Page 72 of Kismet

Chapter 20

Shaheen watched in grim silence as the doctor examined Allegra’s back with a number of clucking noises passing his lips. When he and Shaftsbury had arrived at the small hospital in Othmane just as dawn broke over the horizon, he’d not expected to find a Frenchman running the facility. That the man had once been a surgeon with the Legionnaires had been such a stroke of good fortune that it made him believe a higher power was watching over Allegra. The man had immediately recognized she was in great pain, and he’d given her a dose of laudanum, which had taken effect almost instantly. The man sent him a quick scowl as he cleaned the wounds on Allegra’s back.

“What manner of man would do this to a woman?” the doctor asked in a fierce manner.

“A dead one.” Arms folded across his chest, his rage still simmered below the surface as he now wished he’d taken his time killing Nassar.

“Bon, mon ami, bon.” The Frenchman nodded his approval. “No man who commits a sin such as this deserves to live.”

“How bad is it?” Shaheen’s jaw clenched as he prepared himself for the worst. If she required sutures—the thought of her hurting was bad enough, but that he might have been able to prevent it only strengthened his feelings of self-reproach.

“Actually, her wounds look worse than they really are. The man who did this knew how to inflict great pain with the least amount of damage. There are only one or two places where the whip sliced deep enough to cause any real concern of infection. I believe she’ll heal better if I refrain from suturing them, but there will be scars.”

The doctor’s words eased some of his tension as he bowed his head and released a sigh of relief. At least she’d be spared the ordeal of sutures. The Frenchman finished applying several poultices to her wounds, his movements fast and efficient. Through it all, Allegra didn’t make a sound, and he was grateful for the laudanum keeping her oblivious to the world.

Fingers biting into his biceps, he remembered her reaction yesterday morning when he’d rejected her. She’d been devastated by his cruelty. The pain of that moment washed over him again. It didn’t matter that he’d been trying to protect her. He should have declared his feelings, told her how much he loved her. He could have persuaded her to return to England with the promise that he’d join her there. His gaze settled on Allegra’s pale features.

He loved her more than he’d ever thought it possible to love someone. If only he’d revealed his heart to her. The contempt and hate in her eyes last night had soaked its way into him to fester in his gut like a poisonous wound. His body constricted with a sharp, torturous pain. He’d earned every bit of her scorn with his actions, and he didn’t think anything he did could ever make things right with her. With them.

The Frenchman straightened then turned to meet his gaze with an air of grave concern.

“Although her physical condition is good, her mental state concerns me.”

“Allegra is a survivor. She’s faced worse things than this,” he said harshly.

“Even survivors have their breaking points.” The doctor washed his hands in a basin on a nearby table. “She is apt to suffer sudden bouts of unprovoked behavior that could range from fits of anger to deep depression. She may even attempt to take her own life.”

“Not Allegra,” he ground out as he studied her lacerated back. The whip marks the doctor deemed less severe remained uncovered and crisscrossed her back in bright red streaks against the pale silk of her skin. No, not his beautiful, stubborn helwa jahannam meshsh. She was a survivor. The doctor arched his eyebrows with skepticism as he continued to scrub his hands.

“I still believe it wise to monitor her mental state as well as her physical one. I’ve made her comfortable, and the laudanum will help her sleep for at least the remainder of the afternoon.” With a grunt he nodded his understanding beneath the Frenchman’s forbidding gaze.

“When can she travel?”

“Travel?” The Frenchman stared at him in amazement. “Monsieur, the woman has suffered a terrible beating. While her wounds aren’t life-threatening, you see what her back looks like, and her jaw is swollen from where she’s been hit several times. She needs rest.”

“She’ll recuperate better in familiar surroundings. She wishes to return home to England immediately, and I intend to grant her that wish.”

He owed her that much. He’d see to it that she got home safely and quickly. Allegra would heal faster if she knew she was out of Morocco. Away from all the horror she’d experienced here. Away from him. Again his pain gnawed at him for what he’d lost. At least Shaftsbury would be with her. The man cared for her and would see to her every comfort. But the thought didn’t offer him any solace. It tortured him to know that his cousin would be the one to soothe her when she was frightened. It was Shaftsbury who would be there to protect her, not him. The doctor sent him a dark glare.

“If you insist on doing this, monsieur, then you must see to it that she is transported in a bed. She’s not capable of walking.” The doctor gestured angrily toward Allegra’s back. “And with these poultices on her back you cannot carry her.”

“Then I’ll arrange for a litter.” Brushing past the man, he knelt at her side. “Leave us.”

With a snort of disgust, the doctor threw his towel onto the table and stalked out of the room. The door banged loudly behind the man, and he grimaced at the sound, certain it would penetrate Allegra’s sleep. Gazing at her face, he watched for some sign the noise had disturbed her, but her breathing remained slow and steady.

His fingers lightly traced the dark bruise along her jaw, and he closed his eyes as remorse tore him apart. God, if only he could relive the past two days. Perhaps Khalid would still be alive and Allegra wouldn’t have suffered so terribly at Nassar’s hands. In the back of his head, a small voice told him going back wouldn’t change things. He’d done what he thought was right, and reliving the past wouldn’t change his decisions.

Destiny had shaped the events of the past two days, and the outcome, as painful as it was, couldn’t be altered. From the first moment he’d spent in her presence he’d done nothing but make mistake after mistake where she was concerned. His actions had been selfish and tyrannical. Then the one time when he sincerely believed he was acting in her best interest, he’d only managed to cause her more pain and anguish. Instinct had told him she’d object to being sent away with his cousin. When she’d challenged him and refused to leave yesterday, it had nearly killed him to reject her the way he had. He’d wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and agree to whatever she asked of him. But reason had held him back from doing so.

In hindsight, he should have listened to his heart. The muscles in his body twisted into hard, painful knots as he remembered the tortured look on her face the moment he’d informed her of the money he was paying into her bank account. With that one callous action, he’d reminded her of some terrible event in her past. He’d seen it in the way her eyes had darkened with horror. He shuddered. God, if he could simply take it all back. Opening his eyes, he stared at her pale features marred by purple and blue splotches where Nassar had hit her.

“Je t’aime, mon coeur,” he whispered. “You have my heart, now and forever.”

Leaning forward he brushed his lips across her brow. His soul roaring with the agony of leaving her, he rose to his feet and strode out of the sick room. The door to Allegra’s room closing softly behind him, he saw Shaftsbury spring to his feet. When they’d arrived at the hospital, he’d not given the man the opportunity to do anything but sit outside Allegra’s room and wait.

“The doctor said she’s going to be all right,” his cousin said quietly.

“Yes.” He had no desire to discuss Allegra with the man, and he headed toward the door. “I’ll be back shortly. I need to make arrangements for a litter.”