by Penny Jordan
He was trying to be amiable, Katrina realised, forcing herself to try to smile in response to his jocular comments.
'Excellent,' he pronounced when he'd finished examining her wound. 'I do not think we need have any concerns about your ultimate full recovery. You have had a lucky escape!'
She might have had a lucky escape, but Xander had not escaped, had he?
Every particle of her ached with anxiety for him. She wanted to go to him, to be with him, to tell him that she would do everything she could to help him.
Every second she spent here in hospital was a second wasted, a second she could have spent helping Xander.
'When will I be able to leave?' she asked the consultant impatiently.
He pursed his lips consideringly before answering her, frowning slightly as he looked at her. 'Certainly not for at least another twenty-four hours. If there is some problem and you feel we have not taken proper care of you, then please do say so. I would not want His Highness to think you were not totally happy with the care you have received here.'
He looked so concerned that Katrina immediately felt a small twinge of guilt.
'It is not that,' she tried to reassure him. 'It is just…' She stopped and bit her lip. How could she explain to him why she was so anxious to leave?
His pager started to bleep, and he turned away from Katrina to answer it.
'Her Highness is on her way to see you,' he told Katrina. 'I shall send a nurse in immediately in order to help you to prepare for her visit.'
He had gone before Katrina could say anything. His departure was followed almost immediately by the arrival of a young nurse, carrying several glossy carrier bags.
'We must be quick. We only have half an hour before Her Highness will arrive. I will run a bath for you, and we must of course keep the dressing on your arm dry.'
It was like being caught up in a small whirlwind, Katrina decided as she was gently but firmly escorted from her bed to an en suite bathroom of such luxury that she could only stare open-mouthed at it.
She tried to insist that she could manage by herself, but her self-appointed guardian took no notice, albeit discreetly turning her back when Katrina slipped out of her hospital gown and into her bath.
Ten minutes later she was engulfed in a thick snowy-white towel, her eyes blurred with anguished tears as she remembered another bathroom and another towel and Xander saying coolly to her that the finest towels were made from Egyptian cotton. Xander! She could hardly bear to think of the conditions under which he was probably being held, never mind contrast them to the luxury with which she was surrounded.
It seemed that for the Sheikha's visit protocol demanded that she must be fully dressed.
But she soon discovered that it was not her own clothes she was to wear, but instead she had to choose from the contents of the carrier bags that the nurse had spread out on the bed for her consideration.
'But these are expensive designer clothes,' Katrina protested. 'I cannot afford any of these.'
'They are a gift from Her Highness,' the nurse informed her, and then added anxiously as she saw Katrina hesitate and frown, 'It would be an insult to Her Highness if you were to refuse her gift.'
Reluctantly Katrina picked up one of the outfits—a pair of cream trousers in a mixture of linen and silk, with a soft blouson-style long-sleeved matching top. It disturbed her a little to be handed a set of brand-new, obviously expensive, delicately embroidered cream silk underwear, knowing just how much it was likely to have cost and that ultimately she would want to insist on paying for it herself.
Even so the delicate fabric felt wonderful against her skin, whilst both the demi-cup bra and the minute low-waisted, short-cut briefs that clung seductively to her skin were a perfect fit, although they were a rather more sensual design than she would have chosen for herself. As she caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror the rounded shape of her breasts was enhanced by the bra, whilst the briefs emphasised the slender length of her legs and the curve of her bottom. She couldn't help thinking that she might have chosen them to wear for Xander.
'Quick, we must hurry. Her Highness will be here soon,' the nurse was urging her, and dutifully Katrina reached for the cream trousers.
She might be dressed, but obviously she was still not deemed to be ready, she recognised as the nurse guided her to the dressing table and asked her to sit.
'I will dry your hair for you,' she announced, producing a hair-dryer from the dressing-table cupboard and proceeding to dry Katrina's newly washed hair.
Katrina wanted to protest that she could dry her hair herself, but she was conscious of her injured and bandaged arm.
Ten minutes later, with her hair dry and sleekly brushed, the nurse just had time to whisk away the brush and dryer before there was a knock on the door and another nurse hurried in to say that the Sheikha had arrived.
'She will receive you in the state waiting room,' Katrina was informed. 'We will escort you there.'
A hospital with a state waiting room! Just how cool was that? Katrina wondered ruefully as she was hurried from her own room, down a long, carpeted corridor to a door outside which the consultant was standing.
'Her Highness will receive you now,' he told Katrina, opening the door for her and then standing back.
Katrina's first thought was one of surprise that the Ruler's wife was so tiny. She was seated on a raised dais, and when she saw Katrina she beckoned her to enter the room.
Although she had not planned to do so, Katrina found herself automatically and instinctively bowing her head as she remembered the protocol she had learned before coming to Zuran. In the East, after all, the act of prostration was one of respect rather than one of subservience. But to her surprise as the door was closed, leaving them alone in the room, the Sheikha got up off her seat and indicated that Katrina was to rise.
Coming over to Katrina, she unclipped her veil and took hold of Katrina's hands in her own, leaning forward to kiss Katrina on first one cheek and then the other.
'We are so much in your debt,' she exclaimed so emotionally that Katrina felt slightly overwhelmed.
'I have done nothing, Your Highness. I—'
'Your modesty is very becoming, but unnecessary since I have already heard all that we owe you. Your arm is not troubling you too much, I hope? The surgeon says that you will make a full recovery and that there will not be any scar. His Highness instructed me to express to you his devout hope that you will forgive him for being the cause of your suffering. I cannot bear to think of what would have happened if that unspeakable wretch had been allowed to carry out his murderous plan!'
Katrina took a deep breath. It might be a breach of protocol, but she had to seize the chance to do what she could for Xander.
'Highness, if I might speak?' Without waiting for the Ruler's wife to respond, she plunged on. 'I know what Xander planned to do was a terrible thing, a truly dreadful thing, and I…I can well understand why…why he should be about to face trial, but if I could beg for him to be shown some clemency…? Truthfully I do not believe him to be an evil man, even though…' Katrina knew the risk she was taking and the extent to which she was breaking the unwritten rules governing protocol, but she had to try to help Xander. Fearful tears were burning the backs of her eyes. The Ruler's wife was frowning so much that Katrina dared not continue. Her mouth had gone dry with nervous tension and her heart was thudding against her chest wall.
'Xander?' the Sheikha demanded, an expression Katrina could not define crossing her face.
'So! You wish to plead for mercy for this… this… Xander?'
Numbly, Katrina nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
'I understand that you were kidnapped by El Khalid's men, and that you suffered a great deal of indignity at their hands. Surely instead of pleading for mercy for…one of them, you should be urging my husband to punish him most severely.'
Katrina bit her lip. 'I'm not saying he shouldn't be punished—just that the way he prot
ected me should be taken into account at the trial.'
'I shall speak with my husband,' the Ruler's wife announced evenly, stepping back from Katrina to return to her seat.
'It seems you are compassionate as well as modest. These are excellent virtues in a wife…and a mother,' she informed Katrina, causing her to do a small double take as she heard the amusement in the Ruler's wife's voice and then saw as she secured her veil that she was smiling broadly as though something had amused her.
'I hope that this…this Xander is aware of what a passionate champion he has in you!' she murmured dryly. 'Indeed one might almost suppose that you had fallen in love with him!'
Ten minutes later, her audience over, Katrina was back in her own room, her stomach still churning with nervous tension. The television was still on, and she paused to glance at it. On the screen in front of her she could see the packed streets of Zuran City as people waited to cheer the Ruler as he walked amongst them.
Katrina knew that Zuran's Ruler was held in very high regard, not just by his people, but also by the international community and its leaders. He was considered to be a forward-thinking, modern-minded man who had done a great deal to improve the lives of his people. Thanks to his foresight and vision Zuran had become a major luxury holiday destination; his racing stable and the Zuran Cup race were world famous, as was the golf tournament he had instigated, and now there was talk of the country being added to the international formula one racing circuit.
How on earth had Xander become involved in a plot to depose such a highly thought-of man and, in doing so, to destabilise Zuran's political and economic situation?
She knew the answer to that question, she acknowledged bleakly. Xander would do anything for money. He had even gone through a fake marriage ceremony with her for it!
Why couldn't she despise him as she knew she ought to do, instead of despising herself for feeling the way she did about him?
She looked absently at the television screen. As well as the Ruler himself, several other obviously high-ranking men were accompanying him on his walkabout, and the television announcer was explaining who they were for the benefit of his viewers.
'His Highness is accompanied by several members of his family, the most important of whom of course is his half-brother and saviour, Sheikh Allessandro Bin Ahmeed Sayed. Sheikh Allessandro's mother, as many of our viewers will know, was originally His Highness's English governess before his esteemed father married her. It has always been known that a tremendous closeness exists between His Highness and his younger half-brother. But now this bond has been intensified a thousand thousand times with the Sheikh's bold action in personally seeking out His Highness's would-be assassin.
'And there is Sheikh Allessandro now, standing on the right of our esteemed Ruler.'
Bitterly Katrina reached for the remote. She did not want to see the man who had put Xander in prison, but it was too late. The camera had zoomed in on the face of the man standing beside the Ruler of Zuran.
And it was a face as familiar to her now as her own!
Rigid with shock and disbelief, Katrina stared fixedly at the screen, 'Xander!' she whispered numbly in shocked denial. It couldn't be! But it was!
The man standing beside the Ruler, the man the commentator was describing in such glowing, admiring terms…the man he had named Sheikh Allessandro, and half-brother to the Ruler, was Xander!
She blinked and refocused on the screen, half convinced she must have been hallucinating, but, no, she wasn't. Xander was not imprisoned in some horrid jail, but instead walking freely through the streets of Zuran, being heaped with praise and admiration. Xander was not a penniless Tuareg nomad, he was an extremely wealthy man. But he was a liar and a thief. He had lied to her deliberately and knowingly, and he had stolen from her too. He had stolen her heart.
No wonder the Ruler's wife had laughed when Katrina had pleaded for leniency for him.
Her whole body burned with painful self-contempt and bitterness. No doubt Xander would be richly amused when he learned of her concern for him! Angrily she stabbed at the remote and switched off the television.
Well, Xander could laugh as much as he liked; she would be on the other side of the world and too far away to hear him! She was going home to where she belonged and she was going right now! She pressed the bell to summon a nurse. She had left her handbag in Richard's car and her passport and credit cards had been in it so she would have to call at the small office he rented to collect them, and then she would go straight from there to the airport and she would stay there until she got a seat on a plane to take her back to England.
When the nurse arrived Katrina told her shakily, 'I would like my clothes, please. The ones I was wearing when I arrived? And I need to order a taxi, please.'
The nurse looked confused. 'A taxi? But you cannot leave the hospital until you have been discharged.'
Katrina lifted her chin. 'I am discharging myself. My clothes?' she reminded the other girl.
'I…I shall go and look for them for you,' the nurse said.
It might be as well to telephone Richard to warn him that she was on her way, Katrina acknowledged. That way he could have her personal papers ready for her. And perhaps she should ring the airport as well to find out when the next flight was.
It seemed a very long time before the nurse finally arrived back with her clothes.
'A car has been arranged for you,' she told Katrina. 'But the consultant should see you before you leave.'
'No! I do not need to see him. I am fine. Thank you for bringing my clothes,' Katrina said to her gruffly.
She could see that the nurse wasn't entirely happy with the situation, but to Katrina's relief she did not try to argue with her or dissuade her.
Ten minutes later, Katrina was standing in the hospital's elegant reception area, feeling far weaker than she wanted to admit.
'I asked if a taxi could be ordered for me?' she said to the girl behind the reception desk.
'Oh!' For some reason the receptionist looked slightly flustered, glancing towards the smoked glass doors almost anxiously before telling Katrina, 'Yes. A limousine has been ordered and is waiting for you.'
A limousine! Ruefully Katrina acknowledged that it was unlikely that many of the hospital's patients had ever travelled in anything as mundane as a mere taxi. Thanking the girl, she made her way towards the exit. The doors swung open automatically, the brilliance of the sunlight dazzling her so much that she could hardly see.
Straight away, a highly polished black limousine with dark-tinted windows pulled up alongside her. The driver got out and bowed to her before opening the rear passenger door for her and then, after ensuring that she was comfortably settled, he resumed his own seat.
The car certainly was luxurious, Katrina reflected as she sank into its deep leather upholstery.
'I'm going to the airport,' she told the driver. 'I need to stop off somewhere first. L39 Bin Ahmed Street, please.'
A little to her surprise, the driver activated a glass partition, which slid up to separate her from him, the faint clicking sound that followed it making her frown slightly as she recognised that the noise was the doors locking.
Perhaps he thought she looked like the kind of passenger who might try to get out without paying him, she decided ruefully as the car pulled out into the busy traffic.
Every taxi driver in Zuran City had to go through a rigorous training programme before he was given his licence, which included not only the ability to speak English, but also a thorough knowledge of the city's road system, and Katrina knew that her driver would know his way to the address she had given him.
There was a small nagging ache from the wound in her arm, and she realised that the painkillers she had been given every six hours in the hospital must be wearing off.
Despite the car's undeniable comfort and the coolness of the air-conditioning she began to feel slightly sick and shaky. A sign perhaps that physically she was not yet as fully recovered as she had
believed?
She could visit her own doctor once she was home in England, she told herself stubbornly.
She had no idea how far the hospital was from the small office and accommodation the research team had been given to use, Katrina admitted, but it seemed to be taking a very long time for them to get there. They were travelling down an impressively straight dual carriageway. The central reservation and the verges either side were ornamented with an impressive formal display of plants, and the sea was on one side of the road while the desert was on the other.
Katrina began to frown. Had the driver mistaken her instructions and thought she wanted to go straight to the airport? She didn't remember the airport road looking like this, but it was obvious that a road so impressive had to lead somewhere important!
She leaned forward, tapping on the dark glass panel that separated her from the driver in an attempt to attract his attention, but to her frustration he did not respond.
Had he even heard her? The car started to slow down and she could see a huge wall rearing up in the desert ahead of them, stretching right across to the sea itself. Through the one-way dark glass she could see the sentries standing outside the ornate gold-coloured gates, ornamented with all manner of traditional designs picked out in dazzlingly vivid enamels.
It was like something out of an Arabian fairy tale, Katrina decided, bemused to see how the gates swung open as they approached, allowing them to sweep into the courtyard that lay beyond them.
More sentries guarded the imposing double doors, and the steps leading up to them by which the driver had brought the car to a halt.
Nervously Katrina stared out of the car at her unfamiliar surroundings. Where on earth was she, and more importantly what was she doing here? Katrina stiffened as the double doors opened and a man started to descend the steps. Xander!
One of the sentries leaped forward to open the car door before he could reach it, but it was his familiar hand that reached into the car and took hold of her arm as she automatically pressed herself back into the seat away from him.