A Wife for the Surgeon Sheikh

by Meredith Webber

  She did understand him—the passion in his voice as he’d spoken of his country had been very real, but...

  ‘You’re just being stubborn,’ she told him. ‘Can’t you see that if someone else becomes ruler, Nim will no longer matter? He will no longer need protection of any kind because your successors or those of whoever you get to rule the land will follow on. People will forget he ever existed.’

  ‘Nimr, the son of Tariq, will never be forgotten, not in my heart, and not in the hearts of my people.’

  ‘But your people don’t know of his existence!’ Lauren argued. ‘He was born here—he was only two weeks old when his parents were killed. Even before that, Lily had determined to divorce Tariq, to settle down here in Australia.’

  ‘And you could see that happening?’ the aggravating man demanded. ‘The beautiful butterfly settling anywhere?’

  There was no way that Lauren was going to admit she shared his doubts about her sister—or her doubts about Lily leaving Tariq?

  ‘That’s beside the point,’ she said. ‘I cannot believe that there is no way you can help your country without dragging a four-year-old boy along behind you.’

  ‘He would not be behind me, he would be King. I would be nothing more than his regent—a caretaker for the country until he comes of age.’

  It was all far too complicated, but the idea of Nim being some kind of figurehead to be paraded at will was just too much for her to take in.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry. I understand you mean well, and that you want what is best for your country, but I have to think about my son, and his welfare, and his future.’

  ‘And you think that’s here? Surrounded by security all his life, and not very effective security at that?’

  Her earlier moment of absolute terror flashed before her eyes and she had to hold back a gasp. But she couldn’t show more weakness, not to this man...

  ‘Joe opened that door for me, and it would have been obvious to him that I knew you—or at least knew who you were. If you’d approached on your own it would have been a different story.’

  It sounded weak even to her own ears.

  ‘And he’ll be there with Nimr when he plays in the park with his friends from school? How long will a boy put up with that kind of shadow? How long before he gets embarrassed about it, and finds ways of avoiding Joe’s protection?’

  He was giving voice to the thoughts that kept Lauren awake most nights and she hid the dread they brought.

  ‘I’m not stupid!’ she snapped. ‘Lily’s stories about people conspiring to get rid of her and Tariq, which I’d thought gross exaggerations, were proven to be true. And I’ve always known I could only go so far to protect Nim. But after four years I’d begun to hope that anyone who actually knew of his existence would have forgotten about him.’

  Those conversations—well, them and the accident and abduction—were the reasons Lauren had fled. With help from the police liaison officer, she’d officially changed her name and disappeared, moving constantly for the first two years—in touch with the police in different places who had twice alerted her that someone from Madan was looking for them—never entirely sure they were safe.

  And now Lily’s words were coming true. Now this man was here, wanting to take her child—Lily’s child.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you mean well, but I have to think of Nim, so no more talk. He’s not going—we’re not going—anywhere.’

  Except to move as soon as possible to another town, maybe a city... Would a city be easier to lose themselves in? Even with half the money from the sale of her parents’ mansion put away for Nim, she still had more than enough to take them anywhere in the world.

  But the thought of moving again made her feel ill. Aunt Jane and Joe were settled in the other half of the duplex, They’d done more than enough for her and Nim already, and weren’t even true family, for all Aunt Jane had been her mother’s best friend, and Joe had worshipped Lily since they were children—

  ‘What did you say?’

  She shook her head to clear it, realising it was tiredness that had led her mind to stray away from this man—from danger.

  He was watching her, his face devoid of expression, but his eyes were focussed.

  Seeking her reaction?

  ‘I said I would prefer not to go through official channels, but by the law of my country Nimr became my child on the death of his father. I have every right in law to claim him.’

  Lauren ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips, tried to think, but shock and anger, and possibly exhaustion, had closed her brain.

  * * *

  Malik saw what little colour she’d had in her cheeks fade, and the tip of her tongue slide across her pale lips.

  And found himself wanting nothing more than to take care of her—this small, fiercely protective woman. Not only to keep her safe but to lift the burden of fear from her slim shoulders.

  To hold her, tell her it would all work out.

  To hold her?

  Get your mind back on the job.

  But guilt at how he’d hurt her with his words made him reach out and touch one small, cold hand, where it lay in her lap.

  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have threatened you like that—you look exhausted, and all this has been a shock to you. No one should make decisions when they’re tired, but there’s a way out of this for all of us. Don’t answer now, we will talk again in the morning. I shall phone your Mr Marshall and explain you won’t be in to work.’

  But she’d obviously stopped listening earlier in his conversation.

  ‘A way out for all of us?’ she asked, looking at him with a thousand questions in her lovely eyes.

  ‘Of course,’ he told her, and felt a small spurt of unexpected excitement even thinking about his solution.

  ‘We shall get married,’ he announced. ‘That way Nim is both of ours and will be doubly protected.’

  Her eyes had widened and although he hadn’t thought she could get any paler, she was now sheet-white.

  But she stood up, and for a moment he thought she might physically attack him, but in the end she glared at him and said, ‘You must be mad!’ before turning towards the kitchen.

  ‘Peter, your customer is ready to leave,’ she called, before disappearing down the passage, presumably into her bedroom.

  As his driver appeared, with Joe looming behind him, Malik realised there was no point in arguing, but the idea, which had come to him out of nowhere, was brilliant.

  All he had to do was convince Lauren.

  Her name rolled a little on his tongue and, inside his head, he tried it out a few times.

  He said goodnight to Joe, and followed Peter out to the car, but his mind, for once, was not on Nimr, but on the woman he’d decided to marry...

  CHAPTER THREE

  SHEER EXHAUSTION BLOCKED Lauren’s mind so no matter how hard she tried to think about Malik’s ridiculous proposal, her brain refused to work.

  She went into Nim’s room and sat on the edge of his bed, a place where peace and contentment usually washed over her. But not tonight. Tonight all she saw was a little boy she’d sworn to protect, a little boy she loved with all her heart.

  Brushing his cheek with one last goodnight kiss, she took herself to bed. Bed was a good place to think!

  It was no good. The man’s arrival, her fainting when she never fainted, the fact that he knew where they lived—the jumble of thoughts was too much to untangle, and that was without the marriage bit.

  Contrary to all her expectations, her mind shut down on it all and she slept, well and deeply, until Nim bounced into her bed at seven the next morning.

  He was full of the joys another day might bring; so happy and loving as he snuggled down with her, she thought her heart might stop.

  She put her arms around him and drew him closer, breathing
in the little-boy smell of him, remembering the man—Malik—talking about rosewater, the scent of her shampoo...

  ‘What’s with you two this morning?’

  Joe’s call from the front of the house reminded her it was a workday, and already she was well behind schedule. Nim was gone, off to greet Joe, but Lauren made it out of bed, then stood uncertainly beside it.

  Was Malik going ahead and arranging time off for her this morning?

  No, she was sure she hadn’t agreed to that! But what had she agreed to?

  Definitely not to his ridiculous idea that they marry.

  Go to work, that’s what she’d do, and once there she’d have no time to think of anything but her patients...

  She had a quick shower to freshen up, put on a clean uniform, and by the time she could smell bacon sizzling in the pan, she was ready for the day ahead.

  A normal day ahead!

  Until Joe looked her up and down, glanced towards the calendar on the fridge and said, ‘I thought you were working the late shift today.’

  Of course she was! Two to ten, and Joe would know because he missed his training on late-shift evenings.

  ‘Forgot,’ she mumbled as she sat down to her bacon and eggs, a treat Joe cooked for them about once a week.

  ‘Can we have this every day, Mum?’ Nim asked, and she shook her head.

  ‘You know it’s a Joe special,’ she reminded Nim, ‘and anyway, cereal will make you strong.’

  But Nim had already forgotten the argument. He was peering out the kitchen door, and through the living room where a window revealed a long black limousine pulling up outside.

  ‘It looks like Susie’s dad’s car,’ he said. ‘Do you think he might drive me to school in it?’

  Rendered speechless by the thought of who might be in the hire car, Lauren was saved answering by a long peal of the doorbell.

  ‘I’ll go,’ Joe said, and the words brought Lauren back to panic mode.

  ‘Check who’s out there before you open the door,’ she reminded him, totally unnecessarily, but at least she’d managed to speak.

  ‘And, Nim, run along to your bedroom and get dressed or you’ll be late for kindy.’

  Once she had Joe and Nim out of the house, perhaps she’d be able to think clearly.

  She smiled to herself.

  She was ready for work—a ready-made excuse not to talk to the man. Hello and goodbye, sorry I can’t stop...

  She guessed it was only putting off the inevitable, but it would give her time to think.

  Then he was there, taller than she remembered, and so darned good-looking in a casual polo shirt and pale chinos that she hoped she wasn’t gaping at him.

  ‘I was told you are not on duty until later,’ he said by way of greeting. ‘I contacted Mr Marshall to explain we had more business to discuss, and ask if it was possible for you to have some time off, and he explained.’

  Lauren closed her eyes and swore to herself. Mr Marshall was no doubt toadying up to someone he thought might have money to give away. He’d found where she was working the previous day so had probably had no trouble checking her roster.

  But a uniform was a bit like armour. It made you a stronger person. Or so she told herself when she realised he’d foiled her planned escape and she’d have to talk to him.

  Joe was ushering the visitor into the living room, offering coffee, although he and Nim should be leaving for kindy.

  Lauren followed, trying to convince herself the uniform as armour idea hadn’t worked the previous evening because it had been rumpled and grubby...

  She sat down and wondered what to do next. If Joe hadn’t offered coffee, she could have done that and escaped into the kitchen, but apparently her visitor refused coffee for Joe was in Nim’s bedroom, putting on his shoes, from the sound of things, urging him to hurry or they’d be late.

  ‘Would you want to bring Joe?’

  The question was so bamboozling, it forced Lauren into speech.

  ‘Would I want to bring Joe where?’ she asked.

  ‘To Madan, of course.’

  He didn’t actually add ‘you idiot’, but Lauren heard it hovering at the end of the words.

  ‘You’re not making sense,’ she said.

  And he smiled.

  Uniforms weren’t good armour against smiles. For some unfathomable reason, that smile had melted something inside her—something hard and unrelenting that had taken her four years to build.

  ‘When we marry,’ he was saying now, as if everything had been settled in some glitch in time, and they were moving on to the next stage of their lives.

  ‘When we marry?’ she echoed, but heard a traitorous tremor in her voice and sat up straighter, shoring up the defences that smile had fractured. ‘I haven’t agreed to marry you!’

  That was better—her voice was stronger.

  Another smile, but this one she was ready for, steeled herself against it...

  ‘Oh, but you will, when you’ve had time to take it in, and realise it’s the best solution for all of us.’

  He paused, and she felt his scrutiny.

  ‘You’re still tired, and you do need time, but I have to leave and want to make all the arrangements before I go. You will need passports, of course, for you and Nimr. But back to where we started, do you want to bring Joe with you?’

  Lauren shook her head.

  It was useless arguing with the man, he simply did not listen, and to keep repeating that she hadn’t agreed to marry him was pointless.

  ‘Go away,’ she said. ‘You’re right, I’m not on duty until late. I could meet you for an early lunch at twelve. We could talk then.’

  Somewhere neutral, not here in her home—the home that had once been a safe haven for her and Nim but now felt more like a battleground.

  He was talking again, suggesting The Regal once more, telling her he’d send Peter to collect her.

  ‘And drive me home from work late in the evening?’ she snapped. ‘I will make my own arrangements, thank you. I will see you at twelve.’

  And she stood up so he would know his visit was over.

  Except that Nim came bounding out to greet the visitor, who touched the boy’s head so gently Lauren felt her defences begin to crumble again.

  She kissed her little boy goodbye, and wondered if she’d been fooling herself in thinking she could keep him safe. Then they were all gone, Nim having won a lift in the limo. Lauren slumped down on the sofa, stretched out on her back, and looked up at the ceiling, which was as blank as her mind...

  * * *

  Malik felt strangely satisfied as they drove away from the small duplex, the man called Joe silent beside him, Nim in the front seat, chattering away to Peter about cars he’d ridden in.

  He’d learned more of Joe from Peter on his way back to the hotel. A decorated soldier, badly wounded, a left-leg amputee, although Malik hadn’t picked up on that just from seeing the man move.

  A family friend more than a relation, Peter had thought, Joe lived in the flat next door with his mother, training for some games for wounded service people, Peter had heard.

  So Lauren had chosen her ‘nanny’ well, although he, Malik, sensed from her reaction to his appearance at the hospital that she had been starting to believe they were safe.

  And that in itself was enough to strengthen his determination to take Nimr home to Madan. Whoever had killed his brother had waited until he was out of the country, where such an assassination would barely raise a ripple in Madan itself.

  The knowledge that Tariq had died had saddened his people, but most were unaware of the violence of his death, and certainly not aware of the Australian police’s suspicions that it had been murder.

  But the fact remained that someone had killed Tariq, and that person could still go after Nimr, especially as now, a year after hi
s father’s death—the end of the mourning period—that the succession had to be formalised.

  They’d pulled up outside the school, and the small boy, so like his father, reached over the seat to shake his hand and say goodbye. Joe nodded a farewell, and they were gone, Joe accompanying the boy right inside the building.

  But Malik barely saw them go, his mind caught up in where his thoughts had led. What if whoever had killed Tariq was inside the palace itself?

  Wasn’t that the most likely answer?

  And in that case, taking the boy there could be playing into that person or persons’ hands. The palace with its labyrinthine corridors and upward of a hundred staff, who would know which person might wish, or be paid, to harm the boy?

  ‘Back to their home,’ he said to Peter, knowing that he needed to get things settled right away. He had his mother’s legacy, the huge house she’d built when his father had married his second wife. They’d go there. He’d staff it with people loyal only to him. Loyalty was part of his culture—his people had only survived because they trusted one another and would fight to the death against anyone who threatened one of their own.

  He probably wouldn’t tell Lauren that part in the argument he intended to put to her.

  Back at her residence, he considered asking Peter to accompany him inside so Lauren wouldn’t feel threatened, but the place was small, and even from the kitchen he was fairly certain his words would be overheard.

  He could do this—would do this, had to do this!

  He knew she was checking him through the spyhole before opening the door, knew she hadn’t expected him to return, for she’d changed into white shorts and a red tank top. With her slim, tanned legs and small bare feet, she looked little more than a child herself, and for a moment he hesitated.

  Should he rethink his plan?

  Then he remembered the small boy, offering his hand to be shaken, saying goodbye, and knew his way was best.

  She led him wordlessly back into the living room and subsided into a chair.