If he had been willing to take a chance he would have taken it six years ago, made love to her and made promises that he would have kept too. He had wanted her so much, wanted her in his arms, in his bed, in his life, but he had realised after those articles had appeared in the press the damage it would cause if he had acted upon his feelings.
Maybe he had wanted her, and maybe she had wanted him too, but it wouldn’t have been enough to make up for what would have happened if news of their relationship had leaked out. Sam would have been subjected to constant scrutiny by the press, her every action commented on, her family’s shortcomings discussed ad nauseam. He had seen how hurt she had been, how upset, and he had known that he couldn’t bear to see her subjected to that kind of pressure on top of everything else she would have had to contend with if they had stayed together.
He sighed. Sam would have had to give up such a lot, her independence, her career; give up being who she was, in fact, and it had been far too much to ask. Even though he spent a lot of his time working in London, Azad was his home and he always came back here. If he had brought Sam here to live, she would have had to conform to a way of life that was completely alien to her. Although changes were taking place, women in Azad still faced many restrictions. Perhaps Sam could have handled it at first even with the added strain of all the unwelcome publicity, but eventually she would have found the life too oppressive, as his mother had done.
He couldn’t have stood that, couldn’t have tolerated watching her love turn to resentment, which was why he had done what he had that night. Khalid took a deep breath as he made himself face the cold hard facts. It had been better to destroy her love for him once and for all than watch it slowly wither and die.
* * *
Sam rolled over, struggling to untangle herself from the silken folds of the sheet. Reaching out, she pulled the alarm clock closer and sighed. Three a.m. and she was still wide awake. She had tried everything she could think of, counted sheep, recited poetry, thought sleep-inducing thoughts, but nothing had worked. Her body might be exhausted but her mind wouldn’t slow down. It kept whizzing this way and that, yet always ending up at the same point: that moment six years ago when all her dreams had been shattered.
Tears filled her eyes but she blinked them away. She had done all the crying she intended to do and she wasn’t going to start again. So Khalid had changed his mind, decided that he hadn’t wanted her—so what? The world hadn’t come to an end, the heavens hadn’t fallen in and she had survived. If anything, it had made her stronger, made her value herself more. She had stopped apologising for her background, stopped feeling that she didn’t deserve to be where she was. When it had come to breaking off her engagement last year, she hadn’t hesitated. The relationship wouldn’t have worked and she had known that...as Khalid must have known that their relationship had been doomed to failure.
Sam sighed as once again her thoughts returned to Khalid. Rolling over, she tried to get comfortable. She needed to sleep or she’d be fit for nothing tomorrow or, rather, today. Closing her eyes, she allowed her mind to drift, deciding it was easier than trying to steer it in any direction. Pictures flowed in and out of her mind: the desert they had flown over; the summer palace shimmering like a mirage in its lush green setting....
The sound of stealthy footsteps made her eyes fly open and she peered into the darkness. Was there someone in the room, Jess perhaps? Barely daring to breathe, she eased herself up against the pillows and felt her heart knock against her ribs when she saw the outline of a man silhouetted against the window. It hadn’t occurred to her to close the shutters and she could feel the fear rising inside her as the figure approached the bed. Grabbing the clock off the nightstand, she held it aloft, wishing she had a more substantial weapon with which to defend herself.
‘Get out or you’re going to regret it!’
‘Sam, it’s me.’
Khalid’s deep voice was the last thing she had expected to hear. The clock slid from her fingers and landed on the floor with a crash. Sam stared at him as he came closer, still not sure if he was real or a figment of her imagination.
‘Khalid?’ she whispered, her own voice sounding husky in the silence. ‘Is it really you?’
‘Yes.’
He bent so that she could see his face and her breath caught when she saw how his eyes glittered with an emotion she couldn’t interpret. When he moved closer, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek, she almost cried out. It took every scrap of will power she could muster to lie there and not do anything, not react in any way at all. Khalid had come to her and it was up to him to tell her why.
‘I’m sorry to wake you, Sam. I know how tired you must be after the journey.’ His voice sounded softer, deeper, strumming her nerves like a violin bow, and she shuddered.
‘What do you want?’ she murmured, wishing that she sounded more certain and less unsure.
‘You.’ He suddenly smiled, his teeth gleaming whitely in the moonlight. ‘I need you, Sam.’
CHAPTER THREE
‘THE BABY’S BREECH. It’s too late to turn it or perform a C-section so we’ll have to deliver it vaginally.’
Sam turned to Jess and smiled. Although the young mother, Isra, couldn’t understand what they were saying, she would soon guess how serious the situation was if they showed any signs of concern. Sam could tell that the girl was terrified and it wouldn’t help if they lost her confidence at this point.
‘I’ve not delivered a breech before,’ Jess murmured, following Sam’s lead and smiling broadly. ‘I hope you have.’
‘I’ve done my share,’ Sam assured her, washing her hands in the basin of water on the dresser. There was no point stating the obvious, that the breech deliveries she’d been involved with had been carried out in the safety of a highly equipped maternity unit. They didn’t have such luxuries on tap here so they would have to manage the best way they could.
‘I need a word with Khalid,’ she told Jess, refusing to dwell on the negatives. She had delivered several breech babies and every single one of them had survived. There was no reason to think that this baby wouldn’t survive too. ‘Our biggest problem is going to be the language barrier so we’ll need an interpreter.’
‘OK. Anything you want me to do?’ Jess asked, sponging Isra’s face.
‘Not really. I’ll only be a moment,’ Sam assured her.
She left the bedroom, frowning when she discovered that there was nobody about. After Khalid had woken her, he had led her to the servants’ quarters. Isra was the wife of one of the palace cooks and she and her husband lived in the grounds. Although their house was only small, much smaller than the one she and Jess were sharing, it was spotlessly clean and tidy.
Sam peered into a kitchen, which boasted a wood-burning stove, and a tiny but well-equipped bathroom as she made her way along the passageway. From what she could see, the staff were well catered for and it was good to know that they were treated with respect. She came to the sitting room, which was also small but very attractive with brightly coloured rugs on the tiled floor and heaps of cushions on the low couches. It all looked very comfortable but decidedly empty. Where was everyone?
Sam stepped out of the door, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, and heard footsteps approaching. Just for a second her mind whizzed back to those moments in the bedroom when she had spotted the silhouette of a man highlighted against the window and she felt her heart race. If she’d known it was Khalid, would she have felt more afraid or less? Would it have been better to face an intruder than to face him and have to go through those seconds when she’d thought he had wanted her for a very different reason?
‘How is she doing?’
Khalid’s voice cut through her thoughts, cool and clear in the silence of the night, and Sam shivered. She turned towards him, taking care to maintain a neutral
expression. There was no way that she was going to let him know how she had felt, definitely no way that she was prepared to admit that she had wanted him too, although not for his skills as a surgeon. It would be foolish to do that, foolish and dangerous as well. Giving Khalid licence to toy with her emotions again was a mistake she didn’t intend to make.
‘The baby’s breech,’ she informed him crisply. ‘It’s too late to perform a section so we’re going to have to deliver it vaginally but we’ll need an interpreter. The mother’s co-operation is vital in this situation.’
‘Of course,’ Khalid agreed, frowning.
Sam’s brows rose. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘Unfortunately, yes. The female interpreter I’ve hired isn’t joining us until tomorrow.’
‘Surely there must be someone else here who speaks English.’
‘Of course. However, they are all male.’
‘So?’
‘So it wouldn’t be right to allow them to be present at the birth.’
‘Why on earth not?’ Sam exclaimed.
‘Because men are not allowed to be present at the birth of a child, not even the father, let alone an outsider.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Sam declared hotly.
‘It may seem so to you but it’s a cultural issue.’ He shrugged, his face betraying little of what he was feeling. If he was annoyed by her outburst it didn’t show, Sam thought, but, then, why should he feel anything? Khalid was indifferent to her, as he had made clear. The thought stung so that it was an effort to focus when he continued.
‘Isra would lose the respect of her husband and her family if it were to happen. It’s out of the question, I’m afraid.’
‘How about if you did it? I mean, you’re a doctor, Khalid, so surely that makes a difference?’
‘I’m afraid not. Although views are changing in the city and there are even a few male obstetricians working in the hospital, the desert people still hold fast to the old ways.’
‘Then what do you suggest?’ Sam demanded, in no mood to compromise. Her feelings didn’t enter into this, she reminded herself. It was her patient who mattered, not how hurt she had been when Khalid had rejected her. ‘I need Isra to work with me, do what I tell her to do as and when it’s necessary. It’s vital if we hope to deliver this baby safely.’
‘The only thing I can suggest is that we erect a screen across the window. Then I can stand outside and relay your instructions to her without actually being in the same room.’
‘That sounds like a plan,’ Sam agreed slowly, then nodded. ‘Yes. It should work so long as you’re able to hear what I’m saying.’
‘Oh, that won’t be a problem.’ He smiled faintly, his beautiful mouth turning up at the corners. ‘You have a very clear and distinctive voice, Sam. I’ll have no difficulty hearing you.’
‘Oh. Right.’
Sam felt a rush of heat sweep up her face and was glad of the darkness because it hid her confusion. That had sounded almost like a compliment and it was something she hadn’t expected. She turned away, hurrying back into the house before the idea could take hold. Khalid could have meant anything by the comment or he could have meant nothing and she would be a fool to get hung up on the idea. She quickly explained to Jess what was going to happen, half expecting the other woman to find it as ridiculous as she had done. However, Jess merely shrugged.
‘I’ve come across it before. Some of the African tribes don’t allow men to be present at a birth.’
‘Really? I had no idea,’ Sam admitted. She glanced round when she heard noises outside the window. ‘It sounds as though Khalid is getting everything organised. We’d better get set up in here.’
She and Jess worked swiftly as they spread a sterile sheet under Isra and donned their gowns. Sam decided that she would need to perform an episiotomy to help ease the baby’s passage. As it was presenting bottom first, it was harder for it to make its way out into the world and a small incision in the perineum would help enormously. It would also prevent the perineum becoming badly torn.
‘Can you explain to Isra that I’m going to do an episiotomy?’ she said clearly, glancing towards the window. A wooden screen had been erected across it so she couldn’t see Khalid and could only assume he was there. ‘If you can tell her why it’s necessary, it should make it less scary for her.’
‘Will do.’
His voice floated back to her, soft and deep and strangely reassuring. Although she couldn’t understand what he was saying to Isra, Sam knew that his tone would have reassured her if she’d been in the young woman’s position. It obviously did the trick because Isra stopped looking quite so scared.
Sam worked swiftly, administering a local anaesthetic before making the incision. The girl lay quite still, bearing the discomfort with a stoicism that filled Sam with admiration. ‘Well done,’ she told her, patting her hand.
She jumped when from the window came the sound of Khalid’s voice repeating her comment. His voice sounded so warm that she shivered before she realised what she was doing and stopped herself. The warmth of his tone wasn’t a measure of his regard for her but for Isra, she reminded herself.
She applied herself to the task, refusing to allow her thoughts to wander as she pressed gently on the top of the uterus to help ease the baby out. Isra’s labour pains were extremely strong now and Sam decided that she needed to stop the girl pushing.
‘I want you to take small breaths, like this,’ she told her, panting so Isra would understand what she wanted her to do.
Khalid repeated her instructions, although Sam noticed that he didn’t do the panting and smiled. Maybe it was expecting too much to hope he would mimic her. After all, he was a prince as well as a doctor! The thought made her chuckle and Jess looked at her quizzically.
‘OK, give. What’s tickled your funny bone?’
Sam knew that she should keep her thoughts to herself but she couldn’t resist telling Jess. ‘I was just wondering why our interpreter didn’t repeat all my instructions,’ she explained, raising her voice so that there’d be no chance of Khalid not hearing her. ‘He missed out the panting.’
Jess giggled. ‘Maybe not the done thing for a prince.’
‘Like those mums who opt for a section because they’re too posh to push?’ Sam grinned. ‘You could be right. He’s just too posh to pant!’
* * *
Khalid felt a rush of heat flow through him when he heard the amusement in Sam’s voice. He couldn’t believe how good it felt to know that he was the reason why she was laughing. She’d been so distant towards him since they’d met again, so reserved, so cold, and he hated it.
Sam possessed a natural warmth that had drawn him to her from the moment they had met. Although he was used to women fawning over him because of his position, Sam had never treated him as someone special. Her response to him had been wholly natural and he had loved that, loved seeing her eyes light up when he had walked into a room, loved hearing her voice soften, loved knowing that she had wanted to be with him for who he was. He might be a prince, he might be rich, he might be many things, but he had never felt more like himself than when he had been with her. He had never needed to pretend with Sam. Not until that last night.
The thought filled him with pain and he sucked in his breath, afraid that she would hear an echo of it when he spoke. He could hear her talking to Isra, her voice so calm and reassuring that he knew it would soothe the young mother’s fears even if the girl couldn’t understand the actual words. He applied himself diligently to the task of translating, doing his best to mimic Sam’s tone. He didn’t want to let her down; he wanted to support her in any way he could. When the reedy sound of a baby’s cry drifted out to him, his face broke into a smile.
‘Is it all right?’ he called through the screen.
‘Fine. A little battered,
as is mum, but he’s in fine fettle,’ Sam called back, and he could hear the elation in her voice. That she was thrilled by the birth of this child was clear and it touched him that she should care so much.
‘It’s a boy, then?’ he said levelly, doing his best to control his emotions. He had to stop letting himself get carried away, had to remember that he had no rights where Sam was concerned. How she did or didn’t feel wasn’t his concern.
‘Yes. Jess is just weighing him...’ She broke off and then continued. ‘He’s almost three kilos so he’s not a bad weight either.’
‘That’s excellent,’ Khalid agreed. ‘I’ll go and inform the father if you don’t need me anymore.’
‘No, we’re fine.’ She paused then said quickly, ‘Thank you, Khalid. We couldn’t have managed nearly as well if you hadn’t translated for us.’
‘It was my pleasure,’ he said softly, unable to keep the emotion out of his voice. Maybe it was foolish but it felt good to know that he had redeemed himself a little in her eyes.
He made his way to Isra’s parents’ house. Her husband, Wasim, had gone there to wait for news. He was delighted if a little overwhelmed when Khalid announced that he had a son. Having a royal prince inform him of his baby’s birth obviously wasn’t something he was prepared for. Khalid brushed aside the younger man’s thanks and left. This was a time for family celebrations and they didn’t need him there. As he made his way back to the palace, he found himself wondering if he would ever be in Wasim’s position, celebrating the birth of his own child. It was what was expected of him as a royal prince and second in line to the throne. Even his father had started dropping hints that it was time he thought about settling down and starting a family, yet he had great difficulty imagining it happening. Although he had known many women—and known them in every sense of the word too—Sam was the only woman he had wanted to spend his life with.
His heart was heavy as he made his way to his suite. He had a feeling that if he did marry, whoever he chose would only ever be second best. How could it be fair to enter into marriage on that basis?
One More Night with Her Desert Prince... Page 3