Sheikh, Children's Doctor...Husband

‘I can imagine how well she took that,’ the man said, and Alex thought she caught the suggestion of a smile lifting one corner of his lips. Unfortunately, it drew attention to his lips, so well shaped an artist might have drawn them. Something that wasn’t apprehension fluttered inside her. ‘Not one to take even a mild painkiller for a headache, my mother.’

Alex nodded, and forgot her suspicions, and the flutter, enough to smile herself, remembering the battle she’d been waging with Samarah to convince her that prevention was better than suffering the attacks.

‘You’re right, although after the second attack I think I was gaining some ground.’

Her smile changed her face, Azzam realised. It lifted the tiredness and smoothed out the lines that creased her brow, making her not exactly pretty but—

She was speaking again. He had to concentrate.

‘Unfortunately, when the news of her son’s death came, it triggered the worst attack. She was desperate to return home, but I couldn’t in all conscience let her travel without medical care. A competent nurse could have handled it, but Samarah had come to know me as I’d called in most days over the weeks since I first saw her. I suppose she felt safer with me beside her, so I flew here with her and her friends. As you know, we broke the journey in Singapore, stopping over for the night so she could rest.’

‘And now?’

Azzam knew he’d spoken too abruptly, his voice too cold, too remote, but once again the past seemed to be colliding with the present—Clarice’s insistence she fly to Al Janeen with him—this woman coming with his mother.

The woman’s smile gave way to a frown as she responded.

‘February is our most humid month at home. Although your mother was in a hotel, she’d had the air-conditioning turned off in her suite and she insisted on walking on the beach beside the surf every day. I am assuming it was the humidity that triggered the attacks and now she’s back in the dry air here, she should be all right, although with adult onset, the asthma could persist, and she did have a mild attack on the first stage of the flight.’

Again Alex paused. A woman who thought before she spoke …

‘I believe she has a niece who is a doctor and who normally takes care of her health, but apparently she is away.’

Was she angling to stay on?

His mother would like her to—he already knew that—but previous experience suggested the sooner the stranger was gone the better. His mother would settle down with her friends, he’d get on with the mammoth task of learning his new role, and everyone would be happy.

No, happy was definitely the wrong word, but life could begin to return to normal—a new normal, but still …

‘So?’

The word came out like a demand, unintended, but she was disturbing him in ways he couldn’t understand. So quiet, so shadowy.

Insidious?

But if his mother needed someone to keep an eye on her, which she obviously did, then this woman …

‘I suppose it’s up to you,’ she said. ‘But I won’t leave Samarah without competent care. Is there someone else who could keep an eye on her until her niece returns?’

Alex wanted to suggest he do it himself, despite Samarah’s protestations, but there was something forbidding in the stern features of this man.

And what features! They drew her mesmerised gaze as a magnet drew iron filings—the high sculpted cheekbones, the deep-set eyes, the slightly hooked nose—a face that looked as if the desert winds she’d heard of had scoured it clean so the bones stood out in stark relief.

Hard as weathered rock …

She was still cataloguing his features when he replied so she missed the early part of his sentence.

‘I’m sorry?’ She was so embarrassed by her distraction the words stumbled out and seemed to drop like stones onto the carpet where Azzam was pacing.

‘I asked if you feel my mother should stay on preventative medication now she has returned home.’

Was it suspicion she could hear in his voice? Was that the note bothering her?

Or was it pain? He’d lost his brother, his twin—his world had been turned upside down …

Realising she should be speaking, not thinking, and relieved to have an easy question to answer, Alex now hurried her reply.

‘Probably not in the long term, but for a while perhaps it would be best if she continued to take leukotriene modifiers. I’ve been monitoring her lung capacity with a peak-flow meter daily and prescribing preventative medication as needed, but she is reluctant to use the meter herself and to take control of the illness.’

To her astonishment, the man smiled. Smiled properly, not just a lip quirk. And it was a smile worth waiting for, because it lip up his stern face the way sunrise lit the highest peaks of a cold mountain.

Alex gave a little shake of her head, unable to believe the way her mind—not to mention the fluttering thing inside her chest—had reacted! Sunrise on a mountain indeed! She was losing it!

Tiredness, that was all!

She looked at a point a little above his right shoulder so she didn’t have to see his face again, and concentrated on his words.

‘You are asking her to do something against what, she believes, is meant to be. She would see, and accept, her illness as the will of God. Can you understand that?’

Alex nodded, then, for all her determination not to even look at him, she found herself returning his smile as understanding of Samarah’s opposition became clear.

‘Ah,’ she said. ‘I did wonder why she was so adamant about it, but if she feels that way, of course she doesn’t want to interfere in what she feels should be beyond her control. Can you persuade her? Could you convince her that she is better off taking mild medication than having to take the really heavy-duty stuff when she has an attack?’

His smile had slipped away, and he looked darkly grave, as if, in his mind, he’d slipped away, and to a not-very-happy place.

‘My brother could have,’ he said quietly, and this time she heard the pain distinctly. ‘My brother could have charmed the birds from the trees so my mother was easy work for him.’

He paused, looking out over the delights of the garden courtyard, and Alex imagined she could feel his pain, throbbing in the air between them.

‘I will try,’ he said, ‘and in the meantime you will stay, care for her, until Maya, her niece, returns?’

Although the invitation sounded forced, as if the man felt he had no alternative but to ask, Alex’s immediate reaction was to agree, for she’d grown very fond of Samarah and certainly wouldn’t leave her without competent medical support, particularly while she was grieving for her son. But money, something Alex had never thought she’d have to worry about, reared its ugly avaricious head, and she hesitated.

As the full extent of Rob’s indebtedness had became obvious, she’d promised her dying mother she’d repay his debts, clearing the family’s name and restoring its honour, but beyond that promise was the fact that her sister-in-law, unable to work herself because of her daughter’s special needs, was relying on her. No way could Alex let these much-loved people down.

An image of the money-lender’s henchman rose up in her mind, clashing with memories of the promise. She’d met him only once and that had been enough. There was no way she could allow that man to terrorise her sister-in-law or her frail little niece.

Alex drew in a deep breath. It was useless. No breath could be deep enough for what she was about to ask, so she blurted out the words she hated having to say.

‘I can stay. I’d be happy to, but personal reasons mean that I can’t stay unless—’

She balked! She couldn’t do it!

‘Unless?’ he prompted, and she knew the coldness and suspicion she’d imagined she’d heard earlier had returned to his voice.

She stood up and did a little pace of her own around the carpet, avoiding the man who now stood close to the steps that led into the garden.

‘Look, this is an embarrassing thing to have to ask and I am ashamed to have to ask it, but if I stay, could I talk to you about some wages? Originally it was just to be two days—fly over with Samarah and fly back—then the stopover and now her niece isn’t here to take over … We’d become friends, Samarah and I, and I was happy to be able to help, but I’ve this obligation—money that is paid out of my bank account regularly—and if I’m not working, not earning, if the money’s not there—’