Maysa felt as if they might be hurling toward the truth of what had transpired that evening. What she herself had witnessed. “Perhaps I did see her after all.”

That seemed to momentarily douse Shamil’s wrath. “Where would you have seen her?”

“I drove to the resort earlier that evening and when I saw you embracing a woman on the veranda, I immediately left. Am I correct to assume that woman was Rima?” When he failed to respond, she added, “Shamil, was it Rima?”

His gaze faltered. “She was there for a brief time.”

“And how many times before that?”

“That is not your concern.”

Oh, but it was. “Were the two of you having an affair?”

“Enough!”

She’d obviously struck a nerve encased in the truth. “And Rafiq knew nothing about your liaison with his wife.”

“Rafiq knew nothing about Rima’s life because he chose not to know.” He sent her a steely look. “And he will never know. Is that understood?”

One more threat among many. “He has a right to know what happened in the minutes leading up to her death.”

“He gave up all rights to that knowledge when he discarded her feelings and deprived her of freedom. And if you utter one word of this conversation to the king, then I will see to it you are removed from this house and I will make certain your reputation is ruined beyond repair.”

She clung tightly to the last thread of civility. “You do not have that much power, Shamil. You never have. I can find another place to live, and the villagers respect me not only as their doctor, but as a person. They care not about my past.”

He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. “Will they be so accepting if they learn their doctor is also the king’s sharmuta?”

She pointed a shaky finger at the SUV parked at the end of the drive. “Leave now and do not return unless you arrive with an apology.”

He released a bitter laugh. “Oh, I will return, yet I will not rescind what I have said. If you reveal any details to Rafiq, there will be consequences.”

With that, he rushed to the waiting SUV and drove away, leaving Maysa standing on the threshold, worrying over how she would tell Rafiq about his wife’s whereabouts that fateful evening. If she decided to tell him.

Should she confess, the outcome would still be the same. Rima would still be gone, her secrets following her to the grave. Shamil would be bent on ruining Maysa’s life if she told Rafiq the details. She had very limited loyalty to Shamil, but she possessed enough common sense not to risk losing everything she had worked so hard to build. Yet the thought of keeping such a serious secret from Rafiq fueled her guilt.

Fortunately, she would not be forced to choose which course to take in the immediate future. Right now, her focus would be on making Rafiq feel welcome.

* * *

She seemed uncomfortable. Rafiq noticed that about Maysa during dinner, and now as they relaxed on rattan sofas in the private courtyard beneath the night sky. Regardless that she seemed on edge, she still looked beautiful as she sat with her legs curled to one side, revealing her bare feet and a delicate silver chain circling one ankle that matched the heavy bangles at her wrists. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her slim shoulders, strands of amber highlighted by the moon, and the sleeveless white gauze dress she wore contrasted with the golden cast of her skin. He remembered touching that skin during a time when they had both been completely captivated by one another. So hungry for each other that it seemed they might never be sated—until the one and only night they crossed the forbidden line and made love.

She captivated him still, fed a fire that he had wrongly assumed would be extinguished by time, mistakes and regrets. He wanted to leave the sofa he had claimed and take the space beside her. He wished to do more than only sit with her. Yet her moratorium on kissing left him with only one option—remain where he sat and simply admire her from afar.

Maysa sighed, her attention focused on the jasmine lining the edge of the stone terrace. “I love summer evenings.”

He loved the sound of her voice—soft, lyrical. “You have lost most of your accent.”

She smiled, deepening the dimples creasing her cheeks. “The time I spent in the States is responsible for that.”

“Do you still know how to speak our native tongue?”

She frowned. “Of course I still know how. I have to communicate with my patients here.”

He thought of one question he had wanted to ask. “Why did you return to Bajul to practice medicine knowing how you would be treated following your divorce?”

Her gaze wandered away as she began twisting the bracelets around her right wrist. “Bajul is my home, Rafiq, and since Boutros lives elsewhere, it seemed logical to return. I also missed the quiet pace and the peaceful existence.”

“You do not seem at peace tonight,” he said. “Is something bothering you?”

She shifted slightly and finally raised her gaze to his. “Actually, yes. I’m concerned about the lack of care for the poorest in Bajul.”

“It is my understanding you are an excellent doctor, therefore they are receiving the finest care.”

“But I’m only one person, Rafiq. Other physicians could assist, yet they refuse. They only provide services to those who can pay. It’s a travesty.”

He understood her frustration, yet he had no solution. “I cannot force other physicians to work for no pay.”

“But you could see to it that newer doctors are enticed to come here to fill in the gaps.”

He leaned back and set his glass of mango juice on the adjacent table. “How do you propose I do this?”

“By offering government-sponsored grants.”

“Our current funds are earmarked for the water conservation efforts. We have no surplus to devote to anything else at this time.”

“Then perhaps sell one of the new military planes Adan has recently acquired. It would seem you have more than enough for a country the size of Bajul.”

“At times it seems we do not have enough to bolster our defense. But I will take your suggestions into consideration.”

He noted a spark of anger in her dark, almond-shaped eyes. “That is all you have to say?”

“Maysa, I am only one voice on the council.”

“You are the supreme voice, King Mehdi. You have the last word.”

He had less power than she realized. “I must do what the majority dictates to keep the peace.”

“At the expense of your people?”

“Again, I will consider your concerns and present them to the council when it is time to prepare the next budget.”

She straightened her legs, planted her feet on the ground, and seared him with a glare. “That is over five months away. People could die before then, both elderly adults and children. Mothers with difficult births.”

He did not have the means to accommodate her at this time, yet he could not disappoint her. “I will see what I can do, though I can make no promises.”

“I suppose that is enough,” she said, her expression somewhat more relaxed. “At least for the time being.”

Fatigue began to set in, yet Rafiq could not force himself to leave her. He also could not rid himself of the slight pain resulting from an injury he’d suffered in his youth. He lifted the shoulder slightly, once, twice, before he settled back against the cushions.

“It still bothers you, doesn’t it?” Maysa asked.

He was not surprised she had noticed. “What bothers me?”

“Your shoulder. The one you fractured in that ridiculous fight with Aakif Nejem.”

“I believe we were fighting over you.” He smiled. “And I came away with two black eyes and a lacerated lip. I would have been unscathed had it not been for my falling against the iron gate.”

Maysa returned his smile, though she appeared to be attempting to keep it at bay. “The very gate you drove through earlier, designed by my father to ward off unwelcome suitors.”