One Night with the Sheikh. Kristi Gold
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course I still know how. I have to communicate with my patients here.”
He thought of one question he had wanted to ask. “Why did you return to Bajul to practice medicine knowing how you would be treated following your divorce?”
Her gaze wandered away as she began twisting the bracelets around her right wrist. “Bajul is my home, Rafiq, and since Boutros lives elsewhere, it seemed logical to return. I also missed the quiet pace and the peaceful existence.”
“You do not seem at peace tonight,” he said. “Is something bothering you?”
She shifted slightly and finally raised her gaze to his. “Actually, yes. I’m concerned about the lack of care for the poorest in Bajul.”
“It is my understanding you are an excellent doctor, therefore they are receiving the finest care.”
“But I’m only one person, Rafiq. Other physicians could assist, yet they refuse. They only provide services to those who can pay. It’s a travesty.”
He understood her frustration, yet he had no solution. “I cannot force other physicians to work for no pay.”
“But you could see to it that newer doctors are enticed to come here to fill in the gaps.”
He leaned back and set his glass of mango juice on the adjacent table. “How do you propose I do this?”
“By offering government-sponsored grants.”
“Our current funds are earmarked for the water conservation efforts. We have no surplus to devote to anything else at this time.”
“Then perhaps sell one of the new military planes Adan has recently acquired. It would seem you have more than enough for a country the size of Bajul.”
“At times it seems we do not have enough to bolster our defense. But I will take your suggestions into consideration.”
He noted a spark of anger in her dark, almond-shaped eyes. “That is all you have to say?”
“Maysa, I am only one voice on the council.”
“You are the supreme voice, King Mehdi. You have the last word.”
He had less power than she realized. “I must do what the majority dictates to keep the peace.”
“At the expense of your people?”
“Again, I will consider your concerns and present them to the council when it is time to prepare the next budget.”
She straightened her legs, planted her feet on the ground, and seared him with a glare. “That is over five months away. People could die before then, both elderly adults and children. Mothers with difficult births.”
He did not have the means to accommodate her at this time, yet he could not disappoint her. “I will see what I can do, though I can make no promises.”
“I suppose that is enough,” she said, her expression somewhat more relaxed. “At least for the time being.”
Fatigue began to set in, yet Rafiq could not force himself to leave her. He also could not rid himself of the slight pain resulting from an injury he’d suffered in his youth. He lifted the shoulder slightly, once, twice, before he settled back against the cushions.
“It still bothers you, doesn’t it?” Maysa asked.
He was not surprised she had noticed. “What bothers me?”
“Your shoulder. The one you fractured in that ridiculous fight with Aakif Nejem.”
“I believe we were fighting over you.” He smiled. “And I came away with two black eyes and a lacerated lip. I would have been unscathed had it not been for my falling against the iron gate.”
Maysa returned his smile, though she appeared to be attempting to keep it at bay. “The very gate you drove through earlier, designed by my father to ward off unwelcome suitors.”
“Yet that gate was not strong enough to keep me from you that night.”
A brief span of silence passed between them, as well as an exchanged glance that Rafiq remembered very clearly. The same knowing look they had given each other when he had laid her down in her bed, cloaked only by the cover of darkness, the threat of discovery heightening their desire.
Maysa broke the visual contact first and turned her focus back on the flowers. “That was a long time ago, Rafiq. We were both young and very foolish.”
“We were consumed by each other.”
She raised a thin brow. “Consumed by lust, you mean.”
Had it only been lust, he would have long forgotten that evening. Forgotten her. “Have you never considered what would have happened had your father come upon us?”
“Would he have forced us to marry?” She shook her head. “He would have sent me away from you.”
In many ways, that is exactly what had happened. The sultan had sent her into another man’s bed. A man who had not deserved her.
When Maysa hid a yawn behind her hand, then stretched her arms above her head, Rafiq suspected she would soon be leaving him again, at least for the evening. “It is time for me to go to bed,” she said, confirming his theory. “I have several early visits to make in the village tomorrow.”
He struggled for some way to keep her there awhile longer, and returned to the issue that had begun their journey into the past. “Would you examine my shoulder before you retire?”
“What do you believe I’d accomplish by doing that?”
She would be closer to him, at least momentarily. He pressed his palm against the spot that always gave him the most pain. “I would like to see what you think about this ridge. Perhaps you can advise me if it is an issue I need to have evaluated further.”
She sighed, rose from the sofa and took the space beside him. “Lean forward.” After he complied, she rested her left hand on his left shoulder and examined the offending shoulder with her right hand.
“Well?” he asked.
She pushed against one spot, causing him to wince. “Does that hurt?” she asked.
“Slightly.” More than he would allow her to see.
“That’s your deltoid muscle,” she said as she continued to knead the area. “You have quite a bit of tension there.”
The tension behind his fly began to increase with every caress of her fingertips. “Perhaps it is only stress-induced?”
“Perhaps, but I cannot tell for certain without an X-ray. You could probably benefit from physical therapy.”
The therapy she was offering him now was quite beneficial in terms of soothing the soreness. He could not say the same for his libido. And when she leaned over and applied more pressure, his palm automatically came to rest on her thigh, immediately above her knee, where he drew small circles with his thumb through the dress’s thin material.
Her hand froze midmotion. “What are you doing, Rafiq?”
“Nothing.” Not presently.
She released a shuddering breath. “We said no touching.”
He inched his palm higher. “You said no kissing.”
“Rule two, no touching.”
Despite her assertions, he did not bother to lift his hand, and she did not bother to shove it away. “Yet you have been touching me.”
“As a physician.”
“And I have reacted as any man reacts to a woman’s touch.”
“For that reason, I should go now.”
Rafiq predicted she would stand and leave, but she remained positioned next to him,