later, satisfied with the doctor’s assurance that Darcy’s rise in temperature was not significant enough to be worried about, Zafir waited impatiently for the ambulance to arrive. In turn, their patient had become particularly quiet. She was clearly lost in a mysterious landscape of her own.
He had no idea what she might be thinking. Once upon a time he wouldn’t have had to speculate. He had been as intimately attuned to her thoughts and feelings as any man in love could be, and he still carried the grief of her betrayal like a suppurating wound that would never heal.
The sound of an ambulance siren pierced the room’s growing preternatural stillness, and it had the same impact as a lightning bolt flashing outside.
As Zafir hurried across the oak floor, with Rashid behind him, he called out over his shoulder to the doctor. ‘Keep a watch on Miss Carrick. Don’t let her out of your sight!’
‘What do you think I’m going to do? Perform some kind of magic trick and make myself disappear? I wish,’ Darcy grumbled sarcastically.
Zafir didn’t waste time with a response. He was already at the door, throwing it wide in order to hurry out into the hallway. Addressing the man at the front door, who introduced himself as the chief paramedic, he guided him and the two other crew members into the drawing room. Darcy was resting her back against the curve of the elegant couch, as though it had taken the strain off of the accident, but in spite of her little outburst just now she wasn’t able to hide the fact that she was worried.
So was Zafir. Right then, he honestly didn’t know what he was going to do about the consequences of her fall from his garden wall or her startling reappearance into his life. In truth, he was still knocked sideways at seeing her again. And as yet he hadn’t decided whether to prosecute her or not. Most people in his privileged circle wouldn’t hesitate to throw the book at her.
Hadn’t he learned that she wasn’t to be trusted? people would say. That she was nothing but a sly opportunist...a Jezebel.
He could almost hear the condemning words echo round his brain. Wasting no more time in deliberating—that would have to wait until they had the X-ray results—he instructed the paramedics to do what they had to do and transport her into the ambulance.
She was wearing jeans, a deep blue woollen sweater and a short mustard-coloured jacket. And as the paramedics expertly lifted her slender frame onto a stretcher Zafir observed that she’d grown a little thinner since he’d seen her last. Had she been eating properly?
He remembered that she’d often lose her appetite when she was stressed, and even though he knew he shouldn’t give a jot if something was troubling her, knew that Darcy was nothing to him any more, he gruffly declared, ‘I will accompany my guest to the hospital.’
‘Of course, Your Highness,’ the paramedic responded. ‘Just to reassure you, I think it’s going to be a very straightforward procedure. The young lady will soon be as right as rain again—you’ll see.’
He was a slightly overweight, cheerful-looking man of forty-plus, with a receding hairline—one of those dependable sorts that the great British public would probably describe as ‘the salt of the earth’. And, oddly, Zafir was reassured—at least for a minute or two.
* * *
When the attentive medical staff at the hospital stretchered Darcy into an examination room, Zafir came with her. Before they’d entered Dr Eden had given them his own efficient assessment and, in deference to his colleagues, told his employer that he would wait for him outside.
All of these events hardly reassured Darcy. The familiar scent associated with anything medical, along with the forbidding-looking examination couch, made her feel queasy, and Zafir’s daunting aristocratic presence even more so. But the most pressing thing of all on her mind was her son. At present Sami was in the care of her mother, because she was babysitting him, but what if she had to tell her that she needed to stay in hospital for the night?
Darcy had never told her mother who Sami’s father was, and she contemplated how she would couch her words in order to cause the least anxiety. She knew her mother would think she’d lost her mind—climbing the walls of the Sheikh’s home in an attempt to speak to him. Especially when she’d ended up spraining her ankle.
Was it worth it? She could hear her mother ask. You should have gone down the proper route of arranging a meeting with him, no matter how long it took. Look at what you’ve risked!
Darcy’s heart suddenly felt as heavy as a boulder inside her chest.
And that would be before she conveyed to her mother the fact that her ex-employer had been furious at her finding him even before she’d told him that he’d left her pregnant and that he now had a son.
Seeing as he was now engaged to be married, the news would hardly be the best he could receive. But, at the same time, what would the repercussions be for her? What if he immediately demanded custody of Sami? Or...worse still...wanted to take him back to Zachariah, away from her and all he had known for the past four years? That didn’t bear thinking about.
DARCY HAD A splint and a crepe bandage fitted round her injured ankle. Thankfully, the X-ray had revealed no broken bones, but Darcy had badly torn the ligaments and would need at least three weeks’ complete rest to help them start to heal—beginning with one full night at the hospital so that the medical staff could keep an eye on her.
That was the part that alarmed her the most. The swish, luxurious medical facility was clearly private, and there was no way on earth she could afford to spend any of her hard-earned cash on a stay here. It was essential she get home.
Zafir had gone to consult with the doctor and her need to talk to him was growing ever more urgent. The tension she was feeling was near unbearable. But just then he returned, and his arresting presence stirred the air. There was no sign of Rashid or Dr Eden.
The impact Zafir made in his impressive garb hit her anew. With his chiselled, strong-boned features and flowing dark hair his commanding appearance was enough to render anyone speechless. He was simply magnificent.
Propped up by a couple of plump pillows in the hospital bed, with her ankle elevated, Darcy felt her heart bump nervously against her ribs. She couldn’t help feeling a little intimidated. Instinct told her that with all the drama of her fall perhaps now wasn’t the right time to tell him about Sami, even though it was the sole reason she’d gone to his house.
Perhaps her confession should take place under more conducive circumstances? If she could arrange such a scenario, might he view her sudden unsettling appearance in his life more favourably?
Impulsively, she reached for his hand. Having not told her mother that she’d be back late, she felt her fears about spending the night away from her young son escalating.
‘I can’t possibly stay the night here, Zafir. I need to get home. There—there’s something important I have to do.’
Mesmerised, he stared down at the slender hand clasping his as if he couldn’t quite believe it was hers. Then he lifted his head, and where previously his dark eyes had been entranced, they were now hard with suspicion. Obviously he wasn’t going to be extending an olive branch to her any time soon.
‘What do you have to do that’s so important?’ he demanded. ‘Is it that you want to tell your accomplice
