It was hard to get excited about million-dollar deals when they were but a drop in the ocean of his family’s vast wealth. Hard too to inject enthusiasm into the recruitment process. The hospital and the university had been his inception, both ideas had fired him up at the time—but Karim didn’t want to be watching films or looking at brochures of well-equipped hospitals. He wanted to be working in one. He wanted to stretch his brilliant mind with a complicated diagnosis, or to immerse himself fully in a long operation. But thanks to his status those opportunities were getting fewer and further between.
Still, he loved the relative anonymity London gave him. Here, though he worked seemingly hard, there was no real responsibility. Here he was carefree—a playboy prince who regularly indulged. It was so very different from his rigid, high-profile life back home. Here he could walk the streets unrecognised—which his security team hated him doing more than anything. Karim refused to bend. Dressed in a dark suit with a full-length overcoat he actually enjoyed the rain, enjoyed the changing seasons he witnessed when he came here. Late autumn was a season he liked, perhaps the most. This weekend he would drive to the country, get out of the city…
As his phone bleeped he gave it a cursory glance and then rolled his eyes. It was Leila again—he would have his aide, Khan, speak with her and forbid her from pestering him.
Yes, he would drive to the country—and, he decided, he would not go alone…
Karim thought only briefly of the rather difficult conversation he had had with Leila earlier this week, telling his long-term mistress that her services were no longer required. She hadn’t taken it at all well—but then, what woman ever did?
Karim enjoyed and had bedded many women, though he believed absolutely in monogamy. After all, he always ensured the fling, or relationship, or whatever it was called, was confirmed as over before he readily moved on to the next! But not for much longer. He was being pushed further and further towards marriage by his father—something Karim was doing his best to avoid. Leila had delusions of grandeur—had thought that their three-month fling might be leading somewhere—and was refusing to listen now Karim had told her that marriage to her was not and never had been his intention. Over the past two weeks she had become demanding. When Karim didn’t take her calls she would pester his aides—and, most importantly to Karim, the sex hadn’t been that good!
Well, it had been good, Karim corrected—it had just taken too long! He was a marvellous lover—he had no issues there—and he lavished his lovers with attention. He did all the right things, and they certainly wept for more. It was really a time issue. With an appetite as insatiable as Karim’s sometimes there simply wasn’t time, and Leila had been insisting recently on the full theatre, when for Karim sometimes all he needed was her mouth.
Enough, he had decided. It was over and he had dealt with it—to his father’s dismay. His father had told Karim in no uncertain terms that it was time now to find a bride—which was why he’d flown to London. For one last play, one last feast of indulgence, before duty caught up and he married a suitable bride.
When he had slipped into the meeting room and been greeted by that stunning blonde he had felt the attraction—how he had felt it. And at lunchtime he had been sorely tempted to walk over. Still, when Noor had explained she was there to consider working in the maternity section of the hospital, Karim had decided it might be rather messy should he see her at work. He had decided that an afternoon stroll might be safer, so he’d rung Mandy, whose eyes weren’t quite as blue and whose hair wasn’t naturally blonde, and arranged to see her tonight. Even if she wasn’t her, Karim was blessed with a good imagination—if he could stop Mandy talking for half an hour he would have a good night!
He’d headed back to the hotel only once the information session was over—happy with himself until he saw the real thing, walking out of the hotel and looking straight towards him.
Karim smiled and walked towards her. Why should he settle for a poor imitation?
It had been raining, Felicity realised, and it was about to seriously pour again. The sky was heavy and dark, the streets wet and uninviting. And then she saw him, walking towards her, dressed in a long black coat. With his dark hair he should have blended in with the rest, but he stood out, luminous almost in the grey and gloomy day.
And he saw her looking.
The underground was across the street and to the left. There was a moment for Felicity—a mysterious, inexplicable moment—when she knew she could walk down the steps and turn left, could turn her back and that would be it; or she could stand still and see what happened.
It was bizarre, watching as the rain started to fall, as everyone else hastened their speed or paused and put up umbrellas. His stride never changed. He just walked towards her with purpose in his eyes—determination, almost—and with a stab of regret she knew that it was pointless. Even if he engineered a conversation, asked her to join him for coffee or dinner, even if he was as stunning to talk to as he was to look at, all she would do in the long run was disappoint.
Mission pointless, Felicity realised, shaking herself out of her momentary trance, and she went down the steps and turned left.
There was Liam, walking out of a coffee shop over the road with a large muffin in his hand. Everybody was going back to their lives, and so too must she. As she pushed the traffic light button her head was whirring, trying to define what it was she had turned her back on—because not a word between them had been said.
The lights were changing, cars, taxis, cyclists and buses all slowing down and the green light was about to flash to tell the pedestrians to walk. She almost wanted his hand to come on her shoulder, for this mysterious man to haul her back to his world.
There was no hand on her shoulder. It was self-preservation that caused her to step back. In fact Felicity pulled an elderly lady back too, as she saw that one car wasn’t slowing down—if anything it was speeding up. In the small amount of time it took for it happen, Felicity saw everything. The female driver, her head back, jerking at the wheel, the slide of the car over the crossing, and the horrific sound of a revved engine. It was like a missile turning and randomly choosing its course. It could have ended up anywhere—on the crowded pavement, in a packed café window. With no time to move, to register, even to run, an eerie silence descended. And then came a ripping sound of metal that went on for ever, a thud of impact as the small car slammed into a bus, its wheels still scratching and spinning, its engine still revving.
Then people moved.
The chance of an explosion was imminent.
As the crowd scattered, a few people ran forward.
Felicity could see the hotel doorman and Liam, running towards the centre of the bus, pulling on the closed doors. He was running too—but to the crashed car, as was she.
‘She was fitting,’ Felicity called out to him. He was leaning in the car as she sped over, her smart high heels hard work in the rain. She realised she hadn’t been heard above the scream of the engine as she reached him, and shouted again. ‘She was fitting!’
He had reached in and turned off the engine, but still it was dangerous and he told her so. ‘Get back—this could go up at any time.’
It was the first time she had heard his voice. Deep and accented, it was telling her very clearly to leave the scene. Liam was telling her the same, having helped off the passengers after he had dashed to the centre of the bus. Seeing just how dangerous it was, he told Felicity to get the hell out.
‘They’re all off the bus. Driver’s got minor injuries. The fire engine will be here in a moment—it’s unstable…’
It was—smoke was billowing from the car engine. Felicity could hear sirens in the background. Help was never far away on busy London streets—except the streets were packed, and the short distance between help and the accident was blocked with cars.
‘Go! He didn’t turn to say it—he was supporting the woman’s head; she was breathing but unconscious—but he made his orders clear. ‘Get
back now!’
So she did—albeit reluctantly. Felicity knew it was up to the experts, that if he chose to risk his life then that was his choice. And then she heard it, the shrieks of a newborn baby. Not fearful, stunned shrieks, but like those of a wounded animal, and she could no more walk away now than fly.
Liam was calling her back, telling her not to be foolish, but Felicity ignored him. He, the beautiful stranger, didn’t question her decision as she approached. He was still holding the woman’s head but he was also assessing the car for an opening, trying to locate the piercing screams of the baby. He didn’t order her to leave again—knew perhaps he would be wasting his time—and time was of the essence.
Felicity wrenched at the crumpled car door and tried to get her head in the small gap she created.
‘The baby’s bleeding.’ Though it was wrapped in a blue blanket, the little white baby suit was dark with blood on the arm. Felicity’s head couldn’t fit fully in, but she could see a shard of metal sticking out of the babe’s arm, and even though the blood loss looked relatively small, for such a tiny infant it was substantial.
‘There’s a piece of metal…’
‘Felicity.’ She was surprised that he knew her name, but he said rapidly, ‘I’m Karim. Can you get your arm in? Can you reach?’
She was already trying—only she couldn’t see and stretch inside at the same time.
‘I can’t get in!’
‘No.’ His voice was calm and assured. ‘Turn around and put your arm in that way. You will be able to reach; you will be able to hear me.’
‘But I can’t see.’
‘I will guide you.’ His voice was accented, rich and strong, and so assured, it reassured her. It made Felicity think that she could do it.
She had no choice but to do it.
One last glance at the baby to get her bearings showed her the patch of blood was spreading. She could see the shard of metal in its arm and knew she had to apply pressure.
She turned her head, the rain lashing her face as her arm slid into the dry confines of the car.
‘Lower your hand,’ Karim ordered. ‘That is the base of the crib.’
Crib? The baby seat, Felicity translated to herself. He was holding the patient’s head and ducking his own in and out of the vehicle, so that he could be her eyes on the inside and speak to her on the outside. Inch by inch her fingers crept forward.
‘Now to your right. Feel his foot? That is his right foot. Move up.’
The injured arm was the baby’s left one, and Felicity slowly moved her hand upwards with Karim’s guidance. The baby had stopped screaming now, and was just making little noises—which was even more worrying than the crying. Without Karim’s instruction her fingers located the sternum, the neck, and tried to move to the left.
‘I can’t reach,’ Felicity said. ‘I can’t.’
‘Two inches,’ Karim said, and she was grateful then for her high heels—and for Karim urging her on. ‘Careful,’ Karim warned, but because she had seen, she knew where the metal was. She slipped her fingers into the babe’s axilla and pushed upwards.
‘Is it stopping?’
‘I don’t know,’ Karim admitted. ‘Just keep pushing.’
So she did.
For what felt like for ever.
The emergency services had arrived and the passenger door was peeled back a touch further. She could get her head inside now. She couldn’t move to cover the baby with a blanket as the firefighter punched in the rear window—Karim did that. A paramedic had put a collar on the mother, and she had been extracted, but instead of stepping back, Karim climbed in further, covered the baby with an ambulance blanket, and covered Felicity’s head too.
‘She needs a hard hat,’ a fire officer called.
‘There’s no room for a hard hat,’ Karim responded. ‘Turn your head,’ Karim said to Felicity, which she did. Screwing her eyes closed, she tried not to move as the emergency crew created rear access to the baby.
And Karim stayed with her in the strange little tent.
He talked her through it, as her hand was numb and she wasn’t sure if the baby was alive or dead.
‘The firefighters have doused the engines,’ he assured her. ‘It shouldn’t be much longer now.’
‘My legs are freezing,’ Felicity admitted.
‘It will be over soon.’ He held her eyes, black on blue, and it helped. She could hear the chatter of the firefighters and the paramedics behind her, but it was Karim’s voice she was listening to. ‘They are giving oxygen to him now.’ It was as if he was her translator, and she could only listen to him, only trust what he was telling her, because he had been her eyes. ‘They want to put IV access into his scalp before they move him. Can you hold on a little while more?’
Her whole arm and shoulder weren’t only numb now, they hurt. Her body was trying not to shake, though she was frozen. She thought of all her mums in the last throes of labour, when it was all too much, when it was impossible, and yet still, with encouragement, somehow they pushed on.
‘You can hold on,’ Karim said, and she listened to him instead of to her body, that wanted to stop. She told herself it wasn’t for much longer and pushed on.
‘Got him.’ A hand was over hers, pushing where she had, and a nameless voice told her she could let go now.
‘Move her slowly backwards,’ Karim ordered whoever was supporting her—because now she could let go Felicity was unsteady. She had to be pulled back rather than just remove herself from the car. Then she stood massaging her arm, tears pricking at her eyes as Karim climbed out too.
‘Well done,’ he said, and then changed his mind. ‘I told you to get back. You should think before you rush in.’
‘Did you?’ Felicity commented.
‘You should be more careful—there could have been more victims.’
What made the rules different for him? Felicity thought, and then winced as blood rushed back to her numb arm. She stared down at her soaked, filthy clothes. Her hair and face were drenched, and suddenly she didn’t need scolding. She was close to crying, and he must have seen that because he changed tack.
‘Go into the hotel,’ Karim instructed. ‘I will come and speak with you there.’
‘I’m fine…’ Felicity attempted, but gave in because clearly she wasn’t—not that Karim was listening. His attention was back on the accident scene.
Felicity looked on. The world was coming back into focus now, as her circulation returned. The street was awash with fire trucks and paramedics. The little babe was being lifted out in his intact child seat, loads of hands gently guiding the little life to safety. It was like watching a baby being born—a long, silent pause, then relief from the crowd, from everyone, as he was safely delivered from the confines of the car. A blanket had been put around her shivering shoulders and Felicity just stood and took it all in. But not Karim. Even though there were doctors and paramedics, all waiting to assist, he didn’t relinquish control. He snapped out orders as Felicity continued to stand and watch.
Just who was this man?
Only when the ambulance doors closed—when the siren blasted and the police directed it away—only then, when there was nothing more either could do, did he come over to Felicity and without a word guide her inside the hotel.
Just as she had known he would.
CHAPTER TWO
‘WELL, I don’t think we need to check your references!’
They were sitting in the sumptuous hotel lounge; Felicity had relinquished her blanket and was shivering as Karim rapidly ordered drinks. Piping hot chocolate appeared in a moment. Soaking wet and shivering, and completely out of place in such surroundings, she must have looked a sight—but because Karim didn’t turn a hair, neither did she. For now.
He gave her a kind smile and it dawned on Felicity where she was—not her surroundings, more the company. She was sitting with the man who had captured her attention for the entire day—the man she had chosen at the last moment to avoid. Now h
ere she was, sitting drinking hot chocolate, the sole focus of his attention.
And she had every right to be nervous!
Now that everyone had stopped looking at her, she was able to look at him—and he really was the most heart-stoppingly beautiful man she had ever seen. His coat had been removed by a waiter, and his gorgeous charcoal suit—apart from damp cuffs—was completely unscathed. His short black hair was glossy and wet, and his tie and the top of his shirt were loosened. He might have stepped out of a board meeting. The superbly cut suit accentuated his long limbs, and his olive complexion was set off with a crisp white shirt and gunmetal tie. His eyes were black, and they were kind, but they were not friendly. There was an elusive quality to him that Felicity couldn’t quite put her finger on. An air of superiority that had Felicity fast realising that she hadn’t a hope of relaxing and enjoying his company!
‘Allow me to introduce myself—I am Karim. I oversee recruitment for the university and the hospital.’
Which was a rather vague introduction. Felicity frowned.
‘You’re a doctor?’ she checked. He had known what he was doing out there, had retained control even when the emergency services had arrived. He was more than a recruitment consultant—of that she was sure.
‘A surgeon.’ Karim nodded. ‘Though I rarely practise now. Recruitment is my focus.’ He changed the subject. ‘And you are Felicity Anderson, a fully qualified midwife who has all her paperwork up to date and is ready to leave.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I checked who you were with Noor.’
‘Oh!’ She blamed it on the hot chocolate, but she felt pink returning to her pale cheeks.
‘I asked her to point out any midwives or emergency nurses. We are very short of both.’
‘I see.’ Felicity nodded. So that was why he had been looking. She only had her imagination to blame for thinking otherwise. Curiously deflated, she sat there, exhausted now, as the adrenaline that had seen her through the accident fully wore off.
Secret Sheikh, Secret Baby Page 2
