are a guest of Sheik Karim Abdullah in his Tihrin palace. You’re fine. You have a good, strong pulse. Once this IV runs out, we can remove the needle. Feeling better?”
“Thank you. Yes.” She sat up to prove it. She didn’t like the idea of some strange doctor examining her while she’d been unconscious. She didn’t want anyone to know her secret.
“Did you have enough to eat and drink today?” the doctor asked.
Julia noticed the platter of food on a low, round table behind the woman—fresh fruits and other bite-size nourishment that looked exotically unidentifiable, but not the least bit appetizing at the moment. These days she was alternating between ravenous and nauseous, and was currently feeling the latter.
“Yes, thank you.” She drew a deep breath to dispel the queasiness around her middle.
“Please do remember plenty of fluids. Our summers are mercilessly hot. I hope this little incident won’t ruin your enjoyment of our beautiful country.” The doctor smiled, all mothering warmth. “Looks like the IV is done. Let me take care of that.” She removed the needle without causing any pain, stuck a cotton ball over the puncture wound. “Bend your elbow and hold this here for a few minutes.”
She stood and began placing everything into her old-fashioned, black leather doctor’s bag. “I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow. Try to get as much rest as possible until then.”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” With Aziz gone, she had no reason to stay in the country. “I will be leaving here.”
Dr. Jinan gave her a smile one would give a petulant child. She was poised and self-assured, obviously a woman secure in her own power, challenging Julia’s preconception of the women of Beharrain. Every rule had a few exceptions, she supposed.
Not that she had time to ponder the doctor. Karim Abdullah walked in immediately, as if he’d been waiting outside. He paused at the door and exchanged a few words with Dr. Jinan.
Julia searched their faces, unable to figure out anything. They spoke in Arabic. Did they know? They couldn’t. Nobody could tell just by looking at her that she was pregnant, not even a doctor, she was pretty sure of that.
She would have told Aziz her secret. Probably. That was why she had come here. He was the father and he deserved to know, even though he had cut off communications with her. Or so she had thought. Now she knew the truth about why he hadn’t returned her calls. The shock was still as fresh as it had been when she’d first heard the news.
Pain filled her chest and squeezed her lungs. Aziz was gone. It seemed impossible. She had never known anyone as filled with life and wide-open to the world, as charming.
He’d charmed a great many people; she had found that out when she ran a search on him on the Internet after he’d returned to his home, and she’d seriously considered taking him up on his invitation to visit him. The celebrity reports were full of his pictures, labeling him the Playboy Sheik. That had been a disappointment, not that he had promised her anything. The information had been enough to make her realize the brief affair for what it was: a few days of fun with an exotic stranger. She’d succeeded in putting Aziz out of her mind until those two pink lines appeared on a white plastic stick.
She took a few days to digest the news. Then called him without success. If she’d checked the Internet again, she would have found out about his death…wouldn’t have come here…to his daunting brother.
A few of those news reports she’d read mentioned Aziz’s twin. They had called him the Dark Sheik, without explanation, making her wonder. And now she was in the Dark Sheik’s house. She looked around. Scratch that. The Dark Sheik’s palace. God, it sounded like a gothic novel.
She had figured she would come here, would see how Aziz felt about the possibility of a baby. She wasn’t going to tell him until she got a better idea of what kind of man he really was. Their time in Baltimore had been way too short. They had had some whirlwind dates and one night of passion, the day before he left. She had thought herself to be half in love with him and had been sure he felt the same. She was pretty certain now that he hadn’t, but still, he was the father, and she had wanted to give it another go, if for no other reason than so she could tell her child later in life that she had tried. Her own parents had been all messed up. If she could help it, she wanted something better for her baby.
She was going to come here and see how Aziz was in his own environment. When and if she felt comfortable with it, she would have told him her news. Not a moment before that. Whatever happened, she was going to protect her baby. She was never going to let her or him go.
“Doctor Jinan tells me you are well.” Karim came over once the woman left. He was not handsome, not with that scar. But he had a strong, masculine presence that drew her full attention to him. He stopped at a respectable distance from the bed, looking larger and harder than Aziz, infinitely more dangerous. Where Aziz’s face had reflected humor, mischief and a sexy sort of cockiness about life, Karim’s was bathed in darkness. And she didn’t think all of that came from his scar.
He was wearing a fresh, crisp suit, his hair neatly combed. She felt dirty and sweaty and rumpled in comparison, but wouldn’t let that stop her.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Abdullah.” Grateful that nobody had undressed her, she pushed off the cover and swung her legs over the side of the bed, glancing around for her shoes. There. She slipped into them. “I’m sorry for all the inconvenience I caused.”
With Aziz gone, she had no intention of staying here a day longer, no intention of letting Aziz’s family know about the baby. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do, but she was leery of the culture and felt none too trusting toward Aziz’s twin brother. He looked as if he could—and would—take the law into his own hands if he felt the need. And he was a sheik, son of a king, as Aziz had been. He probably had a fair amount of power.
When her child was eighteen, she would reveal the truth and leave the decision up to her or him.
“Would it be possible to call a taxi?” She flashed Karim her most polite smile, refusing to be intimidated by him.
Given her social and economic background, she’d spent half her life being intimidated by the wealthy and powerful, by people in charge. But she’d had to get over that in a hurry when she had joined a nonprofit organization and had to interact daily with the elite. And over time, she’d learned that they were just like everybody else, with the same joys and fears and virtues and weaknesses.
Not that she could see Karim having a whole lot of fears or weaknesses. He had faced that car bomb down, cool as anything, and the memory of the incident was still making her heart beat faster.
“May I ask what your plans are?” He had his hands in his pockets as he rested his dark gaze on her. He might as well have been carved of solid rock, he looked that unmovable. But he was quick—she remembered him diving for her from his car. He loomed larger than life.
Exactly the kind of man she needed to avoid at all cost. She swallowed to wet her mouth.
“I’m going back to the hotel and probably flying out tonight if I can change my flight. I’m truly sorry about your brother.” She was, and she needed time to deal with the sudden news. But she needed to get away from Karim Abdullah’s searching gaze first.
“Perhaps you could tell me why you were looking for him?” His voice was even and low, with the sort of tone that made
