Baby Of Mine Read online

  Linnea rushed her into the bathroom where she threw up again in the toilet. Her forehead felt unusually warm-feverish, in fact. Linnea tried to keep the fear from her voice as she called to Talal.

  “We’d better take her to a doctor.”

  He appeared in the bathroom doorway. “Is she that ill?”

  “I think so. I don’t want to take any chances.”

  “Neither do I. Do you know a children’s doctor in the area?”

  About to say no, she remembered her long-ago visit to her grandmother. Her new baby had seemed to be developing a cold, and, worried, she’d taken her to a Newburgh pediatrician recommended by one of her grandmother’s friends. He’d been kind, competent and reassuring.

  “I might,” she told Talal. “Find the phone book and see if a Dr. Collinsworth is listed. I took my baby to him once.”

  He was listed and Talal called him. Linnea listened to him explaining to the receptionist that they were in the area only temporarily, that they were, in fact, waiting for a flight and their child had taken ill. The doctor had happened to see their child, Yasmin Khaldun, as an infant three years ago, so, in a manner of speaking, she was his patient.

  “We’re to bring Yasmin in at twelve-thirty,” he told Linnea after he hung up. “Dr. Collinsworth will see her before he leaves for lunch. That’s an hour from now.”

  Yasmin had stopped vomiting so Linnea stripped off her soiled clothes, washed her quickly and put on clean ones. Talal, who’d been hovering in the doorway, lifted the girl into his arms, carried her to the bed, laid her gently down and sat beside her, speaking soft, soothing Arabic words.

  Linnea noticed he’d made a few swipes at the mess Yasmin had made on the table and the floor. Though there was still cleaning up to do, she was surprised he’d made any effort. Malik certainly wouldn’t have. Yet Talal, who belonged to the Kholi royal family and had undoubtedly never had to clean up vomit in his life, had tried to help her with the unpleasant chore. As she glanced at Talal, crooning to Yasmin, a barrier in her mind went down. He might be a Kholi male, but he was different from Malik. Favorably so.

  At the doctor’s office, they were shown into an examining room immediately, and it wasn’t long before Dr. Collinsworth came in, bringing a chart with him. On the ride to the office, Talal had prepared Yasmin for what to expect, so she made no fuss about being examined.

  The doctor listened to her heart for what seemed to Linnea to be an inordinately long time, so long that the worried Linnea finally blurted, “Is there something wrong with her heart?”

  He glanced up at her, a strange look on his face, and shook his head. Then, though he’d already looked into Yasmin’s eyes, he picked up his ophthalmoscope and examined both of her eyes again.

  “Will she be all right?” Talal asked.

  The doctor straightened, looking first at Talal, then at Linnea. “Your little girl has a mild case of intestinal flu. It’s a bug that’s been going around, but none of my patients have been sick longer than a-day or two at the most. There’s no cause to worry about what’s wrong with her.” He glanced down at Yasmin. “My concern is more with what isn’t wrong with her. Perhaps we’d best not discuss this in front of her.”

  “She doesn’t understand English,” Talal said. “Only Arabic.”

  Dr. Collinsworth nodded. “Then I feel free to ask why you’re trying to pass this little girl off as the baby named Yasmin that I examined three years ago.”

  Chapter Four

  Listening to Dr. Collinsworth, Linnea had tried to brace herself for what was coming, but despite this, Talal recovered before she did.

  “Not the same child?” Talal challenged. “Please explain your statement.”

  The doctor drew himself up. “Certainly. Baby Yasmin had a serious congenital heart condition.” He fixed his gaze on Linnea. “When I mentioned it to her mother—you...?” At Linnea’s nod, he went on. “You told me you were aware of her heart problem and your New York City pediatric surgeon had told you he planned to operate when she was between six and nine months old. Her fragile condition, you said, was why you were concerned about her coming down with an upper respiratory infection. I duly recorded all this.” He gestured toward the chart on the cabinet counter.

  “The type of heart condition the baby had does not repair itself. She would have required surgical intervention at an early age to have her heart be anywhere near normal. Yet this girl I’ve just examined has a perfectly normal heart, normal in every way. She has no surgical scars, as there would be if a congenital heart condition had been repaired. As a further corroboration, I noted on the baby’s chart that she had a wedge-shaped brown coloration in her lighter colored right iris and two polka-dot-like spots of brown in her left.”

  “Her eyes,” Talal murmured. Linnea knew he was recalling what she’d said to him about Yasmin’s eyes.

  “Exactly,” the doctor said. “These iris spots are benign as far as sight goes, but permanent. A child is born with them and they don’t go away. The individual retains them all her life. As I’m sure you’re both aware, the little girl here has no such spots in either of her irises. My statement is based on these irrefutable findings—this Yasmin is not the baby named Yasmin I examined three years ago.”

  Before Linnea could decide what to say, Talal spoke. “You’re right, of course. When Yasmin became ill, my wife remembered you’d seen her daughter in the past. I’m afraid I lied a little when I said this was the same girl. I’m sure you know it’s difficult to get a doctor’s appointment on short notice, especially if the doctor has never seen the patient before.

  “We were worried about Yasmin’s illness and wanted to be sure you’d examine her, so I said she was your patient Actually, she’s my daughter, not my wife’s. Coincidentally, both girls are almost the same age and both are named Yasmin.”

  He played the part of the concerned but abashed father so well that Linnea wasn’t surprised to see that Dr. Collinsworth seemed to be swallowing what was to her a preposterous story.

  The doctor frowned at Talal and shook his head. “Not a good idea.”

  “I realize that now. It was stupid of me. I should have known your records would show me up.”

  The doctor smiled faintly. “It’s possible I kept more detailed records three years ago when I was beginning my practice than I do now. When we get too busy, we tend to omit details.”

  “I apologize,” Talal said, holding out his hand. As the doctor shook it, he added, “Thank you for examining my Yasmin. It’s a relief to know she’s not seriously ill.”

  “Yes,” Linnea chimed in. “Thank you very much.”

  The doctor glanced at his watch and said, “The nurse will give you my standard sheet of instructions for dealing with stomach flu.”

  He was obviously eager to be off to lunch and to rid himself of the people who’d tried to fool him. He probably didn’t realize that she and Talal were in just as much of a hurry to get away as he was.

  After the doctor left, Linnea dressed Yasmin while Talal took care of the bill at the front desk. He returned, gathered the little girl into his arms and carried her out to the car.

  “I’ve acquired two aliases in one day,” he said as they drove away. “We’re registered as the Youngbloods at the motel, and since the doctor’s receptionist assumed I was the husband of Linnea Khaldun, with an address in New York City, I didn’t correct her.” He grimaced. “Not a last name I’d choose.”

  Apparently he didn’t intend to discuss Yasmin at the moment. Deciding not to bring up the subject until he did, Linnea said, “Why Youngblood?”

  He shrugged. “It sounded like a real name, not one somebody would make up.”

  Neither spoke again until they were inside their motel rooms with Yasmin settled into bed. She immediately fell asleep. Linnea rose from the side of the bed and looked at Talal. “Well?” she said.

  “Why didn’t you explain what you meant about the eyes?” he asked.

  “I thought it wouldn’t be a
ny use, that you’d refuse to believe me, no matter what I said.”

  “I didn’t want to believe you, that much is true. Now we have even more reason to avoid the press. The doctor has no reason at present to open his mouth, but if there’s a leak in Washington to the media and they find us, it’s possible patient confidentiality won’t hold.”

  Linnea shuddered, imagining Yasmin’s name and face on TV and splashed across newspapers all over the country.

  “I’m going to the airport and I’ll call my great-uncle from there,” Talal said. “He needs to—”

  She caught his arm. “No, don’t tell him anything! He’ll take Yasmin away from me.”

  Talal put a hand over hers. “I have to let him know he can’t release any information about Yasmin. I intend to tell him she’s ill and nothing can be done until she improves. A partial truth, at least. I dislike lies.”

  “That story you told the doctor was unreal.”

  “But effective. Once you admit you’re wrong and the other guy’s right, it spikes his guns.” He crossed to the bed and leaned over Yasmin.

  “I think she’s better,” Linnea said. “I assume you’ll bring back what’s on the doctor’s list, though.”

  He nodded. “And some food for us. Any suggestions?”

  “There’s a good Mexican restaurant, Los Amigos, just before you get to the airport.”

  She stood in the doorway watching him slide into the car and drive away. As she closed the door she muttered to herself, “I’ m getting as bad as Yasmin—can’t let him out of my. sight. That won’t do, not at all.”

  She determinedly put him from her mind as she closed the door. At the same time, she shut away the insidious niggle of fear that threatened to invade her mind. Her birth daughter was alive and well somewhere in Kholi. She had to be. Malik knew about the necessary heart surgery and, as the baby’s father, surely would have arranged for it to be done in his country.

  Yasmin was still sleeping when he returned a couple of hours later. “We leave tomorrow just before noon,” he said. “In Chicago we’ll change to a Nevada airline. One short hop and a somewhat longer one. If Yasmin isn’t up to going on from Chicago, we can always stay there overnight.”

  She nodded a bit dubiously, hoping Yasmin would be well enough to get on the plane tomorrow. “What did your great-uncle say?” she asked.

  “He’s not happy with the situation but agrees we have to wait So there’ll be no official announcement out of Kholi. I can’t do anything about Washington, though. Your capital city is notorious for leakage.”

  She couldn’t deny that. “When we get to Nevada, then what?”

  “Let’s get there first, we’ll discuss the what afterward.” He began to open the various bags he’d brought back with him. “Mexican food, as ordered, maddamti.”

  “What’s that word mean?” she asked, aware he’d used it several times before when referring to her.

  He faced her and bowed slightly. “My lady.” His gaze caught hers and she found she couldn’t look away. “I apologize for doubting you.”

  His words took her aback. Malik had been so sure he was never wrong that it wouldn’t have occurred to him he ever needed to apologize. Yet it wasn’t Talal’s words but the warmth in his dark eyes that held her. Did the fact he called her ‘my lady’ mean anything or was it merely a form of courtesy?

  He took a step toward her, then another and another. Her breath caught, she couldn’t move, didn’t want to move. He laid the palm of his hand against her cheek, looking into her eyes. Fear mixed with anticipation jingled through her—did he see it in her eyes? See that she didn’t know what she wanted?

  His hand moved caressingly down her cheek and around to her chin, where he paused to tilt her face up toward his. Slowly his lips lowered to hers, so slowly that she had time to back away. She found it impossible. Every nerve in her body, every cell, it seemed, was aware of him, waiting for him. Involuntarily, her lips parted.

  His kiss, soft and light as dandelion fluff, set up a resonance within her, transmitting a thrill to every part of her body. Without conscious will she inched closer to him, raising her arms to enfold him. When she touched him, his arms came around her, pulling her against him. His kiss deepened, no longer a mere brush of lips but an urgent, passionate melding.

  An intense need exploded inside her, so strong and irresistible that she moaned and pressed herself closer to him. He responded by cupping the curves of her hips, holding her against his arousal. Some distant part of her knew they were plunging headlong down a steep hill she wasn’t sure she wanted to risk, but she couldn’t bring herself to call a halt to the delicious momentum.

  And yet somehow she must. This was too soon. Too intense. She sensed she could lose herself with this man and that mustn’t happen. Ever.

  She was the one who must stop. At first his kiss had been tentative. Asking. She’d had to respond before he released his passion. Summoning all her will, she tore her mouth from his. “No,” she whispered. “We can’t.”

  For a long moment she thought he wasn’t going to release her, then his arms fell away and he stepped back. “I’ve been trying not to do that,” he told her hoarsely. “As the doctor said, not a good idea.”

  Right. Not a good idea. She absolutely refused to get involved with another Kholi. Talal was not Malik, true, but he came from that same culture, one that treated women far differently than she was accustomed to. Markedly different from how she expected to be treated.

  He smiled wryly. “At least we can satisfy another appetite by enjoying the Mexican food.”

  As they sat at the table and began unwrapping containers, Linnea shook her head. She hadn’t given a moment’s thought to Yasmin, who was sleeping right here in the room with them. In fact, she hadn’t thought at all; she’d deliberately allowed herself to be caught in a web of passion. What was the matter with her?

  She knew the answer. Talal. She’d dated a few men after her divorce, but since none of them had triggered any desire on her part, it was easy to forestall any at tempt at lovemaking. Not so with Talal. Unfortunately she couldn’t immediately escape this enforced intimacy they had to share so she’d have to be on guard, as much against herself as him.

  Biting into a guacamole tostada, she savored its smooth tang, realizing she really was hungry. “Good,” she said to Talal.

  “Muy bueno,” he agreed. “Very good. Still, it leaves something to be desired.” He shot her a wicked grin before taking a bite of tamale.

  Ignoring his insidious reference to their interrupted lovemaking, she fastened on the Spanish words he’d used. “How many languages do you speak?”

  “Five. But only Arabic, French and English at all well.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  He shrugged. “The direction my education was to take was laid out by my great-uncle while I was in the lower grades. He intended from the first that I should become his American liaison.”

  “Did he raise you?” she asked, remembering that he’d told her his parents were dead.

  “No. My grandparents did.”

  He didn’t elaborate, and his tone of voice warned her off the subject of his upbringing. She took a tangent.

  “As I recall, the Kholi royal family is quite large.”

  Evidently mentioning this wasn’t taboo because he chuckled. “Too large. I’m not even sure how many cousins and half cousins I have. Quite possibly there may be some I’ve yet to meet.”

  For a moment she envied him. Her family consisted of one aunt on her mother’s side and one uncle on her father’s. The aunt lived in New Mexico and the uncle in Alaska. She hadn’t seen either of them in years and they corresponded only at Christmas. Neither had ever married, so she had no cousins.

  She glanced over at the bed. Now she wasn’t alone, she had Yasmin to love and cherish. And someday, as soon as she could find a way, Yasmin would be joined by her birth daughter.

  With this in mind, she said, “We still haven’t discussed what’
s at the heart of the problem—where my other daughter, my birth daughter, is. I know Malik took her to Kholi, so she’s somewhere in your country.” She stared challengingly at Talal.

  “Give me time to decide what to do. I’m not ignoring the situation, but, remember, I didn’t realize the problem existed until a few hours ago in the doctor’s office. When I make my plans you’ll hear about them.”

  Linnea’s mouth tightened. There it was again, that flash of Kholi arrogance, shutting her out because she was a woman. Only the fear they’d wake Yasmin if they got into an argument kept her from expressing herself in no uncertain terms. She did fire off one shot “Well, I’m sure we won’t find her in Nevada.”

  He scowled, seemed about to retort, then didn’t. Instead, he finished his meal in silence and rose. “I’ll retire to my room and leave you in peace,” he said.

  Linnea watched him stride through the connecting doorway and muttered, “Good riddance.”

  She collected the remnants of food and disposed of them, cleaned the table and then checked on Yasmin, who still slept. She was relieved to find the girl’s forehead cool to her touch. Now what? Too early to go to bed, and if she turned on the TV, Yasmin might wake. Recalling she’d tucked a book in her suitcase for the plane ride, she unearthed it and tried to curl up in a motel chair. Impossible. In any case, she didn’t feel like reading.

  What was Talal doing? Tiptoeing to the connecting doorway, she listened. Was he watching his TV? If so, he’d turned it so low she couldn’t hear a sound. Peeking into his room, she saw he was slumped in one of the straight-back chairs, his feet propped on the table, his back to her. Reading? Brooding? Dozing? She couldn’t tell, but he looked perfectly relaxed, which annoyed her.

  On impulse, she dug into her suitcase again and brought out a sketch pad—she never traveled without one—and a charcoal pencil. Carrying a chair to the doorway, she eased it down quietly, sat on it and began to sketch Talal.