Millie frowned. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Never more so,’ he confirmed. ‘Well?’
She was still shell-shocked, both by the sudden appearance of Khalid, and by his offer. She suddenly became acutely aware that her lips were still burning from his earlier kisses, which made the decision to go or stay one hell of a lot more significant than it might have been. ‘I’d like that,’ she said.
Sheikh Khalid drew her through the throng and, springing up on the table, he lifted her and steadied her in front of him. The noise had reached fever pitch by this time, making it seem that they were in the middle of some primitive rite, with a dark angel and a virgin in the middle of it. And while some men might have looked foolish dancing on a table, as in everything else he did, Khalid was a natural.
Space restriction forced him to keep her pressed hard against his body. ‘I won’t let you fall,’ he promised.
‘You’d better not,’ she warned.
She felt safe. Even all the history behind them didn’t seem to matter. It was hot and steamy in the Pig and Whistle, and the noise was drumming at her head, but it couldn’t come between them. They were so closely linked, both physically and mentally, that even here in this crowded space it was as if just the two of them were dancing with no onlookers at all.
‘Enough?’ he asked when finally she begged for mercy.
‘I’m too dizzy to walk,’ she protested, staggering as he sprang down from the table.
Reaching up, he brought her safe into his arms.
‘Put me down! I feel embarrassed.’
‘There’s no need,’ he said. ‘No one’s watching. No one cares.’
Everyone cares, Millie thought as the smiling crowd parted to let them through when Sheikh Khalid carried her to the door. It was only natural that they were intrigued. His Majesty and the laundress dancing in the Pig and Whistle? What wasn’t cool about that?
When the door closed behind them a second time, Khalid lowered Millie to her feet and stared down at her. ‘Are we going to talk?’ she asked. ‘I guess you need to say goodnight to your guests first, and I’m happy to wait,’ she said, thinking it was the least she could do. ‘And then I really must get back,’ she added to fill the silence when he didn’t speak. ‘It’s getting late.’
‘Did you plan to swim back?’
‘What? I... I’m sorry...?’ Millie stared up in utter amazement. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Just that the Sapphire’s been underway for over an hour.’
She couldn’t speak. She didn’t know what to say. There was nothing to say, Millie concluded. She was a stowaway on the Sheikh’s yacht? What protection did that give her?
What had she done?
She wracked her brains for a solution, but there was none. She was stranded at sea with the Sheikh. ‘What about your guests?’
‘They disembarked some time ago.’
‘So, we’re heading to...?’ She wracked her brains for the closest port to King’s Dock on the south coast of England.
‘For Khalifa,’ he said, as if that were obvious.
‘Khalifa?’ Millie gasped. ‘Halfway around the world?’
She was stunned when he confirmed this. Now she was standing still, she could feel the vibration of the ship’s engines beneath her feet and hear the faint hum. ‘Couldn’t you drop me off somewhere?’ she asked, knowing she was clutching at straws.
‘This isn’t a bus, Ms Dillinger.’
‘Of course not, I mean...’ For once in her neatly organised life, Millie didn’t have a clue what to do next. ‘Miss Francine will be worried,’ was all she could come up with.
‘You can call her,’ the Sheikh advised.
It was too late; Miss Francine would be in bed.
Bed.
The single word ricocheted around Millie’s head. Where was she going to sleep? The thought of spending the night—maybe many nights—on board the Sapphire was unnerving, to say the least.
‘You’ll feel better when you’ve had something to eat,’ Khalid predicted.
‘I doubt that somehow,’ she said, but her stomach grumbled on cue.
‘You’ll eat with me,’ he said, leading the way down the corridor.
With little choice, she followed him to the grand salon, where it was hardly possible to imagine that a party had taken place. Everything had been cleared away and calm order restored in the magnificent room.
She stared blankly at the phone as he handed it to her. ‘Miss Francine,’ he prompted, shaking her out of the trance. ‘Make your call and leave a message if she isn’t up. While you do that, I’ll arrange for refreshments.’
Miss Francine was not only awake, Millie discovered, but both thrilled and amused to hear from her charge. ‘Make the most of it,’ she said to Millie’s amazement.
‘But I’m alone with him,’ Millie exclaimed discreetly with a glance at the Sheikh.
‘Wonderful,’ Miss Francine enthused. ‘A world of women will envy you.’
‘What are you saying?’ Millie asked in the same hushed tone.
‘Just that life is full of choices, and you haven’t gone wrong so far, Millie Dillinger.’
‘I wish I had your confidence in me,’ Millie admitted. ‘When I boarded the Sapphire, I seemed to leave my common sense on shore.’
‘That’s your opinion,’ Miss Francine said firmly. ‘It won’t hurt you to unplug for a while, and it might do you a lot of good.’
By the time Millie ended the call, she felt that, if she hadn’t exactly been given a licence to maybe break a few boundaries, she did have the confidence of someone she trusted implicitly.
A knock on the door heralded the arrival of stewards bearing platters of delicious-looking food. ‘I can’t eat all this,’ Millie protested as they laid it out on the table.
‘Don’t worry. I’m here to help,’ Khalid assured her.
He took hold of a plate and handed it to her, but when she gripped it he held onto the other side so they were joined by a fragile china bridge. ‘I’m not—’
‘Hungry?’ he suggested. When her cheeks flamed red, he added softly, ‘Or do you feel guilty about being a stowaway on my ship?’
‘I thought I was your guest?’ Should his stern look be sending her pulse off the scale?
‘My guests have all left,’ he reminded her. ‘All except one. Don’t look so worried. There’s no charge for this cruise.’
And at least they’d get the chance to talk, Millie thought as he urged, ‘Eat. You need to keep up your strength.’
For what reason? she wondered. ‘Are you sure the Sapphire won’t be docking at a closer port than Khalifa?’ Her badly rattled nerves were clamouring for a solution.
‘Enjoy the trip,’ Sheikh Khalid recommended as he helped himself to food. ‘I’ll arrange for a private jet to fly you home when we’re done.’
‘When we’re done?’ Millie queried hoarsely. ‘I can’t just disappear off the grid. I’ve got a college course to complete.’ And a world of ugly memories to move past.
‘You’re