To Wed a Sheikh. Teresa SouthwickЧитать онлайн книгу.
thought I should be his nurse today. He returned to the hospital, but I’m off duty and Princess Johara insisted I stay on after the house call.” She looked around the suite and laughed. “Some house.”
“The first time I saw the palace,” Penny said, “I wanted to drop a trail of crumbs so I could find my way out.”
“I hear that,” Crystal agreed. “But, trust me, all the walking is good for a girl’s waistline.”
“Unless you’re big as a house,” Johara said ruefully.
“As long as there are no complications, walking is good for you in your condition. Or should I say conditions.” Ali grinned at each of them in turn. “A plethora of pregnant princesses.”
Everyone laughed. Including Kamal.
“You should do that more often.” Ali was studying him. “Your subjects will be less likely to run screaming from the room.”
“No one screams or runs from me—”
“Sometimes they do have to run.” Penny stood. “This pregnant princess has an appointment with the minister of education. Please say he’s going to have good news for me,” she added, meeting his gaze.
“Sufficient funds have been allocated for your early childhood education program,” Kamal informed her.
“Excellent.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you all at dinner tonight.”
“Wait,” Crystal said, standing. “I have to go, too. The twins will be finished with their art lesson shortly. I love seeing their drawings.” She kissed his other cheek. “Bye, all. Ali it was great to meet you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again soon.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” she answered.
“I’m afraid I must go as well.” Aunt Farrah placed her empty teacup on the table and stood. “Ali, thank you for coming. If there is anything you require while you’re in the hospital’s employ, I insist you let me know.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
When everyone left, Kamal was alone with only two women—one very pregnant. The other disturbed him more than she had just several hours before. The laughter she’d provoked had briefly disarmed him.
“Kamal, Ali asked me to show her around my suite. I’m so glad she’s here. The doctor scared me. He said high blood pressure during my pregnancy could put the baby in danger.”
“And you, too,” Ali warned. “But let’s not borrow trouble. It’s important you stay calm.”
“I was very calm,” the girl said, “until he told me all the horrible things that could happen to my baby. But you made me feel better.”
“I’m glad.”
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I have to—” She looked at her brother. “That is, I need to—”
“Use the bedpan—so to speak?” Ali finished for her.
“Yes!” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at her brother. “Keep Ali company. Be nice.”
“I am always eminently cordial,” he said. That was the second time it had been implied that his formality could be intimidating. He was merely being polite.
His sister rolled her eyes without reply, then left the room. Leaving him alone with Ali.
“I wish to know the truth,” he said. “Her blood pressure? Is it serious?”
“Dr. McCullough takes pregnancy very seriously. And so do I.”
“As do I. But is there danger to my sister?”
“Not immediate. Everything I said to her is absolutely true. There’s nothing for you to be alarmed about.”
“On the contrary. When a woman is with child there is always cause for concern. Johara’s mother died from pregnancy complications. A rare condition, we were told, but she was still gone. My sister was five years old.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, obviously shocked. “I didn’t know.”
“It was many years ago. But about my sister. She’s young—merely in her teens. It would seem to me youth would be in her favor.”
“On the contrary. Teens are at high risk for PIH—pregnancy-induced hypertension. High blood pressure,” she explained. “If left untreated, it can cause seizures.”
“What can be done?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice neutral.
“Bed rest. Medication if necessary. Swelling is a symptom—”
“But my sister’s ankles are swollen. She often says she’s retaining enough water to raise the level of the Arabian Sea.”
Ali smiled at the exaggeration. “That’s normal. Swelling in the hands and face isn’t. You need to watch her for—”
Johara came back in the room pressing a hand to her lower back. “I can’t believe I will be a mother in a few short weeks. Part of me is very anxious to see my baby and hold him. But another part of me is afraid of the process of bringing him into the world.”
“You’ll do fine,” Ali assured her.
“Aunt Farrah tells me it doesn’t hurt. But I don’t know whether or not to believe her.”
“People tolerate pain differently,” Ali said, cautiously diplomatic.
“She’s never given birth,” Kamal said wryly.
“Oh. That would tend to cancel out her opinion.” Ali put her arm around Johara and led her to the sofa, then gently settled her on it. She sat down beside the teenager. “I’ve never had a child either, but I’ve been present at many births. Without firsthand experience, I can only give you my impressions. There is pain. But there are medications to help manage it. Next week when you see the doctor we can talk about those things. Knowledge is power. The more you know, the more in control you’ll feel.”
“I think so, too,” she agreed. “What do you think, Kamal?”
“What Ali says makes a lot of sense. She’s studied and worked hard in her field. You should be glad she agreed to work in our country.”
“Oh, I am. But I wish—” Johara lowered her gaze to the clasped hands in her lap.
“What, little one?” he asked gently.
“I wish my mother was here.”
Kamal tried to understand. He’d lost his own mother when he was but ten years old and didn’t remember what it was like to rely on anyone else. Because that was the first time he’d seen his father anything but strong and in control. Five years later the king had married Johara’s mother then lost her as well. He’d staggered beneath the grief of losing another beloved wife and the weakness took a profound toll. It was then Kamal had vowed love would never bring him to his knees that way.
Kamal sat on her other side and touched a finger beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “If I could bring her back for you, I would in a heartbeat.”
Unhappiness settled over her delicate features. “I have no father—”
“Yes, you do—”
She shook her head. “No. You heard him. When he learned of my baby he said I am no longer his daughter. Ever since, he has only spoken to me when absolutely necessary and always in anger. I have shamed him and he will never forgive me. I am worse than dead to him.”
Kamal feared she was correct. “Give him time, Johara. Until then, know this. You are not alone. I will be with you.”
“You are so good to me. There is something I would ask,” she said, taking his hand between her two smaller ones.
From