The Sheikh Who Married Her: One Desert Night / Strangers in the Desert / Desert Doctor, Secret Sheikh
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‘‘Nonsense! You have been like a breath of fresh air to me, Gina, and I thank you for agreeing to spend time with a dull and sombre woman like me.’
‘You are not dull or sombre … you mustn’t put yourself down like that. I wish I had as good and bright and engaging a friend as you at home. When I eventually return there you’ll always be welcome to visit and stay with me at any time.’
‘That pleases me very much—but do not talk about leaving Kabuyadir yet, I beg you!’
‘I’m not in a hurry to leave at all, as I’m sure you—’ Gina didn’t finish the sentence. An arm that felt like iron had grabbed her round the neck from behind, and the smell of stale masculine sweat enveloped her.
A strangled yelp left her throat as she was dragged violently from her chair, even as Farida screamed for Hafiz. Her hands fastened on the coffee-coloured forearm of the man she now realised with sickening shock was trying to abduct her, and pure adrenaline-fuelled reaction—and not a little indignant fury—made her sink her teeth into the smooth hard flesh and bite him hard. Immediately he let her go, cursing loudly. By then Hafiz was on the scene, along with a crowd of shrieking, excitable onlookers, and the well-built servant and another man grappled the assailant to the ground and held him fast.
‘Gina! Are you all right?’
Farida was as stunned and shaken as she was. Even though her answer was an affirmative nod, Gina sensed the violent aftershocks of her assault roll through her, and she couldn’t stop shaking. It was hard to believe that such an out-of-the-blue frightening occurrence had happened here in broad daylight, in a busy marketplace.
‘I’m okay … I think. But I—I do need to sit down.’
A chair was quickly positioned behind her, and someone pushed through the crowd to put a bottle of water into her hand with the halting instruction. ‘Please do drink.’
Instantly Farida took the bottle, opened it, and sniffed the contents. ‘It’s okay. You can drink it—it will help.’ She returned it to Gina.
With Farida’s encouragement she downed the water in one, and the dryness in her mouth, as well as her shock, eased a little.
Someone had yelled for the security forces, and as if by magic officers peeled out of nowhere into the crowded market, swarming round the man who had dragged Gina from her chair. The assailant was young, but she blanched when she saw the seriously lethal-looking sharp-bladed knife that was retrieved from beneath his long robes.
‘Who is he?’ Her voice was decidedly shaky as she met Farida’s concerned brown eyes. ‘Why would he do this?’
‘I don’t know, my friend. But you can be sure of one thing … my brother will find out who he is and who put him up to this before you can blink an eyelid!’
Hafiz returned. Bowing courteously to both women, he turned his worried gaze specifically on Gina. Clearly frustrated at not being able to converse with her in English, he turned back to Farida, addressing the Sheikh’s sister rapidly and urgently in their own language.
She sighed and said, ‘Hafiz is distraught that he did not protect you better, Gina. I have told him it was not his fault. None of us was remotely aware of any danger as we made our way through the market.’
‘You’re not to blame, Hafiz. There’s no need for an apology, really.’
‘It is I who is to blame,’ Farida insisted. ‘My brother will go crazy when he learns that I took you to the market without taking a bodyguard with us. I can’t have been thinking clearly. In the light of what happened to Zahir I should have realised that it might not be completely safe. But, Gina, you were so brave—biting the attacker like that. If you had not, I shudder to think what might have happened.’
‘You’re not to blame, either, Farida. And I prefer to deal with what is than speculate on what might have been. I’m okay, aren’t I? I’m still here—alive and kicking.’ Injecting some firmness into her tone, Gina even made herself smile—the last thing she wanted was the other woman berating herself for the incident, even if the truth was that her nerves were as scrambled as if she’d leapt from a fast-moving train.
‘You remind me of Zahir when you say that. He had a similar reaction when I told him that he could have been killed by that gunman. “But I wasn’t,” he said …’ Eyeing Gina with a definitely speculative glance, Farida stood in front of her and held out a hand to help her to her feet. ‘I will talk to the public security forces and then we will go directly home.’
The hard ride on his stallion had partially torn open the wound on Zahir’s side. Biting back a soft curse as his disapproving physician put in fresh stitches, he was nonetheless unrepentant. The ride had not only helped divert some of his frustration and restless energy, but had also helped clear his head.
As much as his proud, fiercely masculine nature and privileged position made him want to demand that Gina share his bed, he sensed that that was definitely not the way to go about achieving his goal. After all, he didn’t want to alienate her or make her hate him. No … instead he would employ a charm offensive that she couldn’t resist.
To start with he would give her a private showing of the Heart of Courage—even before he let her colleague Dr Rivers see the artefact. Then he would organise a special dinner for two in the palace’s grandest dining room, where she would marvel at the opulence and grandeur of the furnishings and—
‘A thousand pardons, Your Highness.’ The double doors flew wide and Jamal strode purposefully into the room. His urgent tone and agitated expression immediately applied the emergency brake to Zahir’s distracted train of thought. He’d been lying back against the luxurious satin pillows on his bed whilst his doctor snipped the thread from the last stitch he’d applied, but now he sat up abruptly. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’
In a heated rush, Jamal told him. It was as though he’d been punched in the stomach by an iron fist. Gina … For a disturbing few seconds his thoughts were so distressed by the idea she might be hurt that Zahir was paralysed. Then, as Jamal continued to regale him with the story of how Dr Collins had almost been abducted in the marketplace, where she’d gone with Farida and his sister’s servant Hafiz, he swung his muscular legs to the floor and grabbed the long black robes he’d been wearing from the end of the bed—deliberately ignoring his physician’s plea to wait until his wounds were rebandaged as he hastily dressed.
Inside his chest his heart mimicked the heavy thud of a steel hammer against stone. Had he visited this latest calamity on his family by thinking he could apply reason to his dealings with the rebels? It had already been demonstrated what a deluded belief that was! Would his father have simply sent in the military to sort them out, giving them no chance to state their grievances whatsoever? Had Zahir’s arrogance in believing his way was right diminished his wisdom?
Shutting out the bittersweet memory of his father—a man who had been affectionately admired by officials and the public alike for his wisdom and fairness when dealing with matters of governance—he hurried out through the door at a mile a minute, with no mind to Jamal who, although young and fit, panted a little in his bid to keep pace with him.
The women were in a private downstairs salon, where they were drinking tea. On entering the lavishly decorated room, with its long gold-coloured couches and antique furniture, Zahir let his anxious glance deliberately overshoot his sister to dwell first on the slender, fair-haired woman seated at her side. Her usual tidy French pleat was a little awry, and escaping curling tendrils framed the delicate beauty of her face to give her the same vulnerable look that Zahir remembered from their first meeting in the Husseins’ garden. His breath caught in his throat.
In contrast the plain, traditional long black dress she wore hardly seemed fitting for such incandescent loveliness. He guessed it belonged to his sister. His first desire was to go straight to Gina, but because Farida and her servant Hafiz were both present he didn’t.
‘What is this I have been hearing about an assault on Dr Collins in the marketplace?’ he demanded, not bothering to temper his outrage.
Both Hafiz and his sister flinched. ‘It happened so quickly, Zahir. There was nothing we could—’
‘Nothing you could do?’ he interrupted furiously, uncaring in that moment that Farida looked distraught. ‘Why didn’t you take a bodyguard with you? In fact, why did you not take two—one for each of you? Have you forgotten what happened to me just the other day? For the love of Allah, what possessed you to go to the market in the first place? If you had wanted something specifically you could have sent your servant!’
‘I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I can’t sit here and let your sister take the blame for something that happened totally out of the blue.’
Having risen to her feet—a little shakily, he noticed with alarm—Gina all but pierced Zahir’s soul with the fiercely protective glint of her blue eyes. She continually astonished him. No more than now, as she refused to let him berate Farida for undertaking a trip she hadn’t needed to make in the first place, thereby putting them both at grave risk.
‘As lovely as it is, we both needed to get out of the palace for a while. When Farida suggested a trip to the marketplace I jumped at the chance. So if you’re intent on blaming your sister, then I want you to know that I am equally to blame.’
‘Did the assailant hurt you?’ He couldn’t help the catch in his voice. Right then he didn’t care who noted it, either. It was hell to stand there and pretend his concern was only that of a respectful host for a guest who had suffered some accident or mishap whilst under his roof when all the while he wanted to hold Gina in his arms and ascertain for himself whether she was hurt or not.
‘The man grabbed Gina from behind and dragged her from her chair. I am certain his aim was to abduct her, but fortunately she reacted quickly and bit him. He cursed and let her go,’ Farida explained, colouring slightly.
‘You bit him?’ Was it possible for this woman to amaze him any further? Arms akimbo, Zahir stared.
‘It was purely instinctive. I’m no heroine, I assure you.’
‘The law enforcement officers found a dangerous-looking knife under the man’s robes.’
His sister glanced at Gina with what looked to be an apologetic shrug, but it was too late. Zahir’s mind had already delved into the most horrific scenarios at news of the attack without the information that the assailant had been carrying a knife.
‘And the officers interviewed you for details of the assault on Dr Collins?’ His voice sounded strangely disembodied to his own ears, as shock and mounting fury spilled through his veins.
‘They did. They’ll be here shortly to have a meeting with you, Zahir. Do you think it was anything to do with the rebels?’
‘I do not doubt it.’ Scowling, Zahir dropped his hands to his hips. Helplessly, he returned his concerned hungry glance to Gina. Her skin had turned the sickly pallor of oatmeal, and suddenly, frighteningly, it was clear to him that she was having trouble keeping her balance.
‘Gina!’ Rushing forward, he caught her slim body in his arms just before she hit the marble floor.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AS HE kicked open the door of Gina’s bedroom, to carry her across to the emperor-sized bed with its purple silk counterpane, Zahir realised he had an entourage. His sister, two servants—not including Jamal—and finally Dr Saffar, the personal physician he had commanded Jamal to fetch straight away, followed him.
Laying his precious cargo carefully down on the bed, he personally removed her shoes, then sat on the edge of the counterpane beside her, the tension inside him building excruciatingly every moment her eyes stayed closed. Taking her hand in his, he could not hide his shock at how cold it was. Moving to the other side of the bed, his physician lightly slapped Gina’s pale cheeks.
Realising they were being watched, Zahir irritably waved his audience away. ‘Go. Leave us!’
‘May I stay?’ His sister had tears in her eyes.
‘Of course.’ He didn’t apologise for his clipped-sounding tone. His whole being was focused on one thing and one thing only … Gina.
As he turned back the doctor was cradling her head and moving a bottle of smelling salts back and forth beneath her nose. Her eyelids quivered then opened thankfully wide to reveal dazzling blue irises.
‘What happened?’
‘You fainted, my dear.’
The physician’s avuncular tone surprised Zahir. The only person he had addressed quite as kindly before was his sister Farida.
‘It can happen sometimes after a bad shock.’
‘I’ve never fainted before.’
‘There is a first time for everything, and it is nothing to worry about.’
The man smiled again, and Zahir was almost jealous that he was the one to comfort and reassure Gina. But then her worried glance collided with his, and this time he made sure it was his smile she was the recipient of.
Cupping her cold hand, he lightly stroked it. ‘You frightened me,’ he said simply.
Pursing her lips, she didn’t attempt to speak, but he sensed her hand curl deliberately into his palm and his heart leapt.
‘Now, I am afraid that you will have to leave us for a while, Your Highness … I need to properly examine Dr Collins.’ The physician was opening his medical bag. Peering over the rims of his spectacles, he looked straight at Farida across Zahir’s shoulder. ‘You may stay and assist me, Your Highness.’
Outside in the silent corridor, Zahir crossed his arms over his chest and paced, grim-faced. A wind was getting up outside. Through the apertures in the narrow windows, it disturbed the glass and brass lanterns hanging from the ceiling and made them tinkle like windchimes.
After what seemed like an interminable period, Farida opened the door. Her smooth forehead was disturbed by a somewhat sad frown. ‘Dr Saffar says you may come back in now.’
‘Is she hurt?’ he demanded.
His sister’s frown deepened. ‘She has some bad bruising either side of her neck and on her collarbone, but the doctor has given me some salve I may apply to help soothe the soreness. I don’t think she registered she was hurt at the time … it was more the psychological shock that affected her. But, Zahir …’
‘What is it?’
‘I think whoever did this may have mistaken Gina for me. We were both sitting with our backs to the refreshment stall—we are of similar size, and she was wearing one of my dresses and a hijab. We were with Hafiz, who had the palace insignia on his tunic, and I am known in Kabuyadir and she is not. What reason would the rebels have for taking her?’
‘None that I can immediately think of.’ He fisted his hands and swore. Rubbing at his temples, he stared at the woman in front of him. ‘It sounds to me like this was a totally opportunist act—not one that was orchestrated. Else why did the assailant act alone in the middle of a crowded marketplace? No … He must have seen Hafiz with the two of you, noted the palace insignia on his tunic and aimed to ingratiate himself with his leader by trying to kidnap you to get at me. The idea of someone abducting you sends a shudder though my soul, but I am equally furious that they hurt Gina—who is, after all, an innocent bystander.’ The wheels of Zahir’s mind were rapidly spinning with thoughts of what to do next.
‘She will make a good recovery I am sure, brother. She is strong, and today I have seen for myself she’s a fighter …
Even though he privately concurred with his sister’s summation, it didn’t prevent his insides from twisting agonisingly at the thought of that uncouth rebel half strangling her. As sure as Allah’s will reigned supreme he and his leader would pay and pay dearly. And so would anybody associated with them. This time Zahir would neither be in the mood nor the market for reasoning—in any shape or form.
‘Your Highness, the captain of the security forces is downstairs, waiting for an audience with you.’ As he walked hurriedly towards them, from the other end of the lofty corridor, Jamal’s usually calm demeanour was a little flustered.
‘Tell him I will be with him shortly.’ Giving his servant the barest glance as he snapped out the instruction, he gestured to his sister to precede him back into Gina’s room. ‘First I must ascertain for myself how Dr Collins fares.’
Zahir had said little to Gina when he’d returned to see her after her examination. How could he when they’d had an audience of his sister and Dr Saffar? But his eyes—those deep, dark, silken orbs—had spoken volumes as they’d studied her. In turn she had felt as if she was developing an incurable fever—a fever that no medicine could cure because the only cure for her malady was him.
He’d indicated that he was going crazy, not being able to be alone with her, and she echoed the feeling with every fibre of her being. Even more so now, after she’d been grabbed by that madman in the marketplace! Now she wanted to grab onto Zahir—to have him exhibit his passion in the most uninhibited feral way—so that she could convince herself she’d survived that attack—still lived, still breathed—and that someone cared, truly cared, that she had.
In a deeply luxurious armchair in a corner of the room Farida sat silently, absorbed in some intricate-looking embroidery. At any other time the simple, peaceful movements of needle and thread going in and out of the gold and white silk runner she was sewing would have lulled Gina into relaxing.
Sensing her glance from where she lay, resting on the bed, the other girl lifted her pretty mouth in a smile. ‘Are you okay? Do you need anything?’
Gina shook her head, with the barest of smiles back. It was such a loaded question. What else could she do when what she needed most of all was Zahir? ‘I feel ridiculously pampered and spoiled, lying in bed like this, so—no … there’s nothing I need right now, Farida … thank you.’
‘You must be the most undemanding patient in the world, Gina. After what you suffered this afternoon you could ask for anything and Zahir and I would try to get it for you.’
‘Talking of your brother—His Highness—will he join us for dinner tonight?’
‘I’m afraid not, Gina. He has some important business to attend to. He left in a bit of a hurry with the captain of the security forces and told me he didn’t know when he would be back. In the meantime he left strict instructions that you were not to lift so much as a finger. Dr Saffar suggested you should have a tray brought up to your room rather than endure a more formal dinner, and I agree with him. We all want to make sure you are fully recovered from your ordeal before even the slightest demands are made of you.’
Swallowing down her crushing disappointment that she wouldn’t see Zahir for the entire evening, Gina drew her knees up beneath the counterpane, then wrapped her arms round them. ‘And what about Dr Rivers? Did anybody tell him what happened?’
‘Yes, he was told. He was very shocked. He told Jamal to tell you that he would see you when you felt more recovered.’
She grimaced at that. It was typical of Jake not to disturb himself with hearing the details of what had happened to her, and also not to want to see her in case she was distressed. He wasn’t the kind of man who could cope with any kind of display of female emotion. But in a way Gina was relieved. Spending time with her colleague when she was fit and well was taxing enough, never mind when she wasn’t …
In the light of the single brass lamp beside the bed Gina drifted off to sleep after another meal she had barely touched. In the far distance the strains of some haunting melody played on an oud reached her ears. Eventually it lulled her to sleep. But the dreams that visited her were not the kind of dreams that ensured her rest was peaceful.
When the memory of a cruel strong arm round her neck replayed itself with frightening clarity, she bolted upright with shock. As her gaze adjusted to the dim lighting she saw that Farida was no longer ensconced in the armchair. Someone else had taken her place. It was Zahir.
Her heart thudding, she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes to focus better on the dark, haunting face that was almost in complete shadow.
‘I could not stay away, rohi. Did you think I could?’
He got up from the chair and came to the bedside. To Gina’s captivated senses his shoulders seemed extra wide tonight, and he was tall—so tall. His hypnotic dark eyes and disturbingly handsome features had never been so powerfully affecting and beguiling. With his unbound ebony hair and the black robes that covered his strong masculine form he resembled nothing less than a mythical prince—a prince who had perhaps reigned here at the same time as the necklace that held the Heart of Courage was created.
‘I’m glad you came,’ she whispered.
The tips of his fingers softly grazed her cheek. ‘I want to take you somewhere. Are you up to making a small trip?’
‘A trip where?’
‘Not far.’ Gentle humour briefly stretched the corners of his mouth.
Needing no second bidding, Gina swung her legs over the side of the bed. Some time between her eating her meal and falling asleep Farida had helped her into one of her long white cotton nightgowns. The material clung to her bare body underneath, then fell away down to the floor as Zahir helped her to her feet.
‘You will need your slippers,’ he instructed, smiling. He held her hand as she reached down for the soft sequinned shoes beside the bed and slipped them on.
They walked beneath the shadowed light of a crescent moon through the gardens. The powerfully drugging scents of jasmine and orange blossom infiltrated Gina’s blood as they moved silently beneath grand mosaic arches towards a destination that was unfamiliar to her.
Ahead of her, in an enclosed private garden, an open fire glowed fiercely, hissing sparks like the forge from a smithy. Just behind it an imposing Bedouin tent rose up. Above them the inky night sky was peppered with a million, zillion stars … too many to count.
She glanced sidelong at Zahir. His hand still firmly held onto hers. ‘Who sleeps here?’
There was a glimpse of strong white teeth amid the dark shadow of his face. ‘I do.’
At his instigation, Gina preceded him inside the tent. She gasped at the wondrous atmosphere that greeted her invitingly—an atmosphere created by the hand-woven walls and ceiling, the medley of satin and silk pillows liberally scattered, and the colourful, intricately patterned hand-stitched rugs that covered the floor. Apart from the glow of the open fire, a single Moroccan lamp with a flickering candle burning inside was the only illumination. The shadows it threw onto the material walls mesmerised and danced like ghosts.
Moving across the soft rug-covered floor, she turned to rest her back against one of the sumptuous pillows. ‘It’s so beautiful …’ Her voice was respectfully hushed, as though she had sneaked inside a church in the middle of the night. ‘Magical.’
Saying nothing, Zahir reached for the topmost corner of the tent flap and closed the opening that had been there previously. Then he took off his long leather boots and, briefly opening the tent flap again, put them outside. Crawling over to her on all fours, he carefully, silently removed Gina’s slippers and laid them aside. Then, bending his dark head, he reverently kissed her feet.
That simple, astonishing act released the flood of emotion she’d been desperately trying to hold back for days, and when he raised his gaze to hers she could hardly find her voice to speak. Instead, she simply held out her arms for him to fill them. His kiss when it came was satin and fire, summer heat and electrical storm. It was pure undiluted heaven.
When his lips left hers, to bury themselves against her throat and then the shoulder his hand had left bare by tugging down the sleeve of her nightgown, her body was so restless for his possession that she had to bite her lip to quell a desperate plea for him to simply just take her. But Zahir’s burning eyes told Gina that he knew what she needed, what she ached for in the deepest core of her being, and he knelt in front of her, lifted her gown above her head and let it fall softly against the rug.