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

‘Subordination?’

‘It’s my English,’ he apologised, sounding suddenly very Spanish. ‘As in captains say to their crew, “I will not tolerate insubordination!” just before they give them a hundred lashes and toss them in the brink.’

‘What’s the brink?’

‘I have no idea,’ he confessed. ‘I’m sure the Marquita doesn’t have one, which is what I’m telling you. Whereas most captains won’t tolerate insubordination, I am the opposite. If you’d like to argue all the way around the Horn, it’s fine by me.’

‘You want me to argue?’ She was too close to him, she thought, and he was still holding her hands. The sensation was worrying.

Worryingly good, though. Not worryingly bad. Arguing with this guy all the way round the Horn…

‘Yes. I will also expect muffins,’ he said and she almost groaned.

‘Really?’

‘Take it or leave it,’ he said. ‘Muffins and insubordination. Yes or no?’

She stared up at him in the moonlight. He stared straight back at her and she felt her heart do this strange surge, as if her fuel-lines had just been doubled.

What am I getting into, she demanded of herself, but suddenly she didn’t care. The night was warm, the boat was lovely and this man was holding her hands, looking down at her in the moonlight and his hands were imparting strength and sureness and promise.

Promise? What was he promising? She was being fanciful.

But she had to be careful, she told herself fiercely. She must.

It was too late.

‘Yes,’ she said before she could change her mind—and she was committed.

She was heading to the other side of the world with a man she’d met less than a day ago.

Was she out of her mind?

What had he done? What was he getting himself into?

He’d be spending three months at sea with a woman called Jenny.

Jenny what? Jenny who? He knew nothing about her other than she sailed and she cooked.

He spent more time on background checks for the deckies he employed. He always ran a fast check on the kids he employed, to ensure there weren’t skeletons in the closet that would come bursting out the minute he was out of sight of land.

And he didn’t employ them for a year. The deal was always that they’d work for him until the next port and then make a mutual decision as to whether they wanted to go on.

He’d employed Jenny for a year.

He wasn’t going to be on the boat for a year. Had he thought that through? No, so he’d better think it through now. Be honest? Should he say, Jenny, I made the offer because I felt sorry for you, and there was no way you’d have accepted my offer of a loan if you knew I’m only offering three months’ work?

He wasn’t going to say that, because it wasn’t true. He’d made the offer for far more complicated reasons than sympathy, and that was what was messing with his head now.

In three months he’d be in Bangladesh.

Did he need to go to Bangladesh?

In truth, he didn’t need to go anywhere. His family inheritance had been massive, he’d invested it with care and if he wished he could spend the rest of his life in idle luxury.

Only…his family had never been like that. Excluded from the royal family, Ramón’s grandmother had set about making herself useful. The royal family of Cepheus was known for indolence, mindless indulgence, even cruelty. His grandmother had left the royal palace in fear, for good reason. But then she’d started making herself a life—giving life to others. So she and her children, Ramón’s father and aunt, had set up a charity in Bangladesh. They built homes in the low lying delta regions, houses that could be raised as flood levels rose, homes that could keep a community safe and dry. Ramón had been introduced to it early and found the concept fascinating.

His father’s death had made him even more determined to stay away from royalty; to make a useful life for himself, so at seventeen he’d apprenticed himself to one of Cepheus’s top builders. He’d learned skills from the ground up. Now it wasn’t just money he was throwing at this project—it was his hands as well as his heart.

During the wet season he couldn’t build. During these months he used to stay on the island he still called home, spending time with his mother and sister. He’d also spent it planning investments so the work they were doing could go on for ever.

But then his mother and his sister died. One drunken driver and his family was wiped out. Suddenly he couldn’t bear to go home. He employed a team of top people to take over his family’s financial empire, and he’d bought the Marquita.

He still worked in Bangladesh—hands-on was great, hard manual work which drove away the demons. But for the rest of the year he pitted himself against the sea and felt better for it.

But there was a gaping hole where his family had been; a hole he could never fill. Nor did he want to, he decided after a year or so. If it hurt so much to lose…to get close to someone again seemed stupid.

So why ask Jenny onto his boat? He knew instinctively that closeness was a very real risk with this woman. But it was as if another part of him, a part he didn’t know existed, had emerged and done the asking.

He’d have to explain Bangladesh to her. Or would he? When he got to Cepheus he could simply say there was no need for the boat, the owner wanted her in dry dock for six months. Jenny was free to fly back to Australia—he’d pay her fare—and she could fill the rest of her contract six months later.

That’d mean he had crew not only for now but for the future as well.

A crew of one woman.

This was danger territory. The Ramón he knew well, the Ramón he trusted, was screaming a warning.

No. He could be sensible. This was a big enough boat for him to keep his own counsel. He’d learned to do that from years of sailing with deckies. The kids found him aloof, he knew, but aloof was good. Aloof meant you didn’t open yourself to gut-wrenching pain.

Aloof meant you didn’t invite a woman like Jenny to sail around the world with you.

A shame that he just had.

‘The Marquita’s reported as having left Fiji two weeks ago. We think Ramón’s in Australia.’

‘For heaven’s sake!’ Sofía pushed herself up on her cushions and stared at the lawyer, perplexed. ‘What’s he doing in Australia?’

‘Who would know?’ the lawyer said with asperity. ‘He’s left no travel plans.’

‘He could hardly expect this awfulness,’ Sofía retorted. ‘There’s never been a thought that Ramón could inherit.’

‘Well, it makes life difficult for us,’ the lawyer snapped. ‘He doesn’t even answer incoming radio calls.’

‘Ramón’s been a loner since his mother and sister died,’ Sofía said, and she sighed. ‘It affected me deeply, so who knows how it affected him? If he wants to be alone, who are we to stop him?’

‘He can’t be alone any longer,’ the lawyer said. ‘I’m flying out.’

‘To Australia?’