A Wife for the Surgeon Sheikh

by Meredith Webber

  Can a convenient marriage...

  Bring them the happiness they deserve?

  It’s a normal workday for nurse Lauren Macpherson, until she’s summoned to her boss’s office to face Sheikh Malik Madani. To protect his nephew, her adopted son, Malik has come to claim him—with a shock proposal! The enigmatic sheikh sweeps her into his world and Lauren is caught up in an undeniable passion. Could their marriage in name only become something more?

  And as they wandered into the shadows of a rose arbor, Malik turned her in his arms and kissed her—again a gentle, barely there brush of lips on lips, only this time, perhaps because the burden of Nim’s safety had been lifted from her shoulders, Lauren found herself responding.

  Kissing him back, her hands slipping around his chest to keep him close, her lips parting to his questing tongue...

  “Marriage in name only?” he said some time later, as they continued their stroll through the garden. And the teasing quality of his voice sent heat coursing through Lauren’s body.

  Dear Reader,

  I read a book a long time ago—called Mother Without a Mask if anyone is interested—that took me right into the family of a sheikh during the time oil was first discovered in their particular land and the changes it wrought in everyone’s lives. Since then I have been fascinated by the way the people lived, and how they coped with their rapidly changing world. Since then I have visited Abu Dhabi and Dubai several times and traveled through Morocco, staying in the most beautiful riads with prim outsides and beautiful, welcoming inside courtyards around which the family lives.

  And even in the city, the desert is not far away—desert nights beneath animal-skin tents with luscious food cooking in pots over an open fire, the grumble of the camels and bells on the sheep not far away. These places continue to fascinate and delight me, which is why I return to them in my books.

  I hope you find them as fascinating as I do.

  All the best,

  Meredith Webber

  A Wife for the Surgeon Sheikh

  Meredith Webber

  Books by Meredith Webber

  Harlequin Medical Romance

  Bondi Bay Heroes

  Healed by Her Army Doc

  The Halliday Family

  A Forever Family for the Army Doc

  Engaged to the Doctor Sheikh

  A Miracle for the Baby Doctor

  From Bachelor to Daddy

  Wildfire Island Docs

  The Man She Could Never Forget

  A Sheikh to Capture Her Heart

  The Accidental Daddy

  The Sheikh Doctor’s Bride

  The One Man to Heal Her

  New Year Wedding for the Crown Prince

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  Praise for Meredith Webber

  “The way this story ended had me cheering for this couple’s happy ever after.... I would recommend A Forever Family for the Army Doc by Meredith Webber if you enjoy the fake relationship trope or a story where the hero and heroine are meant to be.”

  —Harlequin Junkie

  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

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  EXCERPT FROM THE ITALIAN SURGEON'S SECRET BABY BY SUE MACKAY

  CHAPTER ONE

  LAUREN SUPPOSED SHE had known there’d be an executive director of finance and logistics—after all, someone would have to look after the money side of the hospital—but in the nearly two years she’d worked here she’d never heard of Mr Marshall, to whose office she had been summoned at the end of her shift.

  Was there something wrong with her superannuation? No, she was sure chief executives had more important things to do than worry about very minor employees’ superannuation.

  So, what could he possibly want?

  Unanswerable questions kept worry at bay as the elevator rose to the rarefied air of the sixth floor, but walking down the corridor in search of Room 279 she found panic building...

  A beautifully dressed secretary—or perhaps a personal assistant—looked her up and down, and offered a disdainful eyebrow lift at the sight of her dishevelled end-of-shift clothes, which were probably bloodstained somewhere an apron didn’t cover, before ushering her through a door into the inner sanctum.

  ‘Sister Macpherson,’ the woman announced, and Lauren stepped forward, wondering which of the two men was Mr Marshall. Surely not the one in the grey silk suit that hung on him with such precision he could have been a model in a very expensive tailor’s shop.

  A very good-looking model, from what she could see, as he stood with the light behind him. Although his shoulders were probably wider than the norm so the suit had, undoubtedly, been tailor-made.

  But Silk Suit remained by the window, studying her, she was sure, from beneath heavy eyelids.

  Hawk’s eyes...

  Hooded...

  Scanning for prey?

  She felt a shiver of apprehension, and a slight stirring of something she couldn’t quite place, and definitely didn’t want to think about...

  ‘I’m Ted Marshall,’ the other man said, interrupting her fantasy and stepping forward. He held out his hand towards Lauren and positively radiated goodwill. ‘Please, come in and sit down. Sheikh Madani has something he wishes to discuss with you, and as he’s come a long way to see our new children’s wing, the very least I can do is offer him the hospitality of my room.’

  Twit!

  But the name he’d mentioned—it couldn’t be... It was impossible.

  Though of course it had to be, and as a feeling of inevitability all but swamped her, Lauren told herself she was not afraid.

  Well, not much...

  Practically falling over himself to please Silk Suit, Ted Marshall waved the other visitor forward, though Lauren hadn’t sat down, flight-or-fight instinct telling her she’d be better off on her feet.

  ‘Sheikh Madani, this is Sister Macpherson. Now, I’ll leave the two of you to discuss your business.’

  Leave her here with Madani?

  No way!

  She knew the name Madani only too well. Knew it and hated it with a passion. Hadn’t it been a Madani who had stolen her sister?

  ‘You can’t do that!’ she said to the departing Mr Marshall. ‘You can’t get me up here and leave me in a room with a total stranger because he praised your new hospital! That’s irresponsible and unethical and probably illegal!’

  She knew her cheeks were probably scarlet and her hair was probably standing on end, and forget being afraid—terror had prompted her outburst. Not for herself, but for Nim.

  Silk Suit watched from the window, his eyes, lids lifted now, focussed in her direction.

  And if that was a smirk twitching at his lips, she’d kill him.

  Or get Joe to kill him.

  ‘You need fear no danger from me,’ the man said, his voice as smooth as the sleek clothes he
wore, the accompanying smile as friendly as a shark’s.

  ‘There, you see,’ Ted Marshall said, edging closer to the door. ‘The sheikh has business with the hospital then mentioned wanting to see you. Apparently, there’s a family matter he wishes to discuss with you, and I’m sure it would be to your advantage to listen to him.’

  And on that note he scuttled out of the door.

  Lauren remained where she was, paralysed by the knowledge that this man might well have been behind the murder of her sister and parents.

  And if not him, surely one of his relations...

  But there was no way she could reveal the panic in her heart or the clutch of icy fingers gripping her stomach.

  She took a deep breath, and aimed for being cool.

  ‘You have business with me?’

  Cool and polite.

  ‘I think you know I do.’

  His deep, treacly voice rasped against her skin and sent shivers down her spine, but Lily had been taken in by a treacly voice and silk suits—by money, and jewellery, and private planes that swept her from one holiday playground to the next.

  Beautiful, vibrant, fun-loving Lily...

  And look how that had ended.

  ‘Oh?’ Lauren managed, dragging herself out of the past, and ignoring the catch in her own breathing as he moved closer.

  ‘The boy! You have the boy!’

  It wasn’t a question, but how much did he actually know?

  Not where she lived or he’d have come to the house—possibly even kidnapped Nim—though that would have happened over Joe’s dead body.

  ‘What boy?’ she asked, stalling.

  He waved away her pretence, eyes like obsidian boring into hers.

  ‘He needs to be taken home.’ His voice was glacial now. ‘He needs to know the country he will one day rule.’

  ‘And just who are you to be making these demands?’

  The man drew himself up to an impressive height and seemed to summon a sense of power from the ether.

  ‘I am Abdul-Malik Madani, I am called Malik, and my name means Protector of the King.’

  Refusing to be intimidated, Lauren straightened, and although five feet five wasn’t a very impressive height, she made the most of it with a tilt of her chin and a glare in her eyes.

  ‘Well, if Nim’s father was the former heir, then you didn’t do too good a job of it!’

  She heard his reaction—a quick snatch of breath—and saw it in the stricken look on his face, the sudden bowing of his head to hide his emotion.

  She watched his chest expand as he breathed deeply, and knew the depth of his pain when he spoke again, voice strained with grief.

  ‘You are right,’ he said. ‘I could not save my brother, but it is his son that I must protect now—protect at all costs, even with my life.’

  That was a bit melodramatic, but hadn’t all her admittedly brief contact with the Madanis been overly melodramatic?

  She closed her eyes, remembering, shuddering, aware of this man’s presence in every cell of her being, trying to focus on what he was saying.

  He was either a consummate actor or genuine, but did she really want to find out which?

  She moved towards the door, intending to keep walking until she was well away from this man. Somewhere quiet where she could think quietly and halt the panic.

  But in two strides he had overtaken her so he now stood directly in front of her—less than a foot away—towering over her with some kind of inner presence that made her feel more queasy than afraid.

  Strange, unsettled butterflies rioted in her stomach, zapping their disquiet along her nerves. Up close, the man’s face was beautiful—not in a pretty-boy way but with hard carved features: a thin straight nose separating those deep-set eyes; high ridges of cheekbones; and lips full enough for his mouth to scream sensual but not too full—not fleshy, just there, unsmiling...

  ‘The child’s name is Nimr!’

  The words were like a slap.

  So much for her thinking she’d scored a point on him earlier.

  ‘We call him Nim,’ she retorted. ‘Easier than trying to roll that unfamiliar “r” at the end. But, yes, it’s spelled Nimr on official documents.’

  ‘And yet you asked what boy?’

  Sarcasm iced the words and Lauren felt them cut into her skin—saying Nim’s name had brought back the fear. Just because this man said he’d give his life for Nim, what proof was that?

  For all Lauren knew, he could have been behind his brother’s death.

  As soon as she thought it, she knew she shouldn’t have gone there—memories threatened to swamp her again and right now she needed to be strong.

  As for his assumption that Nim would want to be King of the godforsaken country this man was talking about—well, that was for the future, and for Nim himself to decide!

  ‘Nim was left in my care and that’s where he stays,’ Lauren said, not adding Lily’s almost hysterical warning of deadly danger. Of people—Tariq’s family members even—trying to track her down to kill her and her son. And Lauren, for her sins, had dismissed it all, sure Lily had been exaggerating—blaming her state on a hormone-fuelled fantasy.

  That was until the accident, and then when Nim had been taken...

  Don’t go there, she told her frantic thoughts.

  ‘And now I need to leave,’ she said, taking a side step, hoping to get behind him to the door—

  Which proved hopeless.

  She tried a glare, one that usually sent overexcited adolescents straight back to their beds, but felt it bounce off him.

  ‘Perhaps we should begin again, discuss this in more congenial surroundings. As Mr Marshall said, I had some business with the hospital, and thought you might feel more at ease meeting me here with other people’s knowledge of the meeting. But there are other places...’

  He touched her, oh, so lightly on the shoulder as he spoke, and fire spread through her body, confirming the danger she’d felt in this man from the beginning.

  Was this how Lily had felt when she’d first met Tariq?

  ‘There’s nothing to discuss,’ she told him, forcing her voice to stay firm. ‘Nim is my child, properly adopted. He stays here!’

  ‘With security lights all around your house, and alarms hard-wired back to the police station, and a guard to follow him wherever he goes?’

  Panic swelled in Lauren.

  He did know where she lived! And how they lived! The only thing he didn’t know was her constant fear...

  But there was no way this man was going to get her child!

  ‘He’s not a guard, he’s a nanny,’ she snapped. ‘Most working mothers have them!’

  ‘Six-two male? SAS-trained? Do most Australian working mothers have such a nanny?’

  She stepped back, aware of giving ground, but she couldn’t yell at him successfully when she was so close. Something about the man flustered her and she was pretty sure it wasn’t fear...

  She took another deep breath.

  ‘I lost my entire family in that accident—everyone but Nim—and no one can tell me how or why it happened, or, worse, who the target was. I don’t know whether it was my sister and our parents, or your brother.’

  ‘There was a doubt about the intended victim?’ he demanded, his voice sharp with tension as he broke into her explanation.

  Closing her eyes briefly to regain a little composure, Lauren explained.

  ‘My father had many business interests in the west, from mining to pastoral holdings and beyond. The police thought...’

  She couldn’t go on, remembering the horror of those days when grief had been overwhelming her and policemen had been constantly asking questions—

  ‘Tell me.’

  His voice was gentle now, not a plea exactly but with enough emotion in it that she u
nderstood he needed to know.

  ‘It was only when Nim was snatched they turned their attention to your brother.’

  ‘Someone took the child?’

  His eyes blazed with anger now, but the memories were pressing down on her and she had to get the story told before she broke down from the remembered terror.

  ‘A police family liaison officer was staying with me. The detectives were there one morning with so many questions, their voices unsettled Nim. He was only tiny. So I took him out for a walk in his pram, and someone hit me on the head and ran off with him.’

  She tried to quell the memories of her pain and fear. She had thought that not only had she lost her parents and Lily but the baby as well—the baby she’d promised Lily she’d protect.

  Had he read it in her eyes that he steered her back into a chair.

  ‘Sit, take deep breaths! They found the child?’

  He asked the question in the same calm voice he’d used to make her sit.

  She nodded.

  ‘At the airport, dressed all in pink, travelling on a passport as Lucy someone, two parents travelling with her. It was luck, nothing more, that they found Nim—another twenty minutes and they’d have boarded, the plane doors would have shut.’

  ‘And the couple?

  Lauren looked up at the man hovering impatiently in front of her.

  ‘They admitted to being paid to kidnap the child and take him to the United States, where he could be sold to adoptive parents in some quasi-criminal deal. But they denied all knowledge of the accident. Further police investigations couldn’t prove they’d been involved.’

  She read confusion in his eyes and understood it, for those few months of her life still seemed unreal to her.

  But this man needed answers, so she picked up where she’d left off earlier.

  ‘So, yes, I have security to protect my child, but none of it intrudes on his having a normal childhood. That is one thing I work very hard to ensure.’

  Lauren paused, needing to catch her breath, needing to see his face—his expression—as she finalised this business.

  ‘So, really, there’s nothing else to discuss. I’m guessing you spent a considerable amount of money to track me down, but Nim is mine now—a little Australian boy with a future here, not in his father’s country. So I’ll be getting home to my son.’