‘Not nearly as hard as sorting out how I can be with you and not have you in my arms. Not holding you, making love to you, sharing talk, and love, and laughter with you.’
She returned the pressure on his fingers and said, ‘You could always walk away, come back to Australia, live with us there as a normal family.’
He was wondering whether that could be a realistic option, when she leaned across and kissed him softly on the cheek.
‘But I know you wouldn’t,’ she said softly. ‘Back when we first met, you told me of the things you desperately wanted to achieve for your country. It was the reason you gave to need Nim back here in Madan. I heard the passion in your voice as you spoke of your plans, and it stirred something inside me.’
She touched her fingers to his cheek, his lips.
‘To leave, to walk away from those dreams and aspirations, you wouldn’t be that man who spoke with such passion of his people and their needs. You wouldn’t be the man I’ve come to know so well and, I think, to love. So we stay, and pretend, and surely, one day, things will work out and we can be properly together.’
‘A normal family,’ he repeated, his voice gruff as a rarely felt emotion had tightened his throat as she’d told him of her love...
* * *
The markets were alive with lights, colour and music. Booths pushed against each other, selling everything from hair shampoo to enormous silver urns and vases, with clothing, car tyres, toys and radios in between.
‘It’s mad,’ Lauren murmured, staying close to Malik as she feared she’d never find him in the crush should they be separated.
‘Through this way,’ he said, and steered her down a side alley to where the businesses were more substantial, tucked into the ground floor of buildings so they had doors that could be shut at night, if night actually closed the markets down.
Another alley then into a building and through a dark corridor that opened into a magnificent courtyard.
‘I cannot believe that this is hidden away in here, in the midst of the madness that is the markets.’
‘Most of the houses are like this, nothing but a building on the outside, but inside—’
He waved his hand to indicate the scene in front of them, the floor and walls bright with glazed tiles set in patterns as intricate as the carpets they walked on at the house, the potted palms and other small trees tucked here and there, the small fountain against one wall, and bright orange, and purple, and green cushions, large enough to lounge on, scattered here and there.
‘There are tables if you’d rather,’ Malik said, but seeing the small groups of people sitting on the cushions, each area made a little private by the potted plants, she opted for a cushion and they sat, Malik speaking to the woman who had greeted them.
‘You will let me choose?’ he said to Lauren, who smiled and nodded, still captivated by the beauty of the courtyard inside what had looked like a very drab exterior.
The woman returned to spread a mat, which looked far too beautifully woven to serve as a tablecloth, between them, then set down a silver jug, the outside frosted with beads of condensation, promising something cold inside.
She poured drinks, pale pink in colour and tangy with lemon, though the other ingredients Lauren could only guess at.
They raised their glasses in a toast, though to what she didn’t want to think. It was enough to be with Malik, to sit a while, and eat and drink, and not worry about what might lie ahead.
Whatever happened, she knew that Nim was safe, and just knowing that had freed so much of the tension inside her that the future held no terrors.
Small nibbly things appeared—roasted nuts, dates, of course, but filled with a kind of soft cheese, olives, warmed in oil and lemon, flavoured with herbs that, again, she didn’t know, and tiny, spicy meatballs, with delicious, cool yoghurt to dip them in.
‘I’ve had to try everything and won’t be able to eat anything else,’ she told him, and he smiled.
‘I think you will, when it arrives.’
Someone cleared away the dishes on the mat before the first woman returned with a strange-shaped earthenware dish and a bowl of couscous—pearl couscous Lauren remembered it was called—the bigger version. Pomegranate seeds and thin slices of preserved lemon skin decorated the top of the couscous, but as the woman lifted the lid of the other dish, the aroma of a very special meal had Lauren forgetting anything else.
There must be spices in it she didn’t know, but she recognised saffron, and something sweeter.
‘Try a little,’ Malik suggested, putting a spoonful of couscous on her plate as the woman put a small amount of the stew—the only name Lauren had for it—with it.
She tried it, breathing in the spice-filled aroma. The meat was tender and delicious—lamb?—but with dried apricots, softened by long cooking, and tiny sultanas, carrot chunks, and another vegetable that Lauren couldn’t name.
‘It’s delicious,’ she said, passing her plate back to the woman’s waiting hand, watching as she piled it high, holding up her hand so it didn’t get even higher.
Malik was served, although Lauren imagined he would normally be served first, and together they ate, silent at first as they revelled in the exotic food.
But as appetite was satisfied they slowed, and talked, of food and the hospital and Malik’s plans to get better education out to the far reaches of Madan, to build a university to train teachers and nurses and doctors.
‘Shall we walk a little?’ Malik suggested, when they’d finished their meal with a tiny cup of coffee.
He led her further into the market until they came out into the open, close by the darkness of the oasis, moonlight reflecting the palm grove in the still waters.
And hand in hand they wandered into the welcoming shadows beneath the thick-topped palms, the sweet smell of ripening dates filling the air with an intoxicating perfume.
And where a tiny trail led closer to the water, Malik took her in his arms and held her.
At first content to be close, Lauren’s body remembering his, heating at the memory, until, inevitably, they were kissing, desperate kisses that told of yearning and frustration.
They held each other tightly, bound by their attraction.
Love?
But though she might not know details—would he ever share his concerns with her? See her as a full partner in their relationship?—she knew there were forces around them who could put an end to Malik’s plans for his country, his hopes and dreams for Madan.
‘I will sort it soon,’ he promised when they eased apart, then kissed again because how could they not?
They walked back to the car, not through the markets but through the date palms, pausing now and then to kiss—to be together. But when they reached the car, Lauren’s mind turned back to work.
‘We should give the girl and all her family the measles vaccine. We’re still getting a few cases,’ she said, and Malik laughed.
‘What’s so funny?’ she demanded.
‘My mind is still on you—on kisses—and you? You’re thinking work!’
‘I was thinking there could still be some infection around and those people will be vulnerable, the young girl particularly so. Would it hurt to give her the vaccination while she’s already fighting off the staph infection? Her body will see the vaccine as a further invasion and might fight it.’
Malik forgot about discretion and gave her a hug.
‘Yes, we’ll vaccinate the family, and the girl too, but as you say, not yet. And I’ll find out from the leader where other tribes might be. They all come into the city from time to time, so they should all be protected, preferably before they arrive. How to do it is something I’ve been puzzling over, but with the need right now, I’ll figure something out.’
He spoke lightly, but the idea excited him, for it had thrown up possibilities he hadn’t considered.
He was getting nothing but frustration from the council, and the trade route the nomads still travelled was close to the lodge he had built when they had been setting the first of the young leopards free in their natural habitat.
He wouldn’t leave until they had the results of the tests on the young girl and had stabilised her, but after that...
‘I’ll arrange vaccinations for the family and track down where some of the other nomadic tribes might be. They are very regular in their travel so we should be able to go out to the camps and vaccinate them before they get too close to town.’
He walked beside her to the car, his mind racing and excitement burning in his body. He would leave his two most trusted men with Nimr, let the housekeepers who lived at his lodge know that they were coming so they could open up the lodge and get in food.
Should he tell Lauren of his plans?
He shook his head at the thought. He’d already brought her here with a promise of marriage that, up until now, he’d been unable to keep, and in the current warring climate in the palace, who knew what might arise to thwart that plan.
So he hugged his excitement to himself, although as he kissed her goodnight in the shadows of the colonnade, he hoped his kiss told her of his feelings, if not his plans...
CHAPTER TEN
WITH YET ANOTHER meeting of the council of elders set down for ten days’ time, Malik made his plans. He had loyal men who would lobby council members while he was away, and already he had close to a majority to vote against the new motion.
Graeme was delighted with the idea of having the nomadic people vaccinated, suggesting they might do other inoculations at the same time and organising all the equipment and drugs they would need.
‘You’ll take Lauren?’ Graeme asked, and Malik studied his old mentor for a moment, wondering how much he knew or guessed about the situation—the delayed marriage, and his, Malik’s, growing passion for the woman he’d brought so far.
Malik nodded.
‘She did well organising everyone at the house,’ he said, and wondered if it had sounded like an excuse and whether he should have said nothing.
But Graeme just smiled.
‘That’s good, she needs a break,’ he said. ‘She’s bonded well with the family of the little girl—she seems to understand the people she’ll be dealing with.’
Was that another dilemma? Something that might thwart his plan?
Malik shook off any doubts. Once the rheumatic fever diagnosis had been proved by tests, Lauren had been spending most of her on-duty hours with the child and her family.
But no one worked twenty-four hours a day, so other nurses were familiar with the case, and as the penicillin had reduced the swelling and pain in the girl’s throat and she was eating well, there was little nursing to do.
Nevertheless, it was Lauren’s first objection when he came to her with his idea of taking her out to the nomad camp on the old Silk Road to vaccinate the people there before they came into town.
‘We’ll be away a few days,’ he told her, ‘and I have already explained to the family of the sick girl that another nurse will be with her. And you can be sure Nimr will be well cared for. He tells me he would like his friend Najeeb to stay, so perhaps this would be a good time to have him over so he doesn’t miss you so much.’
Lauren smiled at him.
‘You don’t leave much for me to do, then. Nim hasn’t stopped talking about having Najeeb to stay, and you’re right, this would be an ideal time.’
She guessed there was more to this than a simple trip out into the desert, that Malik had everything so organised before she’d even known about it. But whatever lay ahead, with Nim happy with the arrangements, it was a trip she’d love to make.
The two boys would have both Aneesha and Keema to look after them, and Lauren knew there’d be trusted men around them all the time.
‘So,’ she finally said, when she’d settled all of this in her head and faced Malik again, ‘exactly what are you planning?’
The smile he gave her and the reaction of her body to that smile told her all she needed to know.
She closed her eyes to take it in, and tamped down the excitement that frustration had been building in her body.
‘We stay in the camp?’ she asked, and received an even more explicit smile in reply.
‘You will see,’ he said. ‘It will be a surprise for you.’
And it was all she could do to not leap into his arms and hug him, hold him, kiss him...
Most unseemly behaviour in a hospital corridor.
She saw no more of Malik that day, eating dinner with Nim, who was so excited about having his friend to stay over he could barely eat his food.
But the excitement proved enough to send him straight to sleep, and Lauren was free to sit in her bedroom and consider what she should pack for a few working days with, as far as she could make out, a little extracurricular excitement thrown in.
Gloom set in. Okay, so she had plenty of respectable loose trousers and tunics like the ones she now wore all the time, but they were far from sexy.
For the past four years, her life had revolved around Nim and keeping him safe, so sexy underwear had been the furthest thing from her mind. But hers were so darned functional they made her want to weep.
So she did, just a little, and was drying her eyes when Keema entered to tell her Malik would like to see her.
He was waiting, very properly, in the small salon where she and Nim usually watched television.
‘I thought I might see him to say goodbye, but it seems he’s asleep already,’ he said as she came into the room.
Then as she came closer he took her hands and drew her to him, looking down into her face.
‘You have been crying? You are worried about leaving Nim? Al’ama, I am so stupid. I think only of myself and my own desires to be alone with you for a little time. It is too hard for you?’
He sounded so concerned Lauren put her hand to his cheek and kissed him swiftly on the lips.
‘No, I’m fine, and Nim is so happy about the arrangement, he will not realise I’m gone.’
They talked a while and then he left, finalising the time he would send a car for her, explaining they would travel in his helicopter to the camp.
Another quick kiss and he was gone.
She shut away the doubts, packed her case, then showered and washed her hair, uncertain about what facilities a desert camp might have.
* * *
The nomad camp, when they arrived, made Lauren shake her head in disbelief. The tents themselves, large rounded affairs, were black, made from some kind of tanned animal skin, but all around was a swirl of colour.
Bright carpets were spread on the sand, women and children in brilliantly coloured outfits moved around outside the tents, while more carpets and mats hung from the anchoring ropes.
Camels wandered nearby, hobbles between their front feet preventing them from straying, and further out, a makeshift fence and a number of small boys kept goats and horses corralled.
A tall man, his head covered in a black turban with a long tail, appeared from the larger of the tents, and came towards the helicopter.
‘You are welcome in my camp, Abdul-Malik,’ he said, with a slight bow of his head.
‘I am honoured to be here,’ Malik replied, and while Lauren was trying to work out why the pair was speaking English, Malik spoke again.
‘You will have heard many people in the city have been ill with the measles epidemic, a number of them seriously ill. I have brought a nurse to help me and we will vaccinate your people so they need not fear that illness or many others.’
‘I have heard that too, and that you were coming,’ the man said. ‘You and the nurse from Australia, I believe.’
He turned to bow his head at Lauren, who held out her hand.
He laughed and dug into the pocket of his gown, to produce one of the latest models of phone.
‘Easier than listening to the wind, although we still listen to it as well, for it tells us other things.’
Intrigued, Lauren couldn’t help herself.
‘Like sandstorms?’ she said, and the man nodded once more.
‘Those, and other travellers in our vicinity—the wind also tells us that.’
It was Lauren’s turn to nod. She had read enough to know that in times when wars had been fought over territorial rights or bridal dowries, knowing an enemy was close would be important.
Malik was explaining how they planned to carry out the vaccinations, and the man had sent several young men to the helicopter to collect the ice boxes and medical equipment.
The man strode away to organise his people.
‘His English is so—English, I suppose. Was he educated there?’
Malik smiled.
‘He was at school with me in England. He lives this life by choice, but also so he can indulge in his love of archaeology. He doesn’t look for treasure but for everyday things people in the past made use of in their daily lives. One day he hopes to set up a museum that will track the lives of all who used the Silk Road over the centuries.’
Lauren shook her head in amazement.
‘That would surely take more than one man’s lifetime!’
Malik smiled at her.
‘Ah, but you do not know this man,’ he said.
He was certainly a good organiser, Lauren realised when he returned to show them to a small shelter that had been erected, with a folding table and chairs and two young women standing by, presumably to fetch and carry anything she or Malik might need, and to keep records of the patients.
And queues were already forming outside the shelter, women with small children at the front, then the men and boys, and at the end older people, possibly reluctant to be there.
A Wife for the Surgeon Sheikh Page 12
