THE TWO NURSES froze for a moment, but before Sara could reiterate her command, Kadiah nodded at Deena, and the younger woman took off, speed-walking out of the ward.
“Why hasn’t this woman been taken to surgery already?” Sara could hardly contain the anger in her voice. “It shows here that Dr. Patel diagnosed her with a ruptured appendix and abscess over three hours ago, and she’s been ill for over a week. If she’s not operated on as soon as possible she could develop sepsis, if she hasn’t already.”
Kadiah explained, “Dr. Patel has been trying to contact the surgeon on call, Your Highness, but hasn’t had a response.”
“But Prince Farhan is here now. Dr. Patel should have informed him of the problem and asked for his help.”
“Yes, Your Highness, but we were specifically told not to bother the Crown Prince while he was on his honeymoon.”
Taking a deep breath, Sara tamped down her emotions, consciously relaxing her grip on the clipboard in her hand. It was no use arguing about it now. The patient was all-important.
“He’ll need an operating room, surgical nurses, and an anesthesiologist. Can you arrange that, please? As quickly as possible.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
She too rushed from the room, leaving Sara with the patient, whose name, according to the chart, was Eshaal Saleem. Anger still shimmered under her skin, but she acknowledged the unfairness of blaming either Dr. Patel or the nurses. They had been doing as they were told.
Blowing out a calming breath, she slotted the chart back into its holder and looked around for something positive to do while she waited.
There was a bowl of water beside the bed, a washcloth submerged in it. Fishing out the cloth, she wrung it out and leaned over to wipe the woman’s face.
“You’ll be all right, Eshaal,” she murmured, hoping she was pronouncing her name correctly. “We’ll take good care of you.”
The woman’s eyelids fluttered then lifted for a moment, before wearily closing again.
As she ministered as best she could to the patient, Sara was suddenly struck with a disturbing thought.
She had no way to know how Farhan would react to being volunteered to operate. It wasn’t something she’d given a moment’s thought to. In her eyes, it was the right thing to do.
But would he feel the same way?
Dread swamped her, making her hands tremble as she wrung out the cloth again. Despite earlier reveling in the heat, now the sultry air suddenly seemed so oppressive she could hardly catch her breath. When brisk footsteps heralded Farhan’s arrival, nausea threatened, and Sara swallowed thickly against it, afraid of revealing her weakness in front of strangers.
In front of him.
“Sara, you wanted to see me?”
Why did he have to sound so grim, so terrifying, most of the time?
Gathering all her courage, she turned to face him and, hoping he wouldn’t notice the sheen of perspiration on her forehead, lifted her chin.
“Yes. I think you should examine this patient.”
Farhan’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze sharpened. Without taking his eyes off Sara, he stepped farther into the cubicle to pick up Eshaal’s chart.
“Oh?”
He looked down to read the notations and Sara almost gasped with the relief of being released from the hold of those deep, inscrutable eyes. Taking a deep breath, she decided to go all in.
“I’ve asked for an anesthesiologist to be called and an operating room be prepared for you, since they’ve been unable to contact the surgeon on call.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Sara had been so focused on Farhan she hadn’t paid any attention to the other man, who she now assumed was the director, Dr. Andrade. “I’m sure the on-call surgeon will be found soon enough, Your Highness.”
“Will he?” Farhan asked, his deep voice quiet but with what sounded like a dangerous tone to Sara. “It says here that Dr. Patel made these notes three hours ago. Is that accurate, Dr. Patel?”
Poor Dr. Patel looked from Farhan to Dr. Andrade and back again, his Adam’s apple bobbing convulsively a few times, before he answered, “Yes, Your Highness.”
“And there’s been no response from the surgeon?”
Farhan had replaced the chart and moved to Eshaal’s bedside, beginning his examination.
“No, sir.”
Kadiah slipped back into the cubicle and Sara raised her eyebrows, sending her a questioning look. The nurse nodded in reply.
Farhan spoke gently to the pain-racked woman as he palpated her stomach. Then he straightened.
“Has Mrs. Saleem signed the consent form?”
“Yes, sir,” Dr. Patel replied. “And her husband is waiting outside to hear from the surgeon too.”
“As soon as the anesthesiologist arrives and is ready, I’ll operate. Does anyone know when he or she’ll be here?”
Kadiah spoke up. “Dr. Tam is on call, sir, and Dr. Patel had already put her on notice that she’d be needed, so she’ll be here in about ten minutes.”
“Thank you. I just need to make a phone call and speak to my wife, then I’ll go and scrub in.”
Sara’s heart raced, her anxiety ratcheting up a notch. All she could hope was that he wasn’t too upset, and wouldn’t tear a strip off her where anyone could hear. She didn’t think he would. More likely he’d be cold and cutting, but that would be just as bad.
“You can use my office, Sir.”
Dr. Andrade made the offer but Farhan, who had already taken out his cellphone, just shook his head.
“Thank you, but I think the verandah will be fine. Sara?”
She preceded him back through the ward to the open doors leading to the wraparound balcony. There was one corner, near a set of stairs, that seemed to offer a bit of privacy, so she made a beeline there.
If she was going to get a talking-to, she wanted as few people as possible to overhear.
Farhan was saying into the phone, “Kavan, sorry to bother you so soon after you got home, but could you pick up Princess Sara at the hospital and take her back to the palace? Thank you... I’ll let her know.”
As he touched the screen to hang up, he said in a distant tone, “Kavan will be here to pick you up in about twenty minutes.”
“Okay,” she muttered, braced for whatever would come next.
Farhan’s eyebrows dipped together. “What’s wrong?”
Might as well get it out in the open, and take whatever he had to say on the chin.
“I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that. I didn’t think it through. It’s just that she’s going to die if nothing gets done soon.”
The words were rushed, and little more than a strained whisper through a throat tight with stress. Farhan’s frown deepened, and her heart sank. Putting her hands behind her back, she clasped her fingers together and squeezed, hard, using the pain to center herself.
Farhan’s expression lightened, and he shook his head. “I was angry with you earlier when you rushed into the stampede, and I’m upset with the surgeon who’s missing in action. I’m even annoyed that no one told me about this patient sooner, but I’m definitely not angry with you. You did the right thing.”
Relief arced through her, making her scalp tingle and her legs wobbly. Why it was so strong, she didn’t know, but she was forced to turn away so he couldn’t see the moisture gathering in her eyes.
She heard his footsteps approaching, but wasn’t prepared for the weight of his arm across her shoulders, or the safety and contentment the gesture immediately brought. When he bent his head and placed his lips close to her ear, Sara stiffened, not with surprise but in an effort to suppress the shiver creeping up her spine.
“I know we don’t know each other as well as we could, but never doubt that my first responsibility is to the people of Kalyana. It is my duty to do all I can for them, and that includes using my medical training.”
His arm tightened around her shoulders for an instant, and goosebumps fired along her arms and up her torso.
“If anything,” he continued softly, “I should apologize to you.”
“Wh-what for?”
“For leaving you to face my family alone this evening. There’s no way I’ll get finished in Theatre in time for dinner, but thank goodness it’s not formal, just my parents, Maazin, and some close family friends.”
It was daunting, just the type of situation that should send her anxiety levels through the roof and have her ulcer burning, and yet...
“Your parents are a little scary, especially your father, but somehow I’m not too worried.”
“Really?”
The touch of humor in his voice made her smile.
“Maybe because of our arrangement, I know it doesn’t really matter whether your parents like or approve of me or not,” she replied, recognizing the truth in that statement.
And wondering why, then, Farhan’s approval meant so much!
King Uttam had a favorite phrase.
Punctuality is imperative.
He was also known to elaborate on this philosophy.
“If you are five minutes early, you are already ten minutes late.”
The King didn’t make those statements lightly. In fact, each of his sons had, at one time or another, been on the receiving end of a lecture, or gone without supper, for being tardy.
In the palace the standing rule was: if you are not going to be on time, do not turn up at all, as you will not be welcome.
Normally Farhan adhered to that rule, because although he was no longer the young, awestruck boy who feared his father, it was just simpler. As an adult he recognized his mother’s discomfiture when his father made cutting remarks and the atmosphere turned cold, and tried to spare her when he could.
So on the few occasions he had to miss a family gathering because he was in the operating room, Farhan stayed away.
Tonight, however, was different.
Sara deserved his attendance, even though she’d assured him she’d be fine.
Even if his late arrival had the potential to make King Uttam apoplectic.
Having showered and changed into dinner clothes, Farhan strode into the dining room, a determined smile on his face.
The assembled group was already having dessert, and silence fell, as though no one could believe his temerity. Cheerfully he greeted his parents, their friends, and Maazin, before walking directly to Sara. He bent and kissed her cheek, and she stiffened slightly, although she didn’t pull away. Probably he should’ve made the salutation brief, but he instead let his mouth linger for a moment longer than necessary, enjoying the soft warmth beneath his lips.
“How did the operation go?” she murmured.
“It went well. She has a long road ahead, but I’m assured she’ll recover fully.”
The smile she gave him more than made up for his father’s glower.
“I’m afraid you’re too late for dinner, Farhan.” There was no doubt about the annoyance and command in his father’s voice.
“That’s fine, Father. They kindly fed me at the hospital. I would, however, love some of that trifle.”
For a second he thought his father was going to tell him it would not be allowed, but when the King merely frowned before taking another bite of his own dessert, the butler hurried to bring a serving of trifle for Farhan.
“Are you sure you’ve had enough to eat? There must be some lamb left, if you’re still hungry,” said Sara.
Not a surprised silence now, but one of shock at her egregious breach of protocol—although Farhan doubted Sara noticed. She was completely focused on him, the concern in her dark eyes filling him with joy and the kind of tenderness he’d never thought himself capable of. There was a spluttering sound from Maazin’s direction—probably a stifled laugh—but Farhan couldn’t tear his gaze from Sara’s. Tingling warmth spread through his belly and up his spine.
“Anyone who is late to my table does not get fed.”
His father’s cold words thankfully broke the spell. Sara blinked, then turned her attention to the King. Farhan expected her to blush, or stammer, the way she did when he spoke to her, but, instead, she just smiled faintly.
“And no doubt that discipline was instrumental in your sons becoming the men they are now. I wish my parents had been stricter with us, for just that reason.”
Farhan snapped his head around so fast to see his father’s reaction it was surprising he didn’t get whiplash. Yet what was truly shocking was watching Uttam’s lips twitch at the corners.
“Perhaps the first time I’ve ever heard a child say such a thing about their parents.” Looking down at his trifle, the King continued. “Farhan, Maazin, I suggest that you listen carefully to everything Sara says from now on. She’s obviously extremely intelligent and may even be a good influence on you.”
They all stared at him, Farhan wondering who this man smiling down into his pudding was, and where his father had disappeared to.
Then his mother giggled, the sound so unexpected, so sweet Farhan found himself joining in. Sara lost it next, with Maazin and his parents’ guests following right after, until the entire dining room rang with laughter.
It was like being in a dream, surreal. Especially when he looked at his father and found him still smiling into his beard.
Uttam had never been particularly congenial, and what vestige of humor he’d once possessed had seemed to have died with Ali.
To see him like this was a revelation...
And a relief.
Somehow the woman sitting across from him, her face glowing with humor, had already made a huge change in all their lives.
Especially his.
Now all he had to figure out was why she exerted such a pull on him, and how he could resist.