Soft footsteps in the corridor made him release her hands and step back, but the look in his eyes was enough to bring all the embers of desire back to ferocious life.
Why wasn’t he just Gaz?
‘How is Safi?’ Marni asked, in an attempt to dampen the heat.
‘He is well, his temperature is down and his sleep is peaceful,’ he replied, then he lifted one of her hands, dropped a kiss on the palm and left the room, muttering to himself.
It had to be the stupidest idea he’d ever had, he decided as he marched away from Safi’s room. Here was a woman he desired more than he’d ever desired a woman before and he’d put her off limits by becoming betrothed to her.
And all to avoid the women his sisters were throwing at him!
But could he have accepted any of them, feeling as he did about Marni?
And how did he feel about Marni?
He desired her but was that it? Would an affair have satisfied that desire? Could they have shared some mutual pleasure and enjoyment then parted?
He wasn’t too sure about that.
There was something about the woman. She was different, and not only in race but in…
Personality?
Guts?
It had taken guts to approach him yesterday, not knowing who he was or what might occur, but she’d done it for her grandfather…
He needed to know her better. He’d go back to Safi’s room now.
‘Sir!’
One of the junior doctors had caught up with him and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Had he called to him more than once?
‘Your driver, sir, he has a message for you.’
Back to reality! Gaz strode towards the front entrance, aware his driver would only have sent for him if he was already late for the next thing on his interminable schedule.
Marni held the kiss in her hand as she made her way to the canteen. She felt slightly foolish. The kiss meant nothing so why hold onto it?
Did she want it to mean something?
Want it to mean love?
She shook her head at her thoughts and smiled sadly. Six times so far her mother had married for ‘love’ so, not unnaturally, Marni had a slightly skewed view of it.
The advent of lust into her life had really confused things, she decided as she dawdled down the corridor. Caught up in its snare, couldn’t one mistake it for love?
Want it to be love?
Was that what had happened with her mother?
Again and again and…
She sighed, and put the problem out of her mind. Right now she had to get her head straight and work out exactly what she was going to say to Jawa.
Jawa!
Jawa meant passion or love—Marni had looked it up when she’d learned that most names had meanings. Ghazi—of course she’d looked it up as well—meant conqueror.
Hmmm!
Jawa was waiting in the canteen, two cups of coffee and a plate of sweet pastries on the table in front of her. Marni slipped into a chair opposite so she could look into her friend’s face as she spoke.
The politeness of morning greetings and thanks for the coffee held off the revelations for a few minutes but finally she had to tackle the subject she’d come to discuss.
‘You know I’ve mentioned Pop, my grandfather,’ she began, then stalled.
‘Your grandfather?’ Jawa prompted.
‘It’s complicated, but I didn’t know when I met him in Theatre that Gaz was Ghazi, your prince. The thing is, Pop had known him and his father when he was a boy—when Ghazi was a boy—and Pop wanted me to say hello to him while I was here, which was why I borrowed your abaya and went to the palace yesterday, and now we’re kind of engaged to help him out with his sisters who keep finding women for him to marry.’
Jawa’s eyes had grown rounder and rounder as Marni’s disjointed explanation had stumbled from her lips.
‘You’re engaged to Prince Ghazi?’ Jawa whispered, her voice ripe with disbelief.
‘Only pretend—for his sisters,’ Marni said desperately, but she rather thought that message wasn’t getting through. ‘And we’re keeping it quiet but I’ve moved in to live with his pregnant sister, for security he says.’
It wasn’t making much sense to Marni so she had no idea what Jawa might be making of it.
‘The thing is, I don’t know what his people—people like you—will think about it, because he should probably be marrying with better breeding stock for his camels.’
Drained now of words, Marni stared hopefully at Jawa, who seemed to have gone into some kind of fugue, although she did manage a faint echo.
‘Camels?’
‘So what do you think?’ Marni eventually demanded, the silence adding to the tension already built up inside her.
‘About the camels?’ Jawa said faintly.
‘No, not the camels, although apparently his camels are very important to him, but about me being engaged to him—betrothed?’