fists, to hold it all in. “Thank you, Zakir,” she whispered.
For respecting me. For admiring me.
She’d felt like a pariah for so long, been so filled with self-loathing over the way she’d handled her grief, that to earn this man’s respect was almost overwhelming.
“You didn’t expect this?”
She shook her head, laughed—an exhalation of relief. Then she inhaled shakily, pressing her hand against her sternum. “You keep surprising me. I guess I misjudged you, too.”
“Is that young girl in the hut the one who is pregnant?”
Nikki nodded. “Samira.”
“How is she?”
“Not good, I’m afraid. The baby is not due for another eight weeks, but Samira’s been having contractions, bleeding. She’s very dehydrated, and she has a fever. The baby is also in transverse lie—”
“Which means?”
“The fetus is lying sideways in the uterus. Sometimes you can get it to change position before labor starts by doing whatis called an external version where you manually try and shift the baby.”
“And if you can’t?”
Nikki wiped her brow with the back of her sleeve, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Then it could become stuck during labor, and without surgical intervention the mother will die. If I can’t turn the baby soon, Zakir, Samira will need to be in a hospital before she enters labor. And I’m worried about the contractions she is having now. Premature labor could be induced by a long journey to Tenerife. She really shouldn’t travel.” She sighed. “I’m not sure what to do.”
Apart from performing an emergency C-section in primitive medical conditions. Nikki prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
Zakir’s eyes narrowed as he studied her, and something shifted in his dark, rugged features. Nikki thought again about how she’d felt under his body with his mouth a breath away from hers, the way she had stirred to life deep inside.
She flushed, swallowed. “I…I should get back to her.”
He gave a curt nod, as if irritated with himself. Then he wavered, as if not wanting to let her go yet. “How are the other children?” he said, voice crisp.
“Much better. The hydrolytes helped with dehydration and the antibiotics with the stomach infections. They’ll get strong again with…” Tears overwhelmed her as she spoke, and she angrily swiped them away with the base of her thumb. “Sorry. I’m tired, Zakir. I’m just so relieved to be with them again, to have brought them this far.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder. Heavy. Warm. Such a calming strength transferring from his touch through her body. It was a gesture as potent as it was subtle, a message of affection, kinship, a sign that she should not feel so alone.
“And your wound—it’s okay?”
She nodded. “I’m fine.”
“Go,” he said softly, rich, low. Authoritative. “Tend to yourchildren. I will be meeting with the clan sheik and his tribal council later tonight. Other chiefs are coming from villages in the surrounding mountains. This has been made possible through your diplomacy, Nikki. I thank you for this. I will come and see the other children later—tonight.” Almost reflexively, he gently, very briefly cupped the side of her face.
Heat rippled through Nikki, pooling low in her belly.
Then he was gone, striding away, his long gait eating up the distance to the main huts of the clan council.
She swallowed, composing herself before ducking back into the dark cool of the hut.
“Was that really the king?” Samira whispered in French.
“Yes, it was.” Nikki placed the damp cloth on Samira’s forehead, her heart squeezing at the smile crossing the child’s thin face, the sudden glimmer of light in her huge dark eyes.
“We will be all right, then, Miss Nikki, with a king’s help.”
I hope so.
“Yes, we will—I know it in my heart, Samira,” she lied. “And you must believe it, too. You and your baby will be just fine.” As she spoke, memories of her own toddlers sifted into her mind.
For respecting me. For admiring me.
She’d felt like a pariah for so long, been so filled with self-loathing over the way she’d handled her grief, that to earn this man’s respect was almost overwhelming.
“You didn’t expect this?”
She shook her head, laughed—an exhalation of relief. Then she inhaled shakily, pressing her hand against her sternum. “You keep surprising me. I guess I misjudged you, too.”
“Is that young girl in the hut the one who is pregnant?”
Nikki nodded. “Samira.”
“How is she?”
“Not good, I’m afraid. The baby is not due for another eight weeks, but Samira’s been having contractions, bleeding. She’s very dehydrated, and she has a fever. The baby is also in transverse lie—”
“Which means?”
“The fetus is lying sideways in the uterus. Sometimes you can get it to change position before labor starts by doing whatis called an external version where you manually try and shift the baby.”
“And if you can’t?”
Nikki wiped her brow with the back of her sleeve, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Then it could become stuck during labor, and without surgical intervention the mother will die. If I can’t turn the baby soon, Zakir, Samira will need to be in a hospital before she enters labor. And I’m worried about the contractions she is having now. Premature labor could be induced by a long journey to Tenerife. She really shouldn’t travel.” She sighed. “I’m not sure what to do.”
Apart from performing an emergency C-section in primitive medical conditions. Nikki prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
Zakir’s eyes narrowed as he studied her, and something shifted in his dark, rugged features. Nikki thought again about how she’d felt under his body with his mouth a breath away from hers, the way she had stirred to life deep inside.
She flushed, swallowed. “I…I should get back to her.”
He gave a curt nod, as if irritated with himself. Then he wavered, as if not wanting to let her go yet. “How are the other children?” he said, voice crisp.
“Much better. The hydrolytes helped with dehydration and the antibiotics with the stomach infections. They’ll get strong again with…” Tears overwhelmed her as she spoke, and she angrily swiped them away with the base of her thumb. “Sorry. I’m tired, Zakir. I’m just so relieved to be with them again, to have brought them this far.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder. Heavy. Warm. Such a calming strength transferring from his touch through her body. It was a gesture as potent as it was subtle, a message of affection, kinship, a sign that she should not feel so alone.
“And your wound—it’s okay?”
She nodded. “I’m fine.”
“Go,” he said softly, rich, low. Authoritative. “Tend to yourchildren. I will be meeting with the clan sheik and his tribal council later tonight. Other chiefs are coming from villages in the surrounding mountains. This has been made possible through your diplomacy, Nikki. I thank you for this. I will come and see the other children later—tonight.” Almost reflexively, he gently, very briefly cupped the side of her face.
Heat rippled through Nikki, pooling low in her belly.
Then he was gone, striding away, his long gait eating up the distance to the main huts of the clan council.
She swallowed, composing herself before ducking back into the dark cool of the hut.
“Was that really the king?” Samira whispered in French.
“Yes, it was.” Nikki placed the damp cloth on Samira’s forehead, her heart squeezing at the smile crossing the child’s thin face, the sudden glimmer of light in her huge dark eyes.
“We will be all right, then, Miss Nikki, with a king’s help.”
I hope so.
“Yes, we will—I know it in my heart, Samira,” she lied. “And you must believe it, too. You and your baby will be just fine.” As she spoke, memories of her own toddlers sifted into her mind.
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