Forget this prince business and get with it, the inner voice in her head said firmly. Pop’s made it clear he doesn’t want you hanging around here while he’s getting over the op, no matter how much you might want to be with him. Perhaps a short contract job somewhere else?
‘See,’ Pop was saying, and for a moment Marni wondered if he could hear her thoughts because he was pointing at a job advertisement. ‘Theatre nurses wanted for new children’s hospital in Ablezia. That might be why Ghazi’s out here. He’s looking for nurses.’
Yeah, right, she thought. Of course the crown prince of any country would have to check out hospital staff!
But Marni ignored the voice in her head this time, intent on reading exactly what was on offer in this place she’d never heard of, which, presumably, was far enough away from the Gold Coast, Queensland, Australia for her not to be tempted to ignore Pop’s plea to keep away while he went through his operation.
If he went through with the operation!
Six months’ contract’ extendable, the advertisement read, air fares and accommodation provided. Six months would bring her up to Christmas and if Pop had the operation as soon as possible, then he’d be well on the way to recovery by the time she got home.
Six months! It was the answer to the other problem plaguing her too—her virginity! Given six months, thousands of miles from home—surely in six months she’d meet someone…
She sighed as she looked blankly at the paper, sighing because the virginity thing, as she thought of it, shouldn’t really be a problem. It wasn’t as if she’d held onto it deliberately, she’d just put things off for various reasons—Pop, Nelson, her mother’s behaviour—then the cruel words of the last man she’d become involved with had made her realise it was a burden as well as an embarrassment.
Read the ad!
The pay scale seemed staggeringly generous, but it was the thumbnail description of the country that made her heart flutter. Set by the warm waters of the Ablezian Sea, the country was well known for its underwater wonders—coral reefs, abundant marine life, nesting turtles on the beaches…
This idea could actually solve some problems. She could make Pop happy by taking the job and getting out of the way while he recovered, make him even happier by at least meeting this prince guy—she owed Pop that much—and maybe, as a bonus, find someone with whom to have a holiday romance, or a work romance, or even just a little fling…
‘I’ll get the picture,’ Pop said.
Marnie lost herself in thoughts of diving into warm gulf waters and playing with the fish and turtles. She barely heard Pop as he left the paper in front of her at the breakfast table and disappeared into his study.
Nelson, who’d been with her grandfather as long as Marni could remember, as valet, butler, cook and probably secretary, appeared in his usual silent way.
‘I don’t know, Nelson,’ she said quietly. ‘It seems wrong to even think of going away. Pop’s taken care of me and been there for me all these years, surely now I can be there for him?’
Nelson shook his head.
‘You know he probably won’t have the op if you’re around, because he doesn’t want you to see him weak and sick. He wants you to remember him as the strong, active man he’s always been, and can be again. He’s far more likely to agree to the procedure if he knows you’re not fretting over him.’
Nelson paused then, with only the slightest quaver in his voice, continued, ‘You know I’ll take good care of him.’
Blinking back the tears that had filled her eyes, Marni got to her feet and hugged the man she’d known since the age of two, when she’d been dumped on her grandfather because her mother’s third husband hadn’t wanted a kid around the place.
‘I know you will, Nelson, and I know you’re right about him recovering more quickly if I’m out of the way. If he’s so set on me leaving, I’ll do it. I’ll take this job and check out this prince bloke, say hi to him from Pop, and report back. Can’t you just imagine it—me rocking up to a palace in the desert to tell the local ruler he’s betrothed to me! I’d be arrested and thrown into the deepest, darkest dungeon, or fitted with a straitjacket, or at the very least deported on the first plane out.’
Nelson’s serious brown eyes studied her for a moment.
‘It would make your grandfather very happy if you did meet the guy,’ he said, so seriously that Marni groaned.
‘Not you too!’ she protested.
‘Well, he was a really nice little kid and he was very good to you, although in those days you were a right little tantrum-throwing madam.’
‘I met him? I knew him? When was all this?’
Marni frowned, trying to remember, to place a time she might have played with a prince.
Not something everyone would forget!
‘It was shortly after you first arrived to live with us,’ Nelson explained. ‘Your grandfather had only recently moved into this apartment and Ghazi’s father booked out the entire hotel section for himself, his family and his staff.’
‘The whole hotel?’
‘He had a lot of wives and daughters,’ Nelson said, as if that explained everything.
The Palazzo Versace was the first six-star hotel built on the Gold Coast, her grandfather’s apartment one of a few privately owned condominiums included in the ritzy complex. As residents, they were free to make use of all the hotel facilities, the beautiful pools, the restaurants and the day spa, so she’d often played with the children of hotel guests as she had been growing up.
But one called Ghazi?
She had no memory of it at all, even when Pop returned with a box of photos showing her as a very small child with a boy who stood much taller. the photos told her they’d had fun together, two children at play while slender, black-robed figures sat in the shade by the pool.
‘This is the one,’ Pop, who’d been sifting through the photos, declared.
He handed it to her.
It was a more formal shot showing a tidily dressed little girl, blonde hair in pigtails, pale blue eyes looking up at the boy sitting on the arm of one of the big lounge chairs in the hotel’s foyer—a white-robed boy, who was holding her hand and smiling down at her.
Even then you could tell he was going to be good looking, although the miniature white headdress he was wearing in the photo concealed all but his profile. Strong nose and jaw, a high forehead, shapely lips widened in a slight smile—
‘Hey, I was looking at that,’ Marni protested as Pop turned the photo over.
He ignored her, pointing at the writing on the back. The top line was in his handwriting and, sure enough, there was this nonsense about the two of them being betrothed, Pop’s signature at the end of the statement.
Beneath that was a line of beautiful, flowing, Arabic script, and presumably another signature.
‘Honestly, Pop, you can’t read Arabic so for all you know the man’s written something like, “This nonsense should make the man happy!”’
Marni regretted her words the moment they’d popped out of her mouth and she caught the hurt in her grandfather’s eyes, hurt that prompted a quick hug and a totally impulsive promise to go right now and apply for the job in a country called Ablezia.
‘And I’ll do my best to see this guy but only if you agree to have the operation,’ Marni added. ‘Deal?’
‘Deal!’ Pop agreed, and they shook on it, the slight tremble in her grandfather’s hand reminding her just how frail he had become.