Читать книгу Her Desert Prince - Rebecca Winters - Страница 6

“MADEMOISELLE? ARE YOU AWAKE?”

The same gentle female voice Lauren thought she’d heard during the night broke through soporific waves to reach her consciousness. She felt something being removed from her nostrils.

“Can you hear me, mademoiselle?”

Lauren tried to communicate, but it was difficult because her mouth and throat felt too dry to talk. As she tried to sit up, her head reeled and she realized the back of her hand had something in it. What on earth?

“Lie back and drink,” the woman urged. She spoke English, but with an accent. Lauren felt a straw being inserted between her lips and she began sucking on it. Cool water trickled down her throat.

“Heaven,” she murmured and continued to drink. Suddenly every nerve ending in her body seemed to come alive, like a drooping plant whose roots took in the moisture that worked its way to the leaves.

Her eyelids fluttered open, but she had trouble focusing because she could see three women with the same dark hair and lab coat standing over her. “Are you a doctor?” she questioned.

“No. I’m Dr. Tamam’s nurse. How do you feel?”

Lauren started to shake her head, but that only made her feel worse. “I—I don’t know,” she stammered.

While the nurse removed the IV from her hand, Lauren tried to get her bearings. The hospital room wasn’t like any she’d ever seen before. It was huge with sumptuous green and aqua accoutrements, bringing the apartment of a harem to mind. As her head continued to whirl, she realized she could be dreaming all this and wished she could wake up.

A remembered feeling of suffocation took over. Panic gripped her. “Help me—I can’t breathe—” she cried, unable to stem the tears gushing down her cheeks.

She heard voices in the background. Then just one. A male voice. Deep and resonant. She felt it snake right into her body and travel through her nervous system. A man’s hand gripped hers. Solid, masterful.

“Don’t be afraid. You’re safe now.” His accented English spoken in a commanding tone was so reassuring, her anxiety lessened and she slept.

When next she came awake, she discovered the same hand holding hers. This time when she opened her eyes, she saw only one figure seated at her bedside. A powerfully built male, probably mid-thirties. The nurse had disappeared.

A white shirt covered his broad shoulders and well-defined chest. A dusting of black hair showed above the opening. The color of the fabric brought out his beautiful olive skin tone. He had the blackest eyes and hair she’d ever seen at such close range. She noticed he wore it longer than some men, slicked it back from his forehead as though he’d been in a hurry.

His widow’s peak suited his aquiline features. There was a magnificence about him. She’d never met a truly gorgeous man before, and he was much more than that. Her heart thundered in her chest as though she’d suddenly been given a drug to bring her to life.

Though he studied her as she imagined an eagle would do before swooping to catch its prey unaware, she glimpsed banked fires in the recesses of those eyes. He was dark and dangerous. Her body gave off a shiver of excitement she couldn’t repress. Something was wrong with her to be this aware of a total stranger.

“What am I doing here?”

His eyelids lowered, exposing long black lashes that shielded part of his penetrating gaze from her. “You don’t remember what happened to you?” He asked the question in a low, silky tone, almost as if he didn’t trust what she’d just asked him.

Growing more nervous under his unrelenting scrutiny, she unconsciously moved her hand to her throat. Suddenly it occurred to her she couldn’t feel her grandmother’s medallion.

In a frantic gesture, she raised up and moved the pillow to see if it had fallen on to the mattress, but it wasn’t there. Neither was the chain.

“Did the nurse remove it?” she cried. By now she was sitting straight up, staring at the man beside her bed.

“Remove what?” he asked in such a calm tone, it got under her skin.

She fought not to let her panic show. Now that the sheet had fallen to her waist, the man’s eyes were appraising her. The white shift she wore her was modest enough, but still those black orbs burned like hot coals as he looked at her. But maybe she was being too paranoid because she’d awakened feeling as though she was in a strange dream.

“My medallion is missing. I have to find it.”

He clasped his bronzed hands beneath a chin so solid, a lesser-blessed male would sell his soul to have been created like this god in earthly form.

A god. That’s what her grandmother had called her lover. Lauren had smiled at Celia’s description, allowing her that flight of fantasy. But she wasn’t laughing now. Maybe Lauren had lost her mind. Fear crept over her once more. She closed her eyes and lay back.

“Perhaps if you gave me a description, mademoiselle.”

She bit her lip, discovering it was cracked and dry. Just how long had she been in this condition? Her eyes opened again. “It’s a gold circle about the size and thickness of an American quarter. Maybe a little thicker.”

She didn’t dare give the full details. Her relationship to her grandfather was a secret and had to remain one, even down to a piece of jewelry he’d given her grandmother. “Have you ever seen a quarter?” He nodded slowly. “I kept it on a gold chain. It has little monetary value, but it’s my most prized possession.” More hot tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes.

“Then I’ll ask my staff to look for it.”

“Thank you.” She dashed the moisture from her cheeks with her free hand. “How sick am I?”

His dark gaze flickered. “You’ve been taken off oxygen and your IV drip. That means you’ll be fed juice, in fact, anything you crave, and then you’ll be able to get up with help and walk around. By tomorrow you should feel much more recovered.”

“But what happened to me?”

He continued to look at her with the strangest expression. She had the impression he was trying to make up his mind what to tell her. The pit in her stomach enlarged, but her natural grit came to the fore. She took a deep breath. “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

“Can you?” He’d asked the question almost seductively. Was he playing with her?

“I’m not a child.”

“No. That you are not.” A certain nuance in his deep voice sent a little shiver through her.

Don’t let him get to you, Lauren. He was a doctor after all and had examined her. Those black eyes had seen everything, so there was nothing he didn’t know. “If you won’t tell me because you think I’m the fainting kind, I’ll ask your nurse. I’m sure she’ll oblige me.”

“She’s gone back to the clinic.” The note of satisfaction in his voice set her off.

“I will admit you’re doing a good job of frightening me.”

He shrugged his shoulders with unconscious elegance. She watched his hands open, as if he were holding a bowl. She noticed inconsequently that those hands were used to hard work, yet his nails and cuticles were immaculate. “A thousand pardons, mademoiselle. My intent has been to save you from remembering too much at once.”

She sucked in her breath. “You mean I have amnesia?” More silence. “But that’s preposterous!”

The doctor cocked his head. “I’d prefer to call it a temporary lapse of memory. At the moment your mind is protecting you from having to deal with a traumatic experience.”

“Traumatic?”

“Very,” his voice grated. It seemed to underline the gravity of what he hadn’t yet told her. While she contemplated his unsettling response, he got up and reached for a white cloak placed over a satin loveseat. She hadn’t realized how tall he was—at least six foot three.

He moved with unconscious male grace. When he approached her again, he let the cape fall loose. “Do you recognize this?’

She tore her eyes from his striking features to look at what he was holding up to her. It was a kandura. Lauren had one like it. She’d purchased her desert gear after she’d arrived in El-Joktor, telling the merchant she wanted a man’s cloak for herself.

He hadn’t wanted to sell it to her because he said it wasn’t done in his country. But she had offered him more money than it was worth and he had finally conceded to her wishes and wrapped it up for her.

“Mustafa—”

The camel driver’s name came out on a sudden cry of remembrance.

The doctor’s eyes flickered. “You see? Your memory is returning. Too fast unfortunately.”

A kaleidoscope was filtering through her mind. Bits and pieces started falling together faster than she could keep up. “The mountains were alive. They engulfed everything—Mustafa told me it was a sandstorm. I couldn’t see him—I couldn’t breathe—what happened to him?”

The doctor’s silence puzzled her. She pushed the sheet aside and got out of the bed. Without conscious thought she grabbed his bronzed forearms. “Tell me—did he die because of me?”

His midnight eyes seemed to bore right down into her soul. “No, mademoiselle. Death didn’t come for him because it wasn’t his appointed hour. In fact, he was the one who saved your life,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Without his quick thinking, you would have been buried alive.”

She shuddered. “What about the others in the caravan?”

“They survived.”

When the words sank in, she let out a relieved cry and slumped against him. “Thank heaven no one perished. It was utterly terrifying.”

He murmured something she didn’t understand and pulled her into him, absorbing her sobs while he rocked her for as long as she needed. She had no idea how much time passed as they stood locked in each other’s arms.

Moments went by before she became aware of his heart pounding, strong and solid against hers. When she’d cried her tears, she eased out of his arms, cognizant of not wanting to leave them. She had to be insane.

“Forgive me for breaking down like that.”

“It’s the shock of your ordeal, mademoiselle.”

“Yes.” Reeling from too many emotions, she sank down on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.”

“As you wish. I’ll have a tray sent to you. You need to eat.”

“I don’t think I could yet.”

“It’s the duty of the living.”

Lauren’s head reared back, making her dizzy. But he’d already reached the doors and then he was gone. Not a minute later, a maid came in to help her to the ornate bathroom. After a shower, she dressed in denims and a pale-blue cotton top she’d brought on the trip. The sandstorm hadn’t ripped the suitcases from the camels, but it had almost taken her life.

What was it Richard had once told her? A man who sets out on an expedition has to know he might never come back. He’d lost men on many of his expeditions, but he’d kept on going. If Richard were still alive he’d say, You knew the risk, Lauren, and took it.

In his own way, the doctor had been telling her the same thing.

Lauren could never be that glib about fate, but when the maid returned with a meal of lamb kabobs and fruit salad, she didn’t refuse it.

Sometime later the doctor entered the room without her being aware of it. He walked over to the table where she was finishing her food. “Feeling better now, mademoiselle?”

His presence startled her. And thrilled her, too, which was ridiculous. She wiped her mouth with the napkin and looked up at him. He was dressed in a linen sport shirt and trousers. Whatever he wore, he took her breath. Without clothes … he would be spectacular.

“I feel stronger, thank you.”

“Stronger is better, but you have a way to go before you’re pronounced fit. Your body has been through a tremendous ordeal, physically and emotionally. You must stay here and give yourself time to heal.”

He’d brought a tray of food in with him and sat down opposite her. She bit her lip. “Tell me something. Where is here exactly?”

“I assumed you knew,” he murmured after biting into a fresh peach. “The Oasis of Al-Shafeeq. That was your first destination after you left El-Joktor, was it not?”

Her only destination.

“Yes,” she whispered, shaken by the knowledge that she’d reached the place once ruled by her grandmother’s lover. “How did you know I’d come from El-Joktor?”

He eyed her through veiled lashes. “It’s my business to know everything that goes on here. In truth, I’m not Dr. Tamam, but I let you think it for a little while until I was certain you were on the road to a full recovery.”

What? But he’d held her hand the whole time. “Then who are you?”

His lips twisted, as if amused by the question. When he did that, he was so attractive, she felt that her heart would fail her. “I’m the head of security here at the palace.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “No wonder this room is so exquisite,” she whispered. “I couldn’t imagine a hotel that could ever look like this.”

“The palace is centuries old,” he explained. “When I was notified of a caravan overrun by a sandstorm, I flew a helicopter to the scene. Mustafa filled me in and I brought you back here where Dr. Tamam could take care of you.”

Head of security for the King?

He not only looked the part, he was the embodiment of her idea of what a king should look like. Bigger than life, the way her grandmother had described King Malik.

She swallowed hard. “So it’s you I have to thank for getting me medical help so fast. I—I’m indebted to you,” she stammered. It was hard to believe she was actually inside the palace instead of looking at it from the outside like any tourist.

He flashed her a white smile that trapped the air in her lungs. “Grateful enough to let me call you Lauren?”

The way he said her name in his deep voice with that beautiful accent made it sound exotic.

“Of course.”

“I saw it printed in your passport, which I have in my possession.” His piercing dark eyes traveled over her, missing nothing. “Lauren is a beautiful name, almost as beautiful as its bearer.”

Heat spread through her body like wildfire. “What do I call you?” she asked rather breathlessly.

Something flickered in the dark recesses of his eyes as he ate his food. “Rafi. It’s easier than the rest of my name which is too long and difficult for a foreigner to pronounce.”

Her lips curved into a smile. “I like the shortened version. It reminds me of the spaniel I once had.”

“Why is that?”

“Her name was Taffy,” she rattled on before realizing he probably thought she was flirting with him. You are flirting with him, Lauren. Her escape from death had turned her into someone she didn’t recognize. She tried to gather her wits, but this was all still like a dream. “Did you ever have a pet growing up?”

“Several, but they may not be the kind you imagine.”

“That sounds intriguing.”

His eyes glimmered in the candlelight before he asked her another question. “Where were you intending to stay after you arrived here?”

She let out a small cry. “That’s right—my reservations—I don’t know the name. The documents from the travel agency in Montreux are in my small suitcase. I’m afraid I’m not thinking too clearly yet.”

“That’s because you’ve been in a sandstorm and have come out of it with your life irrevocably changed.”

Irrevocably. Because of this man, that was the precise word.

“I’ll be happy to explain the circumstances to the concierge if you’ll give me the information. The staff placed your suitcases in your bedroom. Would you like me to get it for you?”

“No, thank you. I’ll do it.” She stood up, but she still felt fragile. “Just a moment, please.”

Lauren felt his eyes on her back as she walked through to the bedroom and knelt down to open her small case. She found the envelope that held all her travel plans on top and shut the lid, then went back to the other room.

With a wordless exchange he took it from her. Their fingers brushed, sending warmth through her nervous system before he opened the flap to peer inside. When he found what he was looking for, he pulled out his phone and made a call. Except for a few words, she understood no Arabic. The conversation went on for several minutes before he hung up.

He eyed her with an enigmatic gaze. “Is there anyone else you need to inform about what’s happened? Anyone to let know where you are?”

“No.” With her grandmother gone, she was quite alone.

“Don’t tell me there’s no man in your life missing you, because I wouldn’t believe you.”

“There’s no one important in my life. Only Paul, a friend, who is probably out on a new, exciting assignment for his French newspaper at the moment.”

“Won’t Paul want to know you are safe from harm?” His voice had fierce undertones. He talked with so much authority, she found herself opening up to him.

“Actually, I would prefer it if Paul didn’t know about what happened to me. You see, he proposed to me before I came here and I turned him down. I’m not in love with him and it would seem wrong of me to ask him to come to my aid now. I think it’s best if he moves on with his life and finds a woman who will love him in return.”

Rafi stared at her over the rim of his coffee cup. “After meeting you, I daresay I doubt he’ll ever get over you.”

“That’s very flattering, but of course he will.”

“I wasn’t flattering you.” His remark set her body trembling. “What about other friends?”

“They don’t expect to hear from me this trip.”

“Why not?”

“Because I came to try and get over the worst of my pain after losing my grandmother recently. They know that,” she muttered, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice, but not succeeding very well.

“You were close to her?”

There was something about this man that made her want to confide in him. Maybe it was because he’d saved her life by getting her to the doctor in time. Whatever the reason, she didn’t feel like holding back.

“Very. Both my parents died when I was six months old. She was the only mother I ever knew. I miss her horribly.”

“I can understand your wanting to get away for a while, but why the desert, why here? This part of the Nafud is particularly harsh.”

“I suppose it’s because it’s one place I’ve never visited, and it holds no past memories for me.” Only Celia’s.

“You’re a world traveler?”

“Yes, from the time I was a little girl.”

A definite stillness filled the room before he said, “Under the circumstances, I’ll leave you alone to grieve. Silence is the medication for sorrow. If you need anything, you have only to pick up the phone by your bed. Nazir, one of my assistants, will take care of you and send for me or the doctor should you need us.”

“Thank you.” She lowered her head. “I’d be very remiss if I didn’t tell you how grateful I am to you for saving my life.”

“I only sped up the time so your recovery could take place under Dr. Tamam’s care.”

“I’m still thankful,” she insisted. “Be assured, you and your staff will be well paid for your services.”

Without giving her a response, he started to leave. Being the head of security, she supposed he had too many calls on his time for her to expect his company like this again but she selfishly wished he didn’t have to leave yet. “Rafi?”

He turned his dark head in her direction. “Is there something else you need?”

There were a lot of things she discovered she needed. “No, but you’re obviously on intimate terms with the king. Please let him know how grateful I am for everything. The room is beautiful beyond description.”

“It’s part of the garden suite.”

Lauren sucked in her breath. King Malik had arranged for her grandmother to stay in a private part of the palace with its own garden. Was it possible this suite was the one? The hairs lifted on the back of her neck.

He studied her for a moment. “Are you all right, Lauren?”

“Yes.”

“You need a lot more rest before I’m convinced of that. When you’re up to it, you’re welcome to walk out and enjoy the flowers through that portico. Some are quite exotic. On occasion, the queen herself tends the garden.”

She put a hand to her throat. “I don’t know why I’m so lucky.”

After a slight pause he said, “When word of your near-tragedy reached King Umar, he insisted you remain in this suite as his guest for as long as you want.”

His guest.

Lauren’s heart beat faster than a hummingbird’s wings. Was King Umar a son or a grandson or even a great-nephew of King Malik? Lauren was closer to getting information about her grandfather than she knew.

“That’s incredibly kind and generous of him.”

His black eyes gleamed. “It’s my hope that while you are recovering, the garden’s beauty will lift the sadness over your grandmother’s passing from your heart.”

Deeply touched by his words, she whispered her thanks. Bereft after he’d gone, Lauren couldn’t move any further than the nearest couch because a new weakness had attacked her, brought on by his nearness and the potent male reality of him.

She sank down and rested against one of the satin cushions. Her thoughts darted back to her grandmother who’d been a world traveler from an early age. Celia had come to Al-Shafeeq because it had been reported by a family friend highly placed in the government that this desert oasis blossomed like a rose. It had sounded so romantic to her, she’d deemed it a place she had to see.

While wandering through its palatial gardens, her waist-length blond hair had happened to catch the eye of King Malik. What had happened after that had been like a tale from the Arabian Nights tale and Celia had become enslaved by a love so powerful that Lauren’s mother, Lana, had been the ultimate result.

Lauren thought about the flowers on the patio, but she was too tired to walk out there yet. Inwardly she had the presentiment that if she went out to look at them, history might repeat itself. Lauren could well imagine being so enamored of Rafi, she would never want to leave Al-Shafeeq.

His powerful image swam before her eyes until they closed and she knew no more.

Rashad stood outside the suite and rang Dr. Tamam to give him the latest update. “Our patient was well enough to shower and eat a solid meal today.”

“That’s good. What did you find out about the medallion?”

He pursed his lips. “Nothing yet.”

“Ah?” The surprise in the older man’s voice was as unmistakable as it was understandable. “Then you must have felt she still wasn’t recovered enough to withstand an interrogation.”

The doctor was reading Rashad’s mind. Lauren had paled a little before he’d left her suite. That part was genuine. In fact everything she’d said, every reaction, had seemed genuine to him, especially her relief that Mustafa hadn’t died.

He could still feel the imprint of her lovely body molded to his while word of the near-tragedy had sunk in. She’d shed convincing tears of relief.

As for her pain over her deceased grandmother, there were degrees. Upon wakening, her first thought had been for the medallion she’d lost. Rashad had noticed she’d been careful not to give him a full description of the gold circle.

His instincts were never wrong. She was holding a secret.

The first thing Rashad needed to do was to ascertain if the medallion was real or a fake. Quite apart from her role in all of this, he wanted the answer for himself. Of the eight male members of the family alive today, including himself, none had reported their medallions lost or stolen. It had to be a fake—some kind of joke, perhaps—but he wouldn’t be able to get to the bottom of it until he’d talked to their gold expert.

In the next breath he phoned his mechanic. After being assured his helicopter had been serviced and was ready for flight, he slipped along a passage and across a private courtyard to the place where it was waiting.

Accompanied by his bodyguard, he flew to Raz. Once they’d set down, he hurried into the plant to consult the goldsmith who’d fashioned Rashad’s ring. The old man was getting on in years.

“Come in, Rashad. Your face looks like thunder. Yesterday everyone was rejoicing!”

Grimacing, he sat down at the work table across from him. “That was yesterday.” He pulled the medallion and chain out of his pocket and placed it in front of him.

Hasan stared at him in puzzlement. “Whose medallion is this?”

“That’s what I need to know.”

“You mean someone in the royal family has lost theirs?”

“Maybe. I found it … accidentally. Could it be a fake?”

“Why don’t you go do something else for a little while, then come back and I’ll have answers for you.”

Rashad spent the next hour discussing plans with the engineers drafting designs for the new processing plant. Being an engineer himself, he gave his input before returning to Hasan’s lab. The goldsmith gave him a speculative look.

“The medallion is twenty-four-carat gold, but the minting technique with respect to the dyes and style indicates it was made somewhere between 1890 and 1930, give or take fifteen years. I couldn’t duplicate what was produced back then.” He shook his head. “I have to believe this is not a fake, nor is the chain.”

“So,” Rashad murmured, “unless someone lost their medallion during that time period, the only other explanation I can come up with is that the family goldsmith at the time could have made an extra one in case of loss.”