Date with a Surgeon Prince(25)

‘Of course it’s right,’ Tasnim argued. ‘You’re his betrothed.’

But it’s pretend! Marni wanted to yell, and as she couldn’t, she made do with a glare at the man who’d got her into this situation.

Well, it had been partly her fault…

Perhaps mostly her fault…

‘She’s exhausted,’ she heard Gaz say. ‘What she needs is food, a bath and bed, and no teasing her for explanations or gossip or any chat at all!’

‘Yes, Master,’ Tasnim teased, ‘but don’t think I’m going to turn round while you kiss her goodbye. We’ve all been waiting far too long for you to fall for someone.’

He hasn’t fallen for me, it’s all pretence, Marni wanted to say, but didn’t because even thinking about it made her feel a little sad and, anyway, Gaz was obviously giving his sister a piece of his mind, so stern did his words sound. Then, with one last touch on Marni’s shoulder, he stalked away.

‘Come,’ Tasnim said. ‘I won’t tease you.’

She took Marni’s hand and led her through a bewildering maze of corridors, across carpets with glowing jewel colours, through arches with decorative plaster picked out in gold and set with precious stones. The rooms she’d seen in the palace had been plain, though there, too, the carpets had been beautiful, but this was like some fantasy out of an old-fashioned book and, tired as she was, it took on a dream-like quality.

‘Here!’ Tasnim finally said, going ahead of Marni into a room the size of her entire hospital flat. A huge four-poster bed, hung with dark blue silk curtains, dominated one end of the room while the inner walls were lined with a paler blue silk, padded somehow and indented with buttons of the same colour.

‘The bathroom is through that door and a dressing room through the one next to it. You’ll find plenty of clothes in the dressing room because we like our guests to feel comfortable and sometimes they may not have brought clothing that will fit special occasions.’

She flung open a door into what looked like a very expensive boutique. A long rack down one side held clothes ranging from ballgowns to tailored shirts and skirts, while further down were jeans and slacks and even, she rather thought, some long shorts.

The other side of the room had shelves of shoeboxes and drawers containing exotic-looking underwear, still in its original packaging, and beyond the drawers long, filmy nightdresses.

For the harem—no, seraglio—belly dancers? was Marni’s immediate thought. Wasn’t this proof they still existed?

‘Not that you need any fancy clothes here,’ Tasnim was saying. ‘Wear whatever you like. Now I’m pregnant, I do cover up with an abaya if I go into the city, but I always worked in Western clothes.’

Marni wanted to ask what work she did, to find out more about this lively, fascinating young woman, but tiredness had fallen on her like a great weight.

‘Have a bath and go to bed, Tasnim ordered. ‘I’ll have a light meal sent up to you—just eat what you want. Tomorrow we’ll talk.

‘Thank you,’ Marni said. ‘I am tired.’





CHAPTER SIX





SHE’D ENTERED A world of fantasy, Marni realised when she woke in the luxuriously soft four-poster bed to find a young woman sitting cross-legged by the door, obviously waiting for the visitor to open her eyes.

‘Good morning, I hope you slept well,’ the young woman said, rising to her feet with elegant smoothness. ‘I am Shara and I am to look after you. I shall bring you whatever you wish—some tea or coffee to begin with perhaps, then you must tell me what you wish for breakfast. Ms Tasnim sleeps late and has her breakfast in bed.’

‘A cup of tea would be wonderful,’ Marni told her. ‘English tea if you have it. I can drink mint tea later in the day but need the tea I’m used to to wake me up.’

The girl smiled and disappeared, her bare feet making no sound on the marble floor, although Marni fancied she could hear the swish of the soft material of the girl’s long trousers and the long tunic she wore over them.

Marni had a quick shower and, aware of her appointment with Jawa at the hospital, dressed in one of the pairs of loose trousers she’d brought from home, adding a tunic in her favourite deep blue-green colour.

‘You dress like us?’ Shara commented when she returned with the tea.

‘I decided before I left home that if I was going out in public it would be polite to follow the local customs,’ Marni told her. ‘In my flat, and possibly while I’m staying here, inside the house, I might pull on my jeans.’

‘I am the opposite, I wear jeans outside,’ Shara said. ‘This is just a uniform for work.’