‘ARE YOU SURE you wouldn’t like to sit down?’ the man she knew so well, and yet not at all, invited.
Sitting so he could tower over her was the last thing she wanted to do. ‘If you’re standing, I’m standing too,’ she said as he left the desk. This seemed to amuse him. And he still towered over her. So be it. She had no intention of allowing His Majesty to win every point, even if her pulse was racing out of control.
‘Forgive me for keeping you,’ he added with a penetrating look. ‘I have a lot of work.’
‘So I see,’ she replied calmly.
He studied her face. She studied him. Anything to take her mind off those mesmerising and all-seeing eyes. His headdress was called a keffiyeh. It moved fluidly as he moved, before falling back into place. She could try to be as objective as she liked, but when he angled his stubble-shaded chin to stare down at her, the lure of those eyes was irresistible, and as much as she wanted to hate him, the woman inside her wanted him more.
‘And now I’m all yours,’ he declared with the faintest of smiles.
She doubted that, and, for the sake of retaining her sanity, returned to studying his stylish robes. The keffiyeh was held in place by a rope-like agal made of tightly plaited gold thread that gave it the appearance of a crown. It could barely contain his wild hair, which was just as thick and black as she remembered, both from that night long ago, and from her forbidden dreams, when she had often run her fingers through those springing waves. Each time she woke when that happened, she was consumed by guilt.
How could she consider touching a member of the despised Khalifa family?
Just the thought made her angry. Yet here she was, standing in front of this same man with her body yearning for his touch.
‘I don’t have much time, Ms Dillinger,’ he informed her sharply.
‘And neither do I,’ she replied, lifting her chin.
Calm. She must remain calm, Millie thought as his eyes drilled into hers. After Saif’s profligate reign, she could understand that Sheikh Khalid was in a race against time to both put things right, and keep things right in his country. But that didn’t mean she had to cut him too much slack.
‘It’s been a long time, Millie,’ he said as if they were the best of friends. Of course, he had no reason to resent her. She’d kept out of his life, and got on with her own. ‘You’ve done well,’ he remarked. ‘Engineering, isn’t it?’
That shocked her. How much did he know about her?
The Sheikh of Khalifa would make it his business to know everything about the people he encountered, she reasoned. ‘Marine engineering,’ she confirmed in a tone that didn’t invite further questions.
‘You haven’t strayed far from King’s Dock.’
‘Why would I?’ snapped out of her before she had worked out whether he was stating a fact or asking a question. Either way, how and where she lived was none of his business. ‘I owe Miss Francine a debt of gratitude I can never hope to repay. And I love her,’ she added with some challenge in her tone.
Instead of taking offence, something mellowed in the Sheikh’s eyes and, turning, he asked, ‘Would you like a drink?’
‘Yes, please.’ She hadn’t realised how dry her throat had become, and was half expecting him to suggest she get it herself, or, failing that, he might ring a bell and have a steward bring it for her. It was a pleasant surprise when he pressed a panel on the wall behind his desk to reveal a comprehensive wet bar. He poured two glasses of water and, when he held hers out, their fingers brushed and she inhaled swiftly.
‘We need a lot more time than I can spare for you tonight,’ he said, appearing not to notice her response. ‘And I suggest you learn to relax and trust me.’
Trust him? Was he serious? They were a long way from that. Sheikh Khalid might be much older and more experienced, but she was not a fool, and would work on keeping a clear head. That was far more important than relaxing.
Try thinking clearly in front of all this darkly glittering glamour. How could she avoid noticing the sharp black stubble coating, not just his chin, but the thick column of his neck when he tipped his head back to drink. She could only imagine what he’d look like naked—
She had to stop that right now. Thoughts like that were dangerous and inappropriate.
‘A refill?’
‘Yes, please.’
Their fingers brushed a second time. He knew, she thought, and could sense her arousal as sweet clenches in secret places begged her to forget the past. It was almost a disappointment when he chose to put distance between them, by moving away to lean back against the wall.
‘Why are you frowning?’ he asked.
Was she? ‘This meeting has obviously come as a big shock for me.’
He shrugged disbelievingly. ‘And yet you must have volunteered to come on board with the laundry, and when I invited you to chat in my study, you accepted.’
She should have found a member of staff to question about that night. Why hadn’t she?
It was too late to wish she’d played this differently, Millie concluded. So, what now? How would it end? She shivered involuntarily. There was something in Sheikh Khalid’s eyes that stripped her bare, right down to the depths of her soul.
* * *
He had been forced to put distance between them. Millie’s allure was like an atomic charge to his senses. All he could think about was taking her over his desk...parting her legs and bringing her the release the hunger in her eyes said she so badly needed. Pressing her down beneath him, hearing her whimper with pleasure when he cupped her, worked her, before stripping her, so he could press his hard frame against her yielding softness—
He refused to submit to such carnal urges. Millie might be a beautiful woman, and the bond between them might have strengthened beyond belief, but the desire to protect her was intact. As was the desire to soften that stubborn mouth and turn her limbs languid with contentment. He was a stranger to hesitation and yet found himself contemplating a lengthy seduction, when what he should be doing was sending Millie back to the laundry without delay. It would be kinder for her. He must concentrate on choosing a bride, not a mistress.
But there was a yawning gulf between right and desire. ‘Please,’ he invited, indicating the chair opposite his at the desk. ‘Why don’t we both sit down and make the most of this short interview?’
* * *
Reluctantly, Millie sat down. I can handle this, she told herself firmly, but when the Sheikh sat across from her and steepled his lean, tanned fingers her mind was full of sex. She blamed the erotic images hanging on the wall in the gilded stateroom.
There was no one to blame but herself, and she’d feel worse if she didn’t confront him with the real reason she was here. ‘I want to know what happened that night,’ she said. ‘After I left the Sapphire, what happened?’
The Sheikh stared at her without speaking until all the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled. And then, instead of answering her question, he stood and came around the desk.
‘What makes you think I saw what happened?’ he demanded softly. ‘I could have heard about the accident second-hand.’
‘Accident?’ Bridling, Millie shot to her feet.
‘The coroner’s court agreed with that supposition,’ the Sheikh pointed out calmly, in no way rattled by her response.
‘And closed the case,’ she agreed, angrily clenching her fists. ‘Does that seem fair to you?’
‘I saw no reason to argue with the coroner’s verdict.’
‘I’m sure you didn’t,’ she said with a bitter laugh. ‘But even if you didn’t see what happened, I hope you’re not asking me to believe that you never once questioned your brother.’
‘We didn’t share the close relationship you seem to imagine.’
‘Even so, that’s no excuse.’
She couldn’t keep calm. She’d tried. And failed. This meeting could only play out as she’d planned if emotion could be kept out of it. And how could that happen now she’d plunged back into all the grief and guilt of learning about her mother’s death?
In danger of wasting questions, she was also in danger of wasting precious time, but what would it take for Sheikh Khalid to tell her the truth? She had to find a way to make him, though dredging up the past would be the last thing he’d want to do.
She resorted to pleading. ‘Can’t you tell me anything?’
‘Nothing you’d want to hear,’ he said.
‘Try me,’ she said tensely. ‘I know my mother had a problem with drink, and wasn’t always responsible for her actions—that’s why I asked you to go back and bring her out.’
‘And if she didn’t want to leave?’ he asked evenly, keeping her locked in his stare.
‘Surely, you could have done something? Or was my mother such an entertaining sight, you laughed along with everyone else?’
The Sheikh’s expression turned stony. ‘I hope you know that’s not true.’
‘How do I know anything?’ Millie demanded heatedly. ‘You won’t tell me what happened. And now you’re going to send me away without answers.’
‘I sent you away that night for your own safety.’
‘And then you broke your word,’ she said bitterly.
‘You don’t know me and yet you judge me,’ he said in a quiet and unnerving tone. ‘You surely can’t imagine I condone what happened on board the Sapphire that night?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know you!’ Millie exclaimed, all the calm reserve that had kept her safe for all these years, deserting her completely. Its place was soon taken by drowning grief and corrosive guilt at the thought that, fifteen years old or not, she should have done something more to help her mother.
‘Calm down,’ the Sheikh advised as she clenched her jaw and wrung her hands.
This had the opposite effect. When he took hold of her shoulders, she shook him off angrily. ‘Don’t you dare tell me how to feel!’ she raged as the emotion that had been bottled up for eight years erupted in fury. That terrible night could not be changed, and it was all coming back to her in vivid detail, and he was part of it.
‘What are you doing?’ she protested as he bound her close. ‘Let go of me this instant!’
‘I’m keeping you safe,’ he ground out, his minty breath warming her face.
‘So, I’m your captive now?’ she derided. ‘If you think you can keep me, as your brother would have kept my mother—?’
‘Your imagination does you credit,’ he said in an annoyingly calm tone, without making the slightest concession when it came to letting her go. ‘I would remind you that your mother remained on board the Sapphire of her own free will.’
I don’t want to hear this!
‘And you can leave any time you like,’ he added in that same maddening voice.
‘All right—I will!’
It was surprisingly easy to break away. The Sheikh simply lifted his hands and let her go. And now she thought she must be going crazy to miss feeling safe in his arms. He’d made her feel safe that night eight years ago, and look what had happened then!
‘I hate you!’ she exclaimed.
‘No, you don’t,’ he said. ‘You’re bewildered by the power of your emotions, and by the fact that you can’t change anything about that night. You hate yourself, and there’s no reason why you should.’
Burying her face in her hands, she accepted that he was right. She would never forget the morning after the party. She hadn’t heard the news and had taken the bus to the marina to search for her mother. Determined to board the Sheikh’s yacht, she had been all fired up. The bus had stopped short of the dock, and the driver had apologised, saying he couldn’t take his passengers any further as there were ambulances and police tape in his way.
She’d known then. She’d felt the disaster like a cold, numbing mist that crept up from her feet until it took over her entire body. Miss Francine had been waiting outside the laundry. Ushering Millie inside, she had plied her with a cup of hot, sweet tea, before confirming the awful truth.
She must have been quiet, thinking about this for quite some time, Millie realised as she slowly became aware of the Sheikh staring down with concern. How dared he care about her now? His concern came too late. But instead of resisting his dark, compelling stare, she met it and felt tremors of awareness run up and down her spine.
‘I’m sorry, Millie,’ he said softly.
‘Are you? Do you care?’
‘You won’t do anything silly when you leave here, will you?’ he said without answering her question.
‘Like my mother?’ she suggested.
‘Every story has more than one viewpoint,’ he observed.
Lifting her chin, she gave it to him with both barrels. ‘In this instance, a viewpoint that’s convenient for you, and another that’s not so convenient?’
His stare hardened again. ‘That’s your interpretation.’
Maybe, but Millie’s vision encompassed the Sheikh striding back on board the Sapphire just before the royal limousine taking her home had turned a corner and she hadn’t been able to see him any more. She’d craned her neck for one last glimpse of the man in whom she’d placed her trust, believing he’d put everything right.
‘I’m sorry to rush you,’ that same man said now as he glanced at his state-of-the-art wristwatch. ‘I have another appointment.’
Millie’s cheeks blazed red as she followed his glance to the door. ‘Of course.’ Time up. And what had she achieved? Precisely nothing.
‘I have a party to prepare for,’ he explained. ‘Why don’t you come back?’ he said, startling her with this suggestion. ‘I’ll make time to speak to you.’
A party on board the Sapphire? Just the word was enough to invoke terrible memories and make her stomach churn with dread. ‘I won’t take up any more of your time,’ she said tensely, turning for the door.
‘But we’re not finished,’ he said. ‘If you come tonight we can talk.’
Was he mad? Was she? Attend a party on board the Sapphire? Why was she even hesitating? Obviously, she had to say no.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘What time shall I arrive?’
He shrugged. ‘Any time after eight. It’s a relaxed evening all across the ship. You might enjoy it.’
She might not.
‘Until tonight,’ he said before she had chance to change her mind.
‘Until tonight,’ she echoed. Something made her turn at the door, hoping this was her last big mistake. Staring into the Sheikh’s knowing eyes was as dangerous as staring at the sun.
* * *
Dismissing his staff, he took the unusual step of personally escorting Millie off the ship. It was a reminder of why she was branded on his mind and always would be. The past had locked them together in a troubling set of memories, and in spite of his words to Millie, he was in no hurry to see her go. They took the stairs. Having the two of them confined in the cab of an elevator would be far too much too soon. However much he wanted to protect this new, older Millie, he wanted to seduce her more. They chatted politely about this and that as they walked through the Sapphire like two strangers who’d only just met. There wasn’t just one elephant in the room, but two. Sex and death were a potent combination, and all that was needed for him to see her again.
‘You’re happy living above the laundry?’ he asked.
‘Of course I am,’ she declared with a frowning, sideways look. And that was all she was going to say on that subject, he guessed, until they met later, when he was determined to find out more.
‘How do you know where I live?’ she asked.
He cursed himself for his carelessness. ‘I presumed,’ he fudged.
‘The same way you know I’m studying engineering?’ she queried. ‘Should I be flattered by your interest, or accept that a man like you must know everything about people you meet?
‘Whichever,’ she added with a shrug. ‘I’ll just mention that you seem to have more insight into my life than I had expected.’
* * *
Was the Sheikh having her watched? Millie wondered. If so, why? And how long had it been going on? Did he think she knew something about that night—some fact or gossip, or perhaps a careless remark made by one of his crew when they were on shore?
It was a relief to step out on deck. Being too close to a man like the Sheikh was unnerving. And exciting. It was as if she had been plugged into a power source. And that was dangerous, Millie concluded. No one with any sense played with fire.
‘I imagine your engineering skills must be very useful to Miss Francine,’ he remarked as they stood in that awkward moment before parting.
Awkward for her, at least, Millie concluded. Once again, he seemed frighteningly composed. While her mind had just clicked into gear. ‘You remember the name of the laundry and its owner after all these years?’
‘Your trolley?’ he said, tamping down on a smile. ‘Until later, Millie.’
‘Yes,’ she murmured distractedly, already having second thoughts. There was something not right about this.
‘Don’t forget you’re coming back.’
‘How could I forget?’ she called back, subduing the brief spike of panic. She might not have achieved her goal to learn more about that night yet, but the Sheikh had given her a second chance. She had no idea what to expect at his party, but she wasn’t a teenager now and could handle it.
What if the Sapphire slipped its moorings and sailed away?
She’d reach for her mobile phone and call the coastguard. She wasn’t an impressionable teen, but a soon-to-be successful woman who decided her own fate.
The security guard had brought her roll-along bag dockside and she followed him without a backward glance. But once outside the dock gates, she paused and turned, to see the Sheikh still on deck, watching her.
‘Until tonight,’ he called out, raising a relaxed hand.
Decision time. Bottle out, or opt in. Her choice. ‘Until tonight,’ she yelled back.