Modern Romance December Books 5-8. Дженнифер Хейворд

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

      ‘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.