Pregnant By The Desert King
Pregnant By The Desert King
Susan Stephens
Seduced as his secret Cinderella…Lucy is shocked by Tadj’s royal revelation…Lucy is carrying the baby of a desert king! Tadj will secure his heir, but can Lucy accept his scandalous solution that she share his royal bed?
Seduced as his secret Cinderella...
But will she be his queen?
Pregnant and alone, Lucy Gillingham is determined to protect her unborn child from her volatile family. Then Tadj, the enticing stranger she spent an unforgettable night with, returns with a royal revelation...Lucy is carrying the baby of a desert king! Tadj will secure his heir, but can Lucy accept his scandalous solution—that she share his royal bed?
A royal romance with a secret-baby twist!
SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Mills & Boon style, they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday and married three months later. Susan enjoys entertaining, travel and going to the theatre. To relax she reads, cooks and plays the piano, and when she’s had enough of relaxing she throws herself off mountains on skis or gallops through the countryside singing loudly.
Also by Susan Stephens (#u2d57610d-aa23-52ae-8cc6-2b71ea93eeae)
A Diamond for Del Rio’s Housekeeper
The Sicilian’s Defiant Virgin
The Secret Kept from the Greek
A Night of Royal Consequences
The Sheikh’s Shock Child
Hot Brazilian Nights! miniseries
In the Brazilian’s Debt
At the Brazilian’s Command
Brazilian’s Nine Months’ Notice
Back in the Brazilian’s Bed
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk. (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Pregnant by the Desert King
Susan Stephens
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07283-0
PREGNANT BY THE DESERT KING
© 2018 Susan Stephens
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For my wonderful ever-expanding,
ever-supportive family.
Contents
Cover (#u5d6406ed-c9c0-5377-8bfa-c3ce72d188d4)
Back Cover Text (#u938c1090-0688-5348-8704-f74f8a6c84fb)
About the Author (#u202bb09a-48da-5368-a94a-9ff5cc6eab8a)
Booklist (#uc620fe8e-e788-5f05-990e-83a9064a9f80)
Title Page (#ubcb43e57-36e7-5a04-b557-c3a1ccc0b2e6)
Copyright (#u6f1727bd-f41a-53ff-9e52-73b916531c0f)
Dedication (#u393cebdf-420c-5b25-8884-48710a4eeb42)
PROLOGUE (#ud0d4a929-0736-5f39-9749-c7737c529b41)
CHAPTER ONE (#u8ac2a22d-793d-5fe7-8a03-e15dd08e6c6b)
CHAPTER TWO (#u833ed374-930d-5556-bda9-78c1f8a4d42e)
CHAPTER THREE (#ua654f98e-7af7-5a26-95ef-055c62dfe013)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u1cf23e25-8b18-5858-9ef4-98ea66943b17)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#u2d57610d-aa23-52ae-8cc6-2b71ea93eeae)
Present day...
TADJ’S WORLD TILTED on its axis as a woman in a red dress stepped out of the kitchen.
‘Excuse me, Your Excellency,’ he said, startling his ambassador to London. ‘Something extraordinary has just happened.’
‘Of course, Your Majesty...’ Raising his portly form as quickly as he could the ambassador bowed to his ruler and employer, the Emir of Qalala, as Tadj, an exceptionally striking-looking man, left the table where they’d been dining incognito, to stride across the floor.
Sensing his approach, the young woman turned and stared, paling, as if she’d seen a ghost.
CHAPTER ONE (#u2d57610d-aa23-52ae-8cc6-2b71ea93eeae)
Three months earlier...
A CASUAL COFFEE in the steamy café next door in her lunch break from work at the laundry had never involved plugging Lucy’s body into a power source before. Lined up at the counter behind a red-hot Goliath with shoulders wide enough to hoist an ox, she reasoned it was only natural to be distracted, as her heart beat nineteen to the dozen. He was deeply tanned, with thick, inky-black hair that curled possessively over his neck in a way that made her fantasise about making it even more unruly; his short, rugged jacket might have been designed for no better purpose than to display his iron-hard butt, and long, lean legs. He was so big he achieved the impossible by making her feel dainty for the first time in her life. She was the woman targeted by slimming magazines who always planned to lose weight. And she would, just as soon as chocolate was written out of history.
‘Would you like to go ahead of me?’
She almost fainted when he swung around.
‘Are you speaking to me?’ popped out of her mouth before her brain was in gear. Silly question, when the most devastating black stare was directed straight into her eyes. It was the most arousal-inducing stare she’d ever been subjected to. There were eyes of all description, some of them very beautiful, but these were astonishingly beautiful eyes.
‘Can you move along, please? People are waiting to be served.’
Jerking alert as the lady behind the counter bellowed the instruction, Lucy shuffled along in line, and in doing so managed to stumble into Goliath.
‘Perhaps you should sit down before you cause a pile-up,’ he advised with amusement. His deep, husky voice with the intriguing accent, combined with his big, firm hands steadying her, blew her mind. ‘Now?’ he suggested as she stared at him transfixed. ‘I’ll get the drinks while you find the table.’
Finally, she came to. ‘Do I know you?’
‘I don’t believe so,’ he said, staring down from his great height. ‘Coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate? Something to eat, perhaps?’
By now, people had turned to stare. One or two, having recognised Lucy, nodded and gave her a thumbs-up expression. She didn’t want to make a fuss. This was her local greasy spoon. Nor did she want to bolt, giving the man the impression he intimidated her. Who was he? she wondered. There was only one way to find out. ‘Coffee would be nice...thank you. Skimmed milk, two shots, please.’
As he turned to place their order she became aware of the buzz of interest in the café; most of it directed her way. Should she know him? Was he a celebrity? If only she paid more attention to the press. Maybe he had called in at the laundry while she was working in the back; no one could forget a face like that. He could pass for a sailor with his deep tan and super-fit appearance, but, with his commanding manner and expensive casual look, he didn’t strike her as crew.
‘When you’re ready,’ he prompted as he waited for their coffee to be prepared. ‘The table,’ he reminded her. ‘There aren’t many free. Better get moving.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said, saluting ironically, but not before she’d absorbed his clean, spicy scent.
She did go to find a table, even though she wasn’t a fan of domineering men. This man had redeemed himself with that curving, dark-eyed smile. She guessed he used it a lot, but this was a packed café, and not much could go wrong over a coffee. It wouldn’t hurt to give him five minutes to see how he turned out. Her chums at the laundry were always complaining that nothing exciting ever happened, so at the least she’d be able to tell them about this when she got back to work.
She’d hidden herself away long enough.
As the unwanted thought shot into her mind, she shivered involuntarily, and recollections of her cruel, abusive stepfather came flooding back. Her mother’s second husband headed up a criminal empire peopled by ruthless thugs. Thank goodness he was in prison where he belonged. Lucy had left home at her mother’s insistence, to escape the increasingly unpleasant attention of her stepfather’s henchmen. She’d been lucky enough to find genuine friends on King’s Dock.
Having paused to acknowledge a couple of friends, she glanced at the man, only to see that he had not only paid for their drinks, but for an elderly couple’s pot of tea. He’d be up a tree, saving a cat next, Lucy thought with a smile as he crossed the café towards her. She had to stop being so suspicious of men. They weren’t all bad.
‘Something wrong?’ her new friend asked, frowning attractively as he drew near.
‘Nothing,’ she said, noticing how much attention he was getting. Both he and her stepfather were big, powerful men, but that was where the similarity ended. Her stepfather was a ruthless bully, and she could see nothing of the snake in this man. If eyes mirrored the soul she was safe; there was no evil in them.
Just heat, Lucy reflected with a bubble of excitement and amusement as he indicated that she should sit down. ‘Or are you going to stand here all day, blocking the aisle?’
When he lifted one sweeping ebony brow like that, and smiled into her eyes, it was impossible not to respond. Her stepfather hadn’t crushed her spirit yet.
‘Are you going to join me?’ she invited once she was settled.
She had to move the table to let him in. He was what might be referred to as a big unit, and she was hardly petite. And though he might be a player, and she his latest target, one cup of coffee did not a drama make. People knew her here, and she could leave any time she liked.
* * *
Today was turning out better than anticipated, Tadj concluded as he studied the lush-figured woman sitting opposite him. She had magnificent breasts, which even her bulky winter clothes couldn’t hide. But it wasn’t his automatic male assessment that struck him most, but her natural poise and unaffected manner. It was such a welcome change from the women who usually flocked around him, hoping for the position of wife, or mistress at the very least.
He’d been walking the dock, filling in time before a party that evening on board his friend Sheikh Khalid’s yacht, the Sapphire. Leaving behind the razzmatazz that went with the title Emir of Qalala, to mix with the crowds on the dock like any other visitor to the high-end marina, was a welcome release from the pressure of celebrity. Spending time with a woman who didn’t appear to recognise him was a novelty. The fact that this woman probably wouldn’t have cared less if she had known who he was was an unexpected bonus. He planned to stay on the Sapphire tonight, and a strange bed was always warmer with an agreeable companion at his side.
Or underneath him.
‘Are you sure this is okay for you?’ she asked, glancing around. ‘You seem to be creating some interest. Should I know you?’
‘You do now. And in answer to your question, this is perfect.’
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ she pointed out.
‘No. I didn’t,’ he agreed.
A tense, electric silence sprang between them. He’d sensed her before he’d spotted her in the café. His senses were always fine-tuned where women were concerned, but she had intrigued him from the first moment, with her elfin looks, and full, voluptuous figure. She wasn’t remotely in awe of him, which only added to her allure. Half his size, she was quite a bit younger, though her character made up for any lack of experience.
‘Good coffee?’ she said, breaking the silence.
‘Excellent,’ he murmured, maintaining eye contact until she blushed.
In the course of his duties as ruler of one of the fabulously wealthy Sapphire States, he met many women, but never remembered them for long. None held such instant appeal. He weighed up her clothes and the body underneath. The cheap, unbuttoned coat was open over a clinging cotton sweater that spurred an urge to introduce her to fabrics that would caress her body. Kissing that challenging look off her face was another must, before bringing her to the heights of pleasure.
‘You really didn’t need to do this,’ she said as he asked the waitress for a top-up.
‘But I really want to,’ he said, holding her stare.
‘Do you always get what you want?’
‘Most times,’ he admitted.
He only had to raise a brow for her to read him easily. ‘Lucy,’ she said. ‘Lucy Gillingham.’
The name meant nothing to him, but he made a mental note to ask his security team to check her out.
‘Careful,’ he said as she dipped her head to take a sip of the refreshed coffee. ‘It’s hot.’
‘I’m always careful,’ she said with a look that left him in no doubt she would never be a pushover.
The most astonishing jade-green eyes pierced his, tilted up at the outer corners. Lucy’s expressive gaze was enhanced by a thick fringe of black lashes that added a feline touch to what was already a highly attractive package.
‘Sorry,’ she said, pulling back, and blushed attractively when their knees brushed.
‘No problem,’ he said, sliding his long legs between hers without touching her, but her blush deepened as if she was deeply conscious of the intimacy forced upon them by the narrow table. Colour tinted her Slavic cheekbones an attractive shade of rose. ‘You have beautiful hair,’ he said to distract her.
‘And you have big feet,’ she said, shuffling around to remove all chance of them touching.
Lucy wore her hair in a no-nonsense short, urchin-cut style. It suited her strong personality. In a rich shade of auburn, it reminded him of autumn on his English country estate when the leaves had turned from vibrant green to take on the tint of fire. She was fiery. She’d be amazing in bed.
‘Oh, that’s better,’ she said, having drained the mug. ‘I’m good for nothing before a coffee. How about you?’
‘I’m good for some things,’ he said.
Her cheeks burned red. He hadn’t enjoyed himself so much in a long time.
How could talking about coffee be so dangerous? Lucy spent a lot of time daydreaming, but none of them turned out like this. If only she’d paid more attention to the press and laundry gossip, she might have a clue who the intriguing man was. ‘You’re new in port,’ she prompted, waiting on more information.
‘Another coffee?’
‘Yes, please.’ As he turned to speak to the waitress, her mind strayed to lazy days on a sugar-sand beach, with blocks of chilled chocolate at her side, and a bucket of lemon sorbet Bellinis to share with the mystery man as a prelude to very good sex, the details of which escaped her for now.
‘Something wrong?’ he queried as she frowned.
‘Yes. As a matter of fact, there is. I told you my name. Or, do you have something to hide?’
He laughed and his entire face lit up. Attractive didn’t even begin to describe the creases around his eyes and the flash of those strong white teeth. Raunchy? Her nipples were prickling without him even looking at them. Close enough for her to detect his minty breath, and to register the fact that he didn’t like shaving, he was an incredible lure with those incredible black eyes burning into hers.
‘My name is Tadj.’
‘Ah—like the Taj Mahal,’ she said, relaxing.
‘Tadj with a D,’ he explained.
‘Oh.’ Her cheeks flamed up again. ‘I suppose you hear that dozens of times.’
‘Some,’ he agreed.
The killer smile had returned to his face, but she settled for regarding him coolly. With his thick black hair curling wildly around cheekbones that would have sent Michelangelo crazy for his chisel, she guessed he must be used to admiration, and was determined not to add to it, though couldn’t help herself wondering what that sharp black stubble would feel like if he rasped it very gently against her skin. Imagining her rounded curves accommodating his impressive hard-muscled frame led her to shift position on the bench seat.
‘Tadj,’ she repeated to distract herself fast. ‘Nice.’
He was still staring at her with that faintly amused expression on his face, which led to one quick thought...melted chocolate, heated gently before being spread liberally over her naked body, for him to lick off. ‘Okay, Tadj with a D, so now I know your name, but not your occupation.’
‘That’s right. You don’t,’ he said.
‘Cagey,’ she observed, narrowing her eyes. ‘I’m genuinely curious.’
‘And I’m genuinely cagey,’ he countered with a scorching look.
They both laughed and the atmosphere lightened.
‘So?’ she prompted, coffee mug hovering in front of her lips.
‘So, what? What do you want to know?’
‘Let’s start with everything?’ she said.
‘We don’t have time.’
‘Should I be worried that you’re being so evasive?’
‘Here?’ He glanced around. ‘Probably not.’
But later, she thought. She killed the thought as soon as it sprang into her head. There’d be no later. She’d try another tack to dig for information. ‘So, what brings you to King’s Dock?’
‘Old friends and business,’ he said.
‘Intriguing.’
‘Not really,’ he admitted, sitting back. ‘King’s Dock is a convenient place to meet, that’s all.’ He raised a brow, as if challenging her to ask more questions.
‘I must be keeping you from your friends,’ she stated, reaching for her bag.
‘You’re not,’ he said, still relaxed, still surveying her as a soft-pawed predator might observe his next meal.
As they stared at each other, a quiver of arousal tracked down her spine. He was enjoying this, she thought. And so was she. A lot more than was wise. Why had this extraordinary-looking man landed in the middle of an ordinary day? Time to take a tougher line. ‘You sat me down, force-fed me coffee, so now you have to pay for the pleasure of my company with information.’
‘You think?’ Few women had ever made him laugh as Lucy did. Being so irreverent and funny was part of her charm. ‘You won’t get round me,’ he warned when she pulled a mock-disappointed face.
‘Why not?’ she complained in the same style. ‘Is what you do for a living classified information? Maybe you’re a secret agent,’ she speculated with a lift of her finely drawn brow.
‘And maybe I’m a man drinking coffee in a café and minding his own business as best he can...’
‘How boring. I prefer my version.’
‘I’m in security,’ he admitted finally. This was the truth. One of his many companies was responsible for the safety of some of the most prominent people on the planet. As the ruler of a country it was in his interest to hire the best.
‘Aha.’ Sitting back, Lucy appeared to relax. ‘Now it makes sense.’
‘What does?’
‘Your evasiveness,’ she explained. ‘I’m guessing you handle security for one of the those big fat potentates on their big fat superyachts.’ She angled her chin towards the window, beyond which a line of imposing vessels loomed like huge white ghosts against the steel-grey sky. ‘What’s it like working for the super-rich, mystery man?’
Her naivety was irresistible, but her innocence compelled him to tell the truth. ‘Actually, I’m one of them.’
‘A big, fat potentate?’ she exclaimed, frowning in a way that made him laugh.
‘I thought it was the yachts you thought big and fat.’
‘You’re being serious, aren’t you?’ she said in a very different tone.
‘Your expression does my ego no good at all,’ he admitted.
‘Well, this changes things,’ she said, ‘and I can’t help the way I look.’
‘Having money changes your opinion of me?’
She hummed and frowned again. ‘I don’t have an opinion about you yet,’ she admitted honestly. ‘I don’t know you well enough.’
He would be the first to admit he was touchy about money. His late uncle had plundered the Qalalan treasury, leaving it empty when Tadj inherited the throne. Tadj had built up a bankrupt country brick by brick. Even then, when everything was back on an even keel, a family to whose daughter he’d been engaged since his birth turned up to demand he marry the girl right away. It had cost him a king’s ransom to sort that out. The experience had left him with a horror of state marriages, together with the distinct impression that a mistress was far preferable to a wife. He had to marry one day to provide Qalala with an heir as the constitution demanded, but not yet, and his thoughts regarding taking a mistress in the interim had just taken on a new and vigorous lease of life.
CHAPTER TWO (#u2d57610d-aa23-52ae-8cc6-2b71ea93eeae)
‘IF YOU’VE MADE so much money out of the security business...’ What was coming next, he wondered as Lucy gave him one of her wide-eyed cheeky, teasing looks. ‘Can I ask you for a loan?’
He knew this was a joke, but bridled anyway at the possibility that she might be like all the rest. ‘Ten pounds until pay day?’ she pressed blithely, but she couldn’t hold back the laughter, and, sitting back, she said, ‘You should see your face.’
He adopted a stern look. ‘You’ll get away with that this time.’
‘You mean there’ll be a next time?’ Quick as a whip, he thought as she added, ‘That’s assuming rather a lot, isn’t it? How do you know I’ll want to see you again?’
His groin tightened as he told her, ‘Educated guess.’
Resting her chin on her hand, she stared at him in a way that made him wish he were clothed in flowing robes rather that snug-fitting jeans.
‘Surely, you can run to a miserly ten pounds?’ she pressed.
He reached for his wallet.
‘Don’t you dare,’ she said.
‘Can’t I pay the bill for the extra coffee?’
‘Touché,’ she said. ‘Just bear this in mind, Mr Security Man. I don’t want your money. I don’t want anyone’s money. I’m doing fine as I am. Here—let me contribute. Save your money for your next coffee-shop adventure.’
‘I doubt there’ll be one.’
‘Too much of a security risk for you to keep taking up with strangers?’ she suggested.
‘Something like that.’ He stared at her intently, but there was no sign that she’d recognised him.
‘I guess you have to be careful in the security business.’
‘My involvement is in the security of a country,’ he explained.
‘Big stuff,’ she said.
‘You could say that.’ He grinned.
‘You must be pretty powerful. And yet you look so normal.’
He tried hard not to laugh. ‘Why thank you.’
‘Well, this has all been very nice.’ She sighed as she gathered up her things. ‘But now it’s time for me to go. Some of us have to work,’ she added.
‘Let me walk you back—where do you work?’ He wasn’t ready to let her go.
‘At Miss Francine’s laundry,’ she said with a touch of defiance.
He got it. Some of the rich yachties could be real snobs. If he turned out to be one of them, she’d rather know now. ‘The laundry on the marina?’ he prompted, having noticed the bustling establishment on his walk.
‘Yes.’ She pulled another of her comic faces. ‘We’ve moved on from banging out dirt with stones at the stream.’
‘Uh-huh. So, what’s your job at the laundry?’
‘Ironing and finishing.’
‘You any good?’
‘You bet I am.’
His lips twitched and then she laughed. It must have dawned on them both at the same moment that two strangers could share a table and chat over coffee, without things getting heavy.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said with a graceful flutter of her slender hands. ‘I didn’t mean to bite your head off. It’s just that some visitors to King’s Dock are snobby idiots and I wanted to be sure you weren’t one of them.’
‘I’d never have guessed,’ he said dryly.
‘So long as you’re not a trust-fund yachtie with nothing better to do than spend your inherited money, I guess I’m okay with that.’
‘Touchy about money?’ he probed as they navigated their way out through the crowded café.
‘Every sensible person cares about money,’ she said.
‘Well, I can reassure you on that score. Everything I’ve got I’ve earned. All I inherited was debt.’
‘There must be something else wrong with you,’ she said as they reached the door. ‘No one’s perfect.’
‘Feel free to examine my faults,’ he invited.
‘Not likely! So, who left the debt?’ she asked with her hand on the door. ‘A close relative?’
‘My uncle.’ As he spoke and took over opening the door, he realised that he hadn’t been this frank with anyone ever, let alone on such short acquaintance.
‘So you repaid your uncle’s debt as a matter of honour,’ she guessed as they stepped out into icy air from the steaming warmth of the busy café.
He shrugged as he thought back to when Qalala’s future had depended on a financial rescue package, and how lucky he was to have already made a fortune in tech. This had allowed him to vastly improve the lot of his people, and save the sapphire mines his uncle had been plundering for years.
‘Let’s just say my uncle almost ruined the family business,’ he told her as they walked along.
‘And you saved it,’ she said confidently.
‘You’ve got a lot of faith in a man you’ve only just met,’ he commented.
Her extraordinary green eyes shot him a penetrating glance. ‘I don’t feel like this about everyone.’
For some strange reason, he felt the same, and wanted to tell her more about the history of his country, and how deeply he felt for Qalala. Meeting Lucy had turned out to be a real wake-up call. The type of wife his royal council was urging him to take would be a matter of business for both parties, whereas a mistress like Lucy would give as good as she got. ‘So now you’ve got me all worked out, what’s next for you?’ he probed.
‘I’d like to hear more about you,’ she said.
‘Some other time,’ he proposed as they reached the marina.
‘There you go again,’ she said with an amused sideways look. ‘That would mean seeing each other again,’ she explained. ‘So, where do you come from? You don’t have an office pallor, so I’m guessing somewhere hot...’
‘Somewhere far away,’ he said.
‘Come on, Mr Security Man. I need specifics.’
‘So you can tell your friends?’
‘Can’t I be interested?’
Was he going to talk about the billions he’d made in tech? She’d run a mile. Lucy just wasn’t the type to be impressed by money. And he wanted to keep her around a little longer. Should he tell her that he used to be known as the Playboy Prince, and his people, who had been downtrodden for years by his profligate uncle, hadn’t expected anything of him? They couldn’t have guessed that he’d been waiting for this chance to serve his country, and would seize the opportunity with both hands. Putting his business acumen to its most demanding test yet, he had transformed Qalala, and would continue to put the country before himself.
‘And you accuse me of daydreaming,’ Lucy accused.
He linked arms with her as they crossed the road. It was a gesture that came as naturally as breathing.
Tadj was gorgeous. And yes, she was smitten. She’d have to be a block of wood not to be affected by his firm touch on her arm, or those amazing eyes, scanning the street to make sure they were safe before he crossed. He was so rugged and tall and tanned, it felt amazing to be linking arms with him.
‘Watch out,’ he exclaimed as, distracted, she almost tripped over the kerb.
As his grip tightened and their faces came dangerously close, she determined to discover Tadj’s true identity when she returned to the laundry. Someone was bound to know. Gossip was rife on King’s Dock, and spread like wildfire. A man like Tadj would hardly go unnoticed. Her workmates would have all the juice, which would almost certainly include the fact that she’d been seen drinking coffee with him.
‘I’m afraid this is where we part,’ she said as they approached her workplace.
‘Afraid? You?’ he queried with a wry look. ‘Those two things don’t fit.’
‘I’m not a thing,’ she said, warming under his gaze. ‘And I’m not afraid of you,’ she added.
‘I’m very pleased to hear it,’ he said, making her a mock bow.
Everything about this encounter was new to her. She’d never had so much fun with a man. She’d never had fun at all. It was such a shame they would probably never meet again.
He frowned deeply. ‘Do you have to go straight back to work?’
Her pulse raced. So he felt the connection too. ‘Yes,’ she said, instinct telling her not to make things too easy for him. ‘Some other time, perhaps...’
‘When?’
She hadn’t expected him to be quite so direct. ‘Soon,’ she said airily as her heart tried to pound its way out of her chest. ‘I’d like that,’ she added honestly, feeling she’d been a bit harsh. ‘And you don’t have to walk me to the door.’
‘But I insist,’ he said.
‘Do you always get your own way?’
‘Always,’ he said in a way that made a quiver of excitement tremble low in her belly and her nipples tighten to the point of pain.
‘Thanks for the coffee,’ she said when they reached the laundry.
‘Just tell me one thing before you go,’ he insisted.
She looked at his hand on her arm. He let her go. ‘Okay,’ she agreed.
‘What would you do if you had all the money in the world?’
She didn’t even have to think about it. ‘I’d buy new machinery for Miss Francine’s laundry and make sure she took a proper holiday. Did I say something funny?’ She frowned.
‘Only what I expected of you, I suppose.’
Lucy’s heart pounded even faster as Tadj’s magnificent shoulders eased in a casual shrug. ‘Your wish is highly commendable,’ he added, staring down at her with warmth and laughter in his eyes.
‘But you’re not the genie in the bottle,’ she observed sensibly.
‘I could be...’
‘Not this time,’ she said, warning him off with a mock-stern look.
As she was speaking, she was digging around in her shopper to find her purse.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, frowning as she brought it out.
‘Paying for my coffee,’ she said. ‘I don’t like to be in debt to anyone—and you’ve had enough trouble, from what you’ve told me. I would have paid at the café, but you got in fast. Here. Take it,’ she insisted, thrusting some cash towards him.
‘I’ll leave it as a tip for the wait staff when I walk past,’ he agreed.
‘Brownie points to you,’ she said approvingly. ‘Well, I can’t be late for work.’
‘Don’t forget tonight—’
‘Tonight?’ she interrupted.
‘When I see you again.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve got studying to do when I finish work.’
‘Studying what?’ he pressed, frowning.
‘History of art. My dream is to be a curator, or a conservator one day,’ she explained.
‘Working in a museum or an art gallery?’ he proposed.
‘Exactly.’
Tadj stared at her long and hard. ‘Anything else?’ he said at last.
‘I’ll let you know if I think of something,’ she promised cheekily with a glance inside the laundry.
‘Don’t let me keep you,’ Tadj said dryly.
‘I won’t.’
‘Just one thing,’ he said.
‘Which is?’ she pressed.
‘You’ll need a party dress for tonight.’
‘I’ve already told you, I’m not coming out tonight.’
‘But you’ve got a party to go to.’
‘No, I don’t,’ she argued, enjoying the game. How could she not, when Tadj’s wicked black eyes were full of amusement?
‘Yes, you do,’ he insisted, acting stern.
‘With you? Not likely!’ she countered, wanting to prolong the moment of parting.
‘On board the Sapphire tonight,’ he tempted.
‘You’re kidding me! You know I can’t resist an invitation like that.’
‘Good.’ His lips pressed down attractively, making her wonder what it would feel like if he kissed her. So much so, she almost missed his next statement. ‘My friend Sheikh Khalid is having a party tonight, and you’re invited as my guest.’
‘That’s news to me,’ she said, heart pounding as she lifted her chin to confront those dangerous eyes.
‘I can’t think of anyone I’d rather take as my plus one. At least we’ll have a laugh. What do you say?’
‘Can’t you find someone else to have a laugh with? Someone more suitable?’ Lucy suggested, as the enormity of what she could be agreeing to struck home. A glamorous party on board a yacht that could slip its moorings at any point? However attractive she might find Tadj, or maybe because of it, her sensible self advised caution.
‘I’m right out of amusing women at the moment,’ he said with a somewhat cynical look that suggested this might actually be the case. ‘And I don’t relish being bored to tears by people trying to find out if the person they’re talking to is as important as they are.’
‘Good plan. But why me, when there must be dozens of better qualified companions?’
‘Qualified in what way?’ he demanded, pretending to be shocked.
‘There must be dozens of people who’d love to go to that party.’ With you, she left out, deciding that with his good looks Tadj probably didn’t need his ego massaging.
‘No one with your unique qualities,’ he assured her, straight-faced.
She hummed and frowned. ‘I’d love to know what they are.’
‘That will become apparent as the evening goes on,’ he promised.
‘But as I’m not coming to the party...’
‘Those unique qualities will force you to,’ he insisted. ‘You won’t be able to resist.’
He might be right, Lucy concluded. ‘Go on.’
‘You work a real job, and meet real people on a daily basis. You’re interested in everything and everyone, and you have your own quirky take on what you see.’
‘You’ve gathered a lot about me in a very short time.’
He certainly had, Tadj thought. ‘My point is you’re real and I like that. You have no idea how rare that is.’
She thought about this for a moment. ‘You make a very persuasive case,’ she said at last.
And he wasn’t about to give up. ‘You’ll be my honoured guest tonight.’
‘Better that than dishonoured—and you can put that away,’ she flashed when he pulled out his wallet.
‘For the dress you’ll be wearing tonight,’ he explained.
She tightened her lips. Now he’d offended her. ‘I’m not entirely penniless. I’m sure I can rustle something up.’
‘Then, you agree?’
She looked at him and heaved a theatrical sigh. ‘You got me,’ she admitted.
‘Just one thing. Don’t keep me waiting when I pick you up tonight.’
‘Making conditions now? I can always change my mind.’
‘You won’t,’ he said confidently.
‘And you can keep the killer smile for someone who will appreciate it,’ she added with a mock-stern frown.
‘Someone like you?’ he suggested, staring deep into her eyes.
‘I’ve changed my mind. I’d be right out of my depth—and crazy to agree.’
‘Too late. The deal is done.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Lucy argued, ‘and now you’re making me late for work.’
‘You’re making yourself late for work by taking so long to confirm the details of our date tonight.’
‘Please take your hand off the door and let me go in.’
‘No sense of adventure?’ he said, going nowhere. ‘I thought a lot more of you than that.’
‘I’ve got plenty of sense of adventure,’ Lucy assured him, ‘and plenty of common sense too.’
‘Prove it,’ he said.
‘I will, by refusing an invitation from someone I hardly know.’
‘Every relationship has to start somewhere...’
Tadj looked so sexy, leaning against the door. Say yes to this ridiculous proposal and she could at least satisfy her workmates’ curiosity about the Sapphire, as well as her own about Tadj. Say no, and she might regret it for the rest of her life.
‘I’m not sure about risking my virtue on board that ship tonight,’ she said, voicing her thoughts out loud.
‘Your virtue?’ Tadj commented with amusement. ‘I didn’t know that was on offer.’
‘It isn’t,’ she said with a steely look.
‘Shame,’ he murmured, but with humour tugging at his mouth.
‘Okay,’ she said, decision made. She trusted herself to act sensibly if she accepted his invitation, and it was the opportunity of a lifetime. ‘I have decided to come to the party tonight.’
‘Excellent.’
Tadj’s wolfish smile sent tremors to all her erogenous zones, to the point where she almost missed him adding, ‘No tiaras. It’s just a casual get-together.’
‘Between billionaires?’ she suggested.
‘Between you and me,’ he corrected her.
All she had to do was laugh it off and walk through that door. She need never see him again. Life would return to normal. But normal could be boring, and Tadj was right about adventure beckoning, but only if the adventure was on her terms.
‘Don’t you be late,’ she warned. ‘It’s cold at night, standing in this doorway.’
CHAPTER THREE (#u2d57610d-aa23-52ae-8cc6-2b71ea93eeae)
WHAT HAD SHE DONE? What had she done? How had she allowed herself to be talked into this? Wicked eyes blazing into hers hadn’t helped, Lucy reflected later as she got ready in her small bedsit above the laundry. Nor had feeling as if Tadj and she had known each other longer than it took to drink a couple of cups of coffee. But now was not the time to reflect on why it was possible to feel like that about someone, and not about others. Her decision to go to the party had been made, and she had no intention of skulking in her room, or asking her friends to send Tadj away when he arrived. It would be fascinating to discover how the other half lived, and she could report back to her friends at the laundry.
The only remaining problem was what to wear. She had one decent dress; a cheap sale-rail spectacular she still wasn’t entirely sure was her colour. Red hair and freckles didn’t always blend well with bright red, especially when the weather turned her skin blue with cold. She’d only worn it once, to the Christmas party when everyone made an effort for the sake of the elderly owner of the laundry. Miss Francine went to so much trouble for them, it was the least they could do.
So... Tadj was older than she was, and obviously more sophisticated, and much richer, suggesting he’d be used to women in designer clothes. Too bad, she thought as she plucked the dress from its hanger. He’d pressed her to accompany him tonight, so he’d have to put up with her dress being a bit too short and too tight. The sale rail didn’t offer custom made.
Tadj must be around early thirties, she thought. She was twenty-three, and definitely not glamorous, or sophisticated. Or successful...not yet. But she could keep a roof over her head, which was something to be proud about, and she had the best of friends, which was more important than anything else. And she had no intention of putting out for the price of a gourmet meal, let alone a date on board the flashiest vessel in the harbour, Lucy determined, firming her jaw. A polite thank-you note would have to be enough, she concluded as a noisy group of excited friends, having spied on her from inside the laundry while she was negotiating with Tadj, burst into the room.
‘So?’ they chorused, nearly deafening her as they gathered around. ‘You’ve been seen.’
‘Really?’ She acted daft.
‘With the best-looking man on King’s Dock,’ one of them confided with a jerk of her head to her friends.
‘Hmm.’ Staring heavenwards, Lucy pretended to think about this. If she’d had more experience of men, maybe she could have joked along with her girlfriends, but somehow Tadj was special—unique in her experience—and she didn’t want to exchange banter concerning him while the tender green shoot of a first meeting was still so fragile. ‘I did meet someone who works in security,’ she admitted frankly. ‘He bought me coffee, and that’s all there is to it.’
‘So you won’t be seeing him again?’ her friends pressed, exchanging knowing glances with each other.
‘I didn’t say that. What?’ she demanded when her girlfriends started to laugh.
‘It’s not what you’re telling us, but what you’re not telling us,’ one of them insisted. ‘Unless, of course, you really don’t know?’
‘Don’t know what?’ She’d been warm and safe here, and surrounded by friends since the day she’d arrived. Had she thrown all that away for the sake of a wicked smile and mocking eyes?
‘Didn’t the guy tell you his name?’ one of her closest friends prompted.
‘His name is Tadj. He doesn’t have to hide anything,’ Lucy insisted.
But did he? she wondered. The spear of anxiety had returned, and with it thoughts of her vicious gangland thug of a stepfather, who was currently serving a lengthy term in prison for his crimes. He had plenty to hide, and could still charm the pants off anyone who didn’t know his reputation, and who met him for the first time.
‘Tadj,’ another friend prompted, breaking into Lucy’s troubled thoughts. ‘Did this Tadj have a surname?’
It was a relief when Tadj’s stunningly attractive face swam into Lucy’s mind, completely eclipsing the evil mask of her stepfather. ‘I don’t think so,’ she murmured as she racked her brains. ‘First names are enough at a first encounter over coffee.’
‘Did he tell you about his job?’ another friend pressed.
‘Yes—security. I already told you.’
Her stepfather had eyes like a shark, black, dead and cold, she remembered, without a flicker of expression in them. There was no evil in Tadj’s eyes. He could look a bit fierce at times—all right, most of the time—but there was also good humour and warmth. And, of course, the sexual heat that flared off him. Better not to think about that now.
More friends had joined them, and her tiny room was overcrowded. Miss Francine was known locally as the Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe, because of her generosity towards the women she hired. The bedsits she let out for a peppercorn rent might be cramped and old-fashioned, but, for women seeking sanctuary, not even the finest five-star hotel could compare.
‘So, I’ve been seen with a man,’ Lucy accepted with a good-humoured shrug, making a joke of it as she stared around.
‘With the Emir of Qalala, no less,’ her best friend informed the rest.
Lucy froze like a child playing statues. ‘What did you say?’
She had heard perfectly well, but...the Emir of Qalala? Tadj was the Emir of Qalala?
She tried and failed to process the information. And what was she supposed to say now? I’m a dope—I didn’t recognise him? I didn’t read the papers today? I don’t watch local TV? All true, unfortunately.
‘Oh, come on—potential Emira,’ her friends coaxed. ‘Tell us what the Emir is really like...’
‘I’m afraid I don’t know,’ Lucy admitted. ‘He seems nice enough.’
‘And as hot as hell,’ one of her friends put in to an agreeing chorus of raunchy suggestions.
‘Might have been,’ Lucy conceded.
‘His photograph is all over the news,’ another friend insisted, in a tone that said she should have known. ‘And nice doesn’t begin to describe him.’
‘Sex on two hard-muscled legs,’ someone else shouted out.
‘With a body made for sin,’ another drooled as she thrust a magazine cover in front of Lucy’s nose.
Lucy inhaled sharply at the sight of Tadj, tanned and buff, wearing a pair of figure-hugging swim shorts.
‘Either he’s a prize-winning swimmer, or he likes to show that thing off.’
‘Stop,’ Lucy implored her friends. ‘I had a coffee with him, nothing more.’
‘He’d definitely need security if I shared a hot drink with him,’ a friend exclaimed as she read the article over Lucy’s shoulder. ‘And he’s one of the infamous Sapphire Sheikhs—so-called because they are as rich as Croesus, and as insatiable as a pack of ravening wolves.’
Lucy’s pulse raced off the scale. So Tadj was not only ridiculously wealthy, but all-powerful and royal too. It was too late to refuse his invitation without appearing to be a coward. She didn’t have a number to call him, and she could hardly breach security to ask one of his men to deliver a message. Out of her depth and out of her mind didn’t even begin to cover this mess! Adventure was one thing, but not on this scale.
‘The Emir of Qalala,’ she murmured, biting her lip, turning away as she tried to reconcile the little she knew about a hot guy in a café who had turned out to be one of the world-renowned Sapphire Sheikhs. ‘I had no idea,’ she murmured.
And if she had, would she have accepted Tadj’s invitation?
He was an extraordinary man, and, yes, she probably would have taken the chance. Did his title make a difference? He’d asked if money could change her opinion. She’d never considered a royal title, but she understood that great privilege came with restrictions and complications. Her usual good humour kicked in at this point. No half measures. If she was going to dip her toe in the dating pool, why not go for full-body immersion? She wouldn’t simply be out of her depth at the Sheikh’s party, she’d be like Orphan Annie at the feast, but that chance to peep inside a very different world proved irresistible. Spinning around, she faced her friends. ‘Could you help me get ready for tonight?’
When they chorused, ‘Yes!’ she knew there was no turning back.
Security expert indeed, Lucy thought as her friends jostled around. Just wait until she saw Tadj again! ‘I own one dress, and no high-heeled shoes,’ she explained. ‘My dress is sleeveless and it will be freezing out tonight. If I could also borrow an evening bag, big enough for a lip gloss and my bus fare home?’
Drowned out by laughter and offers of help, she made a silent promise that she would be safely tucked up in her own bed by midnight.
* * *
He’d never been uncertain of a woman. He should have brought Lucy back with him to make sure he’d see her again, Tadj concluded as he strode on board his friend’s superyacht. Lucy was unique and unpredictable. There were no guarantees she’d show up tonight. For once, that really mattered to him.
‘All women are unique, my friend,’ his friend Sheikh Khalid insisted when they met on his arrival in the grand salon. ‘You seem preoccupied,’ the Sheikh added when Tadj grimaced.
‘Unfinished business,’ he supplied economically. Usually, he would welcome both Khalid’s company and his interest, but not this time, because all he wanted to think about was Lucy.
Walking out on deck, he scanned the dock as if she might suddenly appear. Was her head buried in one of her college books, or was she getting ready for the party? There was no way to tell.
‘What do you do with a woman you can’t read?’ he asked Khalid as his friend joined him out on deck.
‘Bed her?’
‘That’s not helpful.’
‘It’s always a good start,’ Khalid argued with an ironic smile.
Everything on board the Sapphire was geared towards seduction tonight, Tadj thought as they both pulled away from the rail. An army of talented florists was currently adding last-minute touches to the container-loads of exotic blooms.
‘You’ll be staying in the Golden Suite,’ Khalid informed him, ‘if that suits you. Make the most of it while you can.’
They shared a wry laugh. ‘That temple to all things gold,’ Tadj commented. ‘It’s enough to put anyone off their stride with the addition of those outrageous erotic hangings.’
‘Not you, my friend,’ Khalid assured him. ‘I would have thought you found those hangings rather tame.’
‘If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were trying to set me up with this woman,’ Tadj responded.
‘How could that be true?’ Khalid queried. ‘I’ve only just learned about her. But, good hunting—you’d be surprised how many women are delighted to be seduced in the Golden Suite.’
‘No doubt spurred on by the inspiration provided by the artwork,’ Tadj commented dryly. ‘But this one’s different.’
‘Different how? She’s a woman, isn’t she?’
Seeing his expression, Khalid shrugged. ‘You’ve got it bad, my friend.’
* * *
Bad? Tadj ground his jaw as he sprang out of the Sapphire’s lap pool. Bad was putting it mildly. Grabbing a towel, he dried his exercise-pumped body with impatience. Warnings should be issued with Lucy, that she could change the direction of his thoughts within ten minutes of meeting her. Even exercise hadn’t helped him today. He’d never known anything like this. Women didn’t get to him; he got to them. Lucy was so young and unsophisticated, she couldn’t know the tricks that others played. Funny, blunt and challenging, she was absolutely irresistible, and irresistible was the one thing he didn’t need. His usual type knew the score, and were sophisticated enough to use him for what they wanted, without complication. The feeling was mutual, but he couldn’t be that way with Lucy. Innocence came at a price, and, though he was no saint, the thought of waking her to physical pleasure was driving him crazy.
Having dressed and checked every timepiece and lump of tech on board in order to convince himself that minutes really could tick by so slowly, he parked the shave and transferred his pacing from ship to shore. He hadn’t experienced this level of anticipation since he’d been an overeager youth. When he spotted Lucy standing in the doorway of the laundry, it was as if an atomic reaction went off in his brain. They locked eyes, and he walked towards her. It was the challenge on her face that aroused him. Her body language said she knew who he was, and intended to make him pay for withholding the information.
‘You have a lot of explaining to do,’ she said.
All he was aware of now was her intoxicating wildflower scent.
‘Am I late?’ he said, glancing at his wristwatch and frowning, as if he didn’t know what she meant.
‘Don’t try that on me,’ she warned him, narrowing her astonishing jade-green eyes in the very best type of threat.
‘Good evening to you too,’ he murmured mildly, maintaining eye contact.
‘Good evening, Your Majesty.’
‘My name is Tadj,’ he reminded her quietly.
‘The Emir of Qalala, I believe.’
He wanted to kiss her as her expressive mouth twisted in a wry smile.
‘What are you doing?’ she protested as he dragged her close.
‘What does a title change about me?’
‘Everything,’ she said as he brushed her lips teasingly with his. ‘Are you going to let me go now?’
‘No.’
The first kiss was extraordinary in that it fired every part of him, and made it vital there were more. ‘Let’s start over,’ he said, releasing her before she was quite ready. ‘Good evening,’ he murmured.
‘Good evening, Your Majesty,’ she teased him, still trying to catch her breath. They stared at each other with a mixture of acceptance and humour. ‘You’ve got a long way to go to recover your credibility,’ she warned, testing her kiss-bruised lips with the tip of her tongue.
‘More tolerance required,’ he suggested.
‘On my part?’ she queried.
‘Yes, on your part,’ he confirmed. ‘Shall we?’ He glanced in the direction of the super yacht.
The Sapphire was a fabulous vessel. Even he was impressed from here, where he could appreciate every inch of it, blazing with light from bow to stern. Party planners had been working tirelessly all day to create a fairyland for the guests, and, though she might still be reeling from the unexpected start to their evening, even Lucy couldn’t hide her excitement.
‘No more deception, and no more surprises,’ she warned as they approached the security gates. ‘Promise—or I’m not going any further.’
‘When you look at me like that...’
‘What?’ she murmured, her eyes darkening.
He would promise her almost anything, he thought, but sensibly confined himself to a wry smile and a shrug.
‘So you’re really the Emir of Qalala?’ she said as the security guards waved them through.
‘I really am,’ he confirmed.
‘I’m impressed.’
‘No, you’re not,’ he argued with amusement. ‘Not by my title, anyway.’
‘Are you always so confident?’
‘Always.’ Except for tonight, he thought, because Lucy was a whole new experience.
‘You’re one of the infamous Sapphire Sheikhs,’ she observed. ‘That alone is supposed to impress me, isn’t it?’
‘Legendary, rather than infamous, I’d hope.’
She shrugged and halted. ‘You should have told me you’re one of the world’s richest men.’
‘Told you, why?’ he asked. They were approaching the gangplank where a queue of guests was forming.
‘Because it makes us very different,’ she said.
‘If we’re so ill matched, why are you here? For a glimpse into the life of the super-rich?’
‘That’s part of it,’ she admitted frankly.
If he’d been looking for a smooth-tongued casual date, a woman who would do and say everything she could to impress him, he’d got it badly wrong—and thank goodness for that!
CHAPTER FOUR (#u2d57610d-aa23-52ae-8cc6-2b71ea93eeae)
‘SIR...’
One of the security guards, having recognised Tadj, escorted them to a second boarding point a bit further along than the first.
‘What’s that the other guests are holding?’ Lucy asked him as she gazed at those queuing patiently to have their identities checked before being allowed on board.
This was her first taste of life on the other side of the Sapphire Sheikh divide, he reminded himself as he explained, ‘Sheikh Khalid’s invitations have been issued in silver boxes, studded with sapphires.’
‘Recyclable, I hope,’ she teased him with a cheeky smile.
‘Yes,’ he confirmed, matching her mood. ‘The box has to be large enough to hold a passport and other documentation, such as a visa.’
‘You need passports to get on board?’ Lucy exclaimed, staring up at him with an engaging mix of indignation and surprise.
‘Only when certain guests disembark in certain countries,’ he explained with a shrug. ‘The party doesn’t last for one night,’ he added when she looked at him in bemusement. ‘It lasts at least a week.’
‘Not for me, it doesn’t,’ she assured him. ‘And, anyway, I don’t have my passport with me.’
‘None needed,’ he confirmed. ‘The umbrella of diplomatic immunity covers both of us.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ she said, turning serious and concerned. ‘I haven’t signed up for a cruise. A couple of hours with you will be enough.’
‘For me too,’ he assured her dryly.
They laughed so easily now, but then she flashed him a look to warn that her next statement must be taken seriously. ‘I have to be back by midnight,’ she said, ‘or alarms will ring at the laundry, and the police will come looking for me. I made sure everyone knows where I am tonight,’ she explained.
‘Nice to know you trust me,’ he mocked lightly, ‘but sensible.’
‘I thought so,’ she agreed. ‘I don’t take chances.’
‘Nor should you,’ he confirmed as a uniformed officer stepped forward to escort them on deck. He liked Lucy more and more, and couldn’t help comparing her to all the other women who wound around him like clinging vines in the hope that things might progress. Not Lucy. She slapped her cards down on the table face up, no nonsense.
‘So, Your Importance,’ she murmured as they walked ahead of the other guests, ‘privilege all the way for you. What am I supposed to call you in front of people?’
‘Nothing rude.’
‘Then, be nice to me.’
‘I intend to be,’ he assured her. ‘Call me Tadj—or Lord and Master, if you prefer.’
‘Tadj will do nicely,’ she said.
‘Sir...’
‘Yes?’ He glanced sideways at the officer detailed to escort them.
‘Sheikh Khalid is waiting to greet you.’
He glanced up and saw his striking friend watching their embarkation with amusement. ‘Of course,’ he murmured, acknowledging the officer with a brief dip of his head. ‘Come on,’ he added to Lucy. ‘There’s a lot I want you to see before you meet our host.’ He didn’t feel like sharing her. ‘I don’t want you to miss a single moment on board the Sapphire tonight.’
His determination intensified as Lucy’s eyes sparkled with excitement; whether that was for him, or for this fabulous event, for once, he didn’t know.
* * *
This was partying on a scale Lucy could never have imagined, even in her wildest fantasy. Jewel-studded boxes to hold the invitations...guests in diamonds, exuding clouds of exclusive scent...limos lined up on the dock as more guests arrived, and then those guests being made to stand in line while Lucy walked past on the arm of the Emir of Qalala. That was just crazy. Accepting that a vessel as huge as the Sapphire was privately owned took another immense leap of faith. There were so many decks, so many bands playing, so many guests milling about, and floral installations beyond magnificent that gave Kew Gardens at the height of summer a run for its money. The scent of blossom was intoxicating, as was the tang of ozone, but, above everything else, it was the smell of money, of outrageous wealth, that really threatened to choke her.
‘Feeling nauseous?’ Tadj commented when she made a noise down deep in her throat. ‘And we’re not even moving yet.’
‘Nor will we, I hope,’ she said, recovering fast. ‘At least, not while I’m on board. I’m just feeling a bit out of place,’ she admitted, ‘amongst all these diamonds and pin-thin figures dressed in designer clothes.’
‘Nonsense,’ Tadj insisted with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘You’re the most beautiful woman here. And the most intelligent.’
‘Did you give everyone an IQ test?’ she queried, with the reminder not to take herself so seriously. ‘Okay, so you know most of the women here,’ she remarked with a grin, as Tadj looked at her in a certain way. ‘I should have known.’
‘Most of them aren’t renowned for their academic qualifications,’ he admitted, ‘but they have other qualities.’
‘Spare me,’ she begged. ‘I don’t need a rundown of the sordid details.’
‘Relax. Enjoy yourself,’ he advised.
Why not? This was incredible. ‘Thank you for inviting me,’ she said. It was just unfortunate that her gaze slipped to his mouth as she added, ‘I’ve never seen anything like this before.’
He laughed softly down deep in his chest. ‘Feast your eyes,’ he invited.
She would. This was the Emir of Qalala, and the Emir of Qalala had kissed her. She had no idea if he would ever do so again, but she would remember that kiss for the rest of her life. He was one hot guy, so why not enjoy this as Tadj suggested? It wasn’t every day that fantasy turned into the best type of reality. She liked him more and more. He was courteous and fun to be with, and as hot as hell.
‘Drink?’ he suggested.
‘Sparkling water, please.’ Must keep a level head, she warned herself, and something told her that wouldn’t be easy tonight.
‘Sparkling water, mademoiselle?’ a steward invited, handing Lucy a crystal glass.
‘Are you hungry?’ Tadj enquired when the steward had left them.
‘Shouldn’t we go and meet our host?’ she asked, wishing her body wouldn’t respond quite so willingly to the amused heat in Tadj’s eyes.
‘No hurry. The other guests will keep him busy for a while.’
‘I’m okay with water for now, thank you.’ How could she eat while her senses were being subjected to an overload of testosterone? Tadj made her long for all things forbidden, and she had to remind herself that she was nothing more than a dockside novelty for him.
Several wine fountains had been installed on board the Sapphire, and it was here that couples seemed to be congregating. She couldn’t stop staring at them—arms entwined, bodies touching, laughing intimately into each other’s faces.
‘Would you like me to fill your glass?’ Tadj prompted with a curving smile as he glanced at the glittering stream.
For a moment she was lost for words, and then came to with a jolt. ‘No, thank you. I’m steering clear of the hard stuff tonight, and only drinking water.’
He laughed. ‘Sensible.’
‘Always,’ she confirmed.
They stared at each other for a few potent moments, during which time Tadj looked like a mythical hero, while she tried to stop her cheeks flaming red. But if there was a cure for blushing, she hadn’t found it yet, something to do with her pale Celtic skin that showed every emotion whether she wanted it to or not.
‘Why did you invite me tonight?’
‘Fireworks,’ he said.
She blinked and then realised what he meant as plumes of light began to explode all around the ship. ‘I really want to know,’ she pressed.
This was dangerous. She was always so cool where men were concerned, and with good reason, having the experience of her stepfather behind her, but with Tadj cool was becoming increasingly impossible.
‘Look!’
His touch on her arm made her jump, and it took her a moment to follow his stare to the circus performers in glittering green costumes, swinging high over their heads. She gasped, and not just because of the risks the acrobats were taking, but because Tadj had swung an arm possessively around her shoulders, which was a risk right here.
‘And down there,’ he said as she was about to wriggle free.
And breathe, Lucy instructed herself firmly, making herself relax as Tadj turned her to see the fire-eaters and jugglers performing.
‘We’ve got a lot more to see,’ he said as he moved and took her with him across the deck.
He wasn’t joking. The next place they stopped had been transformed into a souk, complete with flower stalls and food outlets, as well as flashy gifts of every type. The attendants behind the stalls were exotically and colourfully robed, and played a good part as they shouted their wares to the passing guests. No money changed hands, and there was quite a crowd competing for the hats, shawls, beads and ornaments, with which to adorn their designer clothes.
‘This isn’t a party, it’s a theatrical production,’ Lucy commented as she glanced up at Tadj.
‘One man’s ludicrous is another man’s normal,’ he remarked. ‘And you look sensational, by the way,’ he added as they walked on. ‘No need for strings of beads, or even a hat to hide your face.’
‘Watch it, mister,’ she said, smiling as she faked a punch, and Tadj ducked. ‘Actually, you don’t look bad yourself, now I take a proper look...’ Massive understatement. Tadj looked sensational in nothing more than a pair of well-cut jeans and an open-neck shirt, with a casual jacket left open to reveal his powerful chest. He could have worn a boiler suit, and still looked fabulous. Better still naked, she thought.
And here she was in borrowed clothes, carrying the flag for her friends. Tipping up her chin, she met his teasing stare head-on, and was rewarded by the warmth in Tadj’s eyes. Make that heat, she thought as her body responded with enthusiasm.
‘Champagne?’ Tadj proposed as he selected two crystal flutes from a tray a passing waiter was carrying.
‘No, thanks. I’m a cheap drunk, so I’ll stick to water, if you don’t mind. And even if you do,’ she added good-humouredly. Tonight was going better than expected—far better than she’d dared to hope.
‘To us,’ he said as they raised their glasses.
‘To a wonderful evening,’ Lucy replied, calling on her natural caution. She might be having the time of her life—might have kissed the hottest man at the party, but she had no intention of completely losing her head.
Tadj achieved the impossible, by finding them a quiet and sheltered spot on the Sapphire’s crowded deck. Taking her glass out of her hand, he put it down next to his. Was he going to kiss her again? Every part of her body tingled at the thought. She could feel him in every fibre of her being, as if he were the virtuoso who had temporarily laid aside his violin. Her strings were certainly twanging at the memory of his touch, Lucy thought, carefully concealing her amusement at a body running riot while the sensible head supposedly guiding it was temporarily unavailable.
‘It’s so beautiful here,’ she said, looking around. The floral decorations were incredible, though the blossom was in a more restrained colour palette than the rest of the Sapphire, as if this area had been designed for lovers. It was like standing in the middle of a fragrant ocean of palest pink and white. Drawing on the heady scent, she closed her eyes, only for the unwelcome thought that she should be leaving soon to pop into her head. ‘Tadj, I...’
‘Tadj what?’ he murmured.
He’d dipped his head to stare into her eyes, and their mouths were almost touching.
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Susan Stephens
Seduced as his secret Cinderella…Lucy is shocked by Tadj’s royal revelation…Lucy is carrying the baby of a desert king! Tadj will secure his heir, but can Lucy accept his scandalous solution that she share his royal bed?
Seduced as his secret Cinderella...
But will she be his queen?
Pregnant and alone, Lucy Gillingham is determined to protect her unborn child from her volatile family. Then Tadj, the enticing stranger she spent an unforgettable night with, returns with a royal revelation...Lucy is carrying the baby of a desert king! Tadj will secure his heir, but can Lucy accept his scandalous solution—that she share his royal bed?
A royal romance with a secret-baby twist!
SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Mills & Boon style, they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday and married three months later. Susan enjoys entertaining, travel and going to the theatre. To relax she reads, cooks and plays the piano, and when she’s had enough of relaxing she throws herself off mountains on skis or gallops through the countryside singing loudly.
Also by Susan Stephens (#u2d57610d-aa23-52ae-8cc6-2b71ea93eeae)
A Diamond for Del Rio’s Housekeeper
The Sicilian’s Defiant Virgin
The Secret Kept from the Greek
A Night of Royal Consequences
The Sheikh’s Shock Child
Hot Brazilian Nights! miniseries
In the Brazilian’s Debt
At the Brazilian’s Command
Brazilian’s Nine Months’ Notice
Back in the Brazilian’s Bed
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk. (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Pregnant by the Desert King
Susan Stephens
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07283-0
PREGNANT BY THE DESERT KING
© 2018 Susan Stephens
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For my wonderful ever-expanding,
ever-supportive family.
Contents
Cover (#u5d6406ed-c9c0-5377-8bfa-c3ce72d188d4)
Back Cover Text (#u938c1090-0688-5348-8704-f74f8a6c84fb)
About the Author (#u202bb09a-48da-5368-a94a-9ff5cc6eab8a)
Booklist (#uc620fe8e-e788-5f05-990e-83a9064a9f80)
Title Page (#ubcb43e57-36e7-5a04-b557-c3a1ccc0b2e6)
Copyright (#u6f1727bd-f41a-53ff-9e52-73b916531c0f)
Dedication (#u393cebdf-420c-5b25-8884-48710a4eeb42)
PROLOGUE (#ud0d4a929-0736-5f39-9749-c7737c529b41)
CHAPTER ONE (#u8ac2a22d-793d-5fe7-8a03-e15dd08e6c6b)
CHAPTER TWO (#u833ed374-930d-5556-bda9-78c1f8a4d42e)
CHAPTER THREE (#ua654f98e-7af7-5a26-95ef-055c62dfe013)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u1cf23e25-8b18-5858-9ef4-98ea66943b17)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#u2d57610d-aa23-52ae-8cc6-2b71ea93eeae)
Present day...
TADJ’S WORLD TILTED on its axis as a woman in a red dress stepped out of the kitchen.
‘Excuse me, Your Excellency,’ he said, startling his ambassador to London. ‘Something extraordinary has just happened.’
‘Of course, Your Majesty...’ Raising his portly form as quickly as he could the ambassador bowed to his ruler and employer, the Emir of Qalala, as Tadj, an exceptionally striking-looking man, left the table where they’d been dining incognito, to stride across the floor.
Sensing his approach, the young woman turned and stared, paling, as if she’d seen a ghost.
CHAPTER ONE (#u2d57610d-aa23-52ae-8cc6-2b71ea93eeae)
Three months earlier...
A CASUAL COFFEE in the steamy café next door in her lunch break from work at the laundry had never involved plugging Lucy’s body into a power source before. Lined up at the counter behind a red-hot Goliath with shoulders wide enough to hoist an ox, she reasoned it was only natural to be distracted, as her heart beat nineteen to the dozen. He was deeply tanned, with thick, inky-black hair that curled possessively over his neck in a way that made her fantasise about making it even more unruly; his short, rugged jacket might have been designed for no better purpose than to display his iron-hard butt, and long, lean legs. He was so big he achieved the impossible by making her feel dainty for the first time in her life. She was the woman targeted by slimming magazines who always planned to lose weight. And she would, just as soon as chocolate was written out of history.
‘Would you like to go ahead of me?’
She almost fainted when he swung around.
‘Are you speaking to me?’ popped out of her mouth before her brain was in gear. Silly question, when the most devastating black stare was directed straight into her eyes. It was the most arousal-inducing stare she’d ever been subjected to. There were eyes of all description, some of them very beautiful, but these were astonishingly beautiful eyes.
‘Can you move along, please? People are waiting to be served.’
Jerking alert as the lady behind the counter bellowed the instruction, Lucy shuffled along in line, and in doing so managed to stumble into Goliath.
‘Perhaps you should sit down before you cause a pile-up,’ he advised with amusement. His deep, husky voice with the intriguing accent, combined with his big, firm hands steadying her, blew her mind. ‘Now?’ he suggested as she stared at him transfixed. ‘I’ll get the drinks while you find the table.’
Finally, she came to. ‘Do I know you?’
‘I don’t believe so,’ he said, staring down from his great height. ‘Coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate? Something to eat, perhaps?’
By now, people had turned to stare. One or two, having recognised Lucy, nodded and gave her a thumbs-up expression. She didn’t want to make a fuss. This was her local greasy spoon. Nor did she want to bolt, giving the man the impression he intimidated her. Who was he? she wondered. There was only one way to find out. ‘Coffee would be nice...thank you. Skimmed milk, two shots, please.’
As he turned to place their order she became aware of the buzz of interest in the café; most of it directed her way. Should she know him? Was he a celebrity? If only she paid more attention to the press. Maybe he had called in at the laundry while she was working in the back; no one could forget a face like that. He could pass for a sailor with his deep tan and super-fit appearance, but, with his commanding manner and expensive casual look, he didn’t strike her as crew.
‘When you’re ready,’ he prompted as he waited for their coffee to be prepared. ‘The table,’ he reminded her. ‘There aren’t many free. Better get moving.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said, saluting ironically, but not before she’d absorbed his clean, spicy scent.
She did go to find a table, even though she wasn’t a fan of domineering men. This man had redeemed himself with that curving, dark-eyed smile. She guessed he used it a lot, but this was a packed café, and not much could go wrong over a coffee. It wouldn’t hurt to give him five minutes to see how he turned out. Her chums at the laundry were always complaining that nothing exciting ever happened, so at the least she’d be able to tell them about this when she got back to work.
She’d hidden herself away long enough.
As the unwanted thought shot into her mind, she shivered involuntarily, and recollections of her cruel, abusive stepfather came flooding back. Her mother’s second husband headed up a criminal empire peopled by ruthless thugs. Thank goodness he was in prison where he belonged. Lucy had left home at her mother’s insistence, to escape the increasingly unpleasant attention of her stepfather’s henchmen. She’d been lucky enough to find genuine friends on King’s Dock.
Having paused to acknowledge a couple of friends, she glanced at the man, only to see that he had not only paid for their drinks, but for an elderly couple’s pot of tea. He’d be up a tree, saving a cat next, Lucy thought with a smile as he crossed the café towards her. She had to stop being so suspicious of men. They weren’t all bad.
‘Something wrong?’ her new friend asked, frowning attractively as he drew near.
‘Nothing,’ she said, noticing how much attention he was getting. Both he and her stepfather were big, powerful men, but that was where the similarity ended. Her stepfather was a ruthless bully, and she could see nothing of the snake in this man. If eyes mirrored the soul she was safe; there was no evil in them.
Just heat, Lucy reflected with a bubble of excitement and amusement as he indicated that she should sit down. ‘Or are you going to stand here all day, blocking the aisle?’
When he lifted one sweeping ebony brow like that, and smiled into her eyes, it was impossible not to respond. Her stepfather hadn’t crushed her spirit yet.
‘Are you going to join me?’ she invited once she was settled.
She had to move the table to let him in. He was what might be referred to as a big unit, and she was hardly petite. And though he might be a player, and she his latest target, one cup of coffee did not a drama make. People knew her here, and she could leave any time she liked.
* * *
Today was turning out better than anticipated, Tadj concluded as he studied the lush-figured woman sitting opposite him. She had magnificent breasts, which even her bulky winter clothes couldn’t hide. But it wasn’t his automatic male assessment that struck him most, but her natural poise and unaffected manner. It was such a welcome change from the women who usually flocked around him, hoping for the position of wife, or mistress at the very least.
He’d been walking the dock, filling in time before a party that evening on board his friend Sheikh Khalid’s yacht, the Sapphire. Leaving behind the razzmatazz that went with the title Emir of Qalala, to mix with the crowds on the dock like any other visitor to the high-end marina, was a welcome release from the pressure of celebrity. Spending time with a woman who didn’t appear to recognise him was a novelty. The fact that this woman probably wouldn’t have cared less if she had known who he was was an unexpected bonus. He planned to stay on the Sapphire tonight, and a strange bed was always warmer with an agreeable companion at his side.
Or underneath him.
‘Are you sure this is okay for you?’ she asked, glancing around. ‘You seem to be creating some interest. Should I know you?’
‘You do now. And in answer to your question, this is perfect.’
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ she pointed out.
‘No. I didn’t,’ he agreed.
A tense, electric silence sprang between them. He’d sensed her before he’d spotted her in the café. His senses were always fine-tuned where women were concerned, but she had intrigued him from the first moment, with her elfin looks, and full, voluptuous figure. She wasn’t remotely in awe of him, which only added to her allure. Half his size, she was quite a bit younger, though her character made up for any lack of experience.
‘Good coffee?’ she said, breaking the silence.
‘Excellent,’ he murmured, maintaining eye contact until she blushed.
In the course of his duties as ruler of one of the fabulously wealthy Sapphire States, he met many women, but never remembered them for long. None held such instant appeal. He weighed up her clothes and the body underneath. The cheap, unbuttoned coat was open over a clinging cotton sweater that spurred an urge to introduce her to fabrics that would caress her body. Kissing that challenging look off her face was another must, before bringing her to the heights of pleasure.
‘You really didn’t need to do this,’ she said as he asked the waitress for a top-up.
‘But I really want to,’ he said, holding her stare.
‘Do you always get what you want?’
‘Most times,’ he admitted.
He only had to raise a brow for her to read him easily. ‘Lucy,’ she said. ‘Lucy Gillingham.’
The name meant nothing to him, but he made a mental note to ask his security team to check her out.
‘Careful,’ he said as she dipped her head to take a sip of the refreshed coffee. ‘It’s hot.’
‘I’m always careful,’ she said with a look that left him in no doubt she would never be a pushover.
The most astonishing jade-green eyes pierced his, tilted up at the outer corners. Lucy’s expressive gaze was enhanced by a thick fringe of black lashes that added a feline touch to what was already a highly attractive package.
‘Sorry,’ she said, pulling back, and blushed attractively when their knees brushed.
‘No problem,’ he said, sliding his long legs between hers without touching her, but her blush deepened as if she was deeply conscious of the intimacy forced upon them by the narrow table. Colour tinted her Slavic cheekbones an attractive shade of rose. ‘You have beautiful hair,’ he said to distract her.
‘And you have big feet,’ she said, shuffling around to remove all chance of them touching.
Lucy wore her hair in a no-nonsense short, urchin-cut style. It suited her strong personality. In a rich shade of auburn, it reminded him of autumn on his English country estate when the leaves had turned from vibrant green to take on the tint of fire. She was fiery. She’d be amazing in bed.
‘Oh, that’s better,’ she said, having drained the mug. ‘I’m good for nothing before a coffee. How about you?’
‘I’m good for some things,’ he said.
Her cheeks burned red. He hadn’t enjoyed himself so much in a long time.
How could talking about coffee be so dangerous? Lucy spent a lot of time daydreaming, but none of them turned out like this. If only she’d paid more attention to the press and laundry gossip, she might have a clue who the intriguing man was. ‘You’re new in port,’ she prompted, waiting on more information.
‘Another coffee?’
‘Yes, please.’ As he turned to speak to the waitress, her mind strayed to lazy days on a sugar-sand beach, with blocks of chilled chocolate at her side, and a bucket of lemon sorbet Bellinis to share with the mystery man as a prelude to very good sex, the details of which escaped her for now.
‘Something wrong?’ he queried as she frowned.
‘Yes. As a matter of fact, there is. I told you my name. Or, do you have something to hide?’
He laughed and his entire face lit up. Attractive didn’t even begin to describe the creases around his eyes and the flash of those strong white teeth. Raunchy? Her nipples were prickling without him even looking at them. Close enough for her to detect his minty breath, and to register the fact that he didn’t like shaving, he was an incredible lure with those incredible black eyes burning into hers.
‘My name is Tadj.’
‘Ah—like the Taj Mahal,’ she said, relaxing.
‘Tadj with a D,’ he explained.
‘Oh.’ Her cheeks flamed up again. ‘I suppose you hear that dozens of times.’
‘Some,’ he agreed.
The killer smile had returned to his face, but she settled for regarding him coolly. With his thick black hair curling wildly around cheekbones that would have sent Michelangelo crazy for his chisel, she guessed he must be used to admiration, and was determined not to add to it, though couldn’t help herself wondering what that sharp black stubble would feel like if he rasped it very gently against her skin. Imagining her rounded curves accommodating his impressive hard-muscled frame led her to shift position on the bench seat.
‘Tadj,’ she repeated to distract herself fast. ‘Nice.’
He was still staring at her with that faintly amused expression on his face, which led to one quick thought...melted chocolate, heated gently before being spread liberally over her naked body, for him to lick off. ‘Okay, Tadj with a D, so now I know your name, but not your occupation.’
‘That’s right. You don’t,’ he said.
‘Cagey,’ she observed, narrowing her eyes. ‘I’m genuinely curious.’
‘And I’m genuinely cagey,’ he countered with a scorching look.
They both laughed and the atmosphere lightened.
‘So?’ she prompted, coffee mug hovering in front of her lips.
‘So, what? What do you want to know?’
‘Let’s start with everything?’ she said.
‘We don’t have time.’
‘Should I be worried that you’re being so evasive?’
‘Here?’ He glanced around. ‘Probably not.’
But later, she thought. She killed the thought as soon as it sprang into her head. There’d be no later. She’d try another tack to dig for information. ‘So, what brings you to King’s Dock?’
‘Old friends and business,’ he said.
‘Intriguing.’
‘Not really,’ he admitted, sitting back. ‘King’s Dock is a convenient place to meet, that’s all.’ He raised a brow, as if challenging her to ask more questions.
‘I must be keeping you from your friends,’ she stated, reaching for her bag.
‘You’re not,’ he said, still relaxed, still surveying her as a soft-pawed predator might observe his next meal.
As they stared at each other, a quiver of arousal tracked down her spine. He was enjoying this, she thought. And so was she. A lot more than was wise. Why had this extraordinary-looking man landed in the middle of an ordinary day? Time to take a tougher line. ‘You sat me down, force-fed me coffee, so now you have to pay for the pleasure of my company with information.’
‘You think?’ Few women had ever made him laugh as Lucy did. Being so irreverent and funny was part of her charm. ‘You won’t get round me,’ he warned when she pulled a mock-disappointed face.
‘Why not?’ she complained in the same style. ‘Is what you do for a living classified information? Maybe you’re a secret agent,’ she speculated with a lift of her finely drawn brow.
‘And maybe I’m a man drinking coffee in a café and minding his own business as best he can...’
‘How boring. I prefer my version.’
‘I’m in security,’ he admitted finally. This was the truth. One of his many companies was responsible for the safety of some of the most prominent people on the planet. As the ruler of a country it was in his interest to hire the best.
‘Aha.’ Sitting back, Lucy appeared to relax. ‘Now it makes sense.’
‘What does?’
‘Your evasiveness,’ she explained. ‘I’m guessing you handle security for one of the those big fat potentates on their big fat superyachts.’ She angled her chin towards the window, beyond which a line of imposing vessels loomed like huge white ghosts against the steel-grey sky. ‘What’s it like working for the super-rich, mystery man?’
Her naivety was irresistible, but her innocence compelled him to tell the truth. ‘Actually, I’m one of them.’
‘A big, fat potentate?’ she exclaimed, frowning in a way that made him laugh.
‘I thought it was the yachts you thought big and fat.’
‘You’re being serious, aren’t you?’ she said in a very different tone.
‘Your expression does my ego no good at all,’ he admitted.
‘Well, this changes things,’ she said, ‘and I can’t help the way I look.’
‘Having money changes your opinion of me?’
She hummed and frowned again. ‘I don’t have an opinion about you yet,’ she admitted honestly. ‘I don’t know you well enough.’
He would be the first to admit he was touchy about money. His late uncle had plundered the Qalalan treasury, leaving it empty when Tadj inherited the throne. Tadj had built up a bankrupt country brick by brick. Even then, when everything was back on an even keel, a family to whose daughter he’d been engaged since his birth turned up to demand he marry the girl right away. It had cost him a king’s ransom to sort that out. The experience had left him with a horror of state marriages, together with the distinct impression that a mistress was far preferable to a wife. He had to marry one day to provide Qalala with an heir as the constitution demanded, but not yet, and his thoughts regarding taking a mistress in the interim had just taken on a new and vigorous lease of life.
CHAPTER TWO (#u2d57610d-aa23-52ae-8cc6-2b71ea93eeae)
‘IF YOU’VE MADE so much money out of the security business...’ What was coming next, he wondered as Lucy gave him one of her wide-eyed cheeky, teasing looks. ‘Can I ask you for a loan?’
He knew this was a joke, but bridled anyway at the possibility that she might be like all the rest. ‘Ten pounds until pay day?’ she pressed blithely, but she couldn’t hold back the laughter, and, sitting back, she said, ‘You should see your face.’
He adopted a stern look. ‘You’ll get away with that this time.’
‘You mean there’ll be a next time?’ Quick as a whip, he thought as she added, ‘That’s assuming rather a lot, isn’t it? How do you know I’ll want to see you again?’
His groin tightened as he told her, ‘Educated guess.’
Resting her chin on her hand, she stared at him in a way that made him wish he were clothed in flowing robes rather that snug-fitting jeans.
‘Surely, you can run to a miserly ten pounds?’ she pressed.
He reached for his wallet.
‘Don’t you dare,’ she said.
‘Can’t I pay the bill for the extra coffee?’
‘Touché,’ she said. ‘Just bear this in mind, Mr Security Man. I don’t want your money. I don’t want anyone’s money. I’m doing fine as I am. Here—let me contribute. Save your money for your next coffee-shop adventure.’
‘I doubt there’ll be one.’
‘Too much of a security risk for you to keep taking up with strangers?’ she suggested.
‘Something like that.’ He stared at her intently, but there was no sign that she’d recognised him.
‘I guess you have to be careful in the security business.’
‘My involvement is in the security of a country,’ he explained.
‘Big stuff,’ she said.
‘You could say that.’ He grinned.
‘You must be pretty powerful. And yet you look so normal.’
He tried hard not to laugh. ‘Why thank you.’
‘Well, this has all been very nice.’ She sighed as she gathered up her things. ‘But now it’s time for me to go. Some of us have to work,’ she added.
‘Let me walk you back—where do you work?’ He wasn’t ready to let her go.
‘At Miss Francine’s laundry,’ she said with a touch of defiance.
He got it. Some of the rich yachties could be real snobs. If he turned out to be one of them, she’d rather know now. ‘The laundry on the marina?’ he prompted, having noticed the bustling establishment on his walk.
‘Yes.’ She pulled another of her comic faces. ‘We’ve moved on from banging out dirt with stones at the stream.’
‘Uh-huh. So, what’s your job at the laundry?’
‘Ironing and finishing.’
‘You any good?’
‘You bet I am.’
His lips twitched and then she laughed. It must have dawned on them both at the same moment that two strangers could share a table and chat over coffee, without things getting heavy.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said with a graceful flutter of her slender hands. ‘I didn’t mean to bite your head off. It’s just that some visitors to King’s Dock are snobby idiots and I wanted to be sure you weren’t one of them.’
‘I’d never have guessed,’ he said dryly.
‘So long as you’re not a trust-fund yachtie with nothing better to do than spend your inherited money, I guess I’m okay with that.’
‘Touchy about money?’ he probed as they navigated their way out through the crowded café.
‘Every sensible person cares about money,’ she said.
‘Well, I can reassure you on that score. Everything I’ve got I’ve earned. All I inherited was debt.’
‘There must be something else wrong with you,’ she said as they reached the door. ‘No one’s perfect.’
‘Feel free to examine my faults,’ he invited.
‘Not likely! So, who left the debt?’ she asked with her hand on the door. ‘A close relative?’
‘My uncle.’ As he spoke and took over opening the door, he realised that he hadn’t been this frank with anyone ever, let alone on such short acquaintance.
‘So you repaid your uncle’s debt as a matter of honour,’ she guessed as they stepped out into icy air from the steaming warmth of the busy café.
He shrugged as he thought back to when Qalala’s future had depended on a financial rescue package, and how lucky he was to have already made a fortune in tech. This had allowed him to vastly improve the lot of his people, and save the sapphire mines his uncle had been plundering for years.
‘Let’s just say my uncle almost ruined the family business,’ he told her as they walked along.
‘And you saved it,’ she said confidently.
‘You’ve got a lot of faith in a man you’ve only just met,’ he commented.
Her extraordinary green eyes shot him a penetrating glance. ‘I don’t feel like this about everyone.’
For some strange reason, he felt the same, and wanted to tell her more about the history of his country, and how deeply he felt for Qalala. Meeting Lucy had turned out to be a real wake-up call. The type of wife his royal council was urging him to take would be a matter of business for both parties, whereas a mistress like Lucy would give as good as she got. ‘So now you’ve got me all worked out, what’s next for you?’ he probed.
‘I’d like to hear more about you,’ she said.
‘Some other time,’ he proposed as they reached the marina.
‘There you go again,’ she said with an amused sideways look. ‘That would mean seeing each other again,’ she explained. ‘So, where do you come from? You don’t have an office pallor, so I’m guessing somewhere hot...’
‘Somewhere far away,’ he said.
‘Come on, Mr Security Man. I need specifics.’
‘So you can tell your friends?’
‘Can’t I be interested?’
Was he going to talk about the billions he’d made in tech? She’d run a mile. Lucy just wasn’t the type to be impressed by money. And he wanted to keep her around a little longer. Should he tell her that he used to be known as the Playboy Prince, and his people, who had been downtrodden for years by his profligate uncle, hadn’t expected anything of him? They couldn’t have guessed that he’d been waiting for this chance to serve his country, and would seize the opportunity with both hands. Putting his business acumen to its most demanding test yet, he had transformed Qalala, and would continue to put the country before himself.
‘And you accuse me of daydreaming,’ Lucy accused.
He linked arms with her as they crossed the road. It was a gesture that came as naturally as breathing.
Tadj was gorgeous. And yes, she was smitten. She’d have to be a block of wood not to be affected by his firm touch on her arm, or those amazing eyes, scanning the street to make sure they were safe before he crossed. He was so rugged and tall and tanned, it felt amazing to be linking arms with him.
‘Watch out,’ he exclaimed as, distracted, she almost tripped over the kerb.
As his grip tightened and their faces came dangerously close, she determined to discover Tadj’s true identity when she returned to the laundry. Someone was bound to know. Gossip was rife on King’s Dock, and spread like wildfire. A man like Tadj would hardly go unnoticed. Her workmates would have all the juice, which would almost certainly include the fact that she’d been seen drinking coffee with him.
‘I’m afraid this is where we part,’ she said as they approached her workplace.
‘Afraid? You?’ he queried with a wry look. ‘Those two things don’t fit.’
‘I’m not a thing,’ she said, warming under his gaze. ‘And I’m not afraid of you,’ she added.
‘I’m very pleased to hear it,’ he said, making her a mock bow.
Everything about this encounter was new to her. She’d never had so much fun with a man. She’d never had fun at all. It was such a shame they would probably never meet again.
He frowned deeply. ‘Do you have to go straight back to work?’
Her pulse raced. So he felt the connection too. ‘Yes,’ she said, instinct telling her not to make things too easy for him. ‘Some other time, perhaps...’
‘When?’
She hadn’t expected him to be quite so direct. ‘Soon,’ she said airily as her heart tried to pound its way out of her chest. ‘I’d like that,’ she added honestly, feeling she’d been a bit harsh. ‘And you don’t have to walk me to the door.’
‘But I insist,’ he said.
‘Do you always get your own way?’
‘Always,’ he said in a way that made a quiver of excitement tremble low in her belly and her nipples tighten to the point of pain.
‘Thanks for the coffee,’ she said when they reached the laundry.
‘Just tell me one thing before you go,’ he insisted.
She looked at his hand on her arm. He let her go. ‘Okay,’ she agreed.
‘What would you do if you had all the money in the world?’
She didn’t even have to think about it. ‘I’d buy new machinery for Miss Francine’s laundry and make sure she took a proper holiday. Did I say something funny?’ She frowned.
‘Only what I expected of you, I suppose.’
Lucy’s heart pounded even faster as Tadj’s magnificent shoulders eased in a casual shrug. ‘Your wish is highly commendable,’ he added, staring down at her with warmth and laughter in his eyes.
‘But you’re not the genie in the bottle,’ she observed sensibly.
‘I could be...’
‘Not this time,’ she said, warning him off with a mock-stern look.
As she was speaking, she was digging around in her shopper to find her purse.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, frowning as she brought it out.
‘Paying for my coffee,’ she said. ‘I don’t like to be in debt to anyone—and you’ve had enough trouble, from what you’ve told me. I would have paid at the café, but you got in fast. Here. Take it,’ she insisted, thrusting some cash towards him.
‘I’ll leave it as a tip for the wait staff when I walk past,’ he agreed.
‘Brownie points to you,’ she said approvingly. ‘Well, I can’t be late for work.’
‘Don’t forget tonight—’
‘Tonight?’ she interrupted.
‘When I see you again.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve got studying to do when I finish work.’
‘Studying what?’ he pressed, frowning.
‘History of art. My dream is to be a curator, or a conservator one day,’ she explained.
‘Working in a museum or an art gallery?’ he proposed.
‘Exactly.’
Tadj stared at her long and hard. ‘Anything else?’ he said at last.
‘I’ll let you know if I think of something,’ she promised cheekily with a glance inside the laundry.
‘Don’t let me keep you,’ Tadj said dryly.
‘I won’t.’
‘Just one thing,’ he said.
‘Which is?’ she pressed.
‘You’ll need a party dress for tonight.’
‘I’ve already told you, I’m not coming out tonight.’
‘But you’ve got a party to go to.’
‘No, I don’t,’ she argued, enjoying the game. How could she not, when Tadj’s wicked black eyes were full of amusement?
‘Yes, you do,’ he insisted, acting stern.
‘With you? Not likely!’ she countered, wanting to prolong the moment of parting.
‘On board the Sapphire tonight,’ he tempted.
‘You’re kidding me! You know I can’t resist an invitation like that.’
‘Good.’ His lips pressed down attractively, making her wonder what it would feel like if he kissed her. So much so, she almost missed his next statement. ‘My friend Sheikh Khalid is having a party tonight, and you’re invited as my guest.’
‘That’s news to me,’ she said, heart pounding as she lifted her chin to confront those dangerous eyes.
‘I can’t think of anyone I’d rather take as my plus one. At least we’ll have a laugh. What do you say?’
‘Can’t you find someone else to have a laugh with? Someone more suitable?’ Lucy suggested, as the enormity of what she could be agreeing to struck home. A glamorous party on board a yacht that could slip its moorings at any point? However attractive she might find Tadj, or maybe because of it, her sensible self advised caution.
‘I’m right out of amusing women at the moment,’ he said with a somewhat cynical look that suggested this might actually be the case. ‘And I don’t relish being bored to tears by people trying to find out if the person they’re talking to is as important as they are.’
‘Good plan. But why me, when there must be dozens of better qualified companions?’
‘Qualified in what way?’ he demanded, pretending to be shocked.
‘There must be dozens of people who’d love to go to that party.’ With you, she left out, deciding that with his good looks Tadj probably didn’t need his ego massaging.
‘No one with your unique qualities,’ he assured her, straight-faced.
She hummed and frowned. ‘I’d love to know what they are.’
‘That will become apparent as the evening goes on,’ he promised.
‘But as I’m not coming to the party...’
‘Those unique qualities will force you to,’ he insisted. ‘You won’t be able to resist.’
He might be right, Lucy concluded. ‘Go on.’
‘You work a real job, and meet real people on a daily basis. You’re interested in everything and everyone, and you have your own quirky take on what you see.’
‘You’ve gathered a lot about me in a very short time.’
He certainly had, Tadj thought. ‘My point is you’re real and I like that. You have no idea how rare that is.’
She thought about this for a moment. ‘You make a very persuasive case,’ she said at last.
And he wasn’t about to give up. ‘You’ll be my honoured guest tonight.’
‘Better that than dishonoured—and you can put that away,’ she flashed when he pulled out his wallet.
‘For the dress you’ll be wearing tonight,’ he explained.
She tightened her lips. Now he’d offended her. ‘I’m not entirely penniless. I’m sure I can rustle something up.’
‘Then, you agree?’
She looked at him and heaved a theatrical sigh. ‘You got me,’ she admitted.
‘Just one thing. Don’t keep me waiting when I pick you up tonight.’
‘Making conditions now? I can always change my mind.’
‘You won’t,’ he said confidently.
‘And you can keep the killer smile for someone who will appreciate it,’ she added with a mock-stern frown.
‘Someone like you?’ he suggested, staring deep into her eyes.
‘I’ve changed my mind. I’d be right out of my depth—and crazy to agree.’
‘Too late. The deal is done.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Lucy argued, ‘and now you’re making me late for work.’
‘You’re making yourself late for work by taking so long to confirm the details of our date tonight.’
‘Please take your hand off the door and let me go in.’
‘No sense of adventure?’ he said, going nowhere. ‘I thought a lot more of you than that.’
‘I’ve got plenty of sense of adventure,’ Lucy assured him, ‘and plenty of common sense too.’
‘Prove it,’ he said.
‘I will, by refusing an invitation from someone I hardly know.’
‘Every relationship has to start somewhere...’
Tadj looked so sexy, leaning against the door. Say yes to this ridiculous proposal and she could at least satisfy her workmates’ curiosity about the Sapphire, as well as her own about Tadj. Say no, and she might regret it for the rest of her life.
‘I’m not sure about risking my virtue on board that ship tonight,’ she said, voicing her thoughts out loud.
‘Your virtue?’ Tadj commented with amusement. ‘I didn’t know that was on offer.’
‘It isn’t,’ she said with a steely look.
‘Shame,’ he murmured, but with humour tugging at his mouth.
‘Okay,’ she said, decision made. She trusted herself to act sensibly if she accepted his invitation, and it was the opportunity of a lifetime. ‘I have decided to come to the party tonight.’
‘Excellent.’
Tadj’s wolfish smile sent tremors to all her erogenous zones, to the point where she almost missed him adding, ‘No tiaras. It’s just a casual get-together.’
‘Between billionaires?’ she suggested.
‘Between you and me,’ he corrected her.
All she had to do was laugh it off and walk through that door. She need never see him again. Life would return to normal. But normal could be boring, and Tadj was right about adventure beckoning, but only if the adventure was on her terms.
‘Don’t you be late,’ she warned. ‘It’s cold at night, standing in this doorway.’
CHAPTER THREE (#u2d57610d-aa23-52ae-8cc6-2b71ea93eeae)
WHAT HAD SHE DONE? What had she done? How had she allowed herself to be talked into this? Wicked eyes blazing into hers hadn’t helped, Lucy reflected later as she got ready in her small bedsit above the laundry. Nor had feeling as if Tadj and she had known each other longer than it took to drink a couple of cups of coffee. But now was not the time to reflect on why it was possible to feel like that about someone, and not about others. Her decision to go to the party had been made, and she had no intention of skulking in her room, or asking her friends to send Tadj away when he arrived. It would be fascinating to discover how the other half lived, and she could report back to her friends at the laundry.
The only remaining problem was what to wear. She had one decent dress; a cheap sale-rail spectacular she still wasn’t entirely sure was her colour. Red hair and freckles didn’t always blend well with bright red, especially when the weather turned her skin blue with cold. She’d only worn it once, to the Christmas party when everyone made an effort for the sake of the elderly owner of the laundry. Miss Francine went to so much trouble for them, it was the least they could do.
So... Tadj was older than she was, and obviously more sophisticated, and much richer, suggesting he’d be used to women in designer clothes. Too bad, she thought as she plucked the dress from its hanger. He’d pressed her to accompany him tonight, so he’d have to put up with her dress being a bit too short and too tight. The sale rail didn’t offer custom made.
Tadj must be around early thirties, she thought. She was twenty-three, and definitely not glamorous, or sophisticated. Or successful...not yet. But she could keep a roof over her head, which was something to be proud about, and she had the best of friends, which was more important than anything else. And she had no intention of putting out for the price of a gourmet meal, let alone a date on board the flashiest vessel in the harbour, Lucy determined, firming her jaw. A polite thank-you note would have to be enough, she concluded as a noisy group of excited friends, having spied on her from inside the laundry while she was negotiating with Tadj, burst into the room.
‘So?’ they chorused, nearly deafening her as they gathered around. ‘You’ve been seen.’
‘Really?’ She acted daft.
‘With the best-looking man on King’s Dock,’ one of them confided with a jerk of her head to her friends.
‘Hmm.’ Staring heavenwards, Lucy pretended to think about this. If she’d had more experience of men, maybe she could have joked along with her girlfriends, but somehow Tadj was special—unique in her experience—and she didn’t want to exchange banter concerning him while the tender green shoot of a first meeting was still so fragile. ‘I did meet someone who works in security,’ she admitted frankly. ‘He bought me coffee, and that’s all there is to it.’
‘So you won’t be seeing him again?’ her friends pressed, exchanging knowing glances with each other.
‘I didn’t say that. What?’ she demanded when her girlfriends started to laugh.
‘It’s not what you’re telling us, but what you’re not telling us,’ one of them insisted. ‘Unless, of course, you really don’t know?’
‘Don’t know what?’ She’d been warm and safe here, and surrounded by friends since the day she’d arrived. Had she thrown all that away for the sake of a wicked smile and mocking eyes?
‘Didn’t the guy tell you his name?’ one of her closest friends prompted.
‘His name is Tadj. He doesn’t have to hide anything,’ Lucy insisted.
But did he? she wondered. The spear of anxiety had returned, and with it thoughts of her vicious gangland thug of a stepfather, who was currently serving a lengthy term in prison for his crimes. He had plenty to hide, and could still charm the pants off anyone who didn’t know his reputation, and who met him for the first time.
‘Tadj,’ another friend prompted, breaking into Lucy’s troubled thoughts. ‘Did this Tadj have a surname?’
It was a relief when Tadj’s stunningly attractive face swam into Lucy’s mind, completely eclipsing the evil mask of her stepfather. ‘I don’t think so,’ she murmured as she racked her brains. ‘First names are enough at a first encounter over coffee.’
‘Did he tell you about his job?’ another friend pressed.
‘Yes—security. I already told you.’
Her stepfather had eyes like a shark, black, dead and cold, she remembered, without a flicker of expression in them. There was no evil in Tadj’s eyes. He could look a bit fierce at times—all right, most of the time—but there was also good humour and warmth. And, of course, the sexual heat that flared off him. Better not to think about that now.
More friends had joined them, and her tiny room was overcrowded. Miss Francine was known locally as the Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe, because of her generosity towards the women she hired. The bedsits she let out for a peppercorn rent might be cramped and old-fashioned, but, for women seeking sanctuary, not even the finest five-star hotel could compare.
‘So, I’ve been seen with a man,’ Lucy accepted with a good-humoured shrug, making a joke of it as she stared around.
‘With the Emir of Qalala, no less,’ her best friend informed the rest.
Lucy froze like a child playing statues. ‘What did you say?’
She had heard perfectly well, but...the Emir of Qalala? Tadj was the Emir of Qalala?
She tried and failed to process the information. And what was she supposed to say now? I’m a dope—I didn’t recognise him? I didn’t read the papers today? I don’t watch local TV? All true, unfortunately.
‘Oh, come on—potential Emira,’ her friends coaxed. ‘Tell us what the Emir is really like...’
‘I’m afraid I don’t know,’ Lucy admitted. ‘He seems nice enough.’
‘And as hot as hell,’ one of her friends put in to an agreeing chorus of raunchy suggestions.
‘Might have been,’ Lucy conceded.
‘His photograph is all over the news,’ another friend insisted, in a tone that said she should have known. ‘And nice doesn’t begin to describe him.’
‘Sex on two hard-muscled legs,’ someone else shouted out.
‘With a body made for sin,’ another drooled as she thrust a magazine cover in front of Lucy’s nose.
Lucy inhaled sharply at the sight of Tadj, tanned and buff, wearing a pair of figure-hugging swim shorts.
‘Either he’s a prize-winning swimmer, or he likes to show that thing off.’
‘Stop,’ Lucy implored her friends. ‘I had a coffee with him, nothing more.’
‘He’d definitely need security if I shared a hot drink with him,’ a friend exclaimed as she read the article over Lucy’s shoulder. ‘And he’s one of the infamous Sapphire Sheikhs—so-called because they are as rich as Croesus, and as insatiable as a pack of ravening wolves.’
Lucy’s pulse raced off the scale. So Tadj was not only ridiculously wealthy, but all-powerful and royal too. It was too late to refuse his invitation without appearing to be a coward. She didn’t have a number to call him, and she could hardly breach security to ask one of his men to deliver a message. Out of her depth and out of her mind didn’t even begin to cover this mess! Adventure was one thing, but not on this scale.
‘The Emir of Qalala,’ she murmured, biting her lip, turning away as she tried to reconcile the little she knew about a hot guy in a café who had turned out to be one of the world-renowned Sapphire Sheikhs. ‘I had no idea,’ she murmured.
And if she had, would she have accepted Tadj’s invitation?
He was an extraordinary man, and, yes, she probably would have taken the chance. Did his title make a difference? He’d asked if money could change her opinion. She’d never considered a royal title, but she understood that great privilege came with restrictions and complications. Her usual good humour kicked in at this point. No half measures. If she was going to dip her toe in the dating pool, why not go for full-body immersion? She wouldn’t simply be out of her depth at the Sheikh’s party, she’d be like Orphan Annie at the feast, but that chance to peep inside a very different world proved irresistible. Spinning around, she faced her friends. ‘Could you help me get ready for tonight?’
When they chorused, ‘Yes!’ she knew there was no turning back.
Security expert indeed, Lucy thought as her friends jostled around. Just wait until she saw Tadj again! ‘I own one dress, and no high-heeled shoes,’ she explained. ‘My dress is sleeveless and it will be freezing out tonight. If I could also borrow an evening bag, big enough for a lip gloss and my bus fare home?’
Drowned out by laughter and offers of help, she made a silent promise that she would be safely tucked up in her own bed by midnight.
* * *
He’d never been uncertain of a woman. He should have brought Lucy back with him to make sure he’d see her again, Tadj concluded as he strode on board his friend’s superyacht. Lucy was unique and unpredictable. There were no guarantees she’d show up tonight. For once, that really mattered to him.
‘All women are unique, my friend,’ his friend Sheikh Khalid insisted when they met on his arrival in the grand salon. ‘You seem preoccupied,’ the Sheikh added when Tadj grimaced.
‘Unfinished business,’ he supplied economically. Usually, he would welcome both Khalid’s company and his interest, but not this time, because all he wanted to think about was Lucy.
Walking out on deck, he scanned the dock as if she might suddenly appear. Was her head buried in one of her college books, or was she getting ready for the party? There was no way to tell.
‘What do you do with a woman you can’t read?’ he asked Khalid as his friend joined him out on deck.
‘Bed her?’
‘That’s not helpful.’
‘It’s always a good start,’ Khalid argued with an ironic smile.
Everything on board the Sapphire was geared towards seduction tonight, Tadj thought as they both pulled away from the rail. An army of talented florists was currently adding last-minute touches to the container-loads of exotic blooms.
‘You’ll be staying in the Golden Suite,’ Khalid informed him, ‘if that suits you. Make the most of it while you can.’
They shared a wry laugh. ‘That temple to all things gold,’ Tadj commented. ‘It’s enough to put anyone off their stride with the addition of those outrageous erotic hangings.’
‘Not you, my friend,’ Khalid assured him. ‘I would have thought you found those hangings rather tame.’
‘If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were trying to set me up with this woman,’ Tadj responded.
‘How could that be true?’ Khalid queried. ‘I’ve only just learned about her. But, good hunting—you’d be surprised how many women are delighted to be seduced in the Golden Suite.’
‘No doubt spurred on by the inspiration provided by the artwork,’ Tadj commented dryly. ‘But this one’s different.’
‘Different how? She’s a woman, isn’t she?’
Seeing his expression, Khalid shrugged. ‘You’ve got it bad, my friend.’
* * *
Bad? Tadj ground his jaw as he sprang out of the Sapphire’s lap pool. Bad was putting it mildly. Grabbing a towel, he dried his exercise-pumped body with impatience. Warnings should be issued with Lucy, that she could change the direction of his thoughts within ten minutes of meeting her. Even exercise hadn’t helped him today. He’d never known anything like this. Women didn’t get to him; he got to them. Lucy was so young and unsophisticated, she couldn’t know the tricks that others played. Funny, blunt and challenging, she was absolutely irresistible, and irresistible was the one thing he didn’t need. His usual type knew the score, and were sophisticated enough to use him for what they wanted, without complication. The feeling was mutual, but he couldn’t be that way with Lucy. Innocence came at a price, and, though he was no saint, the thought of waking her to physical pleasure was driving him crazy.
Having dressed and checked every timepiece and lump of tech on board in order to convince himself that minutes really could tick by so slowly, he parked the shave and transferred his pacing from ship to shore. He hadn’t experienced this level of anticipation since he’d been an overeager youth. When he spotted Lucy standing in the doorway of the laundry, it was as if an atomic reaction went off in his brain. They locked eyes, and he walked towards her. It was the challenge on her face that aroused him. Her body language said she knew who he was, and intended to make him pay for withholding the information.
‘You have a lot of explaining to do,’ she said.
All he was aware of now was her intoxicating wildflower scent.
‘Am I late?’ he said, glancing at his wristwatch and frowning, as if he didn’t know what she meant.
‘Don’t try that on me,’ she warned him, narrowing her astonishing jade-green eyes in the very best type of threat.
‘Good evening to you too,’ he murmured mildly, maintaining eye contact.
‘Good evening, Your Majesty.’
‘My name is Tadj,’ he reminded her quietly.
‘The Emir of Qalala, I believe.’
He wanted to kiss her as her expressive mouth twisted in a wry smile.
‘What are you doing?’ she protested as he dragged her close.
‘What does a title change about me?’
‘Everything,’ she said as he brushed her lips teasingly with his. ‘Are you going to let me go now?’
‘No.’
The first kiss was extraordinary in that it fired every part of him, and made it vital there were more. ‘Let’s start over,’ he said, releasing her before she was quite ready. ‘Good evening,’ he murmured.
‘Good evening, Your Majesty,’ she teased him, still trying to catch her breath. They stared at each other with a mixture of acceptance and humour. ‘You’ve got a long way to go to recover your credibility,’ she warned, testing her kiss-bruised lips with the tip of her tongue.
‘More tolerance required,’ he suggested.
‘On my part?’ she queried.
‘Yes, on your part,’ he confirmed. ‘Shall we?’ He glanced in the direction of the super yacht.
The Sapphire was a fabulous vessel. Even he was impressed from here, where he could appreciate every inch of it, blazing with light from bow to stern. Party planners had been working tirelessly all day to create a fairyland for the guests, and, though she might still be reeling from the unexpected start to their evening, even Lucy couldn’t hide her excitement.
‘No more deception, and no more surprises,’ she warned as they approached the security gates. ‘Promise—or I’m not going any further.’
‘When you look at me like that...’
‘What?’ she murmured, her eyes darkening.
He would promise her almost anything, he thought, but sensibly confined himself to a wry smile and a shrug.
‘So you’re really the Emir of Qalala?’ she said as the security guards waved them through.
‘I really am,’ he confirmed.
‘I’m impressed.’
‘No, you’re not,’ he argued with amusement. ‘Not by my title, anyway.’
‘Are you always so confident?’
‘Always.’ Except for tonight, he thought, because Lucy was a whole new experience.
‘You’re one of the infamous Sapphire Sheikhs,’ she observed. ‘That alone is supposed to impress me, isn’t it?’
‘Legendary, rather than infamous, I’d hope.’
She shrugged and halted. ‘You should have told me you’re one of the world’s richest men.’
‘Told you, why?’ he asked. They were approaching the gangplank where a queue of guests was forming.
‘Because it makes us very different,’ she said.
‘If we’re so ill matched, why are you here? For a glimpse into the life of the super-rich?’
‘That’s part of it,’ she admitted frankly.
If he’d been looking for a smooth-tongued casual date, a woman who would do and say everything she could to impress him, he’d got it badly wrong—and thank goodness for that!
CHAPTER FOUR (#u2d57610d-aa23-52ae-8cc6-2b71ea93eeae)
‘SIR...’
One of the security guards, having recognised Tadj, escorted them to a second boarding point a bit further along than the first.
‘What’s that the other guests are holding?’ Lucy asked him as she gazed at those queuing patiently to have their identities checked before being allowed on board.
This was her first taste of life on the other side of the Sapphire Sheikh divide, he reminded himself as he explained, ‘Sheikh Khalid’s invitations have been issued in silver boxes, studded with sapphires.’
‘Recyclable, I hope,’ she teased him with a cheeky smile.
‘Yes,’ he confirmed, matching her mood. ‘The box has to be large enough to hold a passport and other documentation, such as a visa.’
‘You need passports to get on board?’ Lucy exclaimed, staring up at him with an engaging mix of indignation and surprise.
‘Only when certain guests disembark in certain countries,’ he explained with a shrug. ‘The party doesn’t last for one night,’ he added when she looked at him in bemusement. ‘It lasts at least a week.’
‘Not for me, it doesn’t,’ she assured him. ‘And, anyway, I don’t have my passport with me.’
‘None needed,’ he confirmed. ‘The umbrella of diplomatic immunity covers both of us.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ she said, turning serious and concerned. ‘I haven’t signed up for a cruise. A couple of hours with you will be enough.’
‘For me too,’ he assured her dryly.
They laughed so easily now, but then she flashed him a look to warn that her next statement must be taken seriously. ‘I have to be back by midnight,’ she said, ‘or alarms will ring at the laundry, and the police will come looking for me. I made sure everyone knows where I am tonight,’ she explained.
‘Nice to know you trust me,’ he mocked lightly, ‘but sensible.’
‘I thought so,’ she agreed. ‘I don’t take chances.’
‘Nor should you,’ he confirmed as a uniformed officer stepped forward to escort them on deck. He liked Lucy more and more, and couldn’t help comparing her to all the other women who wound around him like clinging vines in the hope that things might progress. Not Lucy. She slapped her cards down on the table face up, no nonsense.
‘So, Your Importance,’ she murmured as they walked ahead of the other guests, ‘privilege all the way for you. What am I supposed to call you in front of people?’
‘Nothing rude.’
‘Then, be nice to me.’
‘I intend to be,’ he assured her. ‘Call me Tadj—or Lord and Master, if you prefer.’
‘Tadj will do nicely,’ she said.
‘Sir...’
‘Yes?’ He glanced sideways at the officer detailed to escort them.
‘Sheikh Khalid is waiting to greet you.’
He glanced up and saw his striking friend watching their embarkation with amusement. ‘Of course,’ he murmured, acknowledging the officer with a brief dip of his head. ‘Come on,’ he added to Lucy. ‘There’s a lot I want you to see before you meet our host.’ He didn’t feel like sharing her. ‘I don’t want you to miss a single moment on board the Sapphire tonight.’
His determination intensified as Lucy’s eyes sparkled with excitement; whether that was for him, or for this fabulous event, for once, he didn’t know.
* * *
This was partying on a scale Lucy could never have imagined, even in her wildest fantasy. Jewel-studded boxes to hold the invitations...guests in diamonds, exuding clouds of exclusive scent...limos lined up on the dock as more guests arrived, and then those guests being made to stand in line while Lucy walked past on the arm of the Emir of Qalala. That was just crazy. Accepting that a vessel as huge as the Sapphire was privately owned took another immense leap of faith. There were so many decks, so many bands playing, so many guests milling about, and floral installations beyond magnificent that gave Kew Gardens at the height of summer a run for its money. The scent of blossom was intoxicating, as was the tang of ozone, but, above everything else, it was the smell of money, of outrageous wealth, that really threatened to choke her.
‘Feeling nauseous?’ Tadj commented when she made a noise down deep in her throat. ‘And we’re not even moving yet.’
‘Nor will we, I hope,’ she said, recovering fast. ‘At least, not while I’m on board. I’m just feeling a bit out of place,’ she admitted, ‘amongst all these diamonds and pin-thin figures dressed in designer clothes.’
‘Nonsense,’ Tadj insisted with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘You’re the most beautiful woman here. And the most intelligent.’
‘Did you give everyone an IQ test?’ she queried, with the reminder not to take herself so seriously. ‘Okay, so you know most of the women here,’ she remarked with a grin, as Tadj looked at her in a certain way. ‘I should have known.’
‘Most of them aren’t renowned for their academic qualifications,’ he admitted, ‘but they have other qualities.’
‘Spare me,’ she begged. ‘I don’t need a rundown of the sordid details.’
‘Relax. Enjoy yourself,’ he advised.
Why not? This was incredible. ‘Thank you for inviting me,’ she said. It was just unfortunate that her gaze slipped to his mouth as she added, ‘I’ve never seen anything like this before.’
He laughed softly down deep in his chest. ‘Feast your eyes,’ he invited.
She would. This was the Emir of Qalala, and the Emir of Qalala had kissed her. She had no idea if he would ever do so again, but she would remember that kiss for the rest of her life. He was one hot guy, so why not enjoy this as Tadj suggested? It wasn’t every day that fantasy turned into the best type of reality. She liked him more and more. He was courteous and fun to be with, and as hot as hell.
‘Drink?’ he suggested.
‘Sparkling water, please.’ Must keep a level head, she warned herself, and something told her that wouldn’t be easy tonight.
‘Sparkling water, mademoiselle?’ a steward invited, handing Lucy a crystal glass.
‘Are you hungry?’ Tadj enquired when the steward had left them.
‘Shouldn’t we go and meet our host?’ she asked, wishing her body wouldn’t respond quite so willingly to the amused heat in Tadj’s eyes.
‘No hurry. The other guests will keep him busy for a while.’
‘I’m okay with water for now, thank you.’ How could she eat while her senses were being subjected to an overload of testosterone? Tadj made her long for all things forbidden, and she had to remind herself that she was nothing more than a dockside novelty for him.
Several wine fountains had been installed on board the Sapphire, and it was here that couples seemed to be congregating. She couldn’t stop staring at them—arms entwined, bodies touching, laughing intimately into each other’s faces.
‘Would you like me to fill your glass?’ Tadj prompted with a curving smile as he glanced at the glittering stream.
For a moment she was lost for words, and then came to with a jolt. ‘No, thank you. I’m steering clear of the hard stuff tonight, and only drinking water.’
He laughed. ‘Sensible.’
‘Always,’ she confirmed.
They stared at each other for a few potent moments, during which time Tadj looked like a mythical hero, while she tried to stop her cheeks flaming red. But if there was a cure for blushing, she hadn’t found it yet, something to do with her pale Celtic skin that showed every emotion whether she wanted it to or not.
‘Why did you invite me tonight?’
‘Fireworks,’ he said.
She blinked and then realised what he meant as plumes of light began to explode all around the ship. ‘I really want to know,’ she pressed.
This was dangerous. She was always so cool where men were concerned, and with good reason, having the experience of her stepfather behind her, but with Tadj cool was becoming increasingly impossible.
‘Look!’
His touch on her arm made her jump, and it took her a moment to follow his stare to the circus performers in glittering green costumes, swinging high over their heads. She gasped, and not just because of the risks the acrobats were taking, but because Tadj had swung an arm possessively around her shoulders, which was a risk right here.
‘And down there,’ he said as she was about to wriggle free.
And breathe, Lucy instructed herself firmly, making herself relax as Tadj turned her to see the fire-eaters and jugglers performing.
‘We’ve got a lot more to see,’ he said as he moved and took her with him across the deck.
He wasn’t joking. The next place they stopped had been transformed into a souk, complete with flower stalls and food outlets, as well as flashy gifts of every type. The attendants behind the stalls were exotically and colourfully robed, and played a good part as they shouted their wares to the passing guests. No money changed hands, and there was quite a crowd competing for the hats, shawls, beads and ornaments, with which to adorn their designer clothes.
‘This isn’t a party, it’s a theatrical production,’ Lucy commented as she glanced up at Tadj.
‘One man’s ludicrous is another man’s normal,’ he remarked. ‘And you look sensational, by the way,’ he added as they walked on. ‘No need for strings of beads, or even a hat to hide your face.’
‘Watch it, mister,’ she said, smiling as she faked a punch, and Tadj ducked. ‘Actually, you don’t look bad yourself, now I take a proper look...’ Massive understatement. Tadj looked sensational in nothing more than a pair of well-cut jeans and an open-neck shirt, with a casual jacket left open to reveal his powerful chest. He could have worn a boiler suit, and still looked fabulous. Better still naked, she thought.
And here she was in borrowed clothes, carrying the flag for her friends. Tipping up her chin, she met his teasing stare head-on, and was rewarded by the warmth in Tadj’s eyes. Make that heat, she thought as her body responded with enthusiasm.
‘Champagne?’ Tadj proposed as he selected two crystal flutes from a tray a passing waiter was carrying.
‘No, thanks. I’m a cheap drunk, so I’ll stick to water, if you don’t mind. And even if you do,’ she added good-humouredly. Tonight was going better than expected—far better than she’d dared to hope.
‘To us,’ he said as they raised their glasses.
‘To a wonderful evening,’ Lucy replied, calling on her natural caution. She might be having the time of her life—might have kissed the hottest man at the party, but she had no intention of completely losing her head.
Tadj achieved the impossible, by finding them a quiet and sheltered spot on the Sapphire’s crowded deck. Taking her glass out of her hand, he put it down next to his. Was he going to kiss her again? Every part of her body tingled at the thought. She could feel him in every fibre of her being, as if he were the virtuoso who had temporarily laid aside his violin. Her strings were certainly twanging at the memory of his touch, Lucy thought, carefully concealing her amusement at a body running riot while the sensible head supposedly guiding it was temporarily unavailable.
‘It’s so beautiful here,’ she said, looking around. The floral decorations were incredible, though the blossom was in a more restrained colour palette than the rest of the Sapphire, as if this area had been designed for lovers. It was like standing in the middle of a fragrant ocean of palest pink and white. Drawing on the heady scent, she closed her eyes, only for the unwelcome thought that she should be leaving soon to pop into her head. ‘Tadj, I...’
‘Tadj what?’ he murmured.
He’d dipped his head to stare into her eyes, and their mouths were almost touching.
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Susan Stephens
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Seduced as his secret Cinderella…Lucy is shocked by Tadj’s royal revelation…Lucy is carrying the baby of a desert king! Tadj will secure his heir, but can Lucy accept his scandalous solution that she share his royal bed?