Red-Hot Desert Docs. Carol Marinelli

Чтение книги онлайн.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      ‘READY FOR THE OFF?’ Annie, her favourite nurse at the care home, asked on the night before Adele flew to Mamlakat Almas.

      ‘I am!’

      ‘You’re eye’s looking a lot better.’

      Adele had been icing it regularly and using the arnica cream that Zahir had suggested. The spectacular purple bruise had now faded to pale yellow.

      Sometimes she felt as if she had dreamt their kiss.

      As if her mind, tired of nothing happening, had manufactured it.

      Yet she knew it had been real and though the last few days had been busy she had dwelt on it regularly.

      Hourly.

      Maybe every five minutes or so!

      Even though Zahir had said everything would be provided, she had spent a small fortune on underwear, nightdresses, dressing gowns and slippers in case she had to go the Queen at night.

      It was very hard dressing for mother and son, Adele had thought as she’d closed her case on her hopefully subtly sexy lingerie.

      But then she also knew there would be no furtive kisses or hot sensual Arabian nights.

      She would be working and Zahir had told her anything more would be very much frowned on at his home.

      And, from the little she knew, things were different there and her lovely new underwear had no hope of being seen.

      Still, it was better to be safe than sorry!

      ‘It will just be for two weeks,’ she told her mum as she kissed her goodbye.

      Yet it was about more than a two-week break. Adele knew that by taking this step she was if not cutting the cord then loosening it a touch.

      Annie did too.

      ‘You know we’ll take good care of her.’

      ‘I know that you will and I’ll call every day.’

      As she left the nursing home Adele felt different.

      Of course she would be back and she would always visit but this was a huge step in reclaiming her life.

      It was very hard to get to sleep and it felt that as soon as she did her alarm went off.

      The car duly arrived and Adele was only too happy to close the door on the flatmates from hell.

      She had bought some linen trousers and a long-sleeved top for the journey and then regretted it as her trousers had already crumpled while waiting for the car to arrive.

      The driver made small talk as he drove her to Heathrow, but they took a different entrance from the main one. Soon she was in a very plush room and there was Leila but there was no sign of Zahir.

      Leila had the pale, sickly pallor of someone who had spent time in hospital and indoors but apart from that she seemed well. ‘I am so pleased to see you, Adele.’ She beamed. ‘This is Hannah, one of the nurses who has been taking care of me at the hotel.’

      There was a detailed handover.

      Leila had seen Mr Oman for a post-operative check-up the day before and Adele was told that he was very pleased with her progress.

      ‘This is his phone number,’ Hannah said, as she went through the file. ‘You are to ring him if there are any concerns. Here is a course of antibiotics for Queen Leila, if he feels it necessary for her to take them. However, Mr Oman also said that he has full faith that the healers can care for her from this point on. He has written a letter for them. They can also contact him with any concerns that they might have.’

      Hannah said goodbye and Adele looked out at the royal jet, scarcely able to believe that soon they would be boarding.

      ‘I am so excited to be going home,’ Leila said. ‘Zahir and Dakan should be here soon.’

      And here they were.

      Always, always, he looked immaculate.

      Just not today.

      His suit looked a bit rumpled, as if he had slept in it, and he really needed to shave.

      Oh, she hoped he didn’t!