NOTHING IN KHALID’S life was slow or ordinary, Millie accepted as she ducked down beneath the rotor blades before climbing into his helicopter. Having seen her harness was correctly fixed and her headphones in place, he took the pilot’s seat, and before she knew it they were soaring over London.
Green areas were at a premium in the centre of the city, but the Sheikh of Khalifa owned a very large swathe of green, with an impressive dwelling, a palace, really, set like a jewel in the middle of the most fabulous grounds. There was even a lake, she noticed, and as the aircraft swooped lower she could see the bustle of a big city beyond his perimeter walls. The haven inside those walls reminded her of an oasis in the middle of a glass and concrete city.
What else did she expect of the hawk of the desert? Millie wondered as Khalid hovered the aircraft over the helipad set in a courtyard the size of two football pitches, before landing it precisely in the centre of the cross.
His voice came through the speakers. ‘The building dates from Tudor times,’ he said as he closed down the engines.
At least he seemed to have relaxed. ‘I’m impressed,’ she said truthfully.
‘Wait until you see inside,’ he added as the engines fell silent.
Khalid was right about the inside of the building. It was the most spectacular interior she’d ever seen. It was a disappointment when he didn’t offer her a tour, and simply handed her over to the care of a smiling housekeeper.
She had thought they’d have some time together, Millie reflected as he jogged up the stairs. When was she going to tell him about the baby? Would she have to make an appointment to see him? This entrance hall was so grand, with its vaulted ceiling and acres of marble floor, that she felt like a very tiny cog in the huge engine of his life.
But the housekeeper was friendly as she escorted Millie to her suite of rooms. To her fabulous suite of rooms, Millie amended, trying not to overreact at each new revelation. While meticulous attention had been paid to ancient architectural detail, every gizmo and tech advancement was available to make life easy, though, of course, discreetly hidden away, she saw as the housekeeper opened a drawer in an antique chest to show her the controls for lighting and blinds, and heating and air con.
‘You should be comfortable,’ the housekeeper said with monumental understatement. ‘And if there’s anything more you need, please don’t hesitate to call on the house phone.’ Which was also cunningly concealed in a drawer in the nightstand.
Old English panelling gleamed with loving care, while Millie’s feet sank into soft rugs as she stared around. She had loved the rich, vibrant colours of the desert, but she loved these muted pastels just as much.
‘I hope you like your accommodation,’ the housekeeper said warmly as Millie stared up at the colourful frescoes and took in the intricate plasterwork, and walls covered with silk, rather than paper or paint.
‘I love it,’ Millie enthused. ‘These are the most beautiful rooms I’ve ever seen.’
‘There’s a view to the lake,’ the housekeeper revealed as she drew the floating voile drapes aside.
‘This is just exquisite,’ Millie breathed as she trailed her fingertips across the top of a mahogany dressing table. And a world away from what she was used to. It only made the gap between her and Khalid seem wider.
‘I ordered the scents—’ she’d been trailing her fingertips across, Millie realised now, drawing her hand back fast as the housekeeper mentioned them ‘—from our most famous store in London. I wasn’t sure of your taste, so I hope you like at least one of them?’
‘I like all of them, and thank you for your trouble.’ As gilded cages went, this surely had to be one of the most opulent and refined, though it was hard to see this as a cage or a trap. Khalid’s housekeeper couldn’t have been nicer. Any guest would feel welcome here.
‘Nothing is too much trouble for His Majesty’s guests, Ms Dillinger.’
And this was said so warmly it wasn’t easy to think Millie was just the most recent in a long line of His Majesty’s female guests. ‘I’m sure not,’ she agreed, returning the housekeeper’s smile.
The tour continued into the bathroom, and then into a fully fitted dressing room.
‘I have also taken the liberty of ordering a number of gowns for you to choose from for the ball tomorrow night.’
‘The ball?’ Millie queried. She gazed in incredulity at the glittering collection of fabulous gowns.
‘His Majesty has been invited as guest of honour to a ball at the palace tomorrow evening,’ the housekeeper explained. ‘He thought you might like to accompany him.’
Millie was speechless. At first, she thought, I’d be like a fish out of water. But then she remembered her friends at the laundry. They’d give their eye teeth to take a look around the palace, and she could tell them about it when she returned to King’s Dock.
‘I can’t thank you enough for all the trouble you’ve gone to,’ she told the housekeeper.
‘Don’t thank me, thank His Majesty—who sends his regrets, but he has business to attend to for the rest of the day and evening, and so he will meet you tomorrow evening at the ball.’
No chance to talk to him about the baby before then?
Arriving at the palace without an escort tomorrow night seemed an insignificant challenge compared to that.
‘Would you like me to send up some food?’ the housekeeper asked as she prepared to leave.
The mere thought of food was enough to make Millie’s stomach churn. ‘Some water would be nice.’
‘And a light meal, surely?’ the kindly housekeeper pressed.
She had to force herself to say, ‘Thank you, that would be lovely.’
‘Call down on the house phone if you need anything else. It’s manned twenty-four hours a day, but there’s iced water in the fridge in your dressing room, as well as a selection of soft drinks and snacks.’
Soft drinks and snacks? Millie’s stomach turned over. In her current condition, fatty, sweet things were as attractive a prospect as a stomach bug at the ball, but she thanked the housekeeper with a warm smile, and when she’d left, walked into the bathroom to splash her face with cold water. Staring into the mirror, she knew she had to tell Khalid now. It couldn’t wait. Not if she wouldn’t see him until the ball.
‘I need to contact His Majesty,’ she told the impersonal voice on the other end of the house phone.
‘I will inform his PA, madam. Is there anything else?’
‘No. Thank you.’
She sat by the phone, and didn’t have long to wait. ‘Millie?’
‘Khalid! Thank goodness.’
‘Is something wrong?’
‘No, but I need to talk to you, and not over the phone.’
‘I thought the housekeeper would explain that I’m tied up.’
‘She did, and I’m sorry to call, but—’
‘Is it something urgent or can it wait?’
For nine months, Millie thought. Her blood was beginning to boil. Khalid had never had any difficulty making time for her when he’d wanted her in his bed. For the sake of the child inside her, she bit back her angry words. ‘It’s nothing urgent,’ she confirmed.
‘Then, I’ll see you at the ball,’ he said, sounding vaguely irritated.
‘Until tomorrow night,’ she agreed, directing this to an already dead line.
* * *
He had been granted the singular honour of standing next to the ruling monarch of the United Kingdom to receive the guests, but all he could think about was Millie. Their reunion had been disjointed and unsatisfactory, and now their second meeting would be carried out in front of a crowd. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed her until they were standing in front of each other and he’d stared down into that intelligent, combative, beautiful oil-stained face. He loved everything about her, even the pencil sticking out of her hair.
As good manners demanded, he returned his attention to the line of guests as they moved at a snail’s pace in front of him, but his attention kept straying to the grand entrance doors to the ballroom, with impeccably dressed attendants flanking them at either side. Millie would appear at the top of that gracious sweep of marble steps.
He hoped.
Each new arrival was announced before being escorted down the stairs by their companion. Millie had no one to do that. He had hoped to return to his London home to surprise Millie and escort her to the ball, but his meetings had run over. They were too important to miss when the future of Khalifa depended on their outcome.
He turned as his aide whispered in his ear, ‘Ms Dillinger has arrived, Your Majesty.’
‘Excellent,’ he murmured, instantly on high alert.
From that moment on it was an ordeal to greet the guests politely and give them his full attention, when all he wanted to do was hunt for Millie. How frustrating, he thought with some irony, that of all the many things available to him, the one thing he wanted most was out of reach.
* * *
Light blazing from countless chandeliers had momentarily blinded Millie. When her vision adjusted, she took in the glittering throng in the ballroom, resplendent with light and gilding, and the glittering jewels of the guests. A vaulted ceiling stretched a dizzying height above her head, and was decorated with the most exquisite colourful frescoes. An orchestra was already seated, and waiting for the instruction to play. Even with these distractions, she needed no prompting to find Khalid. Her gaze flew to him like a heat-seeking missile, and as he turned to look at her she wasn’t disappointed.
But had she chosen the right dress?
Maybe not...everyone was staring at her, and a hush had fallen over the ballroom. Feeling exposed, she reviewed her choice of gown. She’d been careful not to choose anything too brightly coloured, or low-cut, or tight-fitting, and definitely not white. She didn’t want Khalid getting the wrong idea. She needed his help at the laundry, and had to focus on that. She had to tell him about their child, and still dreamed that when she did he would be as excited as she was at the prospect of creating a new life.
The dress, Millie reminded herself as her name was announced and she started down the stairs. It was fine. Careful as she was, she’d still had a wide choice of gowns, and had chosen a dream of a dress in a subtle shade of forest green, for no better reason than it reminded her of the lush banks of the oasis. Composed of floating lightweight silk chiffon, over a foundation of the same shade, it was covered in tiny crystals that shimmered beneath the light of countless chandeliers, like sunlight on the ripples of a lake. It fitted her like a glove, but as she wouldn’t be able to wear a close-fitting gown for much longer she’d looked at herself in the mirror before setting out, and thought, Why not?
* * *
Millie’s presence had caused an electric response in the ballroom. Everyone felt it as they stared towards the entrance where she stood. She had no need of diamond tiaras or a royal title to cause a buzz. Her warm smile to the footman who’d shown her in said everything about Millie. She made people want to get to know her, and for her to share some of that magic dust. She was more than a beauty, she was a kind and lovely woman, and even as Khalid was thinking this an ambassador leaned across to ask him if he knew her. He was about to answer when an upstart prince seized his opportunity and, leaving the receiving line, strode at speed towards Millie, no doubt intending to escort her the rest of the way down the stairs.
She’s mine!
The thought hit him like a freight train.
‘Excuse me, Your Majesty... Ambassador—’ A brisk dip of his head, and he’d left the line to chase after the Prince. Guests fell back at his approach, but his stare remained fixed on his goal.
Millie watched as the crowd below her on the dance floor parted like the Red Sea, first to admit the royal Prince, and then a tall, brutally masculine man in flowing black robes.
Khalid and the young man she didn’t recognise were both heading her way!
Something made the younger man turn around. Seeing Khalid, he glanced at Millie. Quickly assessing the situation, he stepped back. ‘You’re a lucky man,’ he said as the hawk of the desert swept past him.
Riveted by the drama, the crowd now turned to stare at Millie. She was halfway down the stairs, and had no alternative but to stand and watch. Or did she? Taking one of her famous executive decisions, she continued on down the stairs.
Khalid waylaid her. ‘Take care,’ he instructed, ‘or you might tumble in those high heels. You look fabulous, by the way.’
For an instant, it was such a thrill to see him, hear him, smell him, touch him—and he was right about the risk of her tumbling down the stairs, while she was distracted by him—she didn’t say a word. But then, making another executive decision, she placed her hand on his steadying arm. Fire streaked through her. She smiled. She should have known the effect he would have on her. ‘Shouldn’t you be with the royal party?’ she asked, struggling to maintain her dignity while her body insisted on behaving with no dignity at all.
Touching Khalid sent pulses of excitement racing through her. This was the father of her child? It hardly seemed possible. The same man who didn’t know yet, Millie reminded herself. The thought was like taking an ice-bath. She would tell him as soon as she could. It was important to let him know she wanted nothing from him.
But she smiled and the ball went on. No one, not even Khalid knew the thoughts in her head tonight. Taking his cue from their arrival on the dance floor, the conductor turned to the orchestra and raised his baton.
* * *
The rest of the night passed in a series of images she would never forget. A ball at the palace was everything she had dreamed it might be and more. The food was delicious, the music was sublime, and Khalid was...too perfect, at least for her, and that made her heart ache more than ever.
Being the Sheikh of Khalifa’s guest was like holding the golden ticket, Millie discovered. Everyone greeted her with warmth, and a rustle of interest followed them around the ballroom. It was a very different world, and she appreciated the chance to be here, but tucked away inside her enjoyment of the evening was the niggling suspicion that people assumed she was just another conquest of an immensely powerful man.
‘You’re not fooled by any of this, are you?’ Khalid remarked with his customary intuition as he escorted her to his table.
‘Can you read my thoughts?’
‘Always,’ he said.
Now she knew that wasn’t true, and smiled, relaxing. ‘I keep some thoughts hidden,’ she admitted.
‘And I wouldn’t change you,’ he said in a serious tone as he waved the palace attendant away so he could hold her chair himself. ‘I like you just the way you are.’
Their eyes met briefly, and Khalid’s stare was so direct, she thought this was the moment to tell him—in a crowded ballroom, full of people who would love to overhear what they said? It would have to wait. ‘Will you stay much longer?’ she asked instead.
‘I’m in your hands.’
That comment was no help at all. And then the rest of the dinner guests joined them, and it was impossible to get away, so she sat and talked and ate and danced, as if everything were as it should be.
When the royal party left, it was a sign that everyone else could leave, but she had to be sure that Khalid wouldn’t disappear again when they reached his London home. ‘Can we talk when we get back?’ she pressed as he escorted her out of the ballroom.
‘Of course,’ he reassured her with a slight frown. ‘I hadn’t forgotten you wanted to speak to me.’
Though he could have no idea about the subject of that talk, she thought as he helped her into the rear seat of the royal limousine, with its flag of Khalifa flying proudly from the roof. And a uniformed chauffeur seated only feet away from them, which made confidential conversation impossible.
‘You’re very quiet,’ Khalid commented as they drove smoothly through the London streets. Raising the privacy panel between them and the driver, he turned to face her. ‘What’s wrong, Millie?’
‘I’m just tired,’ she said, unable to meet his eyes. Telling him such momentous news in the back of a car, however grand, didn’t sit with her any better than in a crowded ballroom.
‘And you look quite pale,’ he observed as the street lights flickered across her face. ‘But I don’t buy you being tired. You were the star of the ball. Adrenalin must be pumping through your veins.’
And it was, Millie thought, but for all the wrong reasons. After the intimacies they’d shared, telling Khalid that she was pregnant should have been the easiest thing on earth, but instead it was turning out to be the hardest.
‘What is this mystery?’ he asked. There was a pause, and then he said, ‘Are you pregnant?’
Millie gave an audible gasp. Never one to shirk the truth, she could do no more than admit, ‘Yes, I am.’ She could only wait for his reaction and play off that, but Khalid remained silent until they reached his London home, where he helped her out of the limousine as if he’d learned nothing unusual that night, and ushered her up the steps with his usual care.
‘Ten minutes,’ he said, turning to face her when his butler opened the door.
She watched him jog up the magnificent mahogany staircase. He didn’t look round, and there was no offer of a steadying hand. It should have been a relief to have her wonderful news out in the open, but instead she felt more diminished than ever as she stood in the magnificent vaulted hall.
Rubbish! She was about to become a mother. And that took guts. This was no time for feeling anything other than confident about the future. Once she had reassured Khalid she wouldn’t make any call on him, he was sure to see she meant it and be relieved.
* * *
A child. They were having a child. Shocked at the enormity of this turn of events, he was fiercely excited. A baby was the natural consequence of so much sex, he reflected, and however careful he’d been, there had been times...
Releasing his grip on the back of the chair, he began to pace his study. He needed time to think. Ten minutes wasn’t long enough. This was as much emotion as he’d ever felt. Having grown up in a home where displays of emotion were frowned upon, his older brother, Saif, had been indulged, while Khalid, as the younger son, and by far the more spirited child, had largely been ignored, and consigned to the care of servants. By the age of seven he had learned not to yearn for the love of his parents, and had known that he would have to make his own way in the world. He’d studied hard to be the best he could be, and had gone on to serve his country in the forces, before going into business. Saif had never shown any interest in the sapphire mines, only in spending the money they produced, so it had been up to Khalid to bail out the royal treasury.
Duty remained as vital to him now as it had been then. The chance to have anything more than a formal royal life had never occurred to him, but before he could reassure Millie, he must open Pandora’s box. He had no option now, but telling her everything about that night was a risk. It could destroy her; destroy all the trust she’d built and the confidence she’d gained. Withholding the truth would almost certainly drive her away from him, but he would never contemplate building a child’s future on lies and evasion.
* * *
Having received the call to join Khalid in his study, she knew after he’d only been talking for a few minutes why he had wanted to keep things formal between them. ‘Let me get this straight,’ she said, holding up a hand to silence him. ‘You’ve been receiving reports on me since that night?’ She hated the way her voice quavered with shock.
‘Every school report,’ he confirmed evenly, as if this were completely normal, ‘and every course you ever took. Every friend you made—’
‘How dare you snoop on me like that?’ she demanded, incensed.
‘You were made an orphan that night,’ he continued, ignoring her outburst, ‘and I hold myself responsible for that. I felt protective towards you from the start, and I couldn’t just turn my back on you and walk away.’
‘So you paid for everything throughout my entire life.’
He remained silent.
‘You thought it your duty,’ she guessed bitterly.
‘Miss Francine was more than eager to give you a home,’ he argued in the same calm tone. ‘She was already very fond of you, but that isn’t an excuse for either of us to expect an elderly woman to bear the additional cost of housing you.’
‘I never did,’ Millie exploded. How dared he suggest such a thing? ‘I always paid my way.’
‘Yes, you did,’ he agreed, ‘but Miss Francine’s finances were perilously balanced, and she still refused to take any money from me. The least I could do was cover your education.’
‘So my scholarships—’
‘You earned every one of them,’ he stated firmly. ‘Khalifa does not bestow grants where they are not deserved.’
‘Khalifa?’ One shock on top of another. ‘I thought my awards came from the college. There was never any mention of Khalifa.’
‘Nothing is ever done in Khalifa to garner public acclaim. Everything is low-key.’
The way he liked it, she thought, still trying to come to terms with the fact that Khalid of Khalifa had been a major player in her life since the day of her mother’s tragic death.
There was a question she had to ask him. ‘Was it guilt that made you do this?’
‘Partly, yes,’ he admitted.
‘I would rather you’d told the truth to the court, than be here now.’
‘I did tell the truth to the court.’
He had just left a lot out, knowing it would make the headlines and those headlines would live for ever, taunting Millie with the truth of her mother’s death.
‘You told your version of the truth,’ she accused him.
‘Doesn’t everyone?’ He opened his arms wide. ‘The truth is always open to interpretation.’
‘Not in my world,’ she shot back bitterly.
‘Some facts aren’t helpful, Millie.’
‘Like those that prove your brother guilty of murder?’ she suggested with a short, humourless laugh.
‘Someone else pushed your mother. I told you that it was her dealer.’
‘But your brother drove my mother to the edge—he held that party—his guests mocked my mother. Whatever your lawyers said in court about my mother’s fate being in her own hands—her own shaking hands,’ she added hotly, ‘surely someone could have saved her! You should have saved her! I should have—’
‘You’re torturing yourself unnecessarily,’ he said as she broke off.
‘Says the man who fathered my child!’ she raged. ‘You lied to me, Khalid. You’ve been lying to me since the day the Sapphire sailed back into King’s Dock. I should have gone with my gut then, and stayed away from you.’
‘Your gut told you to see me,’ he argued quietly. ‘And you did the right thing. You’ve never turned your back on a problem yet, so why start now?’
‘Some things are better avoided? And you’re one of them! Why couldn’t you just tell me that you were going to be part of my life?’
‘Would you have preferred me to feed the scandal sheets?’
‘I would have preferred the truth,’ she flared. ‘It makes me wonder what else you’re hiding,’ she added with an acid glare. ‘You saved your brother—’
‘To prevent my country from being dragged through the mire,’ he defended. ‘After that was done, it was all about you.’
‘And I’m expected to believe that.’ Turning her back, she folded her arms, as if to contain her emotions. ‘Well, now it’s about me and my child,’ she said, whirling around to confront him, ‘which must be a considerable inconvenience for you.’
‘It’s nothing of the sort,’ he assured her.
She threw him a sceptical look. ‘I can just imagine the headlines: The Sheikh and the laundress expecting a baby, after the ruler of Khalifa returns to the UK to seduce the daughter of his brother’s victim.’
‘A rather long headline,’ he observed, curbing his natural response. He knew it was hormones driving this rant, but that didn’t make it acceptable.
‘Don’t make a joke of this,’ she warned.
‘And don’t you live in the past. We have a child to consider now, and the future of that child is far more important than anything that’s happened to us previously.’
Her lip trembled, and now he regretted pulling her up short. But not too much. What he had said was true.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why I thought I could discuss this with you calmly.’
‘Because you can.’
‘So long as I toe your line?’
‘So long as you state your case clearly and I state mine. Now. It’s been a long day for both of us. May I suggest we reconvene this meeting in the morning?’ Before she could answer, he stood up and walked to the door. Opening it, he waited for her to leave. After a moment’s hesitation, she did so.
‘Nine o’clock tomorrow morning on the terrace for breakfast,’ he said.
Lifting her chin, she walked past him without another word.