Читать книгу Bodyguard Confessions - Donna Young - Страница 9

“Yes. It is always that way, isn’t it?” Elizabeth commented.

Quamar’s features hadn’t changed, but the set of his jaw moved, tightened ever so slightly.

Watching, Anna understood. Quamar Bazan was enraged. He just did a damn good job hiding it.

He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want the responsibility of her or the prince. What he wanted was to destroy the Al Asheera. To avenge the dead. His family.

But wasn’t Rashid his family, too?

“Sandra, you take care of Quamar while I tend to Miss Cambridge.”

“Please call me Anna.” But as she made the request, Anna’s eyes flickered over Quamar. Fate had tossed them together, taking the decision of survival away from both of them. Prince Rashid came first.

“She stays with me, Elizabeth. They both do.” Quamar crossed his arms over his chest.

“I have been a doctor’s wife for thirty-five years and have learned something during that time. She won’t come to any harm. We’ll just be down the hall, Quamar,” Elizabeth said, the hard line of her statement leaving no chance for argument. “I will keep the door open.”

Elizabeth led her down the hallway to the last bedroom. “I have met your mother, Anna. You are very much like her.” Elizabeth’s lips tilted ever so slightly, but her voice softened. “Smart, diplomatic. But be careful, don’t underestimate Quamar. Now—” she walked to the adjoining bathroom “—let me help you and the prince get cleaned up. We do not have much time. And we’ve wasted too much already with talk.”

“The airports will be controlled, so will all the main roads,” Quamar stated grimly from behind. Anna jumped. The man moved like a jungle cat.

“See what I mean?” Elizabeth murmured to Anna. “He does like his way.”

“We’ll be crossing the Sahara, Elizabeth. To my father’s camp.”

“And the baby?”

“He is Taer. He will be fine,” Elizabeth said. “Quamar will make sure.”

Sandra entered the room with her medical bag. She caught Anna’s eye and smiled. “Looks like we’ve moved to the bedroom also.”

Anna took one look at Quamar and shook her head. “You’re worse than the Secret Service.”

Quamar merely lifted an eyebrow over the insult.

“Let me have a look at you, Quamar.”

Without argument, Quamar sat on the corner of the bed.

“How bad is the headache?” Sandra asked, before flashing the light at his right eye.

“Bearable.”

“Do you have your pills?”

“Yes. But it does not matter.”

“No. I guess it doesn’t,” Sandra responded somberly.

Sandra’s light slid from one eye to the next. “You need rest. The headache will only worsen.”

Quamar caught her hand, pulled it away from his face. “I am fine.”

Sandra said nothing, only held his look for a long moment. “Do not worry,” he added.

“I can’t help it,” Sandra retorted softly, then tugged her hand free. “I’m a doctor. It’s my job.” Her voice hardened on the last word. “I just wish I was better at it.”

“Sandra—”

“Just take your medicine when you can, okay?”

“Okay.” Quamar’s smile, while brief, took his features from attractive to heart-stopping handsome.

Little pinpricks of warning skittered down Anna’s spine. She groaned silently.

Featherlight fingers touched Anna’s arm. “Come, Anna.” Elizabeth glanced at her daughter, then to the giant. “I’m assuming that you will allow Anna to close the bathroom door?”

Anna automatically held the prince tighter. “Rashid can stay with me,” she said, not realizing until she spoke that her statement was almost identical to Quamar’s earlier one.

“You might just understand Quamar better than I thought,” Elizabeth responded.

“Put Rashid on the bed, Anna,” Quamar ordered. “I will watch him.”

Anna started to protest, but knew it was a waste of time.

“You can change his diaper, then, too.”

Quamar grunted. But whether it was a yes or no, she couldn’t decide.

She pulled Rashid out of the sling that held him close, then placed him down in the middle of the bed. At six months, his hair had grown into a thick mop of pitch-black. She touched it with trembling fingers.

This time, Elizabeth placed her hand on Anna’s shoulder lightly—a mother’s comforting touch. “He’ll be fine.”

Without waiting for Anna to respond, Elizabeth eyed Quamar. “You don’t look like you need clothes, which is a blessing. Omar is shorter than you by a few inches. And leaner. His robes wouldn’t fit.” Elizabeth glanced at her daughter. “Sandra, find Anna some clothes from Jamaal’s room.” She turned back to Anna. “He is my son. Studying also to be a doctor in the United States. He is built smaller—like my family—so his clothes should fit you better.”

“Men’s clothes?” Anna asked.

Quamar answered for Elizabeth. “They will be looking for a woman with a baby. Not two men.”

Elizabeth paused, considering. “Of course, we’re going to have to hide your figure.”

Anna felt Quamar’s gaze run over her, and she looked down. Her body wasn’t svelte, but curvy with a small waist that flared into rounded hips and thighs.

Now with the sling off, the pajamas stuck to her like a second skin. She wore no bra under the tank top, something she did only at night. Her breasts were too large to go braless any other time. Heat rose in her face.

“And hide your hair.” Elizabeth ran a hand over Anna’s blond locks. “Maybe cut the length shorter so you appear more masculine.”

“No,” Quamar answered, abruptly enough to raise the older woman’s eyebrows. “The turban will cover her head. If it comes off, they will see it is blond and it won’t matter whether it is short or long. It cannot be helped.”