The Sheik Who Loved Me(14)

“So…so why is her father so angry?” The range of unguarded emotion she’d seen cross David Rashid’s face in the space of a few beats of a heart compelled her to ask.

A broad grin creased the doctor’s sun-browned face. “Ah, a couple of things have got his goat, I suspect. Rashid likes to be in control. He wanted to be the one to make his daughter well again. Now he’s faced with a mermaid who’s done the trick for him.” Dr. Watson chuckled. “You’ve wounded the man’s pride, but don’t worry. He’ll be fine once he’s licked his wounds. He always is. I’ll be back later.”

Sahar watched as the doctor closed the heavy door behind him. She was desperately grateful to have some time alone. She needed to think. She swung her feet carefully over the side of the bed and stood slowly, not wanting to repeat the fainting episode. The tiles were cool under her bare feet. She steadied herself against the bed, waiting for a momentary dizziness to pass. Then she wound the sheet neatly around her body and moved over to the long oval mirror nestled into a tall dark-wood closet at the far end of the room.

She hesitated, almost afraid to look. Then she sucked in air and stepped squarely in front of the mirror. She stared at the person reflected in the glass.

The eyes that stared back were her own. Logic told her that. She stepped closer, touched the reflection with her fingertips. There was something vaguely familiar about her image. It was as if she was looking at someone she’d crossed paths with once or twice before. But she couldn’t place where or when.

She studied the face. It was a face she was comfortable owning. It felt like her. But how? How did she know what it felt like to be her?

Was she a tourist? Somehow she didn’t feel like one.

Could she dive? She thought she probably could.

Slowly she unwound the sheet and studied the rest of her body. She had no jewelry. No necklace, rings, bracelets or earrings. No clues. Nothing at all to give her away.

That didn’t feel right. Something was missing. The sensation niggled away at the back of her brain. And with a start, she realized she was fingering her left hand, exactly where she’d wear a wedding ring…if she had one. She frowned. Why did she feel as if it was missing?

She ran her hand gently over the cuts and bruising down the left side of her torso.

Had she been on a boat when the storm hit? Were there others who hadn’t survived? Damn, damn, damn. For the life of her she couldn’t recall a single thing about how she got to this island of David Rashid’s. She scooped up the sheet in frustration, wound it tightly around her body and stomped over to the shutters. She flipped the catch and threw them open wide as if to cast clarity on her situation. But the harsh flare of yellow sunlight exploded against her eyes. She scrunched her face tight in painful reflex.

As the stab of pain slowly subsided, she became cognizant of the sun’s rays. With her eyes still closed, she lifted her face to meet the light. The warmth on her skin offered a basic animal comfort. She breathed in deeply, feeling tension slowly begin to dissipate as she allowed the warmth to soak through her.

It dawned on her then—she was like a primal creature. No clothes. No identity. No past. Only the present. Only the sensation of warmth on her face to give her a feeling of being alive, a feeling of belonging in the world. This sensation was the closest she could come to a sense of home, of who she was. Because beyond that, she’d been reduced to nothing.

She didn’t know if she had a family or if she had kids, though she guessed not—the idea seemed too foreign. Perhaps she had a lover, someone who right now was worried sick about her. Did she have a job? A house? An apartment? Did she have a cat or a dog?

Is this what it felt like to start from scratch? To have a blank slate and a chance to do things over? Because it sure as hell didn’t feel like fun. It felt formidable. And claustrophobic, as if she was hemmed in by an invisible fortress.

Panic started to grip again. She pressed the palm of her hand against her stomach, trying to force calm on herself. The doctor had said she might feel like this. He’d said she would also likely experience anger, denial. That was normal, he’d said. But what in hell was normal about this? What in hell was normal about a stranger giving you a new name? A name that means dawn, new beginnings.

The distant sound of hooves thudding on packed sand registered in her brain, yanking her mind back into the room. Her eyes flicked open. She shielded them against the harsh glare of the sun with her hands and searched for the source of the sound.

The sight that greeted her clean stole her breath. Through the arched window, the sea gleamed a brilliant turquoise in the distance. Waves rolled relentlessly toward the shore and broke in long ribbons onto a beach of pure white sand, spraying spumes of white spindrift into the wind.