and she had known that … as Khalid must have known that their relationship had been doomed to failure.
Sam sighed as once again her thoughts returned to Khalid. Rolling over, she tried to get comfortable. She needed to sleep or she’d be fit for nothing tomorrow or, rather, today. Closing her eyes, she allowed her mind to drift, deciding it was easier than trying to steer it in any direction. Pictures flowed in and out of her mind: the desert they had flown over; the summer palace shimmering like a mirage in its lush green setting….
The sound of stealthy footsteps made her eyes fly open and she peered into the darkness. Was there someone in the room, Jess perhaps? Barely daring to breathe, she eased herself up against the pillows and felt her heart knock against her ribs when she saw the outline of a man silhouetted against the window. It hadn’t occurred to her to close the shutters and she could feel the fear rising inside her as the figure approached the bed. Grabbing the clock off the nightstand, she held it aloft, wishing she had a more substantial weapon with which to defend herself.
‘Get out or you’re going to regret it!’
‘Sam, it’s me.’
Khalid’s deep voice was the last thing she had expected to hear. The clock slid from her fingers and landed on the floor with a crash. Sam stared at him as he came closer, still not sure if he was real or a figment of her imagination.
‘Khalid?’ she whispered, her own voice sounding husky in the silence. ‘Is it really you?’
‘Yes.’
He bent so that she could see his face and her breath caught when she saw how his eyes glittered with an emotion she couldn’t interpret. When he moved closer, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek, she almost cried out. It took every scrap of will power she could muster to lie there and not do anything, not react in any way at all. Khalid had come to her and it was up to him to tell her why.
‘I’m sorry to wake you, Sam. I know how tired you must be after the journey.’ His voice sounded softer, deeper, strumming her nerves like a violin bow, and she shuddered.
‘What do you want?’ she murmured, wishing that she sounded more certain and less unsure.
‘You.’ He suddenly smiled, his teeth gleaming whitely in the moonlight. ‘I need you, Sam.’
‘THE BABY’S BREECH. It’s too late to turn it or perform a C-section so we’ll have to deliver it vaginally.’
Sam turned to Jess and smiled. Although the young mother, Isra, couldn’t understand what they were saying, she would soon guess how serious the situation was if they showed any signs of concern. Sam could tell that the girl was terrified and it wouldn’t help if they lost her confidence at this point.
‘I’ve not delivered a breech before,’ Jess murmured, following Sam’s lead and smiling broadly. ‘I hope you have.’
‘I’ve done my share,’ Sam assured her, washing her hands in the basin of water on the dresser. There was no point stating the obvious, that the breech deliveries she’d been involved with had been carried out in the safety of a highly equipped maternity unit. They didn’t have such luxuries on tap here so they would have to manage the best way they could.
‘I need a word with Khalid,’ she told Jess, refusing to dwell on the negatives. She had delivered several breech babies and every single one of them had survived. There was no reason to think that this baby wouldn’t survive too. ‘Our biggest problem is going to be the language barrier so we’ll need an interpreter.’
‘OK. Anything you want me to do?’ Jess asked, sponging Isra’s face.
‘Not really. I’ll only be a moment,’ Sam assured her.
She left the bedroom, frowning when she discovered that there was nobody about. After Khalid had woken her, he had led her to the servants’ quarters. Isra was the wife of one of the palace cooks and she and her husband lived in the grounds. Although their house was only small, much smaller than the one she and Jess were sharing, it was spotlessly clean and tidy.
Sam peered into a kitchen, which boasted a woodburning stove, and a tiny but well-equipped bathroom as she made her way along the passageway. From what she could see, the staff were well catered for and it was good to know that they were treated with respect. She came to the sitting room, which was also small but very attractive with brightly coloured rugs on the tiled floor and heaps of cushions on the low couches. It all looked very comfortable but decidedly empty. Where was everyone?
Sam stepped out of the door, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, and heard footsteps approaching. Just for a second her mind whizzed back to those moments in the bedroom when she had spotted the silhouette of a man highlighted against the window and she felt her heart race. If she’d known it was Khalid, would she have felt more afraid or less? Would it have been better to face an intruder than to face him and have to go through those seconds when she’d thought he had wanted her for a very different reason?
‘How is she doing?’
Khalid’s voice cut through her thoughts, cool and clear in the silence of the night, and Sam shivered. She turned towards him, taking care to maintain a neutral expression. There was no way that she was going to let him know how she had felt, definitely no way that she was prepared to admit that she had wanted him too, although not for his skills as a surgeon. It would be foolish to do that, foolish and dangerous as well. Giving Khalid licence to toy with her emotions again was a mistake she didn’t intend to make.
‘The baby’s breech,’ she informed him crisply. ‘It’s too late to perform a section so we’re going to have to deliver it vaginally but we’ll need an interpreter. The mother’s co-operation is vital in this situation.’
‘Of course,’ Khalid agreed, frowning.
Sam’s brows rose. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘Unfortunately, yes. The female interpreter I’ve hired isn’t joining us until tomorrow.’
‘Surely there must be someone else here who speaks English.’
‘Of course. However, they are all male.’
‘So?’
‘So it wouldn’t be right to allow them to be present at the birth.’
‘Why on earth not?’ Sam exclaimed.
‘Because men are not allowed to be present at the birth of a child, not even the father, let alone an outsider.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Sam declared hotly.
‘It may seem so to you but it’s a cultural issue.’ He shrugged, his face betraying little of what he was feeling. If he was annoyed by her outburst it didn’t show, Sam thought, but, then, why should he feel anything? Khalid was indifferent to her, as he had made clear. The thought stung so that it was an effort to focus when he continued.
‘Isra would lose the respect of her husband and her family if it were to happen. It’s out of the question, I’m afraid.’
‘How
