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CHAPTER ONE

THE hotel was stunning.

Dashing through the luxurious foyer, Felicity Anderson would have loved to pause and take in her surroundings—or even, given that she had been caught in the rain on her dash from the London underground, race to the ladies’ room and fix her hair and make-up. Her long, wavy blonde hair was tied back, and had early this morning been tamed with hair serum, but the run in the rain from the underground station would have undone all her hard work. There just wasn’t time to worry about it. The information session started at ten a.m., and, glancing at her watch, Felicity grimaced because it was already a quarter past. Meticulous and punctual, she had arranged to arrive at nine and linger in a café beforehand, but track works had caused ‘unexpected delays’ on her train from the north of England, which meant that Felicity was, whether she liked it or not, unforgivably late.

The concierge had pointed her in the right direction for the conference room, and Felicity followed the discreet signs until she found the venue. There a pretty woman who introduced herself as Noor was sitting at the desk outside, and waved away Felicity’s apologies.

‘We are just glad that you made it.’ Noor had thick, long, dark hair that was no doubt rather more neatly tied back than Felicity’s. She was wearing an immaculate navy trouser suit, and her manicured hands held out a pen as she asked Felicity to sign the attendance register. ‘On now is the introductory presentation about the hospital and the imminent opening of the university.’ The dark-haired beauty handed Felicity a heavy bag which contained brochures and forms. ‘You can look through them all later—come, I will take you through. Just stand at the back till the presentation ends, and then take a seat. We really are so pleased to see you, Felicity, and delighted that you are considering us. Zaraqua Hospital urgently needs good midwives.’

Felicity was just a little taken back by the warmth of Noor’s welcome. But then all her dealings with Zaraqua Hospital had been pleasant. She felt a little bit guilty too—though she had explained that she already had a job in the Middle East lined up, bar signing on the dotted line, and was coming to the recruitment information session only out of last-minute curiosity. As a qualified midwife she knew her skills were in heavy demand, and she wanted to be sure she was making the right choice, but really her decision was almost made.

The room was in darkness, just illuminated by the light of the vast screen as Felicity slipped in. Standing quietly, she watched the presentation, her decision wavering as she saw the stunning golden beaches of the Mediterranean sea that gave way to vast, vast desert. The Kingdom of Zaraq was an island with its own royal family, Felicity learnt, and its own deep traditions, though it was progressive too. An all-female university was opening, so the new generation of Zaraq women wouldn’t have to leave the island and go overseas to be afforded first-class education. The fact that the university was an all-female environment appeased the more traditional families.

The information about the university was riveting to listen to, but it was the hospital Felicity was especially interested in. Her attention was utterly focussed as she was led through the lavish corridors, glimpsing plush suites, and her eyes widened as the impressive equipment and facilities were listed—this healthcare was available to all the people of Zaraq.

So focussed was Felicity that at first she barely registered the person who quietly came in. But as he stood beside her she knew that it was a man without turning her head. A delicious scent reached her nostrils, but more than that there was a presence, an all-male presence, that dragged her attention from the screen. Felicity turned her head and nodded an acknowledgment to the man. But then she couldn’t, or didn’t, immediately turn her face away.

Even in darkness his beauty was evident. Instead of leaning against the wall, as Felicity was, he stood to an impressive height. His hair was cropped close to his head, and she saw sculpted features, a straight nose, and deep shadows beneath his cheekbones, and eyes that in the darkness momentarily held hers. He gave a brief nod and she jerked her eyes away, turned her supposed attention back to the screen. She felt as if her face were on fire. She held her head rigid and did not allow herself to follow instinct and turn again to look at him.

His presence was devastating—completely overwhelming. It wasn’t just his scent, it wasn’t just his looks, it was something that consumed her as she stood. She had travelled for hours to be here, to learn about the hospital and nursing roles on the island of Zaraq. She had come here so she could make a wise and informed choice. Yet it might as well have been a cartoon on the screen for all the attention she was paying it. He was well over a metre away and yet it felt as if he were right next to her, touching her almost. The darkness was intimate, and she knew—just knew—he had turned his head to her again and was looking at her. She could hardly breathe, hardly swallow, grateful for the wall that was behind her holding her up.

Not once had she felt like this.

Even her ex-boyfriend Paul’s most tender administration of affection hadn’t elicited even a quarter of this response—their relationship had in fact broken up because of it. Felicity was unable, physically unable, to give that piece of herself—and yet, here in the darkness that piece of her she had searched for, the elusive thing that every other human on earth seemed to possess, had emerged. Like a shoot after the cold soil of winter, she felt a stir of warmth, the split of a seed, a surfacing that here in the darkness felt surreal.

She was going mad.

Staring at the screen, trying to concentrate, trying to slow her breathing, Felicity thought she was, right there and then, going completely insane. For a full year she’d seen a psychologist along with Paul—had also been to a gynaecologist who had broken her hymen and given her a strange set of dilators to gradually get her body used to the idea. But nothing—not endless warm bubble baths, nor Paul taking it slowly, not a tranquiliser or a glass of wine, nor a plea to ‘just please do it’ had worked.

Nothing.

Yet here, standing in the darkness, feeling his eyes on her, smelling him, sensing him, had he walked that short distance over and pressed his face onto hers she would have kissed him. She could almost imagine him pushing into her. Her panties were damp just from standing there near him. How would it be if he were closer?

And then he was gone.

He just slipped quietly away. A chink of light showed from the door as he made his exit, and finally Felicity could breathe again. She stood for a moment and collected herself before the room was flooded in light, and then she slipped into a seat, her mind, her body still whirring.

‘You didn’t miss much!’ A friendly face smiled, and the man introduced himself as Liam Edwards.

‘Just the first fifteen minutes,’ Felicity lied—because thanks to the mystery man she’d practically missed all of the introductory presentation.

‘Lucky you!’ Liam rolled his eyes. ‘It was all about the royal family and King Zaraq and his sons. Still, the hospital looks fantastic. I’m a nurse, by the way. I work in emergency,’ he added, ‘and me and my girlfriend are trying to save for a deposit for a house. This looks like a good way. She’s an emergency nurse too. What about you?’

‘I’m a midwife.’ Felicity’s smile was fixed. She wished she’d chosen another seat, not next to this chatty stranger. She was glad when Noor stepped on stage and introduced the first speaker, Judith Lansdon, a woman in her fifties, who was a professor of medicine and in charge of the medical faculty at the university.

Though the professor’s talk was no doubt fascinating, Felicity had to force herself to concentrate, still reeling from what had just occurred. Then she asked herself what had occurred? She had nothing with which to compare it.

‘Now, a few facts about Zaraq before your various specialities are addressed,’ the host announced. ‘The new all-female university is something we are very proud of on the island. The university has been built beside the hospital in the main city of Zaraqua, which is set near the ocean. Most of Zaraq is inhospitable desert—yet the island has its own economy, its own airport and a thriving tourist industry with stunning seven-star resorts. The compound attached to the university and the hospital where you would be living has every luxury. But be aware that Zaraq holds dear its traditions. Though this is a progressive monarchy, it has its own rules—rules that are outlined in the guidelines you have been given. They are non-negotiable. I strongly suggest that you read them carefully before you consider embarking on this journey. Sheikh King Kaliq Zaraq insists on good healthcare for all his subjects. In fact it is hoped at some time in the future to implement an outreach programme for the Bedouin people, though this is a sensitive area.’

The morning wore on, and gradually the strange encounter faded a touch from her thoughts as Felicity’s well-laid plans started to change. Each speaker had her more and more impressed, and with each hour that passed her decision became harder. She had arranged to go to the Middle East for two years to nurse, and her paperwork had been approved, and she was just a couple of days away from signing her contract. But one day her attention had been caught by an article about the new university in Zaraq, and she had looked it up on the internet. She had seen an amazing state-of-the-art maternity hospital. On a last-minute impulse Felicity had rung the information number. On hearing she was a qualified midwife, they had invited her to attend today, and now Felicity, as they all trooped out for a sumptuous buffet lunch, was torn with indecision. Should she just stay with the hospital she had first chosen, or start the process all over again so that she could nurse in Zaraq?

‘What do you think?’ Liam asked as they stood chatting through lunch. ‘The pay’s better than at the other hospitals…’

‘It looks very impressive. I think it might well be a yes.’ Felicity nodded. ‘I just hope it doesn’t take too long. I’ll have to find out more about the application procedure.’ She didn’t add that her family was desperate for the money this work would bring in. After years of seeing her sister struggle with a severe eating disorder Felicity had taken a vast loan, and Georgie’s problems had finally been properly addressed in a top private clinic. Though Felicity considered the money well spent, the fact was, it was money she didn’t have. Now it was time to pay it back.

She did not share this information with Liam—not that it stopped him from divulging what was on his mind.

‘My girlfriend and I will have to get married if we go.’ He didn’t look too pleased at the idea.

‘That’s not just in Zaraq.’ Felicity frowned. ‘If you want to live together in most parts of the Middle East you have to be married. Have you done any research at all?’

‘This is it!’ Liam shrugged and carried on chatting, but Felicity was lost again. Midway to putting a small, perfectly cut sandwich to her lips, she saw him—across the room, talking to Noor. Worse, he was looking at her, and in the light he was better than beautiful, he was utterly stunning. He had a rakish, haughty face, full, sensual lips—and in four split seconds Felicity achieved more insight into her sister Georgie’s eating disorder than she had in all her research and education.

The most natural thing was to carry on, to chat to Liam, to eat the tiny sliver of bread. But she was so supremely self-conscious, so awkward, so aware of her mouth, her teeth as they bit in, her tongue, her jaw as she chewed, her throat as she swallowed, she gave in, put the loaded plate down, and settled for water instead.

Who the hell was he?

It was a question that would remain unanswered. Through the afternoon lectures, despite her eyes scanning the room for him, despite feeling as if she were on high alert waiting for him to reappear, there was no further sign of him. When the session ended at five p.m. it was with a certain reluctance that she accepted she would never see him again. Her mystery man would remain just that—a mystery.

‘See you.’ Liam grinned, rushing past as she lingered in the foyer. ‘But not in Zaraq!’

Felicity laughed. ‘Not for you then?’

‘Nope. Do you want to grab a coffee?’ he offered, but though she would have loved to linger a little while longer, to catch one final glimpse of him, her train left in twenty minutes. If she missed that one then she’d miss her connection, and she wouldn’t make it back home tonight. Felicity declined, smiling. As she walked through to Reception she could see the grey London streets and the rain threatening. She rummaged in her bag for her small umbrella and heard her phone bleeping.

‘Hi, Mum!’

‘How was it?’

‘Great.’ Felicity smiled. ‘Too good actually. Now I think I want to go to Zaraq.’

‘Well, you’re not going anywhere tonight…’

Felicity groaned as her mother continued.

‘I looked up the trains and there’s been some trouble on the line. No service till tomorrow. There is a bus, apparently, but it only takes you halfway and you have to change.’

‘It will take hours.’ There was no chance of her getting home before midnight at this rate.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Don’t worry.’ Felicity could hear her mother getting anxious, and as always moved quickly to quash it. ‘I’ll be fine; I can stay in London overnight.’

‘But you haven’t booked in anywhere. You don’t know anyone!’

‘Mum, I’m twenty-six,’ Felicity interrupted calmly. ‘I’m more than capable of surviving a night in London.’

Her credit card wasn’t, though!

Still, as Felicity turned off her phone she was suddenly glad of the train cancellation. The thought of a night to herself was rather tempting—it had been way too long since she’d had one. Her time recently had been taken up with visiting her sister in the eating disorder unit, or stopping by at her mum’s for a little pep-talk. Even since Georgie’s discharge she hadn’t been able to relax, with her mother or sister ringing almost constantly. Then there was taking Georgie to out-patients’ appointments, and trying to work overtime as the never-ending medical bills and loan repayments rapidly caught up.

It would be nice to have a night alone.

A night when for once Felicity Anderson could just be that.

Not midwife, not daughter, not sister, not carer, not provider.

Just plain old Felicity would do very nicely.

Karim liked London.

He was an occasional visitor, though recently he had been coming a lot more often. He had been overseeing the recruitment process for his hospital and university, as well as visiting his mother and checking on several investments and businesses he had stakes in. He wasn’t busy enough though for his liking—not in the way he was in Zaraq, or had been. Karim blew out a long breath.

It was hard to get excited about million-dollar deals when they were but a drop in the ocean of his family’s vast wealth. Hard too to inject enthusiasm into the recruitment process. The hospital and the university had been his inception, both ideas had fired him up at the time—but Karim didn’t want to be watching films or looking at brochures of well-equipped hospitals. He wanted to be working in one. He wanted to stretch his brilliant mind with a complicated diagnosis, or to immerse himself fully in a long operation. But thanks to his status those opportunities were getting fewer and further between.

Still, he loved the relative anonymity London gave him. Here, though he worked seemingly hard, there was no real responsibility. Here he was carefree—a playboy prince who regularly indulged. It was so very different from his rigid, high-profile life back home. Here he could walk the streets unrecognised—which his security team hated him doing more than anything. Karim refused to bend. Dressed in a dark suit with a full-length overcoat he actually enjoyed the rain, enjoyed the changing seasons he witnessed when he came here. Late autumn was a season he liked, perhaps the most. This weekend he would drive to the country, get out of the city…

As his phone bleeped he gave it a cursory glance and then rolled his eyes. It was Leila again—he would have his aide, Khan, speak with her and forbid her from pestering him.

Yes, he would drive to the country—and, he decided, he would not go alone…

Karim thought only briefly of the rather difficult conversation he had had with Leila earlier this week, telling his long-term mistress that her services were no longer required. She hadn’t taken it at all well—but then, what woman ever did?

Karim enjoyed and had bedded many women, though he believed absolutely in monogamy. After all, he always ensured the fling, or relationship, or whatever it was called, was confirmed as over before he readily moved on to the next! But not for much longer. He was being pushed further and further towards marriage by his father—something Karim was doing his best to avoid. Leila had delusions of grandeur—had thought that their three-month fling might be leading somewhere—and was refusing to listen now Karim had told her that marriage to her was not and never had been his intention. Over the past two weeks she had become demanding. When Karim didn’t take her calls she would pester his aides—and, most importantly to Karim, the sex hadn’t been that good!

Well, it had been good, Karim corrected—it had just taken too long! He was a marvellous lover—he had no issues there—and he lavished his lovers with attention. He did all the right things, and they certainly wept for more. It was really a time issue. With an appetite as insatiable as Karim’s sometimes there simply wasn’t time, and Leila had been insisting recently on the full theatre, when for Karim sometimes all he needed was her mouth.

Enough, he had decided. It was over and he had dealt with it—to his father’s dismay. His father had told Karim in no uncertain terms that it was time now to find a bride—which was why he’d flown to London. For one last play, one last feast of indulgence, before duty caught up and he married a suitable bride.

When he had slipped into the meeting room and been greeted by that stunning blonde he had felt the attraction—how he had felt it. And at lunchtime he had been sorely tempted to walk over. Still, when Noor had explained she was there to consider working in the maternity section of the hospital, Karim had decided it might be rather messy should he see her at work. He had decided that an afternoon stroll might be safer, so he’d rung Mandy, whose eyes weren’t quite as blue and whose hair wasn’t naturally blonde, and arranged to see her tonight. Even if she wasn’t her, Karim was blessed with a good imagination—if he could stop Mandy talking for half an hour he would have a good night!

He’d headed back to the hotel only once the information session was over—happy with himself until he saw the real thing, walking out of the hotel and looking straight towards him.

Karim smiled and walked towards her. Why should he settle for a poor imitation?

It had been raining, Felicity realised, and it was about to seriously pour again. The sky was heavy and dark, the streets wet and uninviting. And then she saw him, walking towards her, dressed in a long black coat. With his dark hair he should have blended in with the rest, but he stood out, luminous almost in the grey and gloomy day.

And he saw her looking.

The underground was across the street and to the left. There was a moment for Felicity—a mysterious, inexplicable moment—when she knew she could walk down the steps and turn left, could turn her back and that would be it; or she could stand still and see what happened.

It was bizarre, watching as the rain started to fall, as everyone else hastened their speed or paused and put up umbrellas. His stride never changed. He just walked towards her with purpose in his eyes—determination, almost—and with a stab of regret she knew that it was pointless. Even if he engineered a conversation, asked her to join him for coffee or dinner, even if he was as stunning to talk to as he was to look at, all she would do in the long run was disappoint.

Mission pointless, Felicity realised, shaking herself out of her momentary trance, and she went down the steps and turned left.

There was Liam, walking out of a coffee shop over the road with a large muffin in his hand. Everybody was going back to their lives, and so too must she. As she pushed the traffic light button her head was whirring, trying to define what it was she had turned her back on—because not a word between them had been said.

The lights were changing, cars, taxis, cyclists and buses all slowing down and the green light was about to flash to tell the pedestrians to walk. She almost wanted his hand to come on her shoulder, for this mysterious man to haul her back to his world.

There was no hand on her shoulder. It was self-preservation that caused her to step back. In fact Felicity pulled an elderly lady back too, as she saw that one car wasn’t slowing down—if anything it was speeding up. In the small amount of time it took for it happen, Felicity saw everything. The female driver, her head back, jerking at the wheel, the slide of the car over the crossing, and the horrific sound of a revved engine. It was like a missile turning and randomly choosing its course. It could have ended up anywhere—on the crowded pavement, in a packed café window. With no time to move, to register, even to run, an eerie silence descended. And then came a ripping sound of metal that went on for ever, a thud of impact as the small car slammed into a bus, its wheels still scratching and spinning, its engine still revving.

Then people moved.

The chance of an explosion was imminent.

As the crowd scattered, a few people ran forward.

Felicity could see the hotel doorman and Liam, running towards the centre of the bus, pulling on the closed doors. He was running too—but to the crashed car, as was she.

‘She was fitting,’ Felicity called out to him. He was leaning in the car as she sped over, her smart high heels hard work in the rain. She realised she hadn’t been heard above the scream of the engine as she reached him, and shouted again. ‘She was fitting!’

He had reached in and turned off the engine, but still it was dangerous and he told her so. ‘Get back—this could go up at any time.’

It was the first time she had heard his voice. Deep and accented, it was telling her very clearly to leave the scene. Liam was telling her the same, having helped off the passengers after he had dashed to the centre of the bus. Seeing just how dangerous it was, he told Felicity to get the hell out.

‘They’re all off the bus. Driver’s got minor injuries. The fire engine will be here in a moment—it’s unstable…’

It was—smoke was billowing from the car engine. Felicity could hear sirens in the background. Help was never far away on busy London streets—except the streets were packed, and the short distance between help and the accident was blocked with cars.

‘Go!’ He didn’t turn to say it—he was supporting the woman’s head; she was breathing but unconscious—but he made his orders clear. ‘Get back now!’

So she did—albeit reluctantly. Felicity knew it was up to the experts, that if he chose to risk his life then that was his choice. And then she heard it, the shrieks of a newborn baby. Not fearful, stunned shrieks, but like those of a wounded animal, and she could no more walk away now than fly.

Liam was calling her back, telling her not to be foolish, but Felicity ignored him. He, the beautiful stranger, didn’t question her decision as she approached. He was still holding the woman’s head but he was also assessing the car for an opening, trying to locate the piercing screams of the baby. He didn’t order her to leave again—knew perhaps he would be wasting his time—and time was of the essence.

Felicity wrenched at the crumpled car door and tried to get her head in the small gap she created.

‘The baby’s bleeding.’ Though it was wrapped in a blue blanket, the little white baby suit was dark with blood on the arm. Felicity’s head couldn’t fit fully in, but she could see a shard of metal sticking out of the babe’s arm, and even though the blood loss looked relatively small, for such a tiny infant it was substantial.

‘There’s a piece of metal…’

‘Felicity.’ She was surprised that he knew her name, but he said rapidly, ‘I’m Karim. Can you get your arm in? Can you reach?’

She was already trying—only she couldn’t see and stretch inside at the same time.

‘I can’t get in!’

‘No.’ His voice was calm and assured. ‘Turn around and put your arm in that way. You will be able to reach; you will be able to hear me.’

‘But I can’t see.’

‘I will guide you.’ His voice was accented, rich and strong, and so assured, it reassured her. It made Felicity think that she could do it.

She had no choice but to do it.

One last glance at the baby to get her bearings showed her the patch of blood was spreading. She could see the shard of metal in its arm and knew she had to apply pressure.

She turned her head, the rain lashing her face as her arm slid into the dry confines of the car.

‘Lower your hand,’ Karim ordered. ‘That is the base of the crib.’