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There was no harm looking, was there?
Actually, if she hadn’t been looking she really would need the medical attention as badly as he seemed to think she did. If she met a woman who could pronounce herself indifferent to what this man oozed she would know she was in the presence of a liar!
‘This might sting.’
Might...?She bit her lower lip to stop herself crying out when he poured water over the bite. ‘Are those leaves?’ she asked, watching doubtfully as he laid something over the red, swollen area.
‘Neem leaves... Hold it there.’
This time he walked down to the water. He unfastened the gold rope that held his headdress in place before pulling the white cloth of his head-covering free.
Abby felt a little stab of shock; she had just assumed that his hair would be long, in keeping with the whole Bedouin thing...but it was short, very dark, but for a fairer streak near the hairline at the front.
Her fascination increased as she watched him run his hand across the short strands, making them stand on end in sexy tufts before he squatted down, splashed water on his face and head, and pulled a knife from a fold in his gown.
He turned his head and she looked away quickly, guilty that she’d been caught staring like a child with her nose pressed to the window of a sweet shop, except the thoughts that went through her head when she looked at him were not innocent or childlike.
‘What is neem?’ she asked, watching as he split the white fabric with the knife, tearing it into several strips.
Still in the crouching position, he leaned back on his heels and pointed upwards. ‘A tree—that one there and those over there.’
She shaded her eyes and looked up into the canopy of the tree he indicated.
‘People have been using neem medicinally for centuries for any number of conditions; it’s said to have antiseptic properties, so here’s hoping.’
‘That it’s not an old wives’ tale?’
‘A lot of scientific research suggests otherwise. Pharmaceutical firms are taking an interest; Aarifa has developed a project farming the trees. They grow fast, literally anywhere, in any soil, and a deep, extensive root system means they can survive drought.’
* * *
She looked more impressed than the old guard—all men—had been when he’d explained the same thing to them. They’d all held positions of power in Aarifa for a generation and were negative about any idea that originated in his office, but Zain believed in it and had pushed on regardless. Ultimately, he’d been proven right.
The project he’d proposed had been a commercial success, bringing investment from foreign companies, creating much needed jobs and inspiring home-grown entrepreneurial talent in the shape of a couple who had developed a cosmetics line using the plant.
Abby, holding her hair back from her face, watched him take a leaf and crush it between his long fingers before pressing it into a piece of wet fabric. He did it with the same precision that characterised everything he did.
‘You sound like a teacher.’
His eyes lifted momentarily from his task before he continued. ‘I’m not.’
He could tell she was curious but her reluctance to reveal her interest stopped her from bombarding him with questions.
‘A bit makeshift—it needs grinding to make a proper poultice—but it’s better than nothing.’
‘How do you know about this stuff...do you live in the desert?’ she probed casually and again he framed a reply that told her nothing.
‘Life is simpler in the desert.’
And that had a certain appeal, but time was the issue. His yearly month-long sabbatical, when he returned to his roots and his paternal grandmother’s family, who still lived a traditional tribal Bedouin existence, had this year become a begrudging two weeks... How long before it was just a memory?
‘You can let go now.’
He took the leaf that adhered to her skin and replaced it with the wet fabric wad covered with the ground leaves of the tree, deftly wrapping another one of the fabric strips around to hold it in place.
He arched a brow. ‘Not too tight?’
She shook her head, lowering her gaze from his.
