Secret Sheikh, Secret Baby Page 3

  ‘You did very well out there.’ Karim looked her over approvingly, but sadly, Felicity realised, he was assessing only her nursing skills. ‘Without you the baby would have exsanguinated.’

  ‘I just hope I did enough soon enough.’

  ‘I will ring and find out later,’ Karim said, looking forward to the prospect—perhaps they could do that from his room! ‘So, do you live in London?’

  ‘Unfortunately, no!’

  ‘Unfortunately?’ Karim checked.

  ‘I live in the north, and my train just got cancelled.’ She was drained at the prospect of finding somewhere to stay, but Karim clearly thought he had the answer.

  ‘Stay here tonight, then.’

  ‘I don’t think so!’ She gave a small laugh; certainly she’d love to stay here—would love to peel off her damp, muddied clothes and climb into a fluffy white bathrobe rather than trudge the streets searching for accommodation that was rather more basic. But it was impossible, that was all! At that moment her phone rang. Not wanting to be rude, Felicity ignored it, and Karim gave a slight frown.

  ‘It’s my mum!’ she said, by way of explanation.

  ‘Shouldn’t you speak with her?’

  ‘I did a little while ago,’ Felicity said, and then relented a touch. ‘She suffers with anxiety. It’s easier if I ring her when I’ve found out where I’m staying.’

  ‘You just have,’ Karim said. ‘You will stay as our guest.’

  ‘Our guest?’

  ‘Zaraqua’s guest!’ He spoke as if the city was a person. ‘We invited you to attend today’s information session; now you have missed your train and you have also saved a baby’s life. Of course it is our responsibility to ensure you get safely home. If that means you stay in London tonight, then so be it…’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly.’ Felicity shook her head.

  ‘This is how it will be.’ Karim stood up. ‘Excuse me for one moment.’

  Felicity watched his broad back as he strode through the lounge. He really did have the most amazing presence. Every head turned as he walked past. She sat quietly, determinedly ignoring her phone, which was ringing again. She wished her mother would wait a little. Felicity would ring her, she resolved again, when she knew what was happening herself.

  ‘Here.’ Felicity jumped slightly and put down the scone she was eating as Karim returned and handed her a neat navy folder. ‘It has all been arranged.’

  It had too! She opened the folder, saw her room number and a swipe card, and could scarcely believe it. She was also just a little nervous as to what she was being offered. ‘Are you sure?’ Felicity frowned, completely unused to being spoilt, to things being sorted for her—normally that was her role. Still, the incident had shaken her up enough that she didn’t have it in her to protest too much! ‘Are you sure about this?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Karim nodded. ‘You cannot go home in wet clothes. Use the laundry service, and you have full use of the facilities—perhaps visit the spa…After today, you deserve to relax, And,’ he added, ‘may I say again well done. They are both very lucky that you were there.’

  She deserved this, Karim thought. This woman who had just saved a life should not be stranded in London. She deserved to be spoiled, pampered. He insisted to himself he would have done the same for any attendee, but as he had arranged her accommodation he had shamelessly upgraded her—several notches, in fact. A rather confusing thought had occurred to him. Karim remembered the moment before the accident—the moment this woman had turned her back on him.

  ‘Well, thank you,’ Felicity said, retrieving her bag from the floor. ‘It will be nice to get out of these clothes…’ She stopped abruptly, a little embarrassed at her choice of words. ‘Thank you again.’

  She was going, Karim realised with a frown. Her words had been unintentional. There was no hint of flirting, no lingering to see if he might ask her to join him later…

  ‘Would you like another drink?’ Karim asked, but she shook her head.

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Perhaps later?’ When again she shook her head, Karim couldn’t be bothered to pursue it. He was here in London for fun, and this was starting to feel like hard work.

  As Felicity stood to go the waiter came over.

  ‘Will you and your guest be dining with us tonight, Your…?’

  He was frowned into silence. Karim had given strict instruction that his title was not to be used within the hotel—his security team were miserable enough with his jogging and walking the London streets, without alerting the public that there was a sheikh royal prince in their midst.

  ‘Sir!’ The waiter changed his words with a cough.

  Karim was about to decline. He thought of Mandy, ever ready and waiting, and then looked to where Felicity stood. Her face was blushing scarlet, her eyes so startled he half expected her to turn and run. Maybe he should just let her. But he remembered again the attraction that had flared in the presentation room, that unacknowledged arousal between them that had rendered him so hard he had had to get out. He decided the effort might be worth it—he wanted to go there again.

  ‘Would you like to join me?’

  He saw the dart of her eyes, and—always smooth, always polite—said the right thing. ‘Forgive me—that was crass. Of course you do not have to join me. There is no obligation.’

  “‘I know…’ Felicity managed a small laugh as he voiced her urgent thoughts and then checked herself. Her accommodation was sorted, and now the most impossibly attractive man was asking her for dinner…So what if it couldn’t lead to anything? So what if there was no point in pursuing a romance with this man? She hadn’t had a night out or off in months.

  Staring into his black eyes, at that moment the answer was easy. ‘I’d love to join you, except…’ She gestured to her crumpled and soaked linen suit.

  ‘The hotel will sort that…’ He waved his hand as if it were that easy. ‘And I can give you an update on the mother and baby over dinner.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Felicity nodded.

  ‘We will meet at eight,’ Karim said. ‘Here?’

  ‘That would be lovely.’

  It would be lovely, Felicity thought as Karim stalked out of the hotel lounge. But, glancing at her watch, she realised she had only just over an hour to prepare! So, after ringing her mother to tell her a rather loose version of her plans, Felicity snapped into urgent mode and dashed to a chemist. She bought some stockings, a toothbrush and paste, and some hair serum, and then went up to her room.

  Only it wasn’t a room—it was a suite. A vast sprawling suite, with flowers and chocolates and even a bucket of champagne cooling in a silver bucket.

  And then someone knocked at the door.

  Her heart stilled. She was nervous that it was Karim, that she had misinterpreted the exceptionally friendly gesture after all.

  But it was a woman with an instant wardrobe on a trolley, that she wheeled into Felicity’s room. Felicity just stood there as she was informed to help herself, and told that her own clothes would be laundered and back to her by morning.

  She couldn’t get her head around it. She was used—too used—to being two steps ahead of everything, to being the one who anticipated problems, the one who sorted things out. Yet since she had stepped into the hotel—since her first greeting from Noor—she had been looked after, her needs anticipated, and she had been rewarded for a job well done too.

  It felt nice.

  Unfamiliar, but very, very nice.

  Peeling off her damp clothes, Felicity took in her suite.

  It had everything—and she hadn’t needed to worry about the toothpaste and brush. The little basket of goodies in the bathroom contained everything a girl might need, Felicity thought as she found a teeny pump bottle of hair serum. And even things a girl didn’t need too…

  Like condoms!

  Oh, Karim had assured her there were no obligations, but that wasn’t why she dropped them like a hot coal. Whatever Karim might be expecting from he
r, it was never going to happen.

  Felicity sat, deflated, on the edge of the huge oval bath and stared at herself in the mirror.

  Her blonde hair was tumbled, there was still a flush of excitement in her cheeks, and her blue eyes were glittering at the prospect of dinner with Karim. But, as Paul had found out, dinner was all it would ever be. What if tonight went well? Felicity worried. What if he asked to see her again? And what if they went out for a few weeks…? She screwed her eyes closed at the prospect. At what point did you tell someone? She knew it was impossible for them to have a relationship, knew it was pointless to pursue it, but she did want dinner with him…

  And dinner was all it could ever be for her—even with a man as dashing as Karim.

  CHAPTER THREE

  HE WAS waiting for her.

  Karim stood as she walked into the hotel lounge, and his decision as to his choice of date for the night was instantly confirmed as the right one.

  She was wearing a pale grey woollen dress, a modest dress—yet it clung nicely to her trim waist, and Karim noticed the scooped neckline. It accentuated her full bust…

  He had idly wondered what she would achieve in an hour. Used to summoning mistresses, he had women on tap and permanently ready. This one was not used to his ways, and yet she had done exceptionally well! No one would possibly guess that just a short while ago she had been saving a life in the driving rain.

  Her hair, that had been tied back in all of the short time he had known her, was loose now. Soft and newly washed, it fell over her shoulders. Her long, slim legs were encased in stockings, her feet in dark grey stilettos.

  Yes, he was glad of his choice of company for the night. But as he placed his hand on her elbow and guided her through the restaurant, and she shot forward at the slight contact, he knew it was going to be a long one! Unashamedly he had checked her CV. He knew that she was twenty-six and single, yet she was acting like a gauche teenager on her first date.

  Oh, well, Karim decided glancing at his watch. If they weren’t in bed by eleven he could be at Mandy’s by twelve!

  He’d give her three hours!

  The menu was impossible. Oh, there was plenty that at first glance she liked, but sitting opposite Karim made the simplest decision impossible. He was wearing a different suit, had used his hour to shower and change too. Felicity could see that—and smell it. She was somewhat relieved and a little irritated too when his phone rang. He answered it, and after a brief apology spoke to whoever was on the line in rapid Arabic.

  ‘I am sorry about that.’ He put his phone down, and then picked it up again and turned it off. ‘That was an old friend and colleague of mine. He is working at the hospital the casualties were taken to—he always speaks in our own language.’

  ‘How are they?’ Felicity asked, glad now that he had taken the call, but worried as to what she might hear.

  ‘The mother has regained consciousness. She had another seizure on arrival, but she is doing well.’

  ‘And the baby?’

  ‘Is in Theatre now,’ Karim said. ‘It will take a while, but the surgeons are very hopeful.’

  ‘Did he regain consciousness?’

  ‘Yes!’ Karim nodded. ‘They resuscitated with fluids. There is one problem…’ He paused for just a moment and Felicity held her breath. ‘He’s a she!’

  ‘Oh!’ Felicity blinked, remembering the blue blanket. ‘Well, there’s a reminder never to assume!’ She smiled, and he did too. He had lovely white even teeth, with just a tiny irregularity. But even that made him more exquisite; this was no capped, manufactured smile, and he really was, as she had first realised, devastating.

  With only brief consultation he took care of the wine and the ordering, and was such pleasant company that by the time she had struggled through the entrée and moved onto the main Felicity was almost able to relax.

  But not fully—because always, always her mind was on the end of night, or the next night, or the next.

  This was a date.

  A real one.

  And real ones—good ones—led to more dates…

  ‘You may find things different in Zaraqua,’ Karim warned her, after he had pressed her about her work and she had told him how she was a strong advocate for natural childbirth with minimum intervention. ‘We have top-class facilities and equipment, and we do tend to use them.’

  ‘I have thought about that,’ Felicity said, ‘and I’m not looking to change the world. I work in a low-risk birthing centre at the moment—hopefully I’ll come away from Zaraq more informed, which can only be good.’

  ‘You have an open mind.’ Karim smiled. ‘You would not make a good surgeon.’

  ‘I’m a good midwife, though,’ Felicity said, and smiled back.

  ‘Did you tell your mother you were staying here?’

  ‘No!’ Felicity said. ‘I just told her I had found somewhere.’ She saw his slight frown. ‘She’d only worry more if I told her about the crash.’

  ‘It must be hard, having a parent who worries so.’

  ‘It is,’ Felicity admitted, and thanked the waiter as her main course was taken away. ‘And I’m still not sure if I’m doing the right thing, going overseas. My sister hasn’t been well for a couple of years,’ she explained. ‘She’s doing fine now, but there have been a lot of expenses. This way I can really tackle them. Only…’ She hesitated. The practical solution she had come up with for her family had been a sensible one, but there was an emotional side to it too—one she had never shared and certainly not with a stranger.

  ‘Only…?’ Karim checked.

  ‘I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing—I’m not sure how they’ll manage. Georgie, my sister, has an eating disorder. She’s doing brilliantly now, though.’ She swallowed uncomfortably, nervous of voicing her innermost fears. ‘I’m just worried that my leaving will set her back. But I don’t really have a choice.’

  ‘Georgie has,’ Karim said as a white chocolate mousse drizzled in hot raspberry sauce was placed in front of her. ‘She can choose to stay well or not—you cannot do that for her.’

  He was right—of course he was right—only it wasn’t so straightforward.

  ‘You don’t understand…’

  ‘I can assure you I do!’ Karim responded. ‘I know all there is to know about duty and family. And I know how it feels to be the strong one.’

  Karim had declined dessert, and was working his way through a cheese platter. Now her dessert bowl was empty, it merited just a little look from her. He pushed the platter forward and, to her own surprise, instead of refusing and saying she was fine, Felicity took a cracker and helped herself.

  ‘What about your father?’ Karim asked, watching as the cracker paused midway to her mouth.

  ‘He died a few years ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry. That must have been hard for you all.’

  She stared across the table at him, stared into black, assessing eyes that gave absolutely nothing away—eyes that judged but were somehow not judging. Instead of taking the easy option and accepting his condolences, after a brief hesitation she responded.

  ‘Don’t be sorry. He caused this mess. What about your family?’

  He gave a brief shrug. ‘There is not much to tell.’

  ‘Oh?’

  He stabbed a piece of cheese with his knife and smeared it on some bread, then took a sliver of quince jelly and topped it with that. He handed it to her and then did the same for himself.

  Karim never usually shared—he was generous with gifts, he just never shared what was his.

  But tonight he did.

  ‘I have two brothers. My mother lives here in London—my father is in Zaraq.’

  ‘Are they divorced?’ For a second she was sure his face tightened, and she thought she must have said the wrong thing. It was an entirely natural assumption—just the wrong one.

  ‘There is no divorce in Zaraq. My mother, even though she lives in England, gave my father four sons. She deserves his support and res
pect.’

  This was a rather different way of looking at things than Felicity was used to hearing in the maternity wards! But he’d confused her now.

  ‘Four?’ She crinkled her nose. ‘I thought you said that you had two brothers?’

  ‘I do.’

  She knew then she had definitely said the wrong thing, and immediately apologised. ‘I’m sorry…’

  ‘You weren’t to know.’ He didn’t elaborate straight away, and neither did Felicity push, but after the longest pause it was Karim who broke the silence. ‘I am the third son. Ahmed was the second. Zaraq is seventy percent desert. Ahmed was into desert racing. He was practising. His vehicle broke down and help did not get there in time.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She said it again and he held her gaze, even opened his mouth for a second to speak, then changed his mind.

  Don’t be. He’d been about to repeat her very words. He caused this mess.

  There was no bill to summon—just separate rooms to go to.

  It was the part of the night she always dreaded.

  They walked slowly to the lifts, where a few people were waiting, and Felicity’s heart was hammering in her chest as he stood and faced her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she attempted, ‘for a wonderful night.’

  Karim was about to say that it didn’t have to end there, but he hesitated. She was jangling with nerves, so he decided to soothe her with his mouth; he would play with her hair, his skilled lips moving in…He would let this lift go, Karim decided as the doors pinged open. His lips would meet hers and then he’d take her to his room in the next one!

  His mouth was moving in. She was his sweet dessert to linger over—he had waited twelve hours, and he was more than ready to be rewarded for his good behaviour now.

  For Felicity, there was just a sliver of indecision. She felt the weight of his lips, the bliss of his mouth on hers, then relaxed and gave in. They were alone at the lifts now, his hands loosely on her hips as his mouth worked on. Fear was replaced by pleasure, and a tiny curl was unfurling in her stomach. An empty lift opened, and she pulled back her head and stared into his eyes—because if he asked to see her again, even though she lived miles from London, even though it would be difficult, maybe she would say yes…