘Except Fawzi wrote the letter to Ghazi, telling him we had you,’ Hari reminded her.

  ‘Well, we can get around that too,’ Marni said above the now loud clatter of the helicopter rotors. ‘Ghazi isn’t going to throw you into a dungeon. In fact, I doubt he’ll even throw you into jail. We’ll work something out.’

  She didn’t add that he might well have given them a medal for getting rid of her, if his sister hadn’t been involved as well.

  Perhaps realising the futility of escape, the young men stayed put, all three of them bending their heads low over their knees as the sand from the rotors kicked up all around them.

  The little aircraft touched down as lightly as a butterfly and when the engine was turned off and the rotors started spinning more slowly a door opened and not Nimr but Ghazi dropped onto the sand, followed by a woman with a large black bag and, finally, from the other side, Nimr.

  ‘I’ll kill you two,’ Nimr roared, then proceeded to yell at them in their own language.

  ‘Where’s Tasnim?’ Ghazi growled, anger in every line in his body, rage radiating from his pores.

  Marni pointed towards the hut where a still sleepy Tasnim had appeared in the doorway.

  Ghazi—although clad in jeans and a polo shirt there was no doubt from the way he held himself that he was Ghazi—led the nurse in that direction,

  So that’s what he thinks of me, Marni decided sadly.

  Ghazi thought he’d held himself together quite well through the ordeal of not knowing where Marni was, or even if she was alive. But when he jumped out of the helicopter and saw her sitting on the sand, chatting happily to her kidnappers the tension that he’d held in check erupted into searing, white-hot anger.

  Not wanting to let fly at her in front of so many people, he held it in check and sought out his sister instead, taking her in his arms and holding her close while she sobbed onto his shoulder. Her cries of relief were rising towards hysteria, her babbled words barely understandable. He soothed and comforted her, taking his time to calm her down before peeling her off his body so the nurse could check her.

  By that time Nimr had joined the little group sitting on the sand, and they had obviously calmed him down because both his brothers were not only still alive but didn’t seem to have been harmed in any way.

  Ghazi walked towards the group and now, finally, the woman whose disappearance had nearly ripped his heart out looked up and nodded acknowledgement of his presence. She was pale, her hair coming loose from a plait and sticking out in all directions, but her face betrayed no hint of relief that they’d been rescued, or delight at seeing him.

  ‘Nimr tells me the helicopter only carries four, Ghazi, so I think you should go with Tasnim back to the hospital,’ Marni said, so calmly he wanted to throttle her. ‘I know you brought a nurse, but Tasnim’s been really strong up until this morning when she came out in a rash across her belly. I vaguely remember something called PEP, poly-something eruption of pregnancy that can happen in the later months. I think that’s all it is but she’s getting very anxious and upset about it and is desperately worried that it could affect the baby. If you’re with her, you’ll be able to keep her calm until she gets back home and her own obstetrician sees her.’

  Ghazi stared at the woman he’d come to rescue.


  Was that all she had to say?

  Apparently not, because she was speaking again.

  ‘That way, I can get a ride back to town with Hari and Fawzi, or Nimr’s said he’d be happy to fly back out to pick me up once he’s dropped Tasnim off.’

  She had it all organised, this pale, dishevelled devil he’d fallen in love with.

  And not a hello Ghazi, nice to see you, sorry if you’ve been worried to be heard!

  She was unbelievable and, heaven forbid, unbelievably beautiful to his eyes—even in an old kandora she must have found in the hut and smudges of exhaustion under her eyes.

  Had he hurt her so much that she was treating him this way?

  Like a passing stranger?

  Or a pretend fiancé?

  The pain in his gut suggested this might be so, but how could he say anything in front of Nimr and his brothers?

  ‘Are you in agreement with this plan?’ he asked Nimr.

  His cousin nodded.

  ‘I think Tasnim will need you as well as the nurse,’ he said.

  Knowing Nimr was probably right, Ghazi turned to the young men.

  ‘As for you two,’ Ghazi he said, ‘can you be trusted to stay here with Marni until we return or will you get some other wild idea and take off again?’

  ‘We’ll be here,’ Hari said, so promptly Ghazi had to wonder what threats Nimr had already made to his brothers.

  ‘I think we should go right now,’ the nurse called from the doorway of the hut, and Ghazi, after one last, despairing look at the woman he loved, turned back to help his near-hysterical sister into the helicopter.

  ‘Well, that went well,’ Nimr said to him when they were airborne once again. ‘Some little glitch along the road to matrimony?’

  ‘Just keep flying,’ Ghazi growled. ‘And don’t think for a minute you’ll be flying back there, unless you want to ride home with your brothers—which might not be a bad idea. With you there, I’ll be less likely to murder them.’

  Nimr flew.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  NOT A PRIVATE word, not a touch—he hates me!

  With Hari and Fawzi chattering on in their own language, Marni was left with her own gloomy thoughts.

  You didn’t exactly rush into his arms yourself, she reminded herself, which only made her feel even worse.

  The problem was that, being the honourable man he was, Ghazi would undoubtedly feel he was bound to her in some way—apart from the pretend betrothal.

  Enough to make the betrothal not pretend?

  Probably, Marni decided gloomily, then became aware the other conversation had turned to English.

  ‘Do you think Ghazi will banish us?’ Fawzi was asking.

  Marni studied the young men and saw fear and despair in their faces.

  ‘I doubt that very much,’ she said gently. ‘You did a very silly thing but no harm has come of it. And you did it for reasons you believed in your hearts were right. I’m sure Ghazi will understand that.’

  ‘You will speak to him on our behalf?’ Hari begged, and although Marni knew her words would achieve little, given Ghazi’s current opinion of her, she agreed that she would.

  ‘But you’d do better speaking to him yourselves—apologising for causing alarm. And I think he’d be more willing to forgive you if you can come up with more than just an apology. What do the pair of you do, apart from kidnapping women?’

  ‘We hunt,’ came the chorused reply.

  ‘Hunt animals for food?’

  The young men laughed.

  ‘No, for the camera,’ Fawzi said. ‘You saw the pictures, and that gun I had, well, it was an antique—no way would it harm anyone or anything. We love the old ways but some of our desert animals are almost extinct. Some we trap and keep to breed from—out at the old palace—then we set the young ones free when they are able to live on their own.’

  ‘Your photographs are brilliant,’ Marni told him, ‘but would it not be better for people to see these animals and birds in the wild? Could you take tourists on trips to the desert—not just to eat dinner and watch the sunset, the way tourism operators do now, but run specialist tours for photographers and wildlife lovers. You could mix the old ways with the new, as tourists want comfort—set up luxury tents and provide good food. I am sure that kind of thing would really take off.’

  She saw the growing excitement in their eyes so wasn’t surprised when the talk again excluded her—not that she cared. If this pair could find something useful to do with their passion, they’d have no time to be thinking up wild schemes, like kidnapping pretend fiancées.

  Which brought her thoughts back to Ghazi, but what he must be thinking she had absolutely no idea.

  Flying the little aircraft was second nature to him. He and his boyhood friends and relations had been flipping around in them since they had been teenagers, so he had time to plan.

  No matter that Marni might hate him, he had to do the right thing by her, his honour demanded that much. He’d sort out the rest later.

  He phoned Mazur and gave him orders to have everything in readiness at the old palace, for that was where he’d take her—where he felt most at home, and where he knew she would be safe.

  ‘I’ll need someone qualified to marry us. With the photograph as proof of her grandfather’s agreement to the betrothal, we won’t need anyone to stand in place of her father, and I’ll use Nimr’s otherwise useless brothers as witnesses, then send them packing back to the city and deal with them later. I want my quarters prepared, clothing and toiletries for Marni, and food laid on, but no hovering servants. She’ll need privacy and quiet, Mazur, to get over the ordeal she’s suffered.’

  He tried not to think about what would happen beyond the ceremony he was planning—what might happen in his quarters. He knew what he hoped would happen but feared he’d damaged the tender shoots of their relationship beyond repair, not with his lovemaking but with the rash words he’d uttered afterwards.

  Nearly there, and now he saw the brave little flag flying from a dune beyond the shelter and knew she’d put it there. Kidnapped and left in the middle of the desert, she’d not only handled the situation but had done her best to get herself and Tasnim safely out of it.

  He set the aircraft down, waited while the rotors slowed then dropped down to the ground.

  Marni watched him walk towards them. Behind her, the two men stood, but she couldn’t get her legs to move because this time Ghazi wasn’t radiating anger. In fact, he appeared to be smiling and she was reasonably sure he wouldn’t be smiling at Fawzi and Hari.

  ‘You two get into your vehicle and get over to the old palace,’ he said. ‘I want you there as soon as possible. I’ve got a job for you to do.’

  The pair looked shocked, but moved rapidly enough as Ghazi drew closer, his hand waving them away dismissively.

  ‘But they wanted to talk to you about an idea they’ve had,’ Marni objected, with only the slightest quiver in her voice betraying just how trembly she was feeling inside now she knew she’d have to face Ghazi on his own—be with him on her own!

  ‘They can put it in writing—Fawzi’s good at that!’ Ghazi growled, coming closer and closer to where she sat.

  She feared if she stood up her legs would give way on her, because just seeing him was causing palpitations, and quivering nerves, and goose-bumps on her skin, and too may other physical sensations to name.

  ‘You,’ he said, putting out his hand and hauling her unceremoniously to her feet and marching with her towards the helicopter, ‘are coming with me.’

  ‘Do you think this is the modern equivalent of one of our ancestors throwing his woman over a camel and riding off into the desert?’ Hari whispered to Fawzi, loudly enough to bring another growl from Ghazi.

  ‘Is Fawzi right?’ Marni asked, because she had to say something. ‘Are you throwing me over your camel and riding off with me?’

  He had helped her into the helicopter and now stood outside, looking in at her.

  ‘W
ould you like that?’ he asked, his voice deep, his eyes, his face unreadable.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she answered honestly.

  Or was it honestly? she wondered as he marched around the chopper to get in behind the controls. She suspected that, somehow or other, she’d fallen in love with this man, without really knowing him at all.

  Was that possible?

  Or was it nothing more than the manifestation of the attraction that had flared between them from the beginning?

  But would lust make her heart ache when she saw the tenderness with which he treated Safi?

  Would it make her heart skitter when he smiled?

  Not that there was any evidence of a smile at the moment. In fact, sneaking a sideways glance at him, she had to wonder if she’d ever see him smile again. Not any time soon, that was for sure.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  The demand came when they’d lifted into the air and banked as if to go even deeper into the desert.

  She wanted to cry. Wanted to ask why he hadn’t asked her that before. But he was all business, and she could do business.

  ‘Desperately in need of a bath but apart from that, yes, I’m fine,’ she said, and saw a slight frown mar the inscrutability of his expression, but it was quickly gone.

  ‘You’ll have time for a bath,’ was all he said, or maybe he kept talking, but if he did, Marni missed it, too filled with astonishment at what lay ahead of them.

  Rising out of the desert sands, barely perceptible at first, was what seemed like an immense building. High walls, sand coloured and seemingly endless, round turrets set at intervals, and where the walls changed direction, and within the walls, more walls, and domes, and spires.

  ‘It looks as if it just grew up out of the desert sands like some fantastic plant.’

  She breathed the words, lost in wonder as they flew closer and the immensity of the old palace—for that was all it could be—was revealed.