Desert Doctor, Secret Sheikh. Meredith Webber

You never attacked at night because Bedouin believe a man’s soul leaves his body at night and to attack then would be to attack a dead man. So they would attack early in the morning, which gave the men who’d lost the camels all day to give chase and maybe recapture their own stock.’

      ‘Giving them a sporting chance? It sounds more like a game than serious warfare,’ Jenny said, smiling at him.

      To encourage him to keep talking?

      Or because she was relaxed and happy in his company?

      He gave a long inward sigh that he should even think such a thing. The problem was, he’d been too long without a woman, not wanting, since he’d returned to practice in Zaheer, to have the complications of a love affair while establishing himself at the hospital. Then there’d been his father’s illness and the suspicion that all was not well throughout the land, although until their father’s death, he and Arun had been unable to do anything about it.

      Now they could, but first they had to know what needed to be done, hence his decision to visit the more remote areas. Once they had a clear picture of what was happening, they could plan for the future, and do what they could to right past wrongs and bring better conditions to the whole country, not just the city.

      Another smothered sigh, because thinking of Arun had reminded Kam that between them they had to work out the succession. It would probably have to be him, he knew this in his heart. As well as being the elder, he doubted Arun would ever marry again, and children were important to their people and to the succession.

      Very important!

      Arun’s first wife, the gentle and beautiful Hussa, had died from complications of a burst appendix. Arun had been in the city, and his bride had been too shy and ill at ease in her new home in the family compound in the country to mention to anyone that she felt ill.

      Arun had been devastated, but once over the loss had become a playboy, courting and escorting beautiful women of every nationality, determined to enjoy life his way but equally determined to remain unmarried, no matter how the women he bedded used their wiles.

      But he, Kam, was talking warfare, not women, although thinking of Arun and Hussa and the succession had reminded him of another matter he had to sort out—that of finding a wife. As Zaheer’s ruler it was his duty to marry, and though he’d once dreamed of marrying for love, love had never found him, so now his mother was actively pursuing a wife search on his behalf…

      Definitely better to think of history and camels and raiding parties than wives and marriage—besides which, Jenny was looking at him as if puzzled by the lengthy pause in his explanation.

      What had he been saying?

      Battles…

      Camels…

      ‘It was serious, because camels were a tribe’s wealth, but it became more serious when the tribes began to give up their nomadic lifestyle and settle in one place. In the past, tribes usually had a set pattern in their wanderings, spending summer months in one place and winter months in another, roaming from area to area, but within certain boundaries, to find grazing for their camels.’

      ‘And sheep and goats?’

      ‘Sheep and goats? My dear woman, the true Bedouin acknowledged only camels and horses. He might buy a goat from a village where goats were raised, and cook it up for a special feast—the birth of a son, for instance—but camels were their stock, providing all they needed—meat and milk, hair for making clothes and tents. You have seen women spinning camel hair?’

      The woman shook her head and the moonlight caught the paleness of her plait as it shifted with the movement, catching his eye as well, making him wonder what the hair looked like unbound…

      Was it because right now he should be sitting with his mother, discussing his requirements for a wife and checking the list of candidates, that he was distracted by the sight of pale hair?

      ‘Where was I?’ he asked, and even to his own ears it sounded like a demand, but Jenny stood her ground.

      ‘The nomadic tribes settling in one place.’

      Her face displayed her interest—a strong, intelligent face—but he wasn’t going to be distracted again.

      ‘Of course,’ he continued smoothly. ‘Across the border here you have two clans, both of the same tribe, both claiming to own the land where they want to settle. It is an impossibility to grant rights to one or the other because ownership of land has never been part of Bedouin history. The people here in the camp are from a different tribe, and the only thing the clans across the border agree on is that this particular tribe shouldn’t be there, although, in fact, they have had their camps in the area for many hundreds of years and recently many of them have settled in the area, breeding sheep and goats.’

      ‘So how will it be resolved?’

      ‘Men from other clans within that tribe are already talking to the leaders. They need to settle the dispute soon because like all wars it means no one’s planting crops or keeping herds and soon there’ll be an even worse famine in the area. I understand people have already tried to mediate, but at the moment no one is listening.’

      He paused, looking at the little girl who was perched on Jenny’s hip, her head resting trustingly on the woman’s shoulder, her eyes closed in sleep.

      ‘As you said, she probably belongs to one of the clans across the border. The family would have known she was sick and that she would be better cared for here.’

      Jenny brushed her fingers across the soft dark hair.

      ‘Poor wee mite! But she’s a favourite with everyone so she’s never short of people to take care of her. She probably eats better than anyone else in the camp, although as you can see that hasn’t always been the case.’

      ‘Yet she comes to you at night? Is it wise that she should become dependent on you? Learn to love you? And you, if you love her, then leave…’

      Jen stopped and breathed deeply, relishing the feel of the cool night air entering her lungs, enjoying the smell of the desert—of sand, and dust, and flowers she couldn’t name, and goat and camel and juniper trees.

      But tonight there was another dimension to the magic, and try as she may to deny it, it was to do with a man in jeans and ancient T-shirt…