Falling for the Sheikh She Shouldn't

by Fiona McArthur

  ‘So you worked here as well?’

  ‘I studied under Dr Ting at Bay Hospital.’ They had been good years and he’d taken innovative ideas back to Zandorro and set up a state-of-the-art paediatric hospital in Zene. He’d been bitten by passion, obsessed with creating a better place for sick children, research for hope, and he had achieved a lot of that dream.

  He had the sudden urge to tell her but that had all been before he’d had to hand it on and take over his royal duties.

  Dr Ting? Carmen was stunned. ‘So you’re a consultant?’ If he’d been under the eminent paediatrician, he was no slouch. No amount of money would have secured the radical but brilliant Dr Ting’s agreement unless Zafar was worthy. She looked at him with new respect. ‘I’m impressed.’

  He frowned. ‘Don’t be. I’m unable to practise as much as I wish.’ Such was the despair in his voice she backed away from the topic. This guy could create tension with just a word and she wasn’t used to that. More layers she didn’t understand and more reasons for her to be careful.

  The silence had a bite to it now. Something had happened to stop his work. She wondered but shied away from digging. ‘The view is spectacular along this path.’

  The darkness in his tone made the water in front lose its sparkle. Such was his presence that the idea didn’t even seem too fanciful. Maybe night was just coming on more swiftly than she’d anticipated?

  They walked quite briskly along the cliff past the steps to the ladies’ baths and onto the wide grassed area near the playground. Suddenly she noticed the families gathering blankets and children under their arms. She turned curiously to survey the way they’d come. A summer storm threatened, and she lifted her hand to point it out when she was distracted by a young woman in a pretty sarong, kneeling on the grass. At first Carmen thought she was praying.

  As she drew level the woman moaned and they both stopped. The woman’s glittering, pain-filled eyes made Carmen draw breath and they both crossed over to her.

  Carmen rested her hand gently on her shoulder. ‘You okay?’

  The woman moistened her lips. ‘No. My baby.’

  Must be the month for pregnant women to be out and about alone in labour, Carmen thought as she glanced around. In fact, the busy park lay almost deserted as the cooler breeze sprang up. ‘Are you in pain or have your waters broken?’

  The young woman laughed, a little hysterically. ‘Both.’ She turned her head and she, too, realised they were the only people left. Her eyes sought Carmen’s. ‘I’m so scared. The pains are coming like a freight train. You won’t leave me?’ The woman stopped and moaned as she tried to catch her breath.

  ‘Ambulance, please, Zafar?’ Carmen glanced at her companion, who nodded and raised his phone to make the call, and Carmen knelt down beside her. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Jenny.’

  ‘I’m Carmen, Jenny. And this is Zafar. Is this your first baby?’

  The woman nodded. Carmen’s shoulders relaxed a little so hopefully they’d have time to transport. ‘Can you stand? We’ve called an ambulance. Would you like to move to the bench?’

  Jenny looked at the short distance to the bench. ‘No. I’m too scared to move. I need to stay like this.’

  Carmen’s eyebrows rose. She glanced at the roomy sarong. It was one of those tube ones held up by elastic, and she decided the woman was probably as comfortable kneeling as she’d be anywhere and at least she was covered for privacy.

  Carmen smiled to herself. They could probably have a baby under that sarong and nobody would notice.

  At work most of her births were in the semi-dark and by feel anyway, but surely it wouldn’t come to that.

  ‘That’s fine. Your comfort’s the most important thing while we wait for the ambulance.’

  She exchanged glances with Zafar and he nodded. She had support. All was good.

  ‘So I’m guessing the contractions are pretty powerful?’ The girl nodded. ‘Well, you’re breathing really well. It’s so important not to get scared.’

  ‘I’m freaking here,’ Jenny ground out. ‘It should not be this quick.’

  Carmen pressed her hand into Jenny’s shoulder. ‘You’re doing great. They say fear’s your worst enemy. I try to remember that when things happen that scare the socks off me. Birth isn’t an enemy—it’s nature’s way. Everything will be okay if a little unusual in setting.’

  Jenny shook her head. Emphatically. ‘It still shouldn’t be this quick.’

  ‘Sometimes that happens,’ Zafar said reassuringly. ‘Carmen’s a midwife and I’m a paediatrician. We know babies.’

  ‘So someone up there’s looking after you.’ Carmen sent Zafar an ironic glance that she hoped she was ready. ‘And babies are spontaneous and pretty tough. Do you want to slip off your underwear in case? Might be tricky otherwise.’

  Zafar compressed his lips to hide his smile. The woman was clearly terrified but Carmen had it all well in hand. He could only observe, uselessly. There wasn’t a lot he could do without interfering and he was afraid he couldn’t achieve the same degree of calm she had with so little time. But he was more than willing if there were complications with the newborn.

  Jenny shook her head. ‘I don’t want to move from here.’

  ‘And we can work with that if we have to.’ Carmen tilted her head down lower so the woman could see her face. ‘If your baby is born, I’ll catch and pop him or her through your legs to you at the front. Do you understand?’

  The woman moaned and then a look of surprise and horror crossed her face. ‘This can’t be happening.’ Her eyes darted around as if the ambulance would suddenly appear.

  ‘It’s about to happen.’ Carmen looked at Zafar to back her up if needed. She knew an imminent birth when she heard one. Her voice was serene as she repeated, ‘Afterwards, just lift your baby and put it against your skin under your dress and pop your baby’s head out the neckline. The length of the umbilical cord will tell you how high to lift it. Okay?’

  ‘Oh, no-o-o-o,’ Jenny wailed, then groaned as she suddenly she eased her panties off.

  Carmen rolled the woman’s underwear up neatly as it appeared under the dress and Zafar decided that no doubt she had a use for that too.

  He was reminded of her calmness in the lift and it was the same here. As if she was saying that having a baby in the park was no big deal. She was very focussed and even the woman looked as though things might be fine after all.

  A mindset that had seemed a pretty big ask two minutes ago. Why wasn’t he surprised?

  He should really say something more but he was only a spectator at the moment, an appreciative one, unless his skills were required. He hadn’t used them enough lately. ‘We’ll be here for you and your baby until the ambulance comes.’ He copied the same calm tone Carmen used then stripped off his jacket and bundled it up like a pillow to keep the warmth inside for the baby when born. He had no doubt Carmen would manage most of the impending birth.

  It had been several years since he’d worked on a neonate and a nice natural birth was not something he’d expected along a cliff path. He hoped this baby was well because he didn’t fancy resuscitation out here in the freshening breeze, but they would manage what they had to. The ambulance wouldn’t be too far away.

  The woman groaned and he focussed back on the present. Carmen had shifted around behind Jenny, shielding her from the path and lifting her dress slightly. ‘Head-on view,’ she murmured, and held her hands either side of the baby’s head. He wished he’d had gloves he could have given her but doubted she’d give it a thought at this moment.

  The sound of the ambulance in the distance overlaid the sound of Jenny’s breathing. All the while in the background the crash of the surf on the cliffs melded with the moment of expectation and added to the surreal, amazing, incr
edible moment he hadn’t anticipated.

  ‘Here it comes,’ Carmen said calmly. ‘You’re doing beautifully.’

  Jenny moaned, the baby’s head appeared, and then slowly the little face swivelled to face the mother’s thigh. Seconds later a shoulder and then two arms eased into Carmen’s hands in a tangle of limbs and cord and water and the baby gasped at the cold air on wet skin and cried loudly as his legs and feet slid out.

  Zafar smiled at the swollen scrotum. Definitely a boy. ‘Hello there, young man.’ Then the memories rushed in. His own son. Limp and lifeless.

  Zafar quickly wiped the little boy over with the warm inner lining of his jacket to dry him a little so he wouldn’t be chilled and then Carmen fed him between his mother’s legs into her waiting hands.

  Zafar listened to her voice from a distance as he shook his head to shut out the clarity of the past. His own joy at Samir’s birth. The look between he and Adele at the moment of birth. The summit of their expectations. His family.

  Then family lost. Both dead and buried. The bleakness of loss washed over him until the newborn cried again and he shook himself. This was not his son. This baby was vigorous and healthy and beginning life on a windswept headland.

  ‘Oh, well done, Jenny.’ Carmen’s voice. It was over. Incredible.

  He heard Carmen mumble, ‘Nice long cord, that’s handy.’

  Handy, he thought. Such a handy length of cord, and suddenly his mouth tilted, the painful memories receded and the miracle of new life made his lips curve into a smile he wouldn’t have believed possible a moment ago.

  Women amazed him, these two in particular, and the memory of the last ten minutes would no doubt make him smile for years.

  Carmen glanced across at him and his smile broadened. ‘Very handy,’ he said.

  She frowned and then remembered what she said. He mouthed, ‘Handy cord,’ and she grinned at him then back at the mother.

  Within fifteen minutes the ambulance had arrived, the officers took over, and he and Carmen stepped back. Zafar was glad to see the officers offer towels and hand steriliser to Carmen, who blithely washed herself down. His jacket had been bagged for cleaning because Carmen wouldn’t let him put it in the bin.

  ‘You could reminisce when you put that on,’ she’d said. He doubted he’d wear it but she had a point. His mouth curved again.

  Soon mother and baby were tucked into the back of the vehicle with blankets, everyone was happy with their condition, and with the air-conditioner set on warm they were ready to go.

  Zafar dropped his arm around Carmen’s shoulder and pulled her body in next to his as they watched the flashing lights disappear. She fitted into the side of his body too well and he fought to keep the moment platonic because for him something had changed. Not just in the way he felt about this amazing woman but about the colour of the world.

  The idea of new life in unexpected places, perhaps even the easing of the pain he’d carried since that fateful hijacking two years ago when he’d lost so much, and now for the first time he felt hopeful.

  He frowned. Because of Jenny’s birth? An unknown woman’s son? Or because of the midwife? Perhaps he did owe some of this amazing feeling to this woman. And again, outside his usual experience, she genuinely didn’t want anything in return for the blessings she’d given him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘IT’S almost dark,’ she said.

  Zafar, too, had noticed. ‘Indeed, I fear we’re in for a storm.’

  ‘Good grief, look at that.’ While they’d been busy a new weather front had rolled towards them and looked worlds nastier than a summer storm.

  He glanced up at the wall of cloud that rolled like dark oil off a cliff, grey and black clouds with angry faces shape-shifted as they lit.

  Zafar gestured her to precede him. ‘I think we should return more quickly.’

  ‘You think?’ she muttered, and scooted along in front of him, but it was too late.

  He pulled her into the lee of a bull-nosed iron picnic shed just as a sheet of rain blew across the path. They were instantly splattered with pea-sized drops followed by a deafening crack as a bolt of lighting exploded into the ground on the cliff edge. Carmen jumped and he tightened his arms around her. Felt her shudder beneath his hands.

  Zafar loved storms but it seemed Carmen had her own phobias. At least he wasn’t the only one with irrational fears. ‘Shh. We’ll be fine here.’ It seemed so long since he’d held a woman to comfort her, felt his chest expand with the need to protect, set his feet more firmly as if to ward off anything that would threaten her.

  The briny scent of ozone seared his nostrils and two seconds later thunder directly overhead rattled the roof of their shed like a giant hand had slammed their pitiful shelter with a baseball bat.

  Carmen shuddered. Zafar’s arms felt so safe around her and instinctively she tucked her forehead into his chest. His shirt was fine but thin and she could feel the corded muscle rock solid beneath her cheek, warm and welcoming, and the steady thud of his heartbeat in her ear.

  The spice of an exotic aftershave, one that made her think of souks and incense, made her bury her nose and banished the smell of rain and ozone with a big shuddering inhalation. It was just that she hated storms. She’d always been afraid of storms.

  ‘I’m not enjoying this thunder,’ she mumbled shakily into his shirt when finally the ringing in her ears made talking possible. She ignored the tiny voice inside her that wondered if this time she told the whole truth.

  He leant down and even the warmth of his breath calmed her as he spoke into her hair, ‘We will stay until the lightning has passed.’

  There was no sign he would loosen his embrace and she was quietly pleased about that. There was something primal about the extreme force of nature around them and she knew about the danger of reckless exposure.

  She should distract herself from the storm and think about Jenny and her new baby but, come to think of it, Zafar’s arms kept the outside world at bay like a force field, a zone she was very happy to be within.

  To her disgust she snuggled deeper into the haven he afforded. It was so darned reassuring to be wrapped firmly in strong arms against this amazing wall of masculine strength and, to be honest, that first bolt of lightning had given her the willies. ‘Just let me know when you’re ready to move,’ she mumbled into his chest.

  He shifted his mouth until his breath was warm in her ear again. ‘I was thinking of making a move now.’ And squeezed her arms with teasing pressure. His voice was low and with a distinct thread of humour she couldn’t miss, along with overtones of seduction. She felt the tug of her own smile.

  The guy knew how to make the most of situations. She unearthed her nose from his shirt and looked up at him, but she had to lean back in his arms to gain some distance. ‘No cheating.’

  ‘Third time lucky?’ Dark and dangerous eyes were brimful of wicked intent. ‘I won’t ask for anything you’re unwilling to give,’ he murmured as his head descended. ‘But I will ask…’

  The heat. That was her first thought as her traitorous mouth accepted and then returned his kiss with precocious enthusiasm. What was this recognition, as if she’d been joined to this mouth many times before? How could that be?

  He bent again, less gently, and the kiss deepened, became more sensual than she’d imagined, more insidiously addictive than she’d bargained for.

  Carmen merged into the burning pressure of his lips against hers, the drugging assault as their bodies melded, and the rising heat between that mocked the puny storm around them. Then the coolness of his leaving as he skimmed her neck with hot lips, leaving his own trail of electrical activity where before there’d been the chill of sleeting rain.

  When he bent to brush his mouth between her breasts she felt her nipples jump lik
e bobbing corks in a sudden sea of arousal. She had to hang on or she’d fall down. Her fingers slid up to bury themselves in hair like strands of silk beneath her fingertips, until she forgot that sensation in a host of new ones as he tipped her backwards over his arm like the marauder he was and suddenly she felt like ripping open the buttons of her shirt to give him access.

  Then he was back at her mouth and she was drowning.

  A scatter of drips from the leaking roof splashed her hair and annoyingly penetrated the fog of arousal. Good grief. She’d kissed him back as wildly as he’d kissed her, for heaven’s sake.

  If she wasn’t careful, he’d take her on the picnic table behind them and she’d blithely wrap her legs around him with delight. She pushed her hand against his chest and eased at least her chest out of his embrace. What was she turning into?

  ‘Whoa there, cowboy.’

  He stopped, looked down at her, stared for a moment and then to her surprise he threw back his head and laughed. Really laughed. And if she’d thought him a handsome man before, this laughing god was a million light years ahead of any man she’d seen before.

  He eased her away slowly, almost unpeeling her from where they were plastered together at the hip, and with both hands he straightened her shirt. ‘I’m sorry.’ He raised his brows with amusement still vivid in his face. ‘Cowgirl…’ He put her from him. ‘You are without doubt the most original woman. It is fortunate one of us has their wits about them.’

  ‘You’re pretty special yourself,’ she muttered as she increased the distance between them. Where had that sensual onslaught come from? And no little peck. Good grief. She couldn’t remember a kiss like that, ever. A year of marriage hadn’t prepared her for that. That mother of all kisses and she’d let him. Encouraged him. But what else was a girl to do when snuggled into a man such as Zafar in a picnic shelter during an electrical storm? Not that!

  She needed to get clear of this guy because already she was like one of those puddles the storm had just dumped. Wet, formless, muddied with lust.