Eight years later...
‘OKAY, IT’S WORKING AGAIN.’ Satisfied with her handiwork, Millie stepped away from the boiler she’d just repaired.
‘You’re a gem,’ Miss Francine, the octogenarian who had worked at the laundry since she was a girl, and who now owned the business, beamed at Millie as she enveloped her favourite worker in a hug. ‘I don’t know anyone else who has the patience to coax these old machines back to life. What would I do without you?’
‘We’d go down to the stream and beat the yachties’ sheets clean with stones,’ a girl called Lucy suggested dryly.
With a grin for her friend, Millie plucked a pencil from her bundled-up hair to make notes on how to start up the ancient boiler should it fail when she had returned to her apprenticeship as a marine engineer.
‘You’d better not beat the Sheikh of Khalifa’s golden sheets clean,’ Lucy observed, matching Millie’s grin. ‘He might keel-haul you, or... What?’ she demanded when both Millie and Miss Francine froze in horror.
‘Nothing,’ Millie said quietly, forcing her face to relax as she flashed a warning look at Miss Francine to say nothing. ‘I didn’t know the Sheikh’s yacht had berthed, that’s all.’
Lucy flung her arms wide like a proud fisherman demonstrating the improbable size of his latest catch. ‘It’s enormous! You couldn’t miss it, if you hadn’t had your head stuck in the boiler cupboard.’
Then, thank goodness she had, Millie thought.
‘When did those sheets come in?’ Miss Francine asked, obviously trying to distract from a topic she knew Millie would not want to discuss.
Lucy held out the yards of gold fabric overflowing her arms. ‘The housekeeper from the Sapphire brought them, saying they needed special handling.’
‘Ripping up?’ Millie suggested beneath her breath. The golden sheets reminded her of one particular night and all its heartwrenching associations.
Miss Francine stepped in to her rescue again. ‘If a yacht the size of the Sapphire has berthed, we must get back to work. We’ll have laundry coming out of our ears,’ she enthused, with an anxious look at Millie. ‘And it might be the pressing machine that goes next.’
‘Well, I’m here if it does break down,’ Millie soothed, appreciating the change of subject.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Miss Francine asked discreetly as soon as everyone else was distracted by work.
‘I’m fine,’ Millie confirmed, ‘and happy to take responsibility for those sheets. I’ll supervise their care every step of the way,’ she assured her elderly friend grimly, ‘and I’ll take them back on board to make sure they’re fitted properly.’
‘There’s no need for that,’ Miss Francine said, flashing Millie a concerned look. ‘I’ll take them.’
‘I want to,’ Millie insisted. ‘It’s a matter of pride.’ She had to prove to herself that she could do this, and after eight years of hunting for clues into her mother’s death, this was the best lead she’d had.
‘Well, if you’re happy to do it, I won’t argue with you,’ Miss Francine confirmed. ‘We’ll have more than enough work to go round.’
Something about the way her elderly friend had capitulated so quickly rang alarm bells in Millie’s head. Which she dismissed as overreaction. Discovering the Sapphire was back was a shock.
‘What do you think of the golden sheets?’ Lucy asked later as they worked side by side.
‘Magnificent, I suppose,’ Millie admitted, ‘but too gaudy for my taste.’ Though typical of the Sapphire, she thought, grinding her jaw as pictures of gemstones falling from a hand that might have pushed her mother to her death swam into her mind.
‘Too gaudy for mine too,’ Lucy agreed.
‘Try not to think about it,’ Miss Francine whispered as she drew Millie to one side. ‘Take a few deep breaths,’ she advised.
If only breathing steadily could be enough to shut out the past. ‘I gave birth at sixteen, you know,’ her mother had told the Sheikh.
Why must Millie always remember the bad things?
But that wasn’t the worst, was it?
Ignoring her mother’s comment with a derisive eye-roll, the Sheikh had remarked, ‘Of course you did,’ as he selected a ripe fig with his fat, bejewelled fingers.
‘I was never meant to have a child,’ her mother had added with a scowl for Millie.
Millie still felt the pain of that comment and remembered how her mother had snuggled even deeper into the Sheikh’s reptilian embrace as she’d said it, shutting out Millie completely—
‘Millie?’
‘Yes?’ She forced a bright note into her voice as Miss Francine came around to double-check she was okay. ‘So, he’s back,’ Millie remarked, trying to sound upbeat.
Her old friend wasn’t convinced by her act. ‘It seems so,’ Miss Francine agreed briskly as she helped Millie to tuck the fabulous sheets into a fine cotton sack they used for the most delicate fabrics before washing them.
‘He’s been gone a long time,’ Millie added in a lame attempt to keep the conversation alive. ‘I guess Sheikh Saif had to stay out of the country after the accident.’
‘Millie,’ Miss Francine interrupted in a concerned tone.
Millie had never seen her elderly friend looking so worried. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘I should have told you right away,’ Miss Francine explained with a regretful shake of her head. ‘It isn’t Sheikh Saif on board the Sapphire. He died some years ago—of overeating, the press said,’ she added with a grimace for Millie, who was too shocked to speak. ‘You were away on that oil rig as part of your work experience when he died.’
‘Who then?’ Millie managed to force out. ‘Who’s on the Sapphire?’
‘His brother, Sheikh Khalid,’ Miss Francine revealed in a businesslike manner Millie had no doubt was gauged to cause her the least distress.
Nothing helped. Millie felt as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs as Miss Francine continued, ‘Sheikh Saif’s death only made a few column inches in the press, and you were so upbeat when you came home that I couldn’t bear to dampen your enthusiasm by bringing up the past.’
‘Thank you,’ Millie said numbly.
‘You don’t have to thank me for anything,’ Miss Francine insisted as she rested a reassuring hand on Millie’s shoulder.
There was nothing more to say, and they both fell silent. Millie had been a Saturday girl at the laundry at the time of her mother’s tragic death, Miss Francine had stepped in right away, offering her a place to live. Home had been a room above the laundry ever since.
‘Of course, no one mentioned Sheikh Saif’s death to me,’ Millie mused dazedly, ‘because...’ She shrugged. ‘Why would they?’
Was she imagining it, or was Miss Francine finding it hard to meet her eyes?
‘I owe you everything,’ she said, giving her elderly friend an impulsive hug.
When Miss Francine left her side, Millie put her work on autopilot, so she could think back to what she remembered about Prince Khalid. Which was quite a lot. Never had anyone made such a strong impression on her. Most of it good. All of it awe-inspiring. And confusing. She’d thought him one thing, which was hero material, but he’d turned out to be something very different. And she must think of him as Sheikh Khalid now, Millie amended as images of blazing masculinity came flooding back. The sternest of men was now an omnipotent ruler. She could only imagine the changes in him. A few minutes in his company had been enough to brand his image on her soul. She could still see him striding up the Sapphire’s gangplank like an avenging angel to rescue her mother. But he hadn’t rescued her mother. He’d let her down. And at some point during that terrible night, Millie’s mother had either fallen from the Sapphire, or she’d been pushed.
Bracing herself, she stared out of the window. It was impossible to miss the Sapphire at rest in its berth. The superyacht was as big as a commercial cruise liner, and easily the biggest ship in the harbour. It was like a call to destiny that she couldn’t avoid. She tried not to show how tense she was when Miss Francine came back. ‘It’s had a complete refit,’ her elderly friend explained. ‘When Sheikh Khalid inherited the throne of Khalifa from his brother, he insisted that the ship must be gutted and refitted. Gossip on the marina says that everything on board is cutting edge.’ There was a long pause, and then she added carefully, ‘Nothing ever remains the same, Millie.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Millie agreed. She knew Miss Francine was just trying to help. ‘And I’m all right,’ she added briskly, with a reassuring smile for her friend. ‘However fabulous the Sapphire looks, it has moving parts that need to be fixed.’
Miss Francine laughed as Millie hoped she would. ‘Taking your tool kit on board?’ she suggested.
Millie narrowed her eyes. ‘You can bet I’ll be fully prepared by the time I board.’
‘I’m sure you will be,’ Miss Francine agreed quietly.
‘My life is here with you,’ Millie said. ‘And it’s very different from the life I had at fifteen. You’ve given me a happy home where I’m safe, and a launch pad so I can work towards a successful career. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.’
‘I don’t want your thanks,’ Miss Francine assured her. ‘I couldn’t love you more if you were my daughter.’
As they hugged, Millie reflected that she certainly didn’t owe the Sheikh of Khalifa anything, other than contempt for letting her down. He was on board the Sapphire the night of her mother’s death, and when the authorities had come calling, he’d made sure to keep his brother out of the courts.
‘I’ll take the sheets on board, and be back before you know it,’ she said with confidence. She was grimly determined to do just that, if only to prove to herself that the past couldn’t hurt her.
Miss Francine exclaimed with relief, ‘Bravo!’
* * *
Dressed in formal, flowing black silk robes trimmed with gold, Khalid was looking forward to reclaiming the informality he enjoyed on board the Sapphire, but before he could relax he had business to attend to. He had just received a deputation from the local council asking for his support with its youth plan, which accounted for his dress code of regal opulence. This world tour had lasted long enough, he concluded as he appended a final signature to the document that would fund his latest project. Staring out through the rain-lashed windows of his study, he reflected on the significance of King’s Dock. His educational trust had been born here, because of an incident that had changed his life. He had never thought to return, but neither would he neglect an opportunity to help young people gain a foothold in life. He had been asked for help, so he was here, and now he was here he couldn’t leave without having reassured himself about certain issues.
Closing his eyes, he eased his neck. He longed for the cleansing heat of the desert and the cooling waters of the oasis, but the truth of that terrible night wouldn’t go away. Pushing back from his desk, he stood up, and was glad of a muted tap on the door to distract him.
‘Come...’
His housekeeper entered and stood politely just inside the entrance. ‘The Gilded Stateroom is almost ready for your inspection, Your Majesty.’
‘Thank you. Please let me know when the final touches have been made, and I’ll inform you if I require anything else.’
‘Of course, Your Majesty.’ With a curtsey his housekeeper left the room.
He didn’t check every guest room, but this was for a particular guest, his old friend Tadj. Otherwise known as His Radiance, the Emir of Qalala, Tadj and he had been friends since school and university, and had joined Special Forces together. Khalifa and Qalala were trading partners, with valuable sapphire mines adjacent to each other in the mountains of Khublastan. The boundaries of several countries converged in this same region, which had led to their rulers becoming known collectively as the Sapphire Sheikhs. He was looking forward to Tadj’s arrival. Things were stable again in Khalifa after Saif’s tumultuous reign, and Khalid had not taken a break for some years. Having built a strong team around him, he could afford to do so now. This trip was an opportunity to build relationships between nations, and also to give him the chance to view the royal marriage mart to see if any of the available princesses would do. Tadj might advise on that—then again not, he thought dryly. Tadj was the devil incarnate where women were concerned.
Not wishing to dwell on thoughts of marriage, Khalid returned in his mind to Khalifa, that most beautiful of countries. Prosperity in the last few years had led to modern cities rising like mirages out of the ocean of sand, and though the desert might seem hostile to a casual visitor, it was teeming with life, especially around the oases where the animals he loved, the ibex and desert oryx, thrived beneath his protection. A crystalline ocean yielded more than enough food for his people, while a dramatic snow-capped mountain range held the precious seams of sapphires that gave them security, wealth, education, and medical care. To him there was nowhere to compare with Khalifa, and his spirits soared as he thought about the country he loved.
The stateroom for Tadj!
As he turned to leave his study something drew his glance to the window where, far below him on the rain-swept dock, a mini-drama was playing out. A small figure cloaked head to foot in sensible oilskins was attempting to gain entry onto the private walkway leading to the Sapphire. A sentry stood in her way. He could tell it was a woman from her height and tiny hands, with which she was gesturing vigorously as if to impress upon the guard that her mission was urgent and she must be allowed on board. She had a large, wheeled container at her side, and it was this that his security personnel, quite rightly, was intent on searching.
‘No,’ she told them with a decisive shake of her head, staring to the sky, as if to point out the obvious: that the rain would ruin her goods. A quick-thinking guard stepped forward with a sniffer dog. Once the dog had made a comprehensive inspection, she was allowed to pass.
Satisfied that she would be accompanied every inch of the way, he pulled back from the window. His guests would be arriving soon for a glamorous evening, so it came as no surprise to him to discover that deliveries were being made.
An officer greeted him as he left the study. ‘A message from the mine, Your Majesty.’
‘Oh?’ Concern struck him as it always did where work underground was concerned. This would mean a delay to his inspection of Tadj’s quarters, but the depths of the earth, like the deeps of the ocean, were unpredictable territory and inherently dangerous, and the safety of his staff was paramount.
‘Good news, Majesty.’
He relaxed. ‘Tell me...’
The officer could hardly contain his excitement. ‘The new seam of sapphires is almost ten times larger than first thought, Your Majesty.’
‘Good news, indeed!’
Returning to his study, he placed a call to congratulate his team. As he waited for the line to connect, his thoughts returned to the young woman on the dock. She’d be on board by now, with his security guard in attendance. No visitor would ever wander the Sapphire unattended again. After the tragedy under his brother’s rule, Khalid had vowed that he would never take a chance with another person’s life.
‘Ah, Jusef,’ he exclaimed as the line connected. He enjoyed an upbeat exchange with the manager of his mine, ending with the promise, ‘I’ll be home soon to celebrate with you.’
It was a good enough reason to postpone his search for a bride, and he left his study in the best of moods. A final glance through the window reminded him of the girl, and he smiled to think of her standing up to his guards, and getting her own way. That was no mean feat. His guards were ferocious.
There was just time to check the arrangements being made for Tadj, before taking a shower and preparing for the evening ahead. It would be a very different party from those his late brother had held on board the Sapphire, in that the people present would be interesting and stimulating company and there would be no wild excesses of any kind. Saif had been furious to have his pleasure curtailed, and had ordered Khalid off the Sapphire. Echoing the words of the girl’s mother, he’d accused Khalid of being a killjoy.
Better that than a killer, Khalid had always thought.