seizures.”
“What can be done?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice neutral.
“Bed rest. Medication if necessary. Swelling is a symptom—”
“But my sister’s ankles are swollen. She often says she’s retaining enough water to raise the level of the Arabian Sea.”
Ali smiled at the exaggeration. “That’s normal. Swelling in the hands and face isn’t. You need to watch her for—”
Johara came back in the room pressing a hand to her lower back. “I can’t believe I will be a mother in a few short weeks. Part of me is very anxious to see my baby and hold him. But another part of me is afraid of the process of bringing him into the world.”
“You’ll do fine,” Ali assured her.
“Aunt Farrah tells me it doesn’t hurt. But I don’t know whether or not to believe her.”
“People tolerate pain differently,” Ali said, cautiously diplomatic.
“She’s never given birth,” Kamal said wryly.
“Oh. That would tend to cancel out her opinion.” Ali put her arm around Johara and led her to the sofa, then gently settled her on it. She sat down beside the teenager. “I’ve never had a child either, but I’ve been present at many births. Without firsthand experience, I can only give you my impressions. There is pain. But there are medications to help manage it. Next week when you see the doctor we can talk about those things. Knowledge is power. The more you know, the more in control you’ll feel.”
“I think so, too,” she agreed. “What do you think, Kamal?”
“What Ali says makes a lot of sense. She’s studied and worked hard in her field. You should be glad she agreed to work in our country.”
“Oh, I am. But I wish—” Johara lowered her gaze to the clasped hands in her lap.
“What, little one?” he asked gently.
“I wish my mother was here.”
Kamal tried to understand. He’d lost his own mother when he was but ten years old and didn’t remember what it was like to rely on anyone else. Because that was the first time he’d seen his father anything but strong and in control. Five years later the king had married Johara’s mother then lost her as well. He’d staggered beneath the grief of losing another beloved wife and the weakness took a profound toll. It was then Kamal had vowed love would never bring him to his knees that way.
Kamal sat on her other side and touched a finger beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “If I could bring her back for you, I would in a heartbeat.”
Unhappiness settled over her delicate features. “I have no father—”
“Yes, you do—”
She shook her head. “No. You heard him. When he learned of my baby he said I am no longer his daughter. Ever since, he has only spoken to me when absolutely necessary and always in anger. I have shamed him and he will never forgive me. I am worse than dead to him.”
Kamal feared she was correct. “Give him time, Johara. Until then, know this. You are not alone. I will be with you.”
“You are so good to me. There is something I would ask,” she said, taking his hand between her two smaller ones.
From the time she was very little, she’d followed him around and looked up to him. He cared deeply for his only sister, this fragile woman/child of beauty, spirit and fierce independence. “You have only to name your pleasure, little sister, and I will make it so. Ask of me anything.”
“I want Ali to move into the palace and be with me until my baby is born.”
Anything but that.
Chapter Two
Stay in the palace?
Ali hadn’t seen that one coming. Stupid, but true. She sank into the cushy plushness of the semicircular white sofa and thought, there were adventures. And there were adventures. It’s why she’d come to El Zafir in the first place.
It’s also why she’d agreed to accompany the doctor on this house call—or should she say palace call. The chance to have a gander at the inside of the royal palace was irresistible. But staying there 24–7? A girl from the wrong side of the tracks in Nowhere, Texas? That could be pushing the adventure envelope too far. She’d feel like a guppy in a garden chair.
Kamal’s gaze gave no hint of his reaction to the request as he studied her. Then he looked at his sister who sat beside him. He took her hand protectively into his own.
“Johara, is that really necessary? The palace physician is here and—”
“He is not an obstetrician.”
“Neither is Ali,” he pointed out.
“But she works with my doctor. She understands these things and I feel comfortable with her.”
“You wound me, little one. I am your brother. I wish to be here for you and I thought you were untroubled in my presence. Am I—what is that American saying?”
“Chopped liver,” Ali supplied.
“Exactly. Am I chopped liver?”
“You are a man, Kamal.”
Same thing, Ali thought. When he frowned, she was afraid she’d either voiced her opinion or he’d read her mind. Either way she would be toast. But he didn’t say anything.
The princess rested her head on his shoulder in a conciliatory gesture. “I do not wish to offend you. But at a time like this, a woman wants another woman with her.”
“You have Penny and Crystal,” he said. “I’m certain it would make them happy to be available to you.”
She shook her head. “They are newly married and they do not have medical training. Besides, I do not wish to intrude on their happiness.”
“They are married to your brothers who are as concerned for your welfare as I.”
“I do not wish to take my brothers’ wives from them at a time when their focus should be on starting their new lives. And families.”
Ali watched the exchange between brother and sister. The crown prince’s reaction was very interesting. Until this moment, she hadn’t thought royalty could sweat or squirm. Unless she missed her guess, he was darn close to doing both. But what was the problem? Maybe it had something to do with that invisible line between royalty and commoners. He was cordial and polite, but he wanted her at a distance.
Ali held up her hand. “Excuse me, but—”
“Might I suggest Aunt Farrah?” He dropped a quick kiss on the top of Johara’s dark head. “She is a single woman and has been like a mother to you since you lost your own.”
“Our aunt has indeed been very
