The Sheikh

‘It was a tragedy and nearly broke his heart.’ Pasha frowned. ‘I was but a child then and I cried for a long time after she died…’

He had wept a few bitter tears for Lysette too, but he was a man now and this new grief had settled into a hard anger that lived with him night and day. For weeks he had retired into himself, hardly noticing what happened around him…but a young girl had startled him out of the black mood that had possessed him.

He saw her dancing again, and thought of asking her to be his partner when the next dance began—and then a man walked into the ballroom: a man that aroused distrust and hatred in Pasha’s heart. He turned and left abruptly as the bitterness mounted in his throat like gall—the dance would keep until another time.

Chloe caught glimpses of Philip Armand over the next few days. She had thought he might ask her to dance one evening, but he hadn’t and for some reason they didn’t meet anywhere else. It crossed her mind that he might have been avoiding her, but she didn’t let it bother her. There was so much to do on board that she was always busy, and she found herself dividing her time between taking dictation from Professor Hicks and attending all the various functions with Jane Vermont.

Chloe much preferred the time she spent working for the professor to the hours she was obliged to be with Jane Vermont. He really was a clever man and he knew an awful lot about the history of the region they were going to visit over a period of several weeks.

‘It may even run into a few months,’ the professor told her. ‘We shall disembark at Cetua, Chloe, and make our way to Fez and to Marrakesh, as well as other places of interest I want to visit. I hope you are prepared for a long stay—though, if at any time you want to leave us, I shall make arrangements to get you on a ship going home.’

‘Thank you,’ Chloe said. She was grateful for his kindness, but felt sure it was unnecessary. ‘But I’m really looking forward to this trip. I am confident I shan’t want to leave until you and Amelia are ready to come too, but I know you would look after me if I had to return for any reason.’

Chloe was learning a lot about the nomadic peoples of the Middle East as she took dictation and then transcribed her own notes in a fair hand so that Amelia could type them up into manuscript form on the battered portable typewriter that accompanied her everywhere.

Amelia had recovered her health and her spirits after a couple of days at sea, and seemed friendlier towards Chloe as the cruise progressed. She encouraged her to go on the shore trips at the various ports the ship called during the leisurely voyage, telling her that she ought to make the most of her chances to see a little bit of France and Spain while she could.

‘I’ve been on most of these trips over the years,’ she told Chloe. ‘I was in Egypt with Charles for several years, and we have been all over that whole region. All the regions bordering the Sahara—apart from those to the west. That is why Charles wants to visit Morocco again. He has been there before, of course, but not right to the Western Desert. He is most meticulous, you know, and will collate far more information than he could ever actually put into his books.’ She smiled in a self-congratulatory way. ‘Of course I am the one who does the cutting when the publisher demands at least fifty thousand less words.’

‘You must be of invaluable help to Professor Hicks.’

‘Yes, I believe I am—though what he will do when this last book is finished…if it is his last book, of course.’ Her expression showed that she thought it unlikely.

Chloe listened but offered few comments. She found it all fascinating, including the trips she made ashore to Spanish and Portuguese ports, then to Gibraltar. They were nearing the end of their voyage now, for Cetua was a Spanish port at the edge of Morocco and only just across the water from Gibraltar.

‘Oh, are you leaving us at Cetua?’ Mrs Vermont asked. ‘Jane will be so disappointed. You must keep in touch, Chloe dear, and perhaps come to stay with us when you return to England.’

‘That is very kind of you,’ Chloe said. ‘But I am not sure when we shall be returning. It may not be until next year.’

She had gone up on deck to escape Jane’s chattering on the morning of her last day on board the ship, when she was approached by a man who she knew to be the one Jane believed to be a film director. She had previously only nodded to him in passing—probably because he had seemed to prefer to keep his distance.

‘Good morning, Miss Randall—it is Miss Randall, isn’t it?’

‘Yes…’ Chloe caught the faint twang of an American accent. ‘Someone told me you were Brent Harwood, but somehow we haven’t been introduced.’

He nodded and smiled. ‘You’ve been told I am a Hollywood director and you are wondering if it’s true?’ Chloe nodded herself. ‘Well, I can assure you it is. I do not enjoy being hounded by starstruck young women, Miss Randall—that is why I keep a distance. But I have noticed you. You have a certain poise—a way of holding your head that is most attractive. Have you ever considered becoming an actress?’

Chloe’s heart missed a beat. How many times had she dreamed of something like this? But somehow, now that it was happening, she didn’t quite believe it, and imagined that he was merely flattering her. Though she couldn’t see why he should.

‘Oh, I don’t suppose I could do it,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure I have any talent.’

‘Talent is something that is not always required,’ he said. ‘A star is made on the cutting-room floor, Miss Randall.’ He smiled at her a little wolfishly, and she thought he might be a vain man—but perhaps he was entitled to be if he was good at what he did. He could obviously be charming when he chose, but he had acquired a reputation on board for being off-hand with anyone who approached him. What she’d heard had put Chloe off him, but now she responded to his smile. ‘What I had in mind was in the nature of—’

Chloe wasn’t destined to discover what he was about to say, because Jane came bounding up to them like an eager puppy.

‘Oh, good, I’ve found you at last,’ she cried, fluttering her eyelashes flirtatiously at Brent Harwood. She gave him a coy look. ‘It’s lovely to see you again, Mr Harwood. It’s amazing how we do keep bumping into each other.’

Her giggle made Chloe cringe, especially as she saw the way Brent Harwood reacted. His face took on an expression of extreme annoyance, which was quickly covered by what Chloe realised was a false smile.

‘Yes, isn’t it?’ he agreed and inclined his head to Chloe. ‘Another time, perhaps?’

Chloe sighed as he walked away. She doubted very much that she would get a second chance to talk to him. Whatever he had to say could not have been important or he would have asked her to meet him in private somewhere. Not that it mattered, she supposed. Jane thought him terribly attractive with his dark blond hair and blue eyes, but Chloe wasn’t sure she either liked or trusted him. That smile he had turned on for Jane had been completely false.

‘Isn’t he just too divine?’ Jane asked. ‘You must tell me—what was he saying to you just now?’

‘Oh, he was only passing the time of day,’ Chloe said, refusing to be drawn. ‘Nothing interesting.’

‘We’ve spoken several times,’ Jane said and preened herself. ‘He told me that I should take acting lessons and that he thought I would be perfect as a slave girl in one of his films.’

‘And what did Mrs Vermont think of that?’

‘Oh, I haven’t told her,’ Jane replied and giggled. ‘Daddy would never let me do it anyway. He wants me to get married. There’s an awfully boring man at home who asked me, and I’ve come away to think it over.’ Her face brightened. ‘We’re losing several passengers at Cetua and taking some more on. Who knows what will happen before I get home?’

‘I hope you find someone you like,’ Chloe said.

‘Oh, I suppose I like Henry well enough,’ Jane replied. ‘He just isn’t very exciting—not in the way he is, for instance.’ She touched Chloe’s arm and gestured with excitement at a man who was coming towards them.

Chloe saw that it was Philip Armand. She had noticed before that he seemed to take his stroll at about this time each morning, seldom speaking to the other passengers. He was clearly a man who preferred his own company, and she expected him to walk straight past her, but to her surprise he stopped.

‘It is a pleasant morning, Miss Randall.’

‘Yes, Mr Armand. Very pleasant.’

Jane fluttered her eyelashes at him, but received only a nod as a curt acknowledgement. She blushed and looked uncomfortable, making Chloe annoyed on her behalf. Jane might be tiresome sometimes, but there was no need to be rude to her!

‘Oh, I must speak to Mrs Bond,’ Jane said catching sight of a passenger she knew well. ‘Excuse me…’

Chloe glared at Philip Armand. ‘You’ve frightened her away. Would it have hurt to smile at her?’

‘I have no time for foolish girls, or for false smiles. Besides, had I encouraged her she would have made a nuisance of herself.’

‘Then I wonder you have time to speak to me?’ Chloe tipped her head defiantly.

‘I did not imagine you were foolish, Miss Randall—though you do seem to keep company with some remarkably silly young ladies.’

‘Justine isn’t silly! That was an accident,’ Chloe cried and then realised she had betrayed herself. ‘Yes, I admit that Jane is a little silly at times—but there was no need to hurt her feelings.’

‘You are perfectly right. I was thinking of something else and did not realise I was giving offence.’

‘Well, you did.’ Chloe was determined not to spare him.

‘Then I must make some recompense. Do you both attend the dance this evening?’ Chloe nodded. ‘Then I shall ask both you and Miss Vermont for a dance—will that suffice?’

‘I dare say Jane will think so if you smile at her.’

He laughed, his face easing into softer lines that brought out the charm she had suspected might be there, hidden away behind his frowns.

‘So, I must smile as I go as a lamb to the slaughter? Very well, Miss Randall—I shall obey your command.’