Cinderella: Hired by the Prince / The Sheikh's Destiny. Marion Lennox

he’d returned from Bangladesh he’d come in here and nearly had a stroke. His first reaction had been horror, but Sofía had been beside him, so anxious she was quivering.

      ‘I so wanted to give you something special,’ she’d said, and Sofía was all the family he had and there was no way he’d hurt her.

      He’d hugged her and told her he loved it—and that night he’d even had a bath in the thing. She wasn’t to know he usually used the shower down the way.

      ‘You…you sleep in here?’ Jenny said, her bottom lip quivering.

      ‘Not in the bath,’ he said and grinned.

      ‘But where does the owner sleep?’ she demanded, ignoring his attempt at levity. She was gazing around in stupefaction. ‘There’s not room on his boat for another cabin like this.’

      ‘I…At need I use the bunkroom.’ And that was a lie, but suddenly he was starting to really, really want to employ this woman. Okay, he was on morally dubious ground, but did it matter if she thought he was a hired hand? He watched as the strain eased from her face and turned to laughter, and he thought surely this woman deserved a chance at a different life. If one small lie could give it to her…

      Would it make a difference if she knew the truth? If he told her he was so rich the offer to pay her debts meant nothing to him…How would she react?

      With fear. He’d seen her face when he’d offered her the job. There’d been an intuitive fear that he wanted her for more than her sailing and her cooking. How much worse would it be if she knew he could buy and sell her a thousand times over?

      ‘The owner doesn’t mind?’ she demanded.

      He gave up and went along with it. ‘The owner likes his boat to be used and enjoyed.’

      ‘Wow,’ she breathed and looked again at the bath. ‘Wow!’

      ‘I use the shower in the shared bathroom,’ he confessed and she chuckled.

      ‘What a waste.’

      ‘You’d be welcome to use this.’

      ‘In your dreams,’ she muttered. ‘This place is Harems-R-Us.’

      ‘It’s great,’ he said. ‘But it’s still a working boat. I promise you, Jenny, there’s not a hint of harem about her.’

      ‘You swear?’ she demanded and she fixed him with a look that said she was asking for a guarantee. And he knew what that guarantee was.

      ‘I swear,’ he said softly. ‘I skipper this boat and she’s workmanlike.’

      She looked at him for a long, long moment and what she saw finally seemed to satisfy her. She gave a tiny satisfied nod and moved on. ‘You have to get her back to Europe fast?’

      ‘Three months, at the latest.’ That, at least, was true. His team started work in Bangladesh then and he intended to travel with them. ‘So do you want to come?’

      ‘You’re still offering?’

      ‘I am.’ He ushered her back out of the cabin and closed the door. The sight of that bath didn’t make for businesslike discussions on any level.

      ‘You’re not employing anyone else?’

      ‘Not if I have you.’

      ‘You don’t even know if I can sail,’ she said, astounded all over again.

      He looked at her appraisingly. The corridor here was narrow and they were too close. He’d like to be able to step back a bit, to see her face. He couldn’t.

      She was still nervous, he thought, like a deer caught in headlights. But caught she was. His offer seemed to have touched something in her that longed to respond, and even the sight of that crazy bath hadn’t made her back off. She was just like he was, he thought, raised with a love of the sea. Aching to be out there.

      So…she was caught. All he had to do was reel her in.

      ‘So show me that you can sail,’ he said. ‘Show me now. The wind’s getting up enough to make it interesting. Let’s take her out.’

      ‘What, tonight?’

      ‘Tonight. Now. Dare you.’

      ‘I can’t,’ she said, sounding panicked.

      ‘Why not?’

      She stared up at him as if he were a species she’d never seen.

      ‘You just go. Whenever you feel like it.’

      ‘The only thing holding us back is a couple of lines tied to bollards on the wharf,’ he said and then, as her look of panic deepened, he grinned. ‘But we will bring her back tonight, if that’s what’s worrying you. It’s seven now. We can be back in harbour by midnight.’

      ‘You seriously expect me to sail with you? Now?’

      ‘There’s a great moon,’ he said. ‘The night is ours. Why not?’

      So, half an hour later, they were sailing out through the heads, heading for Europe.

      Or that was what it felt like to Jenny. Ramón was at the wheel. She’d gone up to the bow to tighten a stay, to see if they could get a bit more tension in the jib. The wind was behind them, the moon was rising from the east, moonlight was shimmering on the water and she was free.

      The night was warm enough for her to take off her coat, to put her bare arms out to catch a moonbeam. She could let her hair stream behind her and become a bow-sprite, she thought. An omen of good luck to sailors.

      An omen of good luck to Ramón?

      She turned and looked back at him. He was a dark shadow in the rear of the boat but she knew he was watching her from behind the wheel. She was being judged?

      So what? The boat was as tightly tuned as she could make her. Ramón had asked her to set the sails herself. She’d needed help in this unfamiliar environment but he’d followed her instructions rather than the other way round.

      This boat was far bigger than anything she’d sailed on, but she’d spent her life in a sea port, talking to sailors, watching the boats come in. She’d seen yachts like this; she’d watched them and she’d ached to be on one.

      She’d brought Matty down to the harbour and she’d promised him his own boat.

      ‘When you’re big. When you’re strong.’

      And suddenly she was blinking back tears. That was stupid. She didn’t cry for Matty any more. It was no use; he was never coming back.

      ‘Are you okay?’

      Had he seen? The moonlight wasn’t that strong. She swiped her fist angrily across her cheeks, ridding herself of the evidence of her distress, and made her way slowly aft. She had a lifeline clipped to her and she had to clip it and unclip it along the way. She was as sure-footed as a cat at sea, but it didn’t hurt to show him she was safety conscious—and, besides, it gave her time to get her face in order.

      ‘I’m fine,’ she told him as she reached him.

      ‘Take over the wheel, then,’ he told her. ‘I need to cook dinner.’

      Was this a test, too? she wondered. Did she really have sea legs? Cooking below deck on a heavy swell was something no one with a weak stomach could do.

      ‘I’ll do it.’ She could.

      ‘You really don’t get seasick?’

      ‘I really don’t get seasick.’

      ‘A woman in a million,’ he murmured and then he grinned. ‘But no, it’s not fair to ask you to cook. This is your night at sea and, after the day you’ve had, you deserve it. Take the wheel. Have you eaten?’

      ‘Hours ago.’

      ‘There’s