And best of all she had managed not to think about Xavier at all… well, almost not at all! And when she had thought about him it had been to reiterate to herself just what a total pig he was, and how lucky she was that all she had done was give in to a now unthinkable and totally out of character, momentary madness, which would never, ever be repeated. After all, there was no danger of her ever allowing herself to become emotionally vulnerable to any man—not with her father’s behaviour to remind her of the danger of falling in love—never mind a man who had condemned himself in the way that Xavier had!
Having drunk her coffee, she gathered up her bags and checked that Fleur was strapped securely in her buggy before heading for the taxi rank.
It had been a long day. She had hardly slept the night before, lying awake in Xavier’s bed, her thoughts and her emotions churning. And then there had been the long drive back to Zuran this morning after her prayers had been answered and the storm had died away.
True, she had had a brief nap earlier, but now, even though it was barely eight in the evening, she was already yawning.
Xavier paced the floor of the pavilion. He should, he knew, be rejoicing in his solitude and the fact that that woman had gone! And of course he would have no compunction whatsoever in telling Khalid just how easily and quickly she had betrayed the ‘love’ she had claimed to have for him!
That ache he could feel in his body right now meant nothing and would very quickly be banished!
But what if Khalid refused to listen to him? What if, despite everything he, Xavier, had said to him, he insisted on continuing his relationship with her?
If Fleur was Khalid’s child then it was only right that he should provide for her. Xavier tried to imagine how he would feel if Khalid were to set his mistress and their child up in a home in Zuran. How he would feel knowing that Khalid was living with her, sharing that home… sharing her bed?
Angrily he strode outside. Even the damned air inside the tent was poisoned by her perfume—that and the scent of baby powder! He would instruct his staff to dispose of the bedding and replace it with new, just in case her scent might somehow manage to linger and remind him of an incident he now wanted to totally forget!
But even outside he was still haunted by his mental images of her. Her ridiculous turquoise eyes, her creamy pale skin, her delicate bone structure, her extraordinarily passionate response to him that had driven him wild, driven him over the edge of his control to a place he had never been before. The sweet, hot, tight feel of her inside, as though she had never had another lover, never mind a child! No wonder poor, easygoing Khalid had become so ensnared by her!
Fleur was certainly attracting a lot of attention, Mariella reflected tenderly as people turned to look at the baby she was carrying in her arms, oblivious to the fact that it was her own appearance that was attracting second looks from so many members of the fashionably dressed crowd already filling the stable yard.
Her slim silk dress had originally been bought for a friend’s wedding, its soft, swirling pattern in colours that ranged from palest aqua right through to turquoise. Over it, to cover her bare arms, Mariella was wearing a toning, velvet-edged, silk-knit cardigan, several shades paler than her hat and shoes.
A member of the prince’s staff had been on hand to greet her as she stepped out of the limousine that had been sent to collect her, and to pass her on to a charming young man, who was now taking her to introduce her to the prince.
The purpose-built stables were immaculate, the equine occupants of the stalls arching their long necks and doing a good deal of scene stealing, as though intent on making the point that they were the real stars of the event and not the humans who were invading their territory.
The breakfast was to be served in ornamental pavilioned areas, off which was the crèche, so Mariella had been informed.
Her stomach muscles tightened a little as she saw the group of people up ahead of her. People of consequence and standing, no matter how they were dressed, all possessed that same air of confidence, Mariella acknowledged as the crowd opened up and the man at the centre of it turned to look at her.
‘Miss Sutton, this is his Royal Highness,’ her young escort introduced her to the prince, her potential client.
‘Miss Sutton!’ His voice was warm, but Mariella was aware of the sharp, assessing look he gave her.
‘Your Highness,’ she responded, with a small inclination of her head.
‘I have been very impressed with your work, Miss Sutton, although I have to say that, especially in the case of my friend and rival Sir John Feinnes, you have erred on the side of generosity in the stature and muscle you have given his “Oracle”.’
A small smile dimpled Mariella’s mouth.
‘I simply reflect what I see as an artist, Highness,’ she told him demurely.
‘Indeed. Then wait until you have seen my animals. They are the result of a breeding programme that has taken many years’ hard work, and I want them to be painted in a way that pays full tribute to their magnificence.’
And to his own, Mariella decided, but tactfully did not say so.
‘My friend Sir John also tells me that you have some very innovative ideas… The finishing touches are currently being put to an exclusive enclosure at our racecourse, which will bear my family name, and it occurs to me that there could be an opportunity there for…’ He paused.
Mariella suggested, tongue in cheek, ‘Something innovative?’
‘Indeed,’ he agreed. ‘But this is not a time to discuss business. I have invited you here as my guest, so that you can meet some of your subjects informally, so to speak…’
Fleur, who had been staring around in wide-eyed silence, suddenly turned her head and smiled at him.
‘You have a beautiful child,’ he complimented her.
‘She is my niece,’ Mariella informed him. ‘I am looking after her for my sister. I think my agent did explain.’
‘Yes. I am sure she did! I seem to remember that my personal assistant did mention the little one.’
Some new guests were waiting to be presented to him, and Mariella stepped discreetly to one side. In the distance on the racecourse she could see a string of horses being exercised, whilst here in the yard there were grooms and stable hands all wearing khaki shorts or trousers, and tee shirts in one of the prince’s three racing colours denoting their status within the hierarchy of the stables.
‘If you would care to take the baby to the crèche,’ the prince’s assistant was asking politely.
Firmly Mariella shook her head. Such was her sense of responsibility towards her niece that she preferred to keep her with her for as long as she could, and, besides, the yard was far too busy for her to be able to do even the briefest of preliminary sketches of the animals. The event was providing her with a wonderful opportunity to do some people watching, though.
Surveying the crowd filling the prince’s racing yard, Xavier wondered what on earth he was doing here. This kind of social event was normally something he avoided like the plague! It was much more Khalid’s style than his, and if Khalid had not taken leave of absence without warning he would have been the one to attend the event! However, since Xavier was involved in shared business interests with the prince, he had felt that perhaps he should attend the breakfast—especially as it was in aid of a charity that he fully supported.
Several people had already stopped him to talk with him, including various members of the royal family, but he now felt that he had done his duty and was on the point of leaving when he suddenly frowned as