He’d taken her hand as he spoke, and kept it enclosed in his as he spoke briefly to Aneesha, who nodded to the new arrivals and disappeared on silent feet into the depths of the building.
‘Why are we here?’ Lauren asked Malik, aware that her hand was responding to his by clinging a bit—well, maybe more than a bit—because somehow holding hands with this man seemed to make everything all right. ‘Isn’t this the palace?’
He smiled, responding to the movement of her fingers by pulling her a little closer to him, which made her feel even better, though surely that was silly when they barely knew each other.
‘This little place? Oh, no, my mother might have insisted on a certain grandeur, but nothing would ever rival the palace, which must be four or five times the size of this humble dwelling.’
‘Humble dwelling indeed!’ Lauren muttered at him, aware that she should take back her hand but doing nothing. ‘And have you been teaching Nim to roll that “r” on the end of his name?’
His only answer was a smile, and as it eased the frightened bits inside her, she also wondered why it had ever made her think of crocodiles.
‘Here you will be safe. These people are my people—Tariq’s people, too. They will watch over both of you and feel honoured to look after Nimr. But let me show you to your rooms, you must be tired after the journey, then later, perhaps, we can go to the hospital?’
For the first time since he’d burst into her life he sounded a little uncertain as he made that last suggestion.
Almost as if it was important to him that she go, but he was unwilling to push.
Malik uncertain?
She pushed the silly idea away, removed her hand from his and said, ‘Then we’d better get going, hadn’t we?’
He smiled again, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and for some reason that small, crinkly smile eased a lot of the tension that had been building inside her since the people who were obviously servants had appeared.
But ‘rooms’ hardly covered the accommodation they would have, her bedroom lined with silk, hung with draperies, carpets so soft underfoot she was glad she’d left her shoes outside the front door.
A huge bathroom with a range of luxury products from bath salts to not-so-humble toothpaste, a dressing room hung with outfits ranging from jeans—top brands—and silk shirts to colourful trousers and tunics like the ones the local women seemed to wear.
‘Come and look at my room, Mum!’
Nim came bursting through a door she hadn’t noticed, and she went through it to find a room that would have filled any small boy with delight.
So much for her hope of bringing him up as a normal child!
The bed was in the shape of a racing car, spaceships and satellites hung from a ceiling painted with stars—probably in their correct astronomical positions, she guessed—while the shelves held toys and games and large soft animals, particularly tigers in various sizes.
‘We don’t have tigers living here,’ Aneesha was saying in her soft voice. ‘But in the garden the sheikh is running a breeding programme for the desert leopard, which has come close to extinction. Would you like to see the baby cubs?’
Even in his wild excitement, Nim did turn to Lauren for a nod of permission, and although her heart quailed as her son disappeared through another door into the vast unknown depths of this enormous building, she had to believe Malik’s promise to keep him safe, or she’d go mad with worry.
‘So you trust me?’ he said, having come into the room so quietly she gave a start.
‘I have to!’ she said. ‘Who else is there?’
Had she sounded as tense as she felt that he touched her gently on the shoulder?
‘Every person in this building would give his or her life for your son, and you, too, can be sure of their loyalty and protection,’ he said quietly, then he drew her unresisting body into his arms and held her against the hardness of his chest, his enclosing arms adding their own promise of security.
And because it was such a relief to have someone else worrying about Nim, she stayed for probably an instant too long, and when he spoke her name she looked up at him, saw something she couldn’t read in his eyes, at least until he kissed her.
Just gently, on the lips, a fleeting brush of skin on skin—then he was gone—striding briskly away, pausing at the door to look back at her.
‘I will send someone to show you around, or, if you’d prefer to rest, perhaps some tea. I wouldn’t leave except there is much to do, and unexpected problems that have arisen in my absence.’
And with that he was gone.
Lauren shook away the silly thoughts chasing through her mind, silly thoughts about that kiss...
It might have come out of nowhere, but it had been reassurance, that’s all it had been.
And though it had caused a myriad of sensations in her body, she could put that down to her unease in this totally new and very, very different situation.
He’d given her a reassuring hug and kiss. What could be more natural?
‘Keep telling yourself that,’ she muttered, then looked around to check no one could hear her.
She was uncertain what to do. Should she go back to her rooms—her prison?
No way! She was going to have a quick wash, perhaps a coffee if she could find one, then go exploring.
A soft tap at the door was also reassuring. Someone to show her around, perhaps? Offer her tea?
She crossed the vastness of the sitting area and opened the door to find another smiling woman there.
‘I am Keema,’ the woman said. ‘Aneesha, her English better than mine, so she can look after Nimr and teach him our words, and I will look after you.’
Uncertain what to do, Lauren held out her hand.
‘I’m Lauren,’ she said, and although she’d have liked to add, ‘And I can’t believe all this is happening,’ she thought she might confuse her new friend, so simply ushered her in.
‘You would like something before I show you the Sheikh’s house?’
‘I’d give my—’
And having discarded various things she’d normally have offered to give, like her firstborn—should she ever have one—or her right hand, she went with plain, rather than colloquial, English.
‘I’d love a coffee.’
As Keema disappeared, Lauren looked around the room again, discovering her clothes and books had been unpacked and put neatly away in cupboards or on shelves.
Another country, another life...
‘Coffee for my lady,’ a deep voice said, as once again she chased tremors of trepidation from her mind.
Malik set the small tray on a table in the sitting area, took Lauren’s hand again, and led her to a soft couch, settling beside her, which immediately dismissed any remnants of uncertainty.
She’d think why this was so later, but right now he was explaining something.
‘I realised I couldn’t just walk away and leave you here. It is my job to show you your new home, my job to see that you are comfortable. I have already been away, so affairs of state can wait a little longer.’
He poured the thick black coffee into tiny cups and handed one to her.
‘It is not coffee as you know it, and I have that type of coffee should you find this distasteful, but I would like you to try it, if only once.’
A slight smile accompanied the words, and it was that which prompted Lauren to lift the tiny, delicate cup to her lips and take a sip.
Too sweet, was her first thought, and grainy, somehow, but a second sip produced such a feeling of well-being she felt herself relax.
‘I could grow used to it,’ she said, smiling for the first time since they’d arrived—well, smiling genuinely.
‘I hope you do,’ he said, face serious this time, and she knew behind the words he was telling her he hoped she’d stay.
&n
bsp; Because of Nim?
Of course it was!
Their marriage would be one of convenience, which meant she should ignore that tiny spurt of happiness his words had prompted. Ignore the warmth she’d felt when he’d said it, sounding as if he really did want her to stay.
Her as well as Nim, perhaps?
But realistically a marriage of convenience would suit both of them, she decided as she took another sip of coffee. They’d both lost loved ones and knew the pain of love...
* * *
But as they walked through the vast residence after the coffee he took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, and she began to feel more at ease with this man she didn’t know, so by the time he led her along a passage and out into a garden where Nim was playing with two small...kittens? No, these were pale beige little cats with a hint of spots to come. She felt relaxed enough to laugh at the antics of the threesome.
‘These are the fourth cub twins we have bred here,’ Malik explained to her, before going to kneel by Nim and take one of the cubs gently into his hand.
He lifted the kitten up for her to pat, and as her fingers brushed the silky fur, their fingers met—eyes met...
The moment passed, if there was a moment, for now he was speaking to Nim.
‘When they are bigger, Nimr, we will take them out into the mountains where they belong, but before that we have to teach them how to look after themselves, so they can hunt for their food in the desert.’
Lauren held her breath, praying Nim wouldn’t ask what they ate, but he was already telling Malik the cubs’ names and how he could tell one from the other.
‘These are better than rabbits, Mum,’ he said happily, and Lauren closed her eyes and prayed again, this time that he would have plenty of that happiness in this new life.
‘And now I must leave you for a while,’ Malik said, returning to Lauren’s side. ‘But I shall return to eat dinner with you and Nimr, and tomorrow, if he is happy to be here with the staff and animals, that is time enough to show you the hospital.’
He put his hand in the small of her back to guide her back indoors, back to her room, where he for stood a moment, looking at her, then touched a finger to her cheek and left.
And, no, she hadn’t been waiting for another kiss—or so she told herself...
But she touched her finger to her cheek where his had been, and wondered how things might have been had the two of them met under different circumstances.
It was a foolish thing to think given it was unlikely he’d have even noticed her—and that practical thought doused the fluttering flames the touch had left behind.
* * *
Dinner, it appeared, was to be in one of the smaller dining rooms, or so Keema said as she pulled outfits from the wardrobes, holding them up for Lauren’s inspection.
Did she have to wear one of them?
Would her own good slacks and a shirt not do?
For a moment she wished Malik was there so she could ask him, then she remembered how disturbed he’d left her feeling and cancelled the idea.
‘Look, Mum, I’ve got a dress!’
Nim burst into the room, in a snowy white, long-sleeved tunic.
‘Do you like it?’
Nim nodded.
‘I look like the little boys in my book,’ he explained. ‘I can still wear my other clothes, Aneesha said, but for dinner or going out I wear this.’
He stopped, looking anxious.
‘Do you like it?’
Lauren smiled at his excitement, although her heart quailed at the speed with which this transformation of her son was happening.
And just her son?
She looked at the outfits Keema had now laid on the bed, and knew she’d have to choose. Her good slacks and a shirt wouldn’t cut it at all.
‘I’ll wear the blue,’ she told the young woman, who swiftly removed the other garments.
‘That’s lovely, Mum.’
Nim stood by the bed, reverently touching the fine material of the dark blue tunic, decorated with silver thread around the neckline and hem.
She slipped into the dressing room to put it on, returning, arms out held for his approval.
‘Beautiful!’ was the response, only it was Malik there admiring her, and she could tell from the gleam in his eyes that it was admiration—and maybe something else?
‘Now we’re Madanis,’ Nim told her, coming over to take her hand, a little shy, probably because she looked like a stranger.
She certainly felt like one, arrayed in dark blue silk with silver threads. Fairy godmothers and pumpkins came to mind and she smiled to herself.
* * *
Malik battled to contain the surge of excitement that had fired his body when he’d seen her.
Marriage in name only?
How could he possibly have thought that would work when something about this woman had attracted him from their first meeting? He remembered the way she’d fired up at the pompous managerial type who’d introduced them, scorn glittering in her eyes!
Now seeing them, the woman and the boy, there in front of him, he knew for certain he had done the right thing. It was personal now. These two were meant to be in his life...
* * *
But explaining to Nimr, over dinner, that he was going to marry his mother threw up unexpected difficulties—as far as Nimr was concerned.
‘But then you’ll be my father,’ the little boy said, ‘and you can’t be my uncle and my father, can you?’
‘If that’s the worst of his worries, he’ll be fine with it,’ Lauren said later, when they’d seen Nimr tucked up in bed and were walking in the rose garden.
‘He’s very accepting of change,’ Malik said, ‘and I suspect that’s your doing. You are his security, and while you are there, he knows everything will be all right.’
‘If only it had been that simple for both of us,’ Lauren said, and he heard in her voice the fear she’d lived with since the accident.
‘It will be now,’ he said, slipping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her closer. ‘Did I not promise you?’
And as they wandered into the shadows of a rose arbour, he 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, until she wondered how they’d tell Nim about the bed-sharing part of what lay ahead, and coldness replaced the heat.
‘Marriage in name only!’ she said firmly, and hoped she was going in the right direction as she headed back to the house.
‘He’ll understand—well, maybe not understand but accept,’ Malik said, when he’d caught up with her and once again pulled her close, demanding to know what was worrying her.
How could he be so certain, he who’d never had to worry about what lay ahead for a beloved child every minute of every day?
But when he kissed her again, she didn’t pull away.
She’d just have to work it out, she decided as she slid into the unexpected delight just kissing this man could bring...
CHAPTER SIX
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, telling herself it was useless to be waiting in her room when she had no idea when Malik might appear, Lauren went out into the back garden, where there were apricot, pomegranate and orange trees, to watch Nim have his first camel ride, then co-opted Keema to give her another tour of the house, this time with local words for each room thrown in.
Walking through it with Malik, she’d counted about ten guest
suites like hers, and at least four reception rooms, ranging from ballroom size to a more intimate one that opened onto the colonnade around the house, and would be a pleasant place to entertain.
Dining rooms, too, ranged in size, but one large formal one was set up in what must be a traditional style—no table and chairs but cushions set around a very long mat.
‘And the kitchens?’ Lauren asked, thinking she might at some stage need to make a snack for Nim.
‘Oh, you don’t want to go there. There are men—chefs—and they are not family and shouldn’t see your face.’
It took a moment for the words to sink in, and when they did register Lauren could only shake her head. Here she’d been, thinking things were not so different from home—except the place was so enormous—then suddenly she was bang up against a local custom.
‘But if I wanted to go in?’ she asked, and Keema shook her head.
‘You must ask for anything you or Nimr need, and we shall bring it to you.’
Lauren thought about arguing—explaining that as an Australian it didn’t matter if men saw her face, but Malik appeared from nowhere and she completely lost the conversational thread.
And a great deal of composure because one glance at his lips and that second kiss—the one she’d responded to—was front and centre of her mind. Her cheeks turned pink just thinking about it.
‘Shall we go to the hospital?’ he said. ‘I have seen Nimr and explained where I am taking you. He’s off to see where the baby camels are kept and be introduced to my birds, so he won’t be worried, and Aneesha will see he eats his lunch.’
‘And with so many people to take care of my son, I no longer need to be worrying about him?’
Malik smiled.
‘I doubt you’d stop no matter how many carers he had or how much assurance I give you.’
She nodded and returned his smile with a small one of her own—small because, while she should feel free to have someone else caring for Nim, she also felt a sudden pang of loss.
Was this how it would be in this new future?
A Wife for the Surgeon Sheikh Page 7
