скачать книгу бесплатно
Millie gasped as the younger man swept a protective arm around her shoulder. ‘You won’t touch her,’ he warned.
The Sheikh’s response was a lazy wave of his hand. ‘You take things too seriously, Khalid. You always did.’
Khalid.
Learning her guardian’s name, Millie felt a rush of emotion. He remained standing between her and the Sheikh, to protect her from his brother’s crude remarks and lewd glances. If only he could rescue her mother too.
‘Don’t bring your bleeding heart here,’ the Sheikh dismissed with a scornful look. ‘It’s not appreciated.’
‘A bleeding heart because I care for our people?’ the Prince challenged, stepping away from Millie. ‘Where were you when our country needed you, Saif?’ he demanded. ‘You left our borders unprotected and our people in danger. You should be ashamed of yourself,’ he finished with icy disdain.
‘It is you who should be ashamed for ruining the evening for my guests,’ the Sheikh remarked, unconcerned. ‘And it is you who should apologise,’ he insisted.
Shaking his head, Prince Khalid assured his brother that he would do no such thing. ‘Come,’ he added sharply to Millie. ‘You’re leaving right now. And if you had any sense,’ he added to Millie’s mother, ‘you’d leave too.’
Roxy’s response was to turn her sulky face into the Sheikh’s shoulder.
‘Is this what you want?’ the Sheikh asked Millie.
‘Yes,’ Millie almost shouted, ‘but I’m not leaving without my mother. Please—’ It was useless. Her mother didn’t move.
‘At least take some sapphires with you,’ the Sheikh suggested in a mocking tone.
‘Don’t touch them!’ his brother rapped.
‘As if I would!’ This time she did shout, and it was so unlike her to lose her temper, but if he thought for one moment she could be bribed with sapphires!
Prince Khalid smiled faintly as he looked at her, and there was almost respect in his eyes, Millie thought, as if he knew she found this situation as deplorable as he did.
‘You’re a disgrace to the Khalifa name,’ her rescuer thundered, turning his attention to Sheikh Saif. ‘If you weren’t the ruler of Khalifa—’
‘What would you do?’ the Sheikh queried in an oily tone. ‘I stand between you and the throne. Is that what’s really troubling you, brother?’ Opening his arms wide, the Sheikh drew in his avid audience. ‘My poor brother can never get over the fact that he can’t have things all his own, dull way. How boring life would be with you in charge of the country, Khalid.’
This was greeted by murmurs of agreement from his guests. Millie risked a glance to see how the Prince had taken this latest insult. Apart from a muscle flicking in his jaw, he remained unmoved. ‘I’m taking the girl,’ he said, ‘and I want the mother gone by the time I return. Her daughter should not be left alone at night with so many unpleasant characters roaming King’s Dock.’
A gasp of affront greeted this remark. The Sheikh remained unconcerned. ‘But she won’t be on her own, will you, my dear? She’ll have you,’ he added with a sneer for Prince Khalid.
By this time, Millie was consumed with fear for her mother. ‘I can’t leave her,’ she told the Prince when he tried to usher her away.
Gripping her arm firmly, he warned, ‘Don’t get any ideas. You’re leaving now.’
‘Not without my mother,’ Millie said stubbornly.
‘Get her out of here!’ her mother yelled with an angry gesture in Millie’s direction.
Having finally dislodged herself from the Sheikh’s embrace, her mother was standing with her fists tightly clenched. ‘You’re nothing but a little killjoy,’ she railed at Millie. ‘You always spoil my fun!’
Gasping with hurt, Millie was barely aware that the door of the grand salon had slammed behind her, making her last memory of that night her mother’s voice screaming at her to go.
* * *
‘What’s your name?’ he asked the pale, tense child as he escorted her off the Sapphire. He needed something to distract her from the ordeal, and wanted to keep her talking. She seemed so unnaturally quiet.
There was a silence and then, to his relief, she said in a strained whisper, ‘Millicent.’
‘Millicent?’ he repeated. ‘I like your name.’ It suited the girl with her serious demeanour, heavy glasses and neatly braided hair.
‘People call me Millie,’ she added shyly as they left the shadows behind and exited the vessel into clean ocean air.
The child was as refreshing as the ocean, he thought, and he was determined to do what he could to protect her from harm. ‘What do you like to be called?’ he asked when she turned back to stare up at the shaded windows behind which they both knew her mother would continue to party.
‘Me?’ She frowned and then refocused on his face. ‘I like to be called Millie.’
‘Millie,’ he repeated.
‘Will you do something for me?’ she asked, surprising him with her quick recovery.
‘If I can,’ he agreed.
They had reached the head of the gangplank, where she drew to a halt. ‘Will you tell my mother to leave?’ she begged earnestly. ‘She might listen to you. Will you find her a cab and send her home? I’ve got some money. I can pay you—’
‘You’ve got your bus fare home?’ he guessed. She was young, but she was sensible. She had to be, he thought.
‘Yes,’ she confirmed. Her forehead pleated with surprise, as if common sense were second nature to the daughter, if not the mother. ‘Of course I do. Well? Will you?’ she pressed.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he agreed.
‘Please,’ she pressed. ‘Promise me you’ll try.’
Something about her steady gaze compelled him to answer in the affirmative. ‘I promise. Now go home and do your school work.’
He followed her gaze with interest as something else occurred to her. She was staring at his brother’s chauffeur, who was standing stiffly to attention at the side of the royal limousine. He saluted as Khalid approached.
‘He’s been standing here for ages,’ Millie whispered discreetly. ‘Could you bring him a glass of water before he takes me home?’
‘Me?’ he exclaimed.
‘Why not you?’ she demanded. ‘There’s nothing wrong with your legs, is there?’
Her cheeky comment took him by surprise. She had spirit, and to spare.
‘He brought me here,’ she explained, ‘so I know he must be tired.’
Completely unaware of status or rank, she was a novelty, and a welcome reminder that their respective positions in life had been decided by an accident of birth. Her cheeks blushed red as he pointed out the iced water dispensers, both in the front and the back of the vehicle. ‘He’s fine,’ he explained in the same confiding tone. ‘Give him your address and he’ll see you home safely.’
‘And my mother?’ she said, staring back at the ship.
‘I’ll do what I can.’ He ground his jaw with disgust at the prospect of returning on board. ‘Never put yourself in such danger again,’ he added in his sternest tone.
She didn’t flinch as she retorted fiercely, ‘I never will.’
He watched the vehicle pull away with its lonely figure seated upright in the back. With her school satchel at her side, and her hands folded neatly on her lap, Millie stared straight ahead. It was impossible to imagine a greater contrast to her mother, and his last thought before turning to the ship was that Millie was a good girl who deserved better than this.
CHAPTER TWO (#ucd5e1531-2d79-59fc-bc28-624f035c402d)
Eight years later...
‘OKAY, IT’S WORKING AGAIN.’ Satisfied with her handiwork, Millie stepped away from the boiler she’d just repaired.
‘You’re a gem,’ Miss Francine, the octogenarian who had worked at the laundry since she was a girl, and who now owned the business, beamed at Millie as she enveloped her favourite worker in a hug. ‘I don’t know anyone else who has the patience to coax these old machines back to life. What would I do without you?’
‘We’d go down to the stream and beat the yachties’ sheets clean with stones,’ a girl called Lucy suggested dryly.
With a grin for her friend, Millie plucked a pencil from her bundled-up hair to make notes on how to start up the ancient boiler should it fail when she had returned to her apprenticeship as a marine engineer.
‘You’d better not beat the Sheikh of Khalifa’s golden sheets clean,’ Lucy observed, matching Millie’s grin. ‘He might keel-haul you, or... What?’ she demanded when both Millie and Miss Francine froze in horror.
‘Nothing,’ Millie said quietly, forcing her face to relax as she flashed a warning look at Miss Francine to say nothing. ‘I didn’t know the Sheikh’s yacht had berthed, that’s all.’
Lucy flung her arms wide like a proud fisherman demonstrating the improbable size of his latest catch. ‘It’s enormous! You couldn’t miss it, if you hadn’t had your head stuck in the boiler cupboard.’
Then, thank goodness she had, Millie thought.
‘When did those sheets come in?’ Miss Francine asked, obviously trying to distract from a topic she knew Millie would not want to discuss.
Lucy held out the yards of gold fabric overflowing her arms. ‘The housekeeper from the Sapphire brought them, saying they needed special handling.’
‘Ripping up?’ Millie suggested beneath her breath. The golden sheets reminded her of one particular night and all its heartwrenching associations.
Miss Francine stepped in to her rescue again. ‘If a yacht the size of the Sapphire has berthed, we must get back to work. We’ll have laundry coming out of our ears,’ she enthused, with an anxious look at Millie. ‘And it might be the pressing machine that goes next.’
‘Well, I’m here if it does break down,’ Millie soothed, appreciating the change of subject.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Miss Francine asked discreetly as soon as everyone else was distracted by work.
‘I’m fine,’ Millie confirmed, ‘and happy to take responsibility for those sheets. I’ll supervise their care every step of the way,’ she assured her elderly friend grimly, ‘and I’ll take them back on board to make sure they’re fitted properly.’
‘There’s no need for that,’ Miss Francine said, flashing Millie a concerned look. ‘I’ll take them.’
‘I want to,’ Millie insisted. ‘It’s a matter of pride.’ She had to prove to herself that she could do this, and after eight years of hunting for clues into her mother’s death, this was the best lead she’d had.
‘Well, if you’re happy to do it, I won’t argue with you,’ Miss Francine confirmed. ‘We’ll have more than enough work to go round.’
Something about the way her elderly friend had capitulated so quickly rang alarm bells in Millie’s head. Which she dismissed as overreaction. Discovering the Sapphire was back was a shock.
‘What do you think of the golden sheets?’ Lucy asked later as they worked side by side.
‘Magnificent, I suppose,’ Millie admitted, ‘but too gaudy for my taste.’ Though typical of the Sapphire, she thought, grinding her jaw as pictures of gemstones falling from a hand that might have pushed her mother to her death swam into her mind.
‘Too gaudy for mine too,’ Lucy agreed.
‘Try not to think about it,’ Miss Francine whispered as she drew Millie to one side. ‘Take a few deep breaths,’ she advised.
If only breathing steadily could be enough to shut out the past. ‘I gave birth at sixteen, you know,’ her mother had told the Sheikh.
Why must Millie always remember the bad things?
But that wasn’t the worst, was it?
Ignoring her mother’s comment with a derisive eye-roll, the Sheikh had remarked, ‘Of course you did,’ as he selected a ripe fig with his fat, bejewelled fingers.
‘I was never meant to have a child,’ her mother had added with a scowl for Millie.
Millie still felt the pain of that comment and remembered how her mother had snuggled even deeper into the Sheikh’s reptilian embrace as she’d said it, shutting out Millie completely—
‘Millie?’
‘Yes?’ She forced a bright note into her voice as Miss Francine came around to double-check she was okay. ‘So, he’s back,’ Millie remarked, trying to sound upbeat.
Her old friend wasn’t convinced by her act. ‘It seems so,’ Miss Francine agreed briskly as she helped Millie to tuck the fabulous sheets into a fine cotton sack they used for the most delicate fabrics before washing them.
‘He’s been gone a long time,’ Millie added in a lame attempt to keep the conversation alive. ‘I guess Sheikh Saif had to stay out of the country after the accident.’
‘Millie,’ Miss Francine interrupted in a concerned tone.
Millie had never seen her elderly friend looking so worried. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘I should have told you right away,’ Miss Francine explained with a regretful shake of her head. ‘It isn’t Sheikh Saif on board the Sapphire. He died some years ago—of overeating, the press said,’ she added with a grimace for Millie, who was too shocked to speak. ‘You were away on that oil rig as part of your work experience when he died.’
‘Who then?’ Millie managed to force out. ‘Who’s on the Sapphire?’
‘His brother, Sheikh Khalid,’ Miss Francine revealed in a businesslike manner Millie had no doubt was gauged to cause her the least distress.
Nothing helped. Millie felt as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs as Miss Francine continued, ‘Sheikh Saif’s death only made a few column inches in the press, and you were so upbeat when you came home that I couldn’t bear to dampen your enthusiasm by bringing up the past.’
‘Thank you,’ Millie said numbly.
‘You don’t have to thank me for anything,’ Miss Francine insisted as she rested a reassuring hand on Millie’s shoulder.
There was nothing more to say, and they both fell silent. Millie had been a Saturday girl at the laundry at the time of her mother’s tragic death, Miss Francine had stepped in right away, offering her a place to live. Home had been a room above the laundry ever since.
‘Of course, no one mentioned Sheikh Saif’s death to me,’ Millie mused dazedly, ‘because...’ She shrugged. ‘Why would they?’
Was she imagining it, or was Miss Francine finding it hard to meet her eyes?
‘I owe you everything,’ she said, giving her elderly friend an impulsive hug.
When Miss Francine left her side, Millie put her work on autopilot, so she could think back to what she remembered about Prince Khalid. Which was quite a lot. Never had anyone made such a strong impression on her. Most of it good. All of it awe-inspiring. And confusing. She’d thought him one thing, which was hero material, but he’d turned out to be something very different. And she must think of him as Sheikh Khalid now, Millie amended as images of blazing masculinity came flooding back. The sternest of men was now an omnipotent ruler. She could only imagine the changes in him. A few minutes in his company had been enough to brand his image on her soul. She could still see him striding up the Sapphire’s gangplank like an avenging angel to rescue her mother. But he hadn’t rescued her mother. He’d let her down. And at some point during that terrible night, Millie’s mother had either fallen from the Sapphire, or she’d been pushed.
