her to do something against what, she believes, is meant to be. She would see, and accept, her illness as the will of God. Can you understand that?’
Alex nodded, then, for all her determination not to even look at him, she found herself returning his smile as understanding of Samarah’s opposition became clear.
‘Ah,’ she said. ‘I did wonder why she was so adamant about it, but if she feels that way, of course she doesn’t want to interfere in what she feels should be beyond her control. Can you persuade her? Could you convince her that she is better off taking mild medication than having to take the really heavy-duty stuff when she has an attack?’
His smile had slipped away, and he looked darkly grave, as if, in his mind, he’d slipped away, and to a not-very-happy place.
‘My brother could have,’ he said quietly, and this time she heard the pain distinctly. ‘My brother could have charmed the birds from the trees so my mother was easy work for him.’
He paused, looking out over the delights of the garden courtyard, and Alex imagined she could feel his pain, throbbing in the air between them.
‘I will try,’ he said, ‘and in the meantime you will stay, care for her, until Maya, her niece, returns?’
Although the invitation sounded forced, as if the man felt he had no alternative but to ask, Alex’s immediate reaction was to agree, for she’d grown very fond of Samarah and certainly wouldn’t leave her without competent medical support, particularly while she was grieving for her son. But money, something Alex had never thought she’d have to worry about, reared its ugly avaricious head, and she hesitated.
As the full extent of Rob’s indebtedness had became obvious, she’d promised her dying mother she’d repay his debts, clearing the family’s name and restoring its honour, but beyond that promise was the fact that her sister-in-law, unable to work herself because of her daughter’s special needs, was relying on her. No way could Alex let these much-loved people down.
An image of the money-lender’s henchman rose up in her mind, clashing with memories of the promise. She’d met him only once and that had been enough. There was no way she could allow that man to terrorise her sister-in-law or her frail little niece.
Alex drew in a deep breath. It was useless. No breath could be deep enough for what she was about to ask, so she blurted out the words she hated having to say.
‘I can stay. I’d be happy to, but personal reasons mean that I can’t stay unless—’
She balked! She couldn’t do it!
‘Unless?’ he prompted, and she knew the coldness and suspicion she’d imagined she’d heard earlier had returned to his voice.
She stood up and did a little pace of her own around the carpet, avoiding the man who now stood close to the steps that led into the garden.
‘Look, this is an embarrassing thing to have to ask and I am ashamed to have to ask it, but if I stay, could I talk to you about some wages? Originally it was just to be two days—fly over with Samarah and fly back—then the stopover and now her niece isn’t here to take over … We’d become friends, Samarah and I, and I was happy to be able to help, but I’ve this obligation—money that is paid out of my bank account regularly—and if I’m not working, not earning, if the money’s not there—’
He cut her off with a wave of his hand, an abrupt movement that seemed to ward her off, although she was back on the settee now, embarrassed—no, utterly humiliated—by having to discuss money with a stranger.
‘Money!’ he snapped. ‘Of course there’ll be money. Do not worry, Dr Conroy, you will be well paid!’
He stalked away, his white robe swirling around him, and what felt like disgust trailing in his wake.
Not that Alex could blame him—she was pretty disgusted herself, but what else could she have done?
Anger pushed Azzam away from the woman. No, not anger so much as an irritated discomfort. At himself for not realising she wasn’t being paid? No, the sensation seemed to have been triggered by the fact that she’d been so obviously uncomfortable at having to discuss it.
By the fact he’d made her uncomfortable?
Of course she should be paid, he’d arrange it immediately. Yet as her words replayed in his head he heard the strain behind them, particularly when she’d said ‘obligation’. Now more questions arose. If the money for this obligation was paid automatically from her bank account, what good would cash be to her here?
He wheeled round, returning to find she’d walked into the garden and was moving from one rose bush to the next, smelling the blooms. The rose she held to her face now was crimson, and it brushed a little colour into her cheeks. For a moment he weakened—his irritation slipping slightly—because there was something special about the sight of that slim, jeans-clad woman standing among the roses.
‘You might give your serving woman your bank details. If, as you say, payments are taken regularly from your account, it is best I transfer the money direct into it rather than give you cash.’
‘If, as I say?’ she retorted, stepping away from the crimson rose and facing him, anger firing the silvery eyes. ‘Do you think I’d lie to you? Or are you just trying to humiliate me further? Do you think that asking a stranger for wages wasn’t humiliating enough for me? Do you think I wouldn’t care for Samarah out of fondness and compassion if I didn’t have financial obligations? Believe me, if I’d had an alternative, I’d have taken it.’
She stormed away, her body rigid with the force of her anger as she slapped her feet against the paving stones.
There’d been a ring of truth in her words, and the anger seemed genuine, and for a moment he regretted upsetting her. But Bahir’s death had brought back too many reminders of Clarice’s arrival in their midst, and suspicion was a bitter seed that flourished in pain and grief.
She shouldn’t have asked, Alex told herself as, on shaking legs, she escaped the man.
She should have told him she had to leave immediately!
But how could she leave the gentle Samarah when she was grieving and ill? How could she, Alex, just walk away from a woman she’d come to admire and respect?
She’d had to ask, she reminded herself, so she may as well stop getting her knickers in a twist over it. So what if the man thought she was a mercenary female?
She kicked off her shoes with such force one of them flew across the paving, disturbing the neat rows of sandals already there. Muttering to herself, she squatted down to restore them all to order and it was there Samarah found her.
‘You will eat with us this evening?’ she asked in her quiet, barely accented English. ‘I am afraid we have neglected you shamefully, but I was tired from the flight and slept until late in the day. In our country we pride ourselves on our hospitality. It comes from the time of our nomad ancestors, when to turn someone away from a camp in the desert might be to send them to their death.’
‘I would be honoured to eat with you,’ Alex told her, standing up and studying Samarah’s face, then watching her chest to check it was moving without strain. ‘You are feeling all right?’
Samarah
