There was so little resemblance between the two men it didn’t seem possible. While the Sheikh sent shivers of disgust shooting down her spine, his brother inspired a very different response.
She cringed to see the Sheikh wrap his arms a little closer around her mother, as if claiming his property in the face of a challenge. ‘Have you never played Bridge the Generation Gap before?’ he asked, glancing between the newcomer, Millie, and her mother.
‘You disgust me,’ the newcomer rapped. ‘She’s just a child,’ he observed as he flashed an appraising glance at Millie.
That brief look seared her to the depth of her soul. She would never forget it. There was anger in his eyes, but also concern, and it made her feel safe for the first time since she’d boarded the yacht.
‘I can’t believe you’d sink so low as to include a young girl in your debauchery,’ he said scathingly.
‘Can’t you?’ The Sheikh gave a careless shrug. ‘She’s a pretty young thing. Why don’t you take a turn when I’m finished with her?’
‘You and I are very different, brother.’
‘Evidently,’ the Sheikh conceded. ‘But it’s no business of yours how I spend my free time.’
‘When you bring our country into disrepute, it is my business.’
The Sheikh’s striking-looking brother had everyone’s interest, Millie noticed, and no wonder, with his skin the colour of polished bronze, and that thick, jet-black wavy hair. His body was as powerful as a gladiator’s, his eyes as fierce and unforgiving as a hawk’s, while harsh cheekbones and sweeping inky brows added to the exotic picture of a man who commanded the room.
‘You sicken me,’ he rapped with disgust. ‘I return from fighting alongside our forces, to find you indulging yourself in the most depraved manner imaginable. You won’t be satisfied until you’ve brought our country to its knees.’
‘I’ll bring something to its knees,’ the Sheikh agreed with a lascivious glance at Millie.
Millie gasped as the younger man swept a protective arm around her shoulder. ‘You won’t touch her,’ he warned.
The Sheikh’s response was a lazy wave of his hand. ‘You take things too seriously, Khalid. You always did.’
Khalid.
Learning her guardian’s name, Millie felt a rush of emotion. He remained standing between her and the Sheikh, to protect her from his brother’s crude remarks and lewd glances. If only he could rescue her mother too.
‘Don’t bring your bleeding heart here,’ the Sheikh dismissed with a scornful look. ‘It’s not appreciated.’
‘A bleeding heart because I care for our people?’ the Prince challenged, stepping away from Millie. ‘Where were you when our country needed you, Saif?’ he demanded. ‘You left our borders unprotected and our people in danger. You should be ashamed of yourself,’ he finished with icy disdain.
‘It is you who should be ashamed for ruining the evening for my guests,’ the Sheikh remarked, unconcerned. ‘And it is you who should apologise,’ he insisted.
Shaking his head, Prince Khalid assured his brother that he would do no such thing. ‘Come,’ he added sharply to Millie. ‘You’re leaving right now. And if you had any sense,’ he added to Millie’s mother, ‘you’d leave too.’
Roxy’s response was to turn her sulky face into the Sheikh’s shoulder.
‘Is this what you want?’ the Sheikh asked Millie.
‘Yes,’ Millie almost shouted, ‘but I’m not leaving without my mother. Please—’ It was useless. Her mother didn’t move.
‘At least take some sapphires with you,’ the Sheikh suggested in a mocking tone.
‘Don’t touch them!’ his brother rapped.
‘As if I would!’ This time she did shout, and it was so unlike her to lose her temper, but if he thought for one moment she could be bribed with sapphires!
Prince Khalid smiled faintly as he looked at her, and there was almost respect in his eyes, Millie thought, as if he knew she found this situation as deplorable as he did.
‘You’re a disgrace to the Khalifa name,’ her rescuer thundered, turning his attention to Sheikh Saif. ‘If you weren’t the ruler of Khalifa—’
‘What would you do?’ the Sheikh queried in an oily tone. ‘I stand between you and the throne. Is that what’s really troubling you, brother?’ Opening his arms wide, the Sheikh drew in his avid audience. ‘My poor brother can never get over the fact that he can’t have things all his own, dull way. How boring life would be with you in charge of the country, Khalid.’
This was greeted by murmurs of agreement from his guests. Millie risked a glance to see how the Prince had taken this latest insult. Apart from a muscle flicking in his jaw, he remained unmoved. ‘I’m taking the girl,’ he said, ‘and I want the mother gone by the time I return. Her daughter should not be left alone at night with so many unpleasant characters roaming King’s Dock.’
A gasp of affront greeted this remark. The Sheikh remained unconcerned. ‘But she won’t be on her own, will you, my dear? She’ll have you,’ he added with a sneer for Prince Khalid.
By this time, Millie was consumed with fear for her mother. ‘I can’t leave her,’ she told the Prince when he tried to usher her away.
Gripping her arm firmly, he warned, ‘Don’t get any ideas. You’re leaving now.’
‘Not without my mother,’ Millie said stubbornly.
‘Get her out of here!’ her mother yelled with an angry gesture in Millie’s direction.
Having finally dislodged herself from the Sheikh’s embrace, her mother was standing with her fists tightly clenched. ‘You’re nothing but a little killjoy,’ she railed at Millie. ‘You always spoil my fun!’
Gasping with hurt, Millie was barely aware that the door of the grand salon had slammed behind her, making her last memory of that night her mother’s voice screaming at her to go.
* * *
‘What’s your name?’ he asked the pale, tense child as he escorted her off the Sapphire. He needed something to distract her from the ordeal, and wanted to keep her talking. She seemed so unnaturally quiet.
There was a silence and then, to his relief, she said in a strained whisper, ‘Millicent.’
‘Millicent?’ he repeated. ‘I like your name.’ It suited the girl with her serious demeanour, heavy glasses and neatly braided hair.
‘People call me Millie,’ she added shyly as they left the shadows behind and exited the vessel into clean ocean air.
The child was as refreshing as the ocean, he thought, and he was determined to do what he could to protect her from harm. ‘What do you like to be called?’ he asked when she turned back to stare up at the shaded windows behind which they both knew her mother would continue to party.
‘Me?’ She frowned and then refocused on his face. ‘I like to be called Millie.’
‘Millie,’ he repeated.
‘Will you do something for me?’ she asked, surprising him with her quick recovery.
‘If I can,’ he agreed.
They had reached the head of the gangplank, where she drew to a halt. ‘Will you tell my mother to leave?’ she begged earnestly. ‘She might listen to you. Will you find her a cab and send her home? I’ve got some money. I can pay you—’
‘You’ve got your bus fare home?’ he guessed. She was young, but she was sensible. She had to be, he thought.
‘Yes,’