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Falling for the Sheikh She Shouldn't
Fiona McArthur
Fiercely independent Carmen O’Shannessy is in serious trouble.Becoming temporary midwife to Zandorro royalty solves her financial woes, but working alongside sinfully gorgeous Prince Zafar plays havoc with her resolute singledom!And when her dreams of Arabian nights with her enigmatic new boss come true, Carmen doubts her heart will ever recover from having to kiss this sheikh goodbye…




Praise for
Fiona McArthur:
‘Readers will be delighted not only to get an insiders’
peek at the Outback, but also to be introduced to the
exotic Bali landscape. With these lush backdrops
and complex characters this is a first-rate tale.’
—RT Book Reviews on HARRY ST CLAIR: ROGUE OR DOCTOR?

About the Author
A mother to five sons, FIONA MCARTHUR is an Australian midwife who loves to write. Mills & Boon
Medical
Romance gives Fiona the scope to write about all the wonderful aspects of adventure, romance, medicine and midwifery that she feels so passionate about—as well as an excuse to travel! Now that her boys are older, Fiona and her husband Ian are off to meet new people, see new places, and have wonderful adventures. Fiona’s website is at www.fionamcarthur.com
Also by Fiona McArthur:
SURVIVAL GUIDE TO DATING YOUR BOSS
HARRY ST CLAIR: ROGUE OR DOCTOR?
MIDWIFE, MOTHER…ITALIAN’S WIFE
(#ulink_2a79ec82-dda8-56ca-83de-693c2e34bdb2) MIDWIFE IN THE FAMILY WAY
(#ulink_2a79ec82-dda8-56ca-83de-693c2e34bdb2) THE MIDWIFE AND THE MILLIONAIRE MIDWIFE IN A MILLION
* (#ulink_81b3043d-449f-5d04-840d-b471765a3959)Lyrebird Lake Maternity
These books are also available in ebook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

Falling for
the Sheikh
She Shouldn’t
Fiona McArthur





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To Trishabella—who makes me smile.

CHAPTER ONE
THE lift doors opened. Prince Zafar Aasim Al Zamid stepped inside and to his disgust his heart began to pound.
Someone slipped past him into the elevator and he couldn’t help the deeper breath he took as the doors shut. A drift of orange soap vividly recalled the memory of fruit-laden trees in the palace grounds as a child, and, by association, the memory soothed him.
Thoughts that calmed were an excellent idea. Life had been much less complicated then. He opened his eyes as the lift shifted under his feet.
Lately he’d been acquiring phobias like new shirts. Since the crash it had been heights, now elevators—worse every ascent—until even a closing door caused symptoms. Perhaps it was a sign the claustrophobia in his life had worsened since he’d been forced to give up his work in favour of royal duty.
He would address his inner calm with the solitude of a retreat as soon as he sorted this latest mess. The vastness of the desert always made his problems seem less significant.
For the moment he was cramped and palpitating in a lift with the painful reminder of all he’d lost. This particular enclosed space held a fragile-looking new mum with a baby in one arm, a beaming new father clutching a balloon, and thankfully the orange-scented woman as well, dispensing an aura of tranquillity.
The metallic ‘It’s A Boy’ helium balloon bobbed towards him and Zafar leant closer to the wall and regretted his decision to stay at this hotel. A baby hotel. The last place he needed to be. The image he carried of his tiny son’s body flickered in his mind and he forced it away. Such happy families were constant reminders he could have done without but the stakes were high.
He had hoped to find Fadia, his estranged cousin, prior to the birth but time was against him. He’d discovered she planned to convalesce here instead of hospital if he arrived too late to find her beforehand.
The lift jerked and his pulse thundered in his ears.
The balloon wielder tugged on the string as the proud new dad hailed the woman. ‘Carmen! We didn’t get a chance to thank you.’ He grabbed the woman’s hand and shook it vigorously. ‘You were amazing.’
The woman retrieved her hand and smiled at the young mother. ‘Hello, again, Lisa, Jock. Lisa was the amazing one.’
Her voice soothed like a cool hand to his forehead and, infinitesimally, a little more of his agitation drained away as the phobia receded. Thankfully. It would be useful if his psyche finally accepted the obscenity of irrational fears.
‘It was a beautiful birth.’ She cast Zafar a swift apologetic look for their exclusive conversation, and the unexpected impact of her one glance collided with his, as if that ridiculous balloon had bumped him, before she turned back to the father.
Medical background, he concluded, and dismissed the stab of frustration the loss of his career left him with. Midwife probably. He’d met women like her before—those natural soothers who could create a rapport with strangers without effort.
He lifted his head and glanced over her. Anything was good to take his mind off the ascent through the lift well.
Thankfully his phobia retreated by the second as he studied her. She had thick black hair coiled on her head like rope. An Irish accent. Carmen seemed more Spanish than Irish yet she suited her name.
He watched her mouth as she said, ‘How is young Brody?’
Jock laughed, loudly, and Zafar winced as the noise jarred his ears. ‘He’s a bruiser.’ The father’s pride resonated within the four walls as the lift stopped at the fifth floor with an extra jolt. The cage floor fell six inches and bounced before it came back to the level. Everyone laughed nervously, except Zafar. He closed his eyes and swallowed.
There was rustling and movement as the lift emptied and the father’s voice, a little further away now. ‘We’ll see you soon, then.’
‘I’ll be down as soon as I have handover report from the morning midwife.’ So Carmen was still in the lift. He opened his eyes as she waved at the couple.
‘That’s great. We’ll see you then.’ Zafar noted the relief in the father’s face and his mind clutched at the distraction of wondering about this trend of moving postnatal women from the hospital into hotels to recover from birth.
Not something he was familiar with but it made sense when he thought about it. A place of quiet comfort, fewer germs, useful for the hospital to have quick turnover and quite appropriate if your health fund covered it.
The lift doors closed silently, though the cage remained stationary, and he returned to contemplate the lights on the panel above the door despite the insidious desire to study the woman called Carmen more closely.
She stepped back and seemed to lean into the wall.
He knew she was tall because her head came above his shoulders and her knot of hair had been near his nose as she’d drifted orange blossom his way. The lift still didn’t move. Seconds to go and he would be able to breathe properly again.
He glanced at her from under his lashes and saw her eyes were shut. He frowned. Not a usual occurrence when he shared space with a woman. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been ignored. In repose she appeared weary. Too weary?
His concern increased. ‘Are you unwell?’
Her eyes flew open and she straightened. ‘Good grief.’ She blinked at him and then focussed. ‘A micro-sleep. Sorry. I’ve been on night shift. It’s been a busy week.’
Suddenly he felt empathetic to a perfect stranger because he could remember that weariness from a string of busy days and nights during his internship. Lack of sleep he’d grumbled about, but now the choice was no longer his, he’d love to suffer from that inconvenience again.
That was the problem with returning to Sydney. It reminded him that he wasn’t living the life he’d once loved. Made him feel frustration he shouldn’t feel towards his duty to Zandorro.
The elevator jerked, ground upwards for a few inches. The sooner the better, he thought, then the lift bounced suddenly as the cable stopped.
His breath caught as he waited. The doors didn’t open and the light sat on neither five nor six. Midway between floors. Stopped.
This was not good. He felt his heart rate shift gear, double before his next breath, his chest tightened, and air jammed in his lungs.
‘I am so not in the mood for this.’ Zafar heard her in the distance as he tried to loosen his throat. He sank down onto his haunches and put one hand on the wall to give himself more blood to his head. With his other he loosened his collar.
The lift was suddenly the cabin of the private jet. His family would plunge in a few spiralling seconds and there was not a thing he could do about it. So now it was his destiny to die. It was almost a relief. And he’d complained about being in line for the throne.
Distantly he realised she’d picked up the phone and spoken to the operator. When he heard her re-seat the instrument she bent down to him. ‘You okay?’
He didn’t refocus his eyes off the floor until he felt her hand on his arm—warm, firm, comfort personified—and not letting go. He had the bizarre idea he couldn’t fall anywhere while she held him. Yet all she did was share touch without moving. He breathed with difficulty through his nose and inhaled drifts of orange. Incredibly steadying, like a shot of Valium through his bloodstream.
He sucked air through clenched teeth and the light-headedness faded a little. This was ridiculous. Irrational. Acutely embarrassing. He forced himself to look into her face. She had dark golden eyes, like burnt twisted treacle, calm and wise and filled with compassion. Mesmerising up close. ‘You’re a nurse?’
Her eyes crinkled and his chest eased a little more. ‘Sort of. I’m a midwife. Do you need some deep breathing?’
‘I’m not in labour.’ But this was hard work. He shut his eyes again. ‘Possibly.’
‘Do you have a phobia?’ The same gentle conversational voice as if she’d asked if he needed sugar in his tea.
The demons from the past battered against him. He strove to keep his voice level. ‘So it seems.’
She sank down. He heard the rustle of fabric and felt the slight brush of her leg as she settled herself beside him on the floor. Her hand rested still on his arm, not moving, as if to transfer energy and calmness from her to him. It seemed to be working. ‘What’s your name?
He had many. ‘Zafar.’
She paused and he felt her appraisal until he opened his eyes again. Her golden interest captured his. ‘Well, Zafar. I’m Carmen. I’ve been stuck in this lift three times this week. Big, deep breaths should help.’
Deep breaths might be difficult. ‘It is a battle with small ones.’
Coaxing. ‘You can do a couple.’
He wasn’t sure but the fact that she’d lived through this three times did help. He was feeling faint again. ‘A rule of threes?’
‘In through your nose…’
Intolerably bossy woman. ‘Out through my mouth. Yes, I know.’
Her voice firmed. Like his mother’s from the distant past. The time of orange trees. ‘Then do it.’
He humoured her. And felt better. Actually, quite a lot better so he did it again. With her sitting below him he had a delightful view down the valley between her breasts. He glanced away politely but could feel himself improve every second with the picture in his mind. Surely a harmless medicinal remedy.
Imagine if the lift had still been full. He mentally shuddered. There was just her to see this weakness. Thankfully he’d sent his bodyguard and secretary to the suite. In future the stairs would be good for his fitness. Once free, he’d never see this woman again. A good thing, and a shame.
At least it seemed his brain had accepted death was unlikely.
And she had the most incredible breasts but he wasn’t going to look again—his gaze travelled back to her face—and a delightful mouth. Those lips… His body stirred. A mouth designed by angels and plump for surrender if he was willing to risk life and limb for it. She may be calm but she looked very capable of protecting herself despite the weariness. His lips twitched.
‘Are you feeling better?’
‘Much.’ Better than she knew. He watched with some amusement as she slowly recognised the direction of his fascination until she stared straight back at him and raised her brows.
She removed her hand from his arm and she shook her head. ‘Tsk tsk.’
The lift jerked and resumed its ascent. Zafar shut his eyes briefly but the panic had gone.
It seemed she was good at her job. He straightened until he stood with his feet firm beneath him, reached down and took her hand to help her up. Such a lovely hand, but workworn. She rose fluidly into his space, as he’d intended.
For that moment as their glances met he forgot the lift, the heights, the strain his life was, all except this unexpected awareness between them that swept away their surroundings, so enmeshed in this unexpected connection that when he said, ‘Thank you,’ the words hung in the air between them like mist.
An imp of mischief drew his head closer. He expected her to pull away. ‘You’re very kind… and incredibly beautiful.’ He stroked her cheek, his gaze drawn once more to her ripe and luscious mouth.
She did the unpredicted. ‘It’s okay. I understand.’ He heard it in her voice, a note of sympathy that horrified him. Pity?
He recoiled. He needed no one’s compassion.
The elevator jolted and the doors opened on seven. They’d missed six altogether. She turned away from him with a frown on her entrancing face.
There was some consolation in the way she compressed her lips together as if to hide the way they’d plumped and reddened in anticipation… of what? The almost brush of his lips on hers? So she had felt something too?
‘You certainly look better.’ Her comment made him smile again, the dryness hiding undertones he couldn’t identify, but there was a subtle flush of colour to her cheeks and her wide eyes searched his face as if seeking a hint of what had passed between them during the last few frozen moments.
Despite his urge to throw himself out of the lift to safety, Zafar stretched his hand across the doors to allow her to precede him. ‘My apologies for my weakness earlier.’
She assessed him with a clinical scrutiny he wasn’t used to getting from a woman and strangled back a half-laugh. ‘I doubt you’re a weak man so I’m sure you’ve good reason.’
He inclined his head.
She glanced around. ‘And I should have got out at level six.’ She turned swiftly out to the left of the lift and pulled open the door of the fire escape to go down a flight before he was fully out of the lift himself.
He started to hum. The day was not as bad as it had started out.
Carmen moved quickly to reach the door to the stairwell but she could almost feel the eyes of the man in the lift on her back.
What had just happened? Her lips tingled as if still waiting and she could detect the unusual spicy aftershave from his skin so close to hers. And what a mouth! Sinful was too tame a word. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t been tempted.
Not the sort of encounter she’d expected today and she wasn’t entirely sure she’d behaved properly. Hopefully she wouldn’t see him again.
When the fire-escape door shut with an echoing clang she breathed a sigh of relief as she leant back against it. Cold metal against her back was lovely to counter the heat everywhere else in her body. She glanced around.
Appropriate name. Fire escape.
She definitely felt a bit singed on the edges—like a ragged sleeve too close to a candle—ragged and breathless. She touched her lips. Burnt and hot without even touching him.
She glanced around again, reassured in a dark stairwell with unpainted concrete stairs and the echo of empty walls, but there was no doubt she was glad of the sanctuary afforded her.
One would have thought she’d learnt her lesson from her ex-husband about smooth-talking men in expensive suits who seduced you and then destroyed your life.
Still. One almost slip didn’t make a disaster. She hoped.
Eighteen hours later Carmen O’Shannessy admired the gifts Mother Nature had bestowed on her at five that morning with a soft smile. She knew there was a reason she loved night duty, apart from the fact it allowed her to do two jobs.
Twins. Dark-haired cherubs with skin like dusky rosebuds. Her patient, Fadia Smith, rested back in the armchair like Madonna with her sons poking out under her arms like tiny bundled wings. It had taken a little juggling, a few attempts, and almost an hour of patience, but with both boys feeding well this moment was a very satisfying end to a drama-filled morning.
It had been a long time since Carmen had seen twins born with so little fuss but, then, Fadia hadn’t left them with much choice. Her cumbersome arrival alone and a bare five minutes before her first son appeared had left Carmen literally catching the baby. By the time the obstetrician and his entourage had arrived, number two had also decided to greet the outside world and Dr Bennett had waved her on with an incredulous smile.
To continue their no-fuss arrival, both wee boys had cried and then settled on their mother’s skin. While they appeared small, there were no signs of prematurity or respiratory distress.
That would be unlike the breathless-from-running neonatal staff, who’d drifted back to their unit unneeded shortly afterwards. Carmen still smiled over their shock when she’d rung for help.
Two hours later Carmen should’ve been feeling ready to hand Fadia over to the day staff and go home. ‘You sure I can’t phone someone for you?’ Something niggled.
Fadia seemed very sad. On cue with the question, Fadia jumped in the chair and the two babies stopped their sucking with startled eyes before resettling to their feed.
Their mother forced herself to relax. ‘No, no. My babies are fine. I really don’t have anyone else to call. I’m a widow and there’s just a friend of my husband who’s been helping me until my relatives arrive.’
Fadia seemed determined nothing was wrong and hurried on. ‘We’re all safe.’ It seemed a strange thing to say.
‘Well, your boys weren’t waiting for anyone.’ She leaned over and stroked a tiny hand that rested on his mother’s neck. ‘You’re amazing, Fadia. Congratulations. Tilly will be looking after you today. I have to go home to my bed, and I’ll see you when you move to the baby hotel in a day or two. Have you decided on names?’
‘Harrison and Bailey. My husband’s names.’
‘Lovely. I’m sure he would have loved that.’
‘He didn’t even know I was pregnant when he was killed.’
Was killed? Not died. How horrible but not the time to ask. ‘I’m sorry. But I’m sure, somewhere, he knows. Do try and get some sleep as soon as they do.’
‘Thanks, Carmen. You’ve given me so much strength in all of this. It means so much that you weren’t cross with me for leaving it so late.’
‘You were always strong, Fadia. So amazing. And we know babies come when they want.’ Carmen grinned. ‘You must have a guardian angel. And that makes sense. Thank you for a lovely end to my night.’ She waved and almost bumped into Tilly, the day midwife, passing the door.
‘Finally going home?’ Tilly glanced at her watch.
Carmen knew she was nearly an hour late getting away already. ‘At last.’
‘You working this afternoon as well?’
‘Doing the one p.m. at the hotel till seven. I get to sleep in my bed tonight.’
Tilly shook her head. ‘Don’t know how you do it. I’d be dead doing those hours as well as night duty.’
‘I get around four hours’ sleep.’ Carmen shrugged. ‘It’s short term. But I’m starting to come down from the night’s euphoria. But I am tired now.’ She did not want to talk about this or the reason she was almost killing herself. She’d never taken help from anyone and she wasn’t going to start now.
Thankfully Tilly wasn’t slow on nuances because she changed the subject back to Fadia. ‘Well done, you, with this morning. Lucky duck. Catching twins is hard to do without a cast of thousands trying to help these days.’
‘And your Marcus didn’t push me out of the way.’
Tilly’s cheeks went pink and Carmen felt a tug of wistfulness at her friend’s happiness. A fleeting picture of the man in the lift intruded again before she pushed him away.
She hadn’t given him a thought for hours. Been far too busy. Which was a good thing. ‘It must be great to have everything in your life going well.’
Tilly said, ‘I’m fostering Marcus’s faith in midwives. I think it’s working.’ They smiled at each other.
‘And Fadia was lucky.’ Carmen’s smile dropped. ‘Her friend’s coming in at lunchtime. She’s very quiet but, then, she did lose her husband fairly recently. There’s no one else listed under “Next of kin” from her booking. Look after her, Till. We need to make sure she has somewhere to go after she’s discharged.’
‘Yes, Mother Carmen.’ Tilly’s answer was light but the look they exchanged reassured her that her friend would be extra vigilant. Tilly would be just as determined as Carmen to be there for any mother, let alone one with twins who had twice as many reasons for moments of unusual interest.
After too few hours’ sleep it was time for Carmen to dress for work again. This time she would be providing postnatal midwifery in the baby hotel, a pet name the medical profession used for the five-star beach resort that catered for a few privately insured postnatal mothers. It was another warm and fuzzy part of her job and the women she supported often existed on less sleep than she’d had so a few yawns between friends was quite acceptable.
It was even better if she’d been with the women in labour and could follow their progress until they went home.
As she pressed the lift button in the car park she couldn’t help thinking of the man on level seven. Zafar. Mysterious name. And what would have happened to him if she hadn’t been in the lift that extra floor? The memory of their close encounter burned brightest.
She screwed up her face. ‘Go away.’ The words hung quietly between her and the closed lift door and she twisted her head uneasily to make sure nobody had heard.
There’d been something incredibly vulnerable about such a virile and powerful-looking man sweating over a stalled lift. Which maybe explained a little why she hadn’t backed off more quickly.
There had been nothing vulnerable in the way he’d crowded her after, though. Or the way she’d almost dared him to kiss her. She couldn’t help the curve of her lips at the return of that memory and thought ruefully that he’d never want to see her again.
Which was fine. Her husband’s underhand conniving had taken her home, undermined her self-respect—though she supposed she should thank him because she was tougher than ever now—and taught her to reserve judgement for a long while yet.
But Zafar’s face seemed indelibly stamped in her memory. Dark, tortured eyes under black brows and a firm yet wickedly sexy mouth that captured her attention with such assurance—a mouth that looked used to command. Everywhere. She felt the re-kindling of awareness low and hot in her belly. Outrageous. She shook her head. She wasn’t going there.
The guy embodied everything she hated about men. Power and prestige. She knew he had it despite his aversion to a stalled lift, and she had no doubt he could be as cynically ruthless as he looked.
He had to have extreme wealth, of course. The very expensive watch and the suit that shrieked of a tailor her ex would have killed to find were dead giveaways. Though why he was out in the beach fringes of eastern Sydney was a mystery.
She really needed to stop thinking about him, but once inside the lift she could picture him across from her easily, too easily, in fact, for someone she’d met for five minutes twenty-four hours ago.
The lift stopped on six and she stepped out onto the main baby floor and made her way to the midwives’ room. To work, woman!
As she discussed her patients with the morning shift midwife she was surprised to hear that Fadia had already been moved to the hotel. Occasionally a very well woman with her second or subsequent baby would move across after four hours but for a first-time mum with twins it was very unusual.
‘And the paediatrician said it was okay? And Tilly’s Dr Bennett as well?’
‘They’ll both be visiting daily here and a mothercraft nurse transferred across with her.’
Special considerations, then. Not the first time wealthy clients had brought their own nurse but she hadn’t envisaged Fadia being like that. ‘That will help.’
‘Not any more. Fadia sent her away as soon as she was settled. Apparently didn’t like her.’
Carmen raised her eyebrows. ‘Curiouser and curiouser.’
Fifteen minutes later when Carmen knocked on Fadia’s door, the last person she expected to open it was the man from the elevator.
Zafar.
Her pulse jumped and he captured her gaze easily and held it, just as he held the small smile on his lips. Heat flooded her cheeks.

CHAPTER TWO
‘AH. THE midwife. Come in.’ As if she was always turning up on his doorstep.
She hoped her mouth was closed because he looked jaw-droppingly handsome when he wasn’t terrified. He seemed ten times taller and broader than before but she guessed her first real impression must have been coloured by his distress.
‘It seems I must thank you for your magnificent skills at the delivery of Fadia’s twins.’
‘Being there was a privilege. Fadia did all the hard work. I was just catching.’
He smiled sardonically. ‘Yet some skill is required with multiple birth.’
He leaned casually against the door. Funny how she had the idea he was as relaxed as a tiger about to spring.
Fadia, perched on the edge of the chair with one of her sons, looked anything but calm and Carmen’s fluttery surprise turned to bristling protection of her patient.
Was the lift almost-kisser the person Fadia was scared of? ‘Is this your husband’s friend?’
Fadia shot a startled glance at Zafar and then back at Carmen’s face. ‘No. Goodness, no.’ Carmen couldn’t help the relief. That saved a bad lack of professionalism and would be a sorry pickle.
‘No, this is my cousin. From Zandorro.’ Fadia sent another glance his way—this time slightly less anxious. ‘He’s come in response to a letter I sent to my grandfather and to see if I need help.’
Zafar inclined his head. ‘Ensuring you and your babies are well. So I can pass the good news onto your relatives, yes.’ He turned to Carmen and raised one sardonic eyebrow. ‘So you haven’t met the elusive friend of our newest family members either, then?’
‘No.’ Carmen had no plan to elaborate. She shrugged to let him know that family dynamics were none of her business. ‘But perhaps you could excuse us while I spend a short time privately with Fadia?’
‘Is that totally necessary?’ Such surprise when she’d said it and obviously a request uncommon in his experience. Carmen bit back her smile at his shock. So, we don’t like being asked to leave, she thought. How interesting.
Just who was he? But it didn’t really matter. She’d had four hours’ sleep, she was worried about Fadia, and wasn’t in the mood for tantrums. ‘Yes. Afraid so.’ Tough. Out you go, though she didn’t say it out loud.
He frowned down his haughty nose and thinned those sexy lips until they almost disappeared, which was a shame, but proclaimed this man expected obedience, not orders.
Welcome to my back yard, buddy. Carmen squared her shoulders and fixed the smile on her face. She could be as tough as he was. Or tougher, if needed.
His eyes clashed with hers. It seemed he was going to cross his arms and flatly refuse.
What would she do then? She had no idea. Figure something out. Mentally she crossed her own arms. Bring it on. Never hassle a woman off night duty.
He didn’t. On the brink of refusal he hesitated, gave her a mocking smile that actually made her feel more uncomfortable than a flat refusal—almost a promise of retribution—and annoyingly her satisfaction at the win dimmed.
She didn’t like that look. Or the feeling it left her with. Who was this guy?
‘I shall return,’ he said to his cousin with a stern glance in Carmen’s direction, ‘when your midwife is finished with you, Fadia.’
Fadia nodded, twisted her hands, and Carmen inclined her head politely. She couldn’t wait to ask Fadia what the problem was.
‘We won’t be long,’ she said sweetly as she opened the door for him. The lock shut with the heavily finality hotel doors had and thankfully the room returned to a spacious suite.
Amazing how much breathing space one man could take up. Carmen looked at her patient. ‘You okay?’
‘Yes.’ The young woman hunched her shoulders and tightened the grip on the baby in her arms. Fadia didn’t look okay. She looked shattered, on the brink of tears, and Carmen just wanted to hug her.
‘And your babies?’
‘Fine.’ Fadia glanced across at her other baby asleep in the cot and visibly shook. ‘I can’t believe he actually left. You told him to go!’
‘Of course.’ She wasn’t wasting time on him, she was worried about her patient. Something was badly wrong here.
‘Zafar wasn’t listed as next of kin?’
‘I didn’t know if the family recognised me.’
‘So his arrival was unexpected?’
‘Yes. No.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I wrote to my grandfather last week but Tom said I would be sorry when the family took over my life. But I’m glad Zafar is here while I decide what I wish to do.’
‘Well you have a few days to think about it before you have to go anywhere.’ She took Fadia’s pulse. It was faster than normal, she hoped just down to agitation and not a postnatal problem. ‘I’m surprised to see they allowed you out of hospital so soon after birth.’
‘They said I could come across to the hotel today as long as I brought the mothercraft nurse. My cousin visited me soon after you left this morning and arranged one when I asked.’
Carmen glanced around the otherwise empty room but didn’t comment on the fact the mothercraft nurse was nowhere to be seen.
Fadia shrugged. ‘We did not get on. So she left.’
‘Oh.’ Not a lot she could gather from that. ‘That’s very quick transfer for twins. Because of your overextended uterus you’re at risk of bleeding. We need to watch for that. And you’d get much more help if you stayed on the ward. I could have you readmitted back there.’ Especially if your cousin helped you leave, she thought.
Fadia shook her head. ‘Now that he’s found me, I’d prefer to be here. Apparently the paediatrician will visit me as well. I hate hospitals, which is why I was so late coming in. Zafar wants me to have private nurses. I said I knew you and was comfortable without.’ She looked up and pleaded, ‘That is my biggest concern. I want to care for my babies myself, not with some nurse taking control as soon as they cry. Which is why I am unsure if I wish to return to Zandorro.’
Carmen could understand that but she wasn’t so sure Fadia knew how much work two small babies could be. ‘Well good for you, but it will be exhausting, even if it’s a great way for a mother to feel.’
Fadia nodded with relief. ‘Access to the baby hotel is why I chose your hospital. Tilly said you were working here today so I wanted to come across now.’
‘Okay, I can understand preferring to be here than hospital.’ But that didn’t explain her cousin’s agreement when most people would realise the twins needed more observation too.
‘I do feel a little less alone now Prince Zafar has arrived.’
‘Prince Zafar.’ Carmen blinked. Prince of what? ‘Like Prince Charles?’
‘From the desert. Zafar is fourth in line to the throne of Zandorro.’
‘A sheik?’ That explained a lot. ‘So you’re from this Zandorro, too?’
‘My family were from a small but powerful country in the desert. My father is dead, my mother left five years ago and brought me to Australia with her, but she sadly passed away not long after we arrived.’
So much drama and tragedy for one woman to cope with. But why was Fadia so unsure it was a good thing her cousin had found her?
She’d known Zafar was someone out of the ordinary, but it wasn’t an everyday occurrence to run into a prince. Or be trapped in a lift with one. Or be almost kissed by one.
No wonder he expected to be obeyed. And she’d coolly told him to leave. She struggled not to smile. Too funny.
She needed to think about this. ‘So if he’s your cousin,’ Which made Fadia…? ‘Does that make you a princess?’
‘Yes.’
She pointed to her sons. ‘I’m guessing they’re princes too, then?’ She looked at the babies. ‘And you walked into the hospital at the last minute alone to deliver twins?’
A cloud passed over Fadia’s face and her voice lowered until Carmen strained to hear her. ‘Unfortunately, when my husband died, I was alone and pregnant and the only help I’ve had has been from friends of my husband, but I’m starting to think I don’t really trust them.’
‘Tom told me I was being followed and I moved out of my flat close to the hospital into a hotel for what turned out to be the last day of my pregnancy. The poor driver was beside himself that I would have my babies in his taxi.’
Carmen could imagine it. She’d bet he was terrified. ‘You were lucky they weren’t.’ Crikey.
Fadia’s eyes filled. ‘I think Tom didn’t want Zafar to find me. Zafar is here to take me back to his country, and I am starting to think that is a good thing, but it will separate me from the memories of my husband and mother. Yet my sons need their heritage. Tom said he will help me stay in Australia.’ Her voice became a whisper. ‘But I’m not sure that is what I want.’
‘So when is your husband’s friend—Tom, is it?—coming?’
‘Today. And I’m scared for my sons.’ Fadia began to shake and Carmen frowned as the woman struggled to pull herself together. ‘I hate being weak. But I seem to have lost my strength since my husband died.’
Poor Fadia. And, boy, she was really in the middle of something here, Carmen thought. Then the twin in his cot screwed up his face and let out a blood-curdling wail as if aware of the tragedy of his mother. At least she could do something while her brain raced.
She unwrapped the little boy and checked his nappy before she re-wrapped and lifted him out of the crib. ‘Don’t be cross, little prince.’ Then she tucked him into her neck and gently patted his bottom. The unconscious rhythm soothed them both.
She needed to understand how she could help Fadia. ‘So do you want me to keep this Tom away?’
Fadia’s eyes widened. ‘Can you do that?’
‘Midwives are very good at screening people without upsetting them.’ Carmen shrugged. ‘Lots of times a mother’s labour is going slowly because of an inappropriate person in the birthing room.’ She grinned. ‘Like a scary mother-in-law or a friend she couldn’t say no to.’ She smiled. ‘We suggest they have some time out and they don’t get them back in until the mother asks us to.’ She spread her hands. ‘I could hold Tom off for you. But isn’t your cousin better for that?’
Fadia stroked the bed sheet with her fingers. ‘No. The situation could escalate more than I want’
A strange thing to say but Fadia’s fingers twisted and turned and Carmen held her tongue. ‘Or Zafar might do something to him.’
Carmen barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Oh, come on. This isn’t the Middle Ages.’
‘You don’t understand.’
‘Okay. So, this Tom? Have you got a photo of him?’
Fadia thought for a moment and then nodded. She reached for her purse and removed a photo of a smiling couple, the woman Fadia.
‘Your husband?’ Fadia nodded. Carmen looked at the third person in the photo and there was something about him that reminded her of her ex. Carl. A hardness around his eyes, a sleaziness in his smile. She was good at picking that up now.
Fadia was shaking and Carmen felt for her. That was enough emotional drama for this exhausted mum. ‘Fadia. Can I borrow this? I’ll copy it and give my friend downstairs a copy. We’ll keep an eye out and and nobody will be hurt. But for now…’ she held the baby towards his mother ‘… we could get these boys fed because this little one is going to bring the roof down if he really gets going. And you’re not going to have time to worry about annoying Toms, or frowning Zafars, because these boys will keep you on your toes without them. And after that you get to rest.’
Fadia nodded and some of the strain left her face. ‘You’re right. Thank you.’
An hour later, when Carmen opened the door of Fadia’s room, a tall man in a flowing robe stood up from the chair at the end of the corridor and stared at her as she hesitated in the doorway. What was going on here?
Good grief. This was getting worse. She was guessing Zafar had put a guard on Fadia so maybe there was more she needed to know.
They were infecting her with their dramas but the last thing the new mum needed was more tension and Carmen needed to know what she was up against.
Carmen stiffened her shoulders, let the room door shut behind her and marched up to the guard. ‘I’m assuming you’re Prince Zafar’s man?’
He bowed his head, though his expression remained anything but subservient. ‘Yes, madame. I am Yusuf.’
‘Then, Yusuf, perhaps you could take me to your prince, please.’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘I think not.’ The guard raised his eyebrows, looked her up and down, as if to say she was only a woman and a servant at that, and Carmen’s usually dormant temper flickered. She glared at him. This was really beyond a joke.
Any minute now Fadia could poke her head out and see she was under guard.
Her voice firmed. ‘I think so. Right now, thank you. I’m quite happy to use the stairs.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘The prince and I do know each other.’ A white lie. Serve Zafar right for flirting with her.
She and Yusuf, her new best friend—not—stared at each other for a moment and she could see a faint scar running the full length of the man’s face. He was probably extremely used to defending his prince.
There was stalemate as the silence went on and she threw caution to the winds. ‘I’d hate to have to pass on my displeasure.’
The man’s face tightened and he shrugged fatalistically. ‘As you wish. This way.’ He opened the door to the stairwell and allowed her to precede him. Carmen could hear the swish of his robes behind her, even though his footsteps were silent.
‘Please wait.’
She glanced back and Yusuf held up his hand.
She paused at the top of the stairs and the guard leaned forward and opened the heavy door for her. That second of waiting gave her time to realise she had no clear agenda for her visit with the prince when she arrived. Was it enough of her business to barge in? What on earth was she doing here?
On the seventh floor Carmen could see another guard standing outside the door to the presidential suite and the reality sank in a little further about how different this man’s life was from hers. And how out of her depth she really was.
She paused to say she’d changed her mind but one glance at the cynical face beside her told her dear Yusuf had picked up on her discomfort. Great to know she was providing him with amusement.
That decided her.
Yusuf glanced once more at her determined chin, nodded at the man standing guard, then knocked on the large wooden door.
A few seconds later a tiny robed woman appeared and they spoke a language Carmen didn’t understand but it wasn’t hard to guess what was said—something along the lines of stupid woman annoying our prince, no doubt.
The woman glanced over Carmen, shrugged and stepped back to allow them to enter.
The room opened into a window lined terrace and the magnificent blue vista of Coogee Bay curved like a sickle seven floors below. The scent of sandalwood was strong and quiet discordant music played discreetly in the background.
Several low armchairs were grouped together and there were heaped cushions on colour-rich carpets, all facing the entertainment centre on one side of the room, and a boardroom table with a dozen comfortable chairs took up space on the other.
She’d been in this room before and the furnishing had changed dramatically. It seemed Prince Zafar travelled with his own furniture. A tad different from her bedsit with a rickety bed.
A door leading off into another room opened and Zafar came out—no, she thought, he made an entrance. Dressed in white traditional robes of an Arab, with his head covered, she couldn’t help a little more gaping.
His brows drew together when he saw her but he came forward until he stood in front of her. He looked even bigger and more formidable surrounded by his servants but this time it was not only his physical presence, more the scent of distinct power.
‘You wished to see me.’
She felt the pressure from interested eyes, and he too glanced around. He spoke three short, sharp words that cleared the room like magic.
Despite herself, she was impressed and to her irritation couldn’t deny a little nervous thrill now that they were alone.
‘Please…’ he gestured to the lounge chairs ‘… be seated.’ He gestured to the tiny kitchen. ‘Would you like a juice or water?’
‘No, thank you.’ Despite her dry mouth. Maybe she should have had one to give herself time to think of something to say.
He sat when she did. ‘In that case, what can I do for you?’
She had no idea. ‘I wish to discuss your cousin.’
He inclined his head and she suspected a fleeting crinkle of amusement before he assumed a serious face again. ‘I had guessed that was the case.’
Now she felt silly. Of course he did. She wasn’t here because he’d almost kissed her. Was she? The thought brought a tide of pink to her cheeks and she felt like sliding under the gorgeous carpet or pulling one of those cushions over her face. How did she get herself into these situations?
Another flash of humour. ‘Let me help you.’
She blinked. It wasn’t where she expected help to come from but she’d take it.
‘You’re wondering if I am an ogre, or some medieval lord who drags around unwilling women and their babies…’ he caught her eye and she was sure he could read her agreement in her face, but he went on, ‘… back to being imprisoned in their homeland.’
Just making sure it’s not something like that. ‘Not quite so dramatic but yes.’
‘Thank you for your honesty. Let me explain. Apart from things you cannot be aware of, I think to clear the air between us could save us both some time.’
He smiled at her and she could feel herself soften. Even lean slightly towards him until she realised what she was doing. He seemed so reasonable and she was starting to believe she’d done the right thing to come here in the first place. This guy had serious charisma when he turned it on. She needed to remember that.
A random worry niggled and jostled with her hormones for attention. Please, don’t let me fall again. Carl had been this smooth. This ‘open’ and friendly at first. Before she’d agreed to marry him and discovered how dark his soul really was. She was too easily sucked in by smooth guys. Guys she almost allowed to kiss her in elevators. She felt her shoulders stiffen with the thought. Good.
‘By now you have discovered who I am, although I imagine my title would mean little to you?’ The inflexion made it a question and she answered like the puppet she was trying not to turn into.
‘You’re right. No idea.’
‘So…’ He smiled at her and there was no way she couldn’t smile back, damn him. ‘I am from the small Arabic state of Zandorro that has, by the blessing of Allah, found itself abundantly supplied with oil and precious gems.’
There seemed to be a lot of those around, Carmen thought cynically, but she nodded to show she was paying attention.
‘Our grandfather, King Fahed Al Zamid, is ruler, though his health is not good. Fadia’s father, my uncle, was second in line to the throne until he died.’ He looked at her. ‘Unnatural causes.’
Unnatural causes. She fought to keep her eyebrows level. He went on when she nodded. ‘It was thought Fadia had passed away with her mother several years ago, and as the succession passes only to a male child her wellbeing unfortunately slipped beneath the family’s radar.’
He didn’t explain that but went on. ‘My eldest brother is next in line and I too have become closer to the throne because of these misfortunes.’
He paused, a short one, to see if she understood, and she was glad of the respite while she filed the succession order away in her brain.
She nodded and he continued. ‘But now, with Fadia’s children being male and healthy, they are automatically next in the line of succession.’
She thought about that. Next in line? Major succession. Then he carried on. ‘Unfortunately, this also increases their risk from certain elements once their birth is known, and that is something I have tragic personal experience of. Naturally I am concerned that my cousin and her sons remain safe. And she did ask for help.’
‘Safe. Physical danger? Do you mean kidnapping?’ This was a little more complicated than Fadia had led her to believe. If she believed him, that was, a calm inner voice suggested.
Zafar went on in that reasonable tone that seemed to flow hypnotically. ‘At best. Hence my urgency to find Fadia once we knew she was alive and return her to our country before the babies’ birth in case all of them were in danger away from the palace. At least until we can settle the dangers once and for all. A goal I have been working on.’
‘Do you think there really is a risk of danger?’ She couldn’t help thinking about Fadia’s concerns about Tom.
‘Certainly. Her eldest son is next in line to rule when he comes of age and the younger brother is the next in line after that. Fadia’s sons could provide leverage over the monarchy, which unfortunately is not an uncommon occurrence with our hostile neighbours.’
She was starting to get that.
He shrugged philosophically. ‘Fadia needs to come home, at least for the time being, for her and her sons’ safety, now she is a widow.’
‘I don’t suppose it’s easy for her. I think she has some friends and a life in Australia.’
His lip curled. ‘The friendship of a man who has plans to control a royal widow? A man who pretended to be a friend of her husband, who has helped her remain cut off from her family now she has no husband to protect her?’ She could see the implacable intent in his expression. ‘What sort of man preys on a young woman like that?’
So he knew a little about this Tom. Okay. But wasn’t it Fadia’s final decision they needed to wait for? She stamped down her initial unease over saying something. ‘She seems to have relied on him in the past.’
His gaze sharpened and she could almost smell the briny scent of storm to come. ‘So she has mentioned him?’
She looked away. ‘No.’ She really didn’t think she’d get away with her pitifully thin denial but he wasn’t looking at her.
He’d focussed across the room at the windows. ‘But has he already found where she is?’
She wasn’t touching that assumption. ‘Is that why you have a guard in her corridor?’
His gaze returned to her but he declined to answer that question. ‘Her marriage and the birth of her sons has been an unexpected development for our family.’
His eyes bored into hers. ‘She must come home. But even I would not whisk a new mother with twins away until she has had a chance to recover.’
‘And is that your intention?’ She could see it was.
His look measured her. ‘Yes.’ There was no doubt in his mind anyway.
Now they were down to the real thing. Was he the type of man, like her ex-husband, who saw only his own wants and needs? Did he even care about Fadia the person or just her sons? ‘Even if she’s not a hundred per cent sure she wants to go?’
‘I believe it is in her best interests, and the best interests of her babies to return to Zandorro.’
Controlling creep, then. It seemed Fadia’s wishes were not in the equation at all. ‘You didn’t answer my question.’
‘Again, you do not understand. It is my prerogative to not answer any question.’
Well, that was straight out. She was on Fadia’s side until the young mum definitely decided what she wanted to do. She stood up and he did also. ‘I see. Thank you.’ Her voice was dry. ‘And thank you for seeing me.’
He studied her. Intently. And she felt he could see not just her but right through her. Into her brain. Hopefully not through her clothes. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling. ‘I found our conversation to have been most illuminating.
‘Yes.’ Well, she had learned a little. ‘Some of it was.’
‘Good day, Miss Carmen.’ He bowed and a small smile teased at the side of his mouth. The air in the room seemed suddenly more heavily scented, the music dimmed, and his eyes burned into hers. She knew he was thinking of that moment in the lift. She was too. She could feel the flush in her skin, her neck warmed, and yet she couldn’t look away. His perusal drifted down and swept the full length of her. And it was as if he’d trailed a feather down her skin. She shivered and his eyes darkened even more.
She needed to get away. ‘Good day, Prince Zafar.’
‘My word, it is, Miss Carmen.’

CHAPTER THREE
ZAFAR accompanied her to the door and watched her walk away up the corridor. Actually, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, even toyed with the idea of calling her back until he realised what he was doing.
Her shapely legs would show to advantage in traditional dress and her formless tunic still did not disguise the lushness of her body. He could quite clearly remember his view from yesterday and had even recognised the scent of her skin next to his today.
Unexpected recognition when he barely remembered any woman since his wife had been killed.
The memory saddened him and pulled his mind away from Fadia’s midwife.
Poor, sweet Adele. Theirs had been an arranged marriage, she younger than him, eager to please and expecting her husband to keep her safe. Her broken-hearted family had entrusted him with their precious daughter and he’d failed. The burden of that guilt still weighed heavily on him, the picture of her frightened eyes before the plane crashed haunted him in his sleep.
He hadn’t looked at another woman since. Had lost himself in his work until recalled to royal duty.
Now his task was to ensure Fadia and her sons were safe. Nothing else. But he feared it would not be easy. That was his real problem. He feared. Feared he would not be able to stop something terrible happening. Feared he’d be unable to save Fadia and her sons like he had been unable to save his own family.
Prior to two years ago he’s been afraid of nothing. Evil had arrived and until it was conquered he would not be distracted.
His eyes strayed to the empty corridor. Perhaps the midwife could help, though. And so his concentration returned to Carmen as he turned thoughtfully back into his suite. She had braved the lion in his own den. He admired her courage. And she amused him with her determination not to be cowed by his prestige. But she’d lied about Tom.
So the dog might be here in the hotel. He would have Yusuf investigate. And delve into the delightful Miss Carmen’s past too. Perhaps she could help his cousin more than they knew, and such information would be useful.
He needed Fadia and the twins well enough to travel as soon as possible. He would feel better when he had them back in Zandorro.
Zafar strode across the room and out the doors onto the balcony, punished himself with the rise of gall in his throat from that height, forced himself to grip the rail and glance down. His gut rolled and he stepped back as he drew breath.
His mind roamed while he stared out over the rolling sea. If he cut off the bustling town below, the ocean seemed not dissimilar to the rolling dunes of his desert, and he could feel a lightening of his mood that normally only came when he retreated to solitude.
A whimsical thought intruded where none normally went. He wondered what Miss Carmen would think of the desert or the ways of a desert prince. It was an unexpected but intriguing scenario.
Carmen clanged the door behind her. Her favourite place. The fire escape. He’d burnt her again. It was criminal to be that handsome and mesmerising. But at least she’d found out Fadia was just a pawn on his gold-embossed chess set and she, Carmen O’Shannessy, didn’t like the idea. Or him. If Fadia needed an ally, Carmen was her girl.
It brought back too many unpleasant memories. The way Carl had turned, as early as their honeymoon, swearing at her, keeping her awake with tirades when she’d needed to sleep, wearing her down, demeaning her after a year of desolation until she’d finally accepted the enormity of her mistake and run away. Had moved jobs, states, lost friends until finally she rebuilt her life.
Domineering men did not have a place in her life. She straightened off the door and began her descent. Unfortunately, she could picture this man’s wicked smile so easily and the warmth she’d felt.
No. No trust, especially for men who could cool and heat her body with just a glance. So why did she want to run back and relive the sensation? How did that work?
When Carmen opened the door on the sixth floor, of course her friend the guard was still there. He rose from his chair when she appeared and nodded coldly as she walked past him towards her own room at the end of the corridor.
Made a good little enemy there, she thought as she stared past him to the rooms of mums and babies that looked out over the beach. When she reached the end of the corridor the midwife’s room welcomed her with a sanctuary, which she couldn’t help embracing, from his beady eyes.
So what if her room only held spare supplies? At least she could shut the door—which she did firmly—and lean back against it.
Unfortunately, the barrier didn’t stop the thoughts of Zafar that followed. She couldn’t remember ever being this unsettled over a man and that loss of control brought unpleasant reminders of her marriage.
Carmen pushed herself off the door and straightened the empty baby cots before energetically restocking the linen from the trolley into her shelves. Still needing distraction, she wiped over the bath equipment and scales she used to weigh the babies.
‘Done. Hmm.’ She rested her hand on the computer at the desk, but she didn’t see any of it. She could see Prince Zafar, though, in her mind’s eye, and recalled the way he made her feel.
On Tuesday, refreshed after a full night’s sleep, Carmen welcomed the new mothers recently arrived from their birth at the nearby hospital. When she’d finally made it to her room the phone shrilled with neglect.
‘Midwife. Can I help you?’
‘Carmen? It’s Fadia. I’ve been trying to reach you for ages. There’s a new pink rash on Harrison that’s a bit pimply. Can you come to my room when you get a minute, please?’
‘Sure. Everything else okay?’ No word from Tom, she hoped.
‘The boys and I are fine otherwise, if that’s what you mean.’
Carmen relaxed. ‘Is it okay if I check on one of my other mothers first?’
‘Oh?’
Carmen smiled into the phone. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can but might be ten minutes, unless it’s urgent.’ A little of the privilege she was used to had crept into Fadia’s voice. Interesting family. ‘That way I can spend longer with you when I get there.’
‘Of course. No problem. I’ll see you soon.’
The time Carmen spent with the other young mum seemed to fly and she glanced at her watch as she waved goodbye. She needed to arrange times for weights for those who were going home that day but she’d better check the princess first. She made her way to Fadia. With two babies to care for, she needed the most help.
Carmen knocked, then opened the door with her key, and almost walked into Zafar who again was with his cousin.
His black brows rose in disbelief. ‘You have a key?’
Carmen shared her own frown. That tone. That arrogance. She wasn’t sure why it goaded her so much but thankfully she wasn’t one of his underlings. ‘Yes. To all the mothers’ rooms so they don’t have to get up to let me in.’
She tilted her head at him. ‘Of course I always knock first.’
Now inscrutable, his ‘I’m sure you do’ left Carmen seething again. What was it about this man that pressed her buttons? Normally the easiest-going person, just a glance from him was enough to raise her blood pressure, and yet his actions were almost reasonable in the circumstances. So why wasn’t her response more tranquil?
She narrowed her eyes at him. Did he think she was in collusion with Tom? ‘I hope Fadia is able to rest between feeds. Having you come so often, that is.’
‘My cousin would be able to rest if the midwife came immediately when she was asked.’
So now we get to his Excellency’s displeasure. Tsk, tsk. Real world. ‘Unfortunately, your cousin is not my only patient.’
His lips tightened and he glanced at his watch. ‘Then I will arrange it to be so.’ There it was, his red rag to her bull.
It’s not all about you, buster. ‘You will do no such thing, Your Highness.’ She stressed the title, more to calm her own urge to throttle him than out of respect. Was this guy for real? The most annoying part was that she couldn’t let it show because drama was the last thing Fadia needed. She smiled at her patient before she turned back to the royal pain.
‘Perhaps this topic is best saved for a time that isn’t taking up your cousin’s.’ She moved past him. ‘Now, Fadia, would you like to show me your baby’s rash?’
Zafar’s voice floated over her shoulder, blandly. ‘I have already told her it is erythema toxicarum, a rash very common in the first three days in newborns.’
Carmen blinked but didn’t turn to look at him. Obviously he had a medical advantage he hadn’t mentioned. Typical.
‘My cousin is a paediatrician and established the new children’s hospital in Zandorro before he was recalled to his duty to the monarchy,’ Fadia explained.
That would explain his knowledge and also a little more about why they’d let the twins out so early. She looked at the red pimply rash on Harrison’s neck and arms. So he knew what he was talking about.
‘He’s right. And mums are naturally concerned.’ She smiled at Fadia. ‘You might find that the rash moves with heat. So if you were to hold Harrison’s leg while you changed a nappy you might find the rash had suddenly become more prominent there and less prominent from where it showed a minute ago.’
Zafar was over harmless rashes. ‘I agree that my cousin looks tired. Is there a nursery where the babies can go while she sleeps?’
And who had made it easier for her to leave the hospital ward too quickly? Carmen thought. Hmm. ‘I’m afraid we don’t have that option here. This facility is for transition to home. If Fadia wanted to have the babies minded she could return to the hospital or have a relative stay in the room while she rests.’
She spread her hands. Her look said she doubted Fadia would relax while he was watching over her.
‘Or I could hire a mothercraft nurse for you again. Surely that would be easier?’ Zafar queried his cousin, but Fadia’s eyes pleaded as she shook her head. ‘No. Please.’
‘For the moment we will do as you wish.’ Zafar frowned and Carmen wondered if he was regretting he’d hurried her here.
She watched his face but he gave nothing away. ‘I will discuss this with your midwife later today.’ It seemed Zafar was choosing to leave this time or was he wary of her asking him to go. Either way, Carmen was pleased she didn’t have to fight about it.
Left to their own devices, the women had the babies fed and settled within the hour. Despite a tantrum from Harry that rattled the windows and an inclination from Bailey to sleep through the feed, finally the curtains closed so Fadia could have a rest.
‘You can ring me if they wake and I’ll help you get sorted for the feed.’
Fadia nodded sleepily.
‘Ring the midwife’s room if you get stuck. If I get tied up, the other midwife will be here and I’ll see you tomorrow.’
The day seemed to stretch for ever, not unusual after Carmen’s run of night duty was finished, but tonight was the second of the four in her week when she could fall into bed and sleep the night through.
As seven o’clock drew closer, she found herself looking forward to a break. Handover took longer than normal for the night midwife because the intricacies of Fadia’s case involved so many layers. Finally she was riding down in the lift to the basement on her way home.
‘You look exhausted.’ Zafar was leaning against her car.
Was that a coincidence or did he really know it was her vehicle? Tiredness suddenly took a back seat to nervous energy. ‘I’m feeling a little wired after today. Strange men who recognise my car make me even more cross.’
He smiled, unperturbed, but offered no explanation as he watched her.
She tapped her foot with irritability—not nervous energy. She wished he’d go away. Almost. ‘Did you want something, Prince Zafar? Apart from to tell me that I look tired, which was very kind. Thank you.’
Zafar pushed himself off her bonnet and loomed in front of her. ‘I wish to invite you to walk with me. Even tired, you are lovely.’
Yeah, right. Lovely with little sleep. She resisted the urge to step back. A walk? ‘Now? It’s almost dark.’ She narrowed her eyes. Kidnapping had been mentioned. ‘Why?’
He shrugged. ‘Because it would be good to get out of the hotel. Walk along the cliff top. What is it you say? Blow away the cobwebs? That is one of the things I miss most about Australia. The graphic expressions.’
So he’d lived here before. It had been an endless twenty-four hours but his background and history couldn’t but intrigue some part of her. Had he lived here before he was a prince perhaps? A young doctor? That made him more normal. She met those every day.
The idea of walking in the fresh air before driving to her solitary flat was tempting. Let the stresses of the day be whisked into the salty breeze that blew a mere hundred metres away. It held some attraction, as did the idea of hearing a little about this enigmatic man in front of her.
‘Perhaps a short one. I sleep better with exercise.’
‘So obliging,’ he mocked gently.
Carmen glanced at her car, shrugged her shoulders, and added, ‘Or I could go home now.’
He smiled. And what a smile. The most spontaneous grin she’d seen. ‘I am walking. Would you care to accompany me?’ Still optional, and it seemed she did want to go because her legs made their own decision and followed him up the ramp like she was on a string.

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