The mere thought of food was enough to make Millie’s stomach churn. ‘Some water would be nice.’
‘And a light meal, surely?’ the kindly housekeeper pressed.
She had to force herself to say, ‘Thank you, that would be lovely.’
‘Call down on the house phone if you need anything else. It’s manned twenty-four hours a day, but there’s iced water in the fridge in your dressing room, as well as a selection of soft drinks and snacks.’
Soft drinks and snacks? Millie’s stomach turned over. In her current condition, fatty, sweet things were as attractive a prospect as a stomach bug at the ball, but she thanked the housekeeper with a warm smile, and when she’d left, walked into the bathroom to splash her face with cold water. Staring into the mirror, she knew she had to tell Khalid now. It couldn’t wait. Not if she wouldn’t see him until the ball.
‘I need to contact His Majesty,’ she told the impersonal voice on the other end of the house phone.
‘I will inform his PA, madam. Is there anything else?’
‘No. Thank you.’
She sat by the phone, and didn’t have long to wait. ‘Millie?’
‘Khalid! Thank goodness.’
‘Is something wrong?’
‘No, but I need to talk to you, and not over the phone.’
‘I thought the housekeeper would explain that I’m tied up.’
‘She did, and I’m sorry to call, but—’
‘Is it something urgent or can it wait?’
For nine months, Millie thought. Her blood was beginning to boil. Khalid had never had any difficulty making time for her when he’d wanted her in his bed. For the sake of the child inside her, she bit back her angry words. ‘It’s nothing urgent,’ she confirmed.
‘Then, I’ll see you at the ball,’ he said, sounding vaguely irritated.
‘Until tomorrow night,’ she agreed, directing this to an already dead line.
* * *
He had been granted the singular honour of standing next to the ruling monarch of the United Kingdom to receive the guests, but all he could think about was Millie. Their reunion had been disjointed and unsatisfactory, and now their second meeting would be carried out in front of a crowd. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed her until they were standing in front of each other and he’d stared down into that intelligent, combative, beautiful oil-stained face. He loved everything about her, even the pencil sticking out of her hair.
As good manners demanded, he returned his attention to the line of guests as they moved at a snail’s pace in front of him, but his attention kept straying to the grand entrance doors to the ballroom, with impeccably dressed attendants flanking them at either side. Millie would appear at the top of that gracious sweep of marble steps.
He hoped.
Each new arrival was announced before being escorted down the stairs by their companion. Millie had no one to do that. He had hoped to return to his London home to surprise Millie and escort her to the ball, but his meetings had run over. They were too important to miss when the future of Khalifa depended on their outcome.
He turned as his aide whispered in his ear, ‘Ms Dillinger has arrived, Your Majesty.’
‘Excellent,’ he murmured, instantly on high alert.
From that moment on it was an ordeal to greet the guests politely and give them his full attention, when all he wanted to do was hunt for Millie. How frustrating, he thought with some irony, that of all the many things available to him, the one thing he wanted most was out of reach.
* * *
Light blazing from countless chandeliers had momentarily blinded Millie. When her vision adjusted, she took in the glittering throng in the ballroom, resplendent with light and gilding, and the glittering jewels of the guests. A vaulted ceiling stretched a dizzying height above her head, and was decorated with the most exquisite colourful frescoes. An orchestra was already seated, and waiting for the instruction to play. Even with these distractions, she needed no prompting to find Khalid. Her gaze flew to him like a heat-seeking missile, and as he turned to look at her she wasn’t disappointed.
But had she chosen the right dress?
Maybe not...everyone was staring at her, and a hush had fallen over the ballroom. Feeling exposed, she reviewed her choice of gown. She’d been careful not to choose anything too brightly coloured, or low-cut, or tight-fitting, and definitely not white. She didn’t want Khalid getting the wrong idea. She needed his help at the laundry, and had to focus on that. She had to tell him about their child, and still dreamed that when she did he would be as excited as she was at the prospect of creating a new life.
The dress, Millie reminded herself as her name was announced and she started down the stairs. It was fine. Careful as she was, she’d still had a wide choice of gowns, and had chosen a dream of a dress in a subtle shade of forest green, for no better reason than it reminded her of the lush banks of the oasis. Composed of floating lightweight silk chiffon, over a foundation of the same shade, it was covered in tiny crystals that shimmered beneath the light of countless chandeliers, like sunlight on the ripples of a lake. It fitted her like a glove, but as she wouldn’t be able to wear a close-fitting gown for much longer she’d looked at herself in the mirror before setting out, and thought, Why not?
* * *
Millie’s presence had caused an electric response in the ballroom. Everyone felt it as they stared towards the entrance where she stood. She had no need of diamond tiaras or a royal title to cause a buzz. Her warm smile to the footman who’d shown her in said everything about Millie. She made people want to get to know her, and for her to share some of that magic dust. She was more than a beauty, she was a kind and lovely woman, and even as Khalid was thinking this an ambassador leaned across to ask him if he knew her. He was about to answer when an upstart prince seized his opportunity and, leaving the receiving line, strode at speed towards Millie, no doubt intending to escort her the rest of the way down the stairs.
She’s mine!
The thought hit him like a freight train.
‘Excuse me, Your Majesty... Ambassador—’ A brisk dip of his head, and he’d left the line to chase after the Prince. Guests fell back at his approach, but his stare remained fixed on his goal.
Millie watched as the crowd below her on the dance floor parted like the Red Sea, first to admit the royal Prince, and then a tall, brutally masculine man in flowing black robes.
Khalid and the young man she didn’t recognise were both heading her way!
Something made the younger man turn around. Seeing Khalid, he glanced at Millie. Quickly assessing the situation, he stepped back. ‘You’re a lucky man,’ he said as the hawk of the desert swept past him.
Riveted by the drama, the crowd now turned to stare at Millie. She was halfway down the stairs, and had no alternative but to stand and watch. Or did she? Taking one of her famous executive decisions, she continued on down the stairs.
Khalid waylaid her. ‘Take care,’ he instructed, ‘or you might tumble in those high heels. You look fabulous, by the way.’
For an instant, it was such a thrill to see him, hear him, smell him, touch him—and he was right about the risk of her tumbling down the stairs, while she was distracted by him—she didn’t say a word. But then, making another executive decision, she placed her hand on his steadying arm. Fire streaked through her. She smiled. She should have known the effect he would have on her. ‘Shouldn’t you be with the royal party?’ she asked, struggling to maintain her dignity while her body insisted on behaving with no dignity at all.
Touching Khalid sent pulses of excitement racing through her. This was the father of her child? It hardly seemed possible. The same man who didn’t know yet, Millie reminded herself. The thought was like taking an ice-bath. She would tell him as soon as she could. It was important to let him know she wanted nothing from him.
/> But she smiled and the ball went on. No one, not even Khalid knew the thoughts in her head tonight. Taking his cue from their arrival on the dance floor, the conductor turned to the orchestra and raised his baton.
* * *
The rest of the night passed in a series of images she would never forget. A ball at the palace was everything she had dreamed it might be and more. The food was delicious, the music was sublime, and Khalid was...too perfect, at least for her, and that made her heart ache more than ever.
Being the Sheikh of Khalifa’s guest was like holding the golden ticket, Millie discovered. Everyone greeted her with warmth, and a rustle of interest followed them around the ballroom. It was a very different world, and she appreciated the chance to be here, but tucked away inside her enjoyment of the evening was the niggling suspicion that people assumed she was just another conquest of an immensely powerful man.
‘You’re not fooled by any of this, are you?’ Khalid remarked with his customary intuition as he escorted her to his table.
‘Can you read my thoughts?’
‘Always,’ he said.
Now she knew that wasn’t true, and smiled, relaxing. ‘I keep some thoughts hidden,’ she admitted.
‘And I wouldn’t change you,’ he said in a serious tone as he waved the palace attendant away so he could hold her chair himself. ‘I like you just the way you are.’
Their eyes met briefly, and Khalid’s stare was so direct, she thought this was the moment to tell him—in a crowded ballroom, full of people who would love to overhear what they said? It would have to wait. ‘Will you stay much longer?’ she asked instead.
‘I’m in your hands.’