An Ordinary Girl and a Sheikh: The Sheikh's Unsuitable Bride / Rescued by the Sheikh / The Desert Prince's Proposal

‘No, indeed.’ He did something with his eyes and, without warning, beneath the dark red uniform Diana suddenly felt very warm.

‘Anyway,’ she said quickly, running a finger under her collar to let in some cool air. ‘She, um, agrees. Actually, she’d have promised him the moon—she loved that ball—and the ungentlemanly frog dives into the well, gets the ball and hands it over, at which point the princess shows her gratitude by legging it.’

‘Legging it?’

‘Has it away on her toes. Scarpers. Runs back to the palace without him.’

He laid one of those beautiful hands against his heart. ‘I’m shocked.’

She’d been quite wrong about the irony. He ‘got’ it all right. He might not be laughing on the outside, but his eyes gleamed with amusement.

‘I imagine the frog doesn’t take that lying down?’

‘As you said. The frog is no gentleman. He hops all the way to the palace, rats on the princess to the King, who tells her that a princess must always keep her word.’

‘A princess shouldn’t have to be told.’

‘It might surprise you to know that holds good for common folk too.’ Then, ‘She isn’t happy about it but she doesn’t have much choice, so she lets him eat off her plate, but then she flounces off to bed without him.’

‘She learns her lesson hard, this princess. Does the frog quit?’

‘What do you think?’

‘I think she’s going to be sharing her pillow with the frog.’ ‘Right. It takes him hours to hop all the way up the stairs, find her room, but he gets there in the end and once more reminds her of her promise. Finally, accepting that she’s beaten, the princess puts him on her pillow and even forces herself to kiss him goodnight.’

‘I can relate to this frog, but can this story have a happy ending?’

‘That rather depends on your point of view. When the princess wakes up next morning the frog has turned into a handsome prince.’

His brows rose a fraction.

‘That might take a bit of explaining.’

Diana, whose view of the scene had been fixed in childhood by a picture book image of said handsome prince, fully clothed in princely trappings, standing beside the princess’s bed as she woke, suddenly saw a very different reality and, quite stupidly, blushed.

‘Yes, well,’ she said quickly, ‘it’s that whole wicked-witch-cursing-the-handsome-prince thing. The princess had to have her arm twisted to breaking-point, but she did what was needed to break the spell. Da-da-de-da,’ she sang the wedding march. ‘And they all lived happily ever after.’

‘You mean that now he’s not a warty frog, but her equal, she marries him?’

‘I did warn you. The girl is as shallow as an August puddle. It’s why the prince married her that beats me.’

‘Maybe the King didn’t buy the “spell” story and produced a shotgun?’ he offered.

‘It’s a nice theory, but the fact is that in fairy stories the girl always gets the prince. It’s that love-at-first-sight, happy-ever-after thing.’

Zahir, hearing the scepticism in her voice, regarded her thoughtfully. ‘You appear to be unconvinced,’ he said.

‘Do I?’

Metcalfe widened her eyes as if thinking about it. They weren’t just green, he realised, but flecked with bronze.

‘Maybe I am. You soon learn that it takes more than a handsome prince to provide a happy ending …’

He saw exactly the moment when it occurred to her that she might be heading for a foot-in-mouth moment. A reprise of the faint blush that had seared her cheek’s a moment or two before. The nervous movement of her throat, as if trying to swallow down the words.

It was a refreshing change for someone to utterly forget who he was—say the first thing that came into her head without thinking it through.

‘You’ll get no argument from me,’ he said, taking the globe from her, staring at her ringless fingers for a moment. No handsome prince, no happy ending for her. Although something warned him that it had been a lesson hard learned. ‘In my country we do not pander to the sentimental Western view of marriage. Families arrange such things.’

‘I can see how that would cut out an awful lot of emotional angst,’ she said seriously. Then the dimple put in an appearance. ‘Tough on frogs, though.’

‘Indeed.’ Turning swiftly to the display before the conversation became seriously out of hand, he said, ‘So which of these heroines, in your opinion, is likely to provide the best role model for a modern princess? The “wet” one who stays at home and waits for a fairy godmother to wave a magic wand? The one who cleans up after a bunch of men who can’t believe their luck? Or the princess who takes one look at the frog and takes to her heels?’

‘Actually, I’m with you on this one. Forget the princess. That frog goes for what he wants and never gives up,’ she said. ‘He’s a worthy role model for any child …’

He waited, certain that there was more.

‘Any adult,’ she added briskly.

‘The frog it is. Shall we go and find that eager-to-please assistant? I have a feeling that she’s panting to get busy with the gift-wrap and pink ribbons.’

Diana resisted the temptation to make a quick dash home while Sheikh Zahir delivered the birthday gift to Princess Ameerah.

All things being equal, there should have been time to make it there and back, and all that talk of happy-ever-after had left her in desperate need of a hug from Freddy before his grandma put him to bed.

But the last hour or so had been a bit of a roller-coaster ride—rather more down than up if she was brutally honest. Which was why, since ‘equal’ and London traffic had absolutely nothing in common, she didn’t dare risk it, gladly accepting the footman’s invitation to park in the mews behind the embassy and wait for the Sheikh in the comfort of the staff sitting room.

Fingers crossed, she’d managed to deliver the Sheikh to the embassy on an up; the schedule had allowed plenty of time for traffic hold-ups and, despite the delay for shopping and story-telling, her knowledge of the short cuts had meant that they’d only lost ten minutes.

But, despite his relaxed attitude, his inclination to dally over fairy tales, once he’d made a decision and headed for the cash desk, he’d appeared to forget she was there, saving all his charm for the assistant who’d gone to town with the ribbons, making it abundantly clear that he could have her gift-wrapped too. All he had to do was say the word.

No doubt it was an everyday occurrence for him since he had not, apparently, been tempted by the offer—a warning, not that she’d needed one, that it would be a mistake to take him, or his dangerous charm, seriously.

After they’d left the store he’d only spoken to her to confirm that he would be leaving the embassy at a quarter to seven. Exactly what she’d expect, in fact.

Stupid to take it personally.

This was a job, nothing more, and, left alone with a pot of tea, a sandwich and a choice of cake, she concentrated on her own life and used her cellphone to call home.

‘Mummy!’ Freddy’s voice was full of excitement. ‘I got a “good work” sticker for reading today!’

‘Wow! I am so impressed.’

‘I wanted to show you. Will you be home soon?’

Diana swallowed. It was so hard not to be there when he came out of school, to have him sharing these special moments with her parents instead of her. Not always being there to read him a story at bedtime.

But that was reality for all working mothers, not just the single ones. Sadie might have a nanny, but in every other way their situation was much the same—not enough hours in the day.