The Sheikh's Hidden Heir. Оливия Гейтс

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