To Wed a Sheikh

He smiled. “I am glad.” He brushed his lips to her neck and heard her gasp. “Tell me that my touch does not make you want more.”

“Kamal—I don’t know if this is right.”

“Of course it is.”

“For you, maybe. But I’m not so sure about me,” said Ali.

“Then let me show you that this is right for both of us.”

“Without regard for tomorrow?” she asked. “I just can’t.”

He let out a long breath as he released her hand, letting her go. She hurried down the hall.

Kamal closed the door, then walked into the living room. He had hoped by this time to have his feelings for the American nurse under control. But if anything, he was falling more under her spell.

To Wed a Sheikh

Teresa Southwick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

TERESA SOUTHWICK

lives in Southern California with her hero husband, who is more than happy to share with her the male point of view. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Silhouette Books.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Chapter One

It was just as easy to love a rich man as a poor man. If one was looking for love.

Ali Matlock wasn’t. At least not right now. She’d decided to take a break from romance and concentrate on her career. So she’d traveled halfway around the world from Texas for the job opportunity of a lifetime. She was working in a hospital built by a sheik who definitely fell into the rich-man category. She could earn triple the average stateside salary for a nurse. And the best part was the opportunity for adventure in magical, mysterious, mystical El Zafir.

As she inventoried supplies and equipment at the nurses’ station in the Labor and Delivery Department, she heard the third-floor elevator doors whisper open. Kamal Hassan, the country’s crown prince and the sheik who’d just crossed her mind, stepped out. He was elegantly handsome in his designer suit. Probably out of it, too.

Not that she would ever know. Although five months ago he’d kissed her in the moonlit palace garden. But history had taught her to be wary of men—especially a sheik who kissed an engaged-to-be-engaged woman.

He stopped to speak with one of the workmen putting finishing touches on the recently completed hospital, giving her a chance to study him. With every last dark, wavy hair in place, the prince was approximately six feet two inches of tall, dark and handsome. Black eyes smoldered with intensity in an arresting face featuring a straight aristocratic nose, carved cheekbones and olive skin. He had a wonderfully shaped mouth, and boy, did he know how to use it. The memory made her heart skip at the same time she reminded herself to beware of princes wearing designer suits.

She’d met his formidable aunt, Princess Farrah Hassan, in January when the woman had visited the Texas E.R. where Ali worked. The woman had been visiting Sam Prescott, of Prescott International, a wealthy friend of the family. While there, she’d experienced chest pain that turned out to be nothing. Farrah had insisted Ali accept an all-expense-paid trip to El Zafir in March to talk about a job in the hospital her nephew was building. It had been impossible to refuse the woman even though Ali had no intention of accepting the position. She’d attended an international charity auction hosted by El Zafir.

Although enchanted by the job and the country, she’d refused the Princess’s offer. Because at the time she’d been in love. Past tense. Past history. Past caring. Now she was only interested in her career. By God, if she couldn’t have love, there would be adventure. Wasn’t it handy that she could combine the two in El Zafir? Career and adventure, that is.

And she couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that a key player in her adventure was standing a couple of feet away. Because of that kiss? Her stomach jitterbugged when she remembered what his lips had felt like against her own. But she would bet he hadn’t given her a single solitary thought since that night. It was highly unlikely he even remembered her name. Why would he? She was from the wrong side of the tracks by American standards—way off the royal radar. Which begged the question—why had he kissed her?

He finished his conversation, then looked in her direction. “Hello.”

“Your Highness,” she said, clutching her pen until her knuckles turned white.

He walked toward her and stopped, his gaze never leaving hers. The scent of his aftershave drifted over the stack of boxes separating them. That and the clipboard on top of the stack was all that stood between her and the heat of his body. Her palms started to sweat.

“It’s nice to see you again, Alexandrite.”

She winced. “Thank you, I think. Remind me not to underestimate your powers of recalling inconsequential details, like a name no one should be burdened with.”

“On the contrary. Your given name is lovely. A jewel, is it not?”

She nodded. “But Ali is so much simpler.”

“On the contrary. Ali, I think, is very complicated.” He held her gaze for another thundering heartbeat, then glanced around. “What do you think of it?”

“The hospital? In a word? Awesome.”

On her first day of work, she’d received an in-depth tour. Now she recalled the lobby with the marble pillars and walkways, cherry-wood information and reception desks. The ground floor contained the emergency room, lab and X-ray. The second floor housed administrative offices. From there up were patient rooms and an ICU filled with the most advanced equipment money could buy. It was a seven-storied, high-tech marvel.

“A good word. Most appropriate,” he answered, one black eyebrow lifting as he smiled.

Pride outlined the set of his mouth and shone in his eyes as he looked around again. Following his gaze, Ali could understand why. The brightly lit circular nurses’ station was designed with technology as well as efficiency in mind. Cozily decorated labor rooms surrounded it. Serviceable low carpet covered the floor, and the hallway to her right led to comfortable patient rooms. She was impressed by the facility, but the elevators had her atwitter, agog, amazed. They were framed in gold. She couldn’t decide whether or not it was the fourteen-carat variety, but that wasn’t out of the question.

The royal family of El Zafir had more money than God—or so she’d heard. The expensive decorating statement might have bothered her except rumor also had it that the prince had cut no corners in his quest to build this facility. He was determined to bring his country in line with Western medical technology, knowledge and research in order to give his people the finest health care. It bordered on obsession and Ali wondered why.

On her last visit, she’d talked extensively with Princess Farrah, but his aunt had never confided the reasons, if there were any, for the crown prince’s fixation. After his aunt failed, he had tried to persuade Ali to accept the job offer, but she had turned him down also. Then.

“My aunt informed me just this morning that you’d arrived.” The full intensity of the prince’s black-eyed gaze rested on her.

“A week ago,” she confirmed, settling her palm over her abdomen.

“You’ve met the director of nurses?” he asked, frowning slightly.

Ali nodded. “I like her very much.”

“I regret we were compelled to hire someone else in the position first offered to you. But when you refused me—”

“I’m delighted that there was still an opening on staff, Your Highness. The position as nurse-manager of Labor and Delivery is a terrific opportunity.”

“You are not disappointed you’ll be unable to add something more prestigious to your résumé? As I recall, you found that tempting.” A gleam stole into his eyes as one corner of his mouth curved up.

Her pulse skipped at the implication she hadn’t found him intriguing. She wasn’t about to share that his kiss could tempt a spinster out of her bloomers. But he probably already knew. After all, he had a reputation as an international playboy.

She stuck her hands in the pockets of the white lab coat she wore over green scrubs. “Truthfully, I was a little nervous about that job.”

“I do not understand. Your references are most impressive. You have a master’s degree in nursing, do you not?”

Again his memory for details surprised her. “Yes. A five-year nursing program. But a degree is no substitute for experience. When I get to the top of my profession, I’ll need both.”

“When?” His eyes were keen with intelligence and amusement. “You’re certain of the future?”

She shrugged. “I’ve studied and worked hard. I’m good at what I do. Princess Farrah insisted I was ready now. I like to think she’s right. But I believe she offered the job to me because it’s difficult to get good help to come halfway around the world. I know my age could be a problem. At twenty-five, I’d have difficulty commanding respect from a staff of nurses who probably would have a great deal more practical training.”

“My father ascended the throne of this country at the same age.”

“That’s different.”

“Indeed,” he said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “The director of nurses is child’s play by comparison.”

“Maybe compared to running a country. But still a challenge,” she said, struggling to keep the defensive edge out of her voice.

“I don’t dispute it. And I do not underestimate what you do. My country does not have enough health-care professionals to adequately staff the hospital. No matter how generous the compensation, you’re right that it’s difficult to find skilled, qualified and highly trained personnel willing to uproot their lives and come here to work. I am in your debt.”

She had no life to put on hold, and since her mother’s death a year ago, no family to leave behind. Except a father who wouldn’t miss her since he’d turned his back on her long ago.

“I’m looking forward to all the challenges of the job.”

“My aunt has every faith in your ability to handle it in an exemplary manner.”

“Princess Farrah is very kind.”

“And apparently more persuasive than I. Since she convinced you to accept a job in El Zafir after all.”

Ali absently twisted the cap on her pen. “Actually, I changed my mind about the job. I contacted her a few weeks ago to inquire about a position. She very kindly offered me a different one.”

“Your fiancé must miss you.” His voice held the barest hint of a question.

She stared up at him, noting his serious, interested air. For goodness’ sake, the man was a king-in-training. Didn’t he have more important things to remember than what she’d said almost half a year ago? “My fiancé?”

“Indeed. You mentioned an engagement the night I escorted you to the charity auction. If I remember correctly, your exact words were that your fiancé would not jump up and down with joy if you took a nursing position halfway around the world.”

He remembered correctly and way too much, Ali thought grimly. Unfortunately, she’d discovered after returning home that she and Turner Stevens, M.D., had not been on the same matrimonial wavelength.

“As it turns out, Your Highness—”

“Call me Kamal.”

She blinked. “That doesn’t seem appropriate.”

“In private, as we are now, it’s perfectly permissible. And if I wish, it will be so.”

“Kamal,” she said, testing the name on her tongue. She wondered if he always got everything he wished for. If so, it must be good to be the crown prince. Because if he was trying to be a regular guy, it wasn’t working. There would always be a line in the sand between him and someone like her.

And the whole behavior-with-royalty thing was foreign to her frame of reference. Did private mean just the two of them? That certainly wouldn’t happen often—if at all.

“As it turns out—”

“What?” he prompted.

She sighed. “News of my engagement was greatly exaggerated.”

“Oh?”

“I turned down your job offer on the assumption that the man I’d been dating for a very long time was ready to propose.”

“And did he?”

Anger and pain joined with embarrassment, then formed a gigantic knot in her stomach. She briefly thought about fibbing, but decided against it. Lying to a future king could never be a good thing.

“Yes, he proposed. Just not to me.”

His dark eyebrows pulled together over black eyes brimming with something that looked a lot like male satisfaction. She was about to tell him what he could do with it.

“So the jackal’s idiocy is El Zafir’s gain?”

Then again, he did have a way with words. “What a lovely thing to say.”

“As it turns out,” he said, paraphrasing her, “I do know you well after all.”

She recalled him saying she wouldn’t have come all the way to visit his country if the employment offer was out of the question. She’d challenged his assumption that he knew her so well. But he’d been right. Even formidable Princess Farrah couldn’t have persuaded her to visit if she hadn’t been interested in the opportunity. Had she subconsciously known that a marriage proposal wasn’t in the cards for her? No. If she had, she wouldn’t have been so completely blindsided by the betrayal. And it wouldn’t have hurt so deeply.

“How nice that one night’s acquaintance gives you insight into what makes me tick.”

The words came out sharper than she’d intended. It wasn’t fair, or especially bright, to take out her frustration on the crown prince of an oil-rich, up-and-coming nation.

“So, what brings you here today?” she asked, trying to change the subject. It wasn’t quite as transparent as “nice weather we’re having,” but close.

His chin rose a fraction and his black eyes narrowed. “I am here every day.”

Then why hadn’t she seen him before this? Maybe because his aunt had just told him of her arrival? What a difference a four-letter qualifier made. A glow started inside her but she shut it down stat. Her idea of adventure was traveling to an exotic land. It did not include falling for a guy who would kiss a woman he’d thought was engaged. She was too smart for that. Once burned, twice shy.

“I see.” She picked up the clipboard on the stack of boxes between them. “It was nice to see you again, Kamal. But if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

He nodded. “I will do my best to make your stay in El Zafir everything you hope.”

“Thank you.”

As she watched him walk away, she couldn’t help wishing his shoulders weren’t quite so broad and his stride not quite so long. Because rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief—it made no difference. Loving any man wasn’t easy. Period.

Not that their paths would cross. He ran a country. She’d been hired to run the maternity ward of his hospital. And if that wasn’t enough to convince her, not a single research source she’d consulted about El Zafir had ever promised that Ali’s foreign adventure would include a dalliance with a handsome prince.

Ali Matlock was a distraction.

Kamal knew because his meeting had dragged on longer than it should have. And the fault was hers. The ministers of finance and education had repeated information two and three times because thoughts of the attractive American had splintered his concentration. It was a weakness he would take pains to overcome.

He looked at his watch as he left the palace business wing and hurried to the family quarters. No doubt he’d missed Johara’s prenatal checkup. His sister was eight months pregnant, an unfortunate result of her teenage rebellion. After the first angry confrontation, the king had ignored his daughter. And the baby’s jackal of a father had the audacity to be killed in a motorcycle accident before Kamal could take him apart with his bare hands, then force what was left of him to marry his sister. Instead, Kamal had given her his promise that she could lean on him. Always.

Today he hadn’t exactly broken his promise. But he’d certainly bent it.

He stopped before the door to his sister’s suite of rooms and knocked. When his aunt bade him enter, he did so, grateful the older woman had been there for his sister.

Following the sound of female voices, he crossed the marble foyer and entered the living room. Along with his two sisters-in-law, Penny and Crystal, he found Farrah on the semicircular sofa that dominated the room.

“Has the doctor been here?” he demanded of his aunt.

Holding a delicate china cup, she looked up at him. She was an elegantly attractive woman in her fifties, although she could pass for twenty years younger. Her black eyes snapped with intelligence in her unlined face. Black hair, expertly coiffed, turned under and brushed the collar of her jewel green silk suit jacket. “Yes.”

“Been and gone,” Penny informed him. “He apologized for not waiting for you. But he had to get back to the hospital.”

This small, delicate, blond, blue-eyed American had captured his youngest brother’s heart when she’d been assigned as his assistant. The family charmer, Rafiq had been charmed by her and they quickly married. Although her slender figure didn’t show it yet, they were expecting a child within the year.

“I was delayed,” he explained.

“A likely story,” Crystal said, her hazel eyes twinkling. “I think you would grab any excuse to avoid a chick thing.”

“Chick thing?” he asked.

“You know.” Crystal’s grin betrayed the fact she was baiting him. “Prenatal care, babies, swollen ankles, water retention.”

“Ah,” he said, permitting himself a small smile.

He’d once thought Crystal’s hair nondescript. But long and loose as now, it shone with red highlights. She’d been hired as the nanny to his brother Fariq’s five-year-old twins and they’d fallen in love. Looking at her rounded curves, one would never guess that she, too, would give birth to his brother’s third child before the end of the year.

A fleeting twist of envy gripped Kamal before he suppressed the feeling. His brothers were second and third in line to the throne. They could afford to fall in love. He could not. He had no intention of letting any weakness distract him from his responsibilities to his country and its people. For him, marriage was strictly a duty to be undertaken, but love wouldn’t be involved.

“Where is Johara?” he asked, looking around.

“In the other room,” Farrah answered, lifting her chin toward his sister’s bedroom.

He could hear the distant, indistinct sound of a female voice. Looking at his aunt, he asked, “What did the doctor say?”

“He wishes to see her once a week until she gives birth.”

“Why?”

“It is standard procedure during the last month of pregnancy.” Her smooth forehead wrinkled with worry. “One thing of concern—her blood pressure is slightly elevated. As yet, he doesn’t believe it’s of consequence, but instructed us to call him if we have any worries or questions.”

He nodded grimly. Pregnancy and birth were the cycle of life. The most natural thing in the world. Unless there was a problem. He’d watched Johara’s mother lose her life while she was with child. Pushing aside his dark thoughts, he looked at the three women sitting on the sofa—two of them with an unmistakable glow.

“May I inquire about your checkups?”

“A-okay,” Penny informed him. “Morning sickness has passed and we’re doing fine.”

“Me, too,” Crystal said. “My only hitch was on the scale. I have to cut back on dessert and beef up the protein, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

“Of course. Anything for a beautiful woman.”

She grinned. “Kamal, you’re a shameless flatterer, just like your brother. Although Fariq didn’t reveal that trait at first.”

Penny laughed. “That was before he saw through your disguise.”

An interesting time, Kamal remembered. His aunt had gone to an exclusive agency in New York to hire a new nanny for his brother’s children, preferably a plain woman who would not attract undue attention and disrupt the palace. She’d come back with two new employees who had bewitched his brothers. He realized his aunt was also responsible for bringing Ali Matlock here to work in the hospital and wondered if he should be concerned. Then he decided not to be. He had yet to meet the woman who could persuasively divert him from his duty. Ali was nothing more than a distraction; he wouldn’t let her be anything more.

But he was expected to produce an heir. Soon. The hints from his father and aunt Farrah were getting bolder and less veiled.

Crystal sighed. “Did you know the first time I met Fariq he told me beautiful women are an unwelcome distraction?”

“No,” Kamal said a little too quickly and forcefully. She couldn’t know he’d just had the same thought a moment ago. But Ali had splintered his concentration, producing the weakness. Fortunately, she worked in the hospital, not the palace. It was unlikely she would distract him a second time.

Just then the sound of female laughter carried to him, before Princess Johara waddled—walked—into the room. Behind her was his own personal unwelcome distraction. Ali Matlock.

“Kamal!” His sister came forward to greet him.

He leaned down and kissed her on both cheeks. “How are you, little one?”

“Not so little.” She placed her hands on her bulging belly. “Did Aunt Farrah tell you what the doctor said? My blood pressure?” she asked, her lovely dark eyes brimming with worry.

“I was informed.” He looked at Ali.

She was dressed as she’d been when he’d seen her at the hospital several hours before. White lab coat over green scrubs. Women in El Zafir dressed conservatively with long sleeves, high necklines and hems that covered their legs to mid-calf. She was covered appropriately for her work, but somehow what he couldn’t see tantalized him more. Her auburn hair was twisted up and off her collar, but several tendrils caressed her cheeks and flirted with her long neck. Big eyes, brown with flecks of green and gold, stared back at him.

Six months ago, he’d seen her dressed for a ball. He’d thought about her often in the intervening months and couldn’t comprehend why. She was a woman just like any other. So why had he been unable to forget her?

“We meet again,” he finally said.

“So we do. Since I’m managing hospital L and D, Dr. McCullough thought I should be his nurse today. He returned to the hospital, but I’m off duty and Princess Johara insisted I stay on after the house call.” She looked around the suite and laughed. “Some house.”

“The first time I saw the palace,” Penny said, “I wanted to drop a trail of crumbs so I could find my way out.”

“I hear that,” Crystal agreed. “But, trust me, all the walking is good for a girl’s waistline.”

“Unless you’re big as a house,” Johara said ruefully.

“As long as there are no complications, walking is good for you in your condition. Or should I say conditions.” Ali grinned at each of them in turn. “A plethora of pregnant princesses.”

Everyone laughed. Including Kamal.

“You should do that more often.” Ali was studying him. “Your subjects will be less likely to run screaming from the room.”

“No one screams or runs from me—”