Date with a Surgeon Prince(15)

‘And you?’ his perhaps betrothed asked softly. ‘Are you the right man for the job?’





CHAPTER FOUR





GAZ—SHE COULDN’T think of him as anything else—didn’t reply, simply putting one hand in the small of her back to guide her along a path between the huge houses towards what looked like stables beyond more garden.

Not stables but garages.

‘There are horses,’ he said, ‘at the old palace, but I think my father realised we’d have no use for them here, so where, traditionally, the stables would be, he built “stalls” for cars.’

‘So many cars?’ Marni queried, seeing the long line of garages.

Gaz shrugged.

‘Oh, you never know when someone might need to go somewhere,’ he said, nodding to an elderly man who came forward to meet them. The man wore the loose trousers and long tunic top common among the locals, with a snug-fitting, embroidered cap on his head.

Listening to the fluid sounds of the words as Gaz spoke, Marni felt a longing to learn the language—to learn all she could about this fascinating country, although, she realised rather glumly, once the pretend betrothal ended she’d certainly have to leave.

If there was a pretend betrothal…

‘I was explaining we won’t need a big car and driver, but Fayyad is horrified. He feels I’m not respecting my position enough.’

Again a touch on the small of her back, and her body’s inevitable response.

Gaz steered her to where a battered four-wheel drive was relegated to a car port rather than a garage, and held the passenger door open for her.

Still totally bemused by the outcome of this visit to the palace, Marni climbed in. The day had taken on a dream-like quality, and she was moving through the dream without conscious thought. Gaz slid in behind the wheel and drove out through a rear gate, waving to the two men who squatted on the ground beside the big open doors.

‘To answer your question,’ Gaz said, taking what seemed like a little-used track that appeared to lead directly into the desert, ‘I am reluctantly coming to the conclusion that I am the right man for the job, although I would far rather have continued my surgical career. All I can hope is that once I’ve got the job sorted—I’ve only been in it a couple of months—I can continue operating, at least on a part-time basis.’

Intrigued by his answer, Marni turned to look at him—not a good idea, for he flashed her a smile and the reactions the light touch on her back had stirred came fully to life.

‘So, what’s the job, as we seem to be calling it, entail?’

Another flashing smile, though this one was slightly rueful.

‘I’m still coming to grips with it, but it’s mostly formal stuff—meeting representatives from foreign countries, listening to delegations from various committees, making rulings on things that are more to do with our cultural heritage than politics—we have an elected congress that takes care of politics. And then there’s the entertaining—endless entertaining.’

The road had petered out and he drove swiftly and skilfully across the sand, taking a slanting line across a dune and pulling up on the top of it. Beneath them the sand fell away to rise again, and again, and again, rolling waves of red-gold, brilliant in the sunshine. Breathtaking in its beauty. Marni remembered what he’d said about the desert being as necessary as water to his people. Did he need its power now? Need to refresh himself in the same way as she looked to the ocean for the replenishment of her spirit?

She was staring at the dunes, her mind asking questions she couldn’t answer, so didn’t realise he’d climbed out of the car and walked around to open her door. Beyond him, she could see a low-slung shelter, dark cloth of some kind, held up in front by sturdy poles, high enough to sit under to escape the sun. In front of it a low fire burned, beside the fire were two ornate silver coffee-pots, like others she’d seen in the souk.

‘Come,’ he said. ‘We have to eat so why not here?’

He took her hand to help her down, his words perhaps answering her question about his need for the power of the desert.

Leading her to the shelter, he motioned to a faded rug, spread on the sand and heaped with cushions. A large woven basket was set in the shade beside the rug, its lid open to reveal an array of goodies.

Marni sank onto the rug, tucking her legs sideways so the abaya fell around her. The desert was framed now by the dark material of the tent and she could only shake her head in the wonder of its beauty.

Shake her head about the fact that she was actually here, not to mention seeing it with the man who ruled the country.

Impossible!