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The extravagant furnishings on the busy top deck blew Claire away as she assembled plates at the built-in barbecue service counter for the lunch. Wonderfully attractive, shapely women strolled around in minimal bikinis. One in particular caught her eye because she was a famous supermodel and so gorgeous that she looked as unreal as a beautiful doll. Long black hair like silk streamed down her narrow spine, a big hat sheltering her perfect photogenic face from the sun’s rays. Her beautiful body was close to naked in a thong bikini that revealed her bottom and all of her long, long legs, her feet clad in very high heels. A special carpet had been put down to protect the floor of the deck.
Glancing away from the beauty, Claire was craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the prince. As the crowd round the top table moved, she saw a middle-aged man with a trio of what might have been bodyguards stationed behind him. That had to be him, she thought, although she didn’t know why the other females on board had insisted that she was in for a treat when she saw His Royal Highness.
A sudden shriek erupted from the gorgeous brunette and Claire turned back in disbelief to see something black hit the hard wall with a crunch and fall. It was Circe. She looked on, refusing to believe what she was seeing.
At her elbow, Gregoire said something unrepeatable in French.
The brunette was having hysterics. ‘It touched my leg. Everybody knows I can’t stand animals anywhere near me!’ she screeched accusingly.
‘You didn’t need to kick it and hurt it!’ someone else commented.
Claire crept out from behind the counter to approach her cat’s still body. Gregoire reappeared at her elbow with a large serving salver. Before Claire did anything, he eased his hands very gently below Circe and lifted the animal onto it. ‘We’ll get a vet,’ he told her. ‘We’ll get a vet immediately.’
‘See that is done directly,’ another voice continued, a very familiar English drawl, unusually clipped and curt and unmistakeably commanding.
Claire glanced up, her eyes rounding with pure incredulity. Raif was standing over both of them. He angled his head at one of the other men standing nearby and he hurried off. ‘Raif...?’ she whispered weakly.
‘Please continue serving,’ he urged Gregoire as he held out his hands to take charge of Circe. ‘Let my guests enjoy their last party.’
After a disconcerted pause, the chef passed the injured animal over to Raif.
‘I will ensure that the cat receives the very best attention,’ he declared.
‘Not without me,’ Claire chipped in helplessly, taken aback by his sudden appearance. ‘Are you one of the guests?’
And Raif looked at her properly for the first time and froze in consternation, his tortoiseshell eyes widening before he dipped his black lashes to conceal his reaction. It occurred to her then that he hadn’t recognised her, not with a chef’s cap and net hiding her hair, not in her shapeless kitchen scrubs. ‘I’m so sorry about this. I shouldn’t have brought her onboard,’ she muttered. ‘I can’t bear to see her hurt.’
‘Claire, we will go inside and allow you to recover from the shock of this...incident.’ Raif selected the word with care and rested a light hand at her spine to direct her towards the nearest door. She preceded him into a very spacious living area decorated with the utmost luxury and elegance.
One of the bodyguards she had seen in the crew canteen appeared and addressed Raif in another language.
‘A car is already waiting at the quay to take you to the vet. The cat will have to be scanned for injuries and we can’t offer that facility onboard. Mohsin will accompany you.’
Claire watched Mohsin bow low and her mouth ran dry. An awful, impossible suspicion was occurring to her. It should have been impossible. Raif could not betheroyal prince, who owned the vast yacht, could he? ‘Letmyguests enjoy their last party,’ he had said, indicating that he was the host and, truly, he had taken charge to the manner born, hurrying her indoors to ensure that she said and did nothing that could offend.
She was shaken and horrified and furious all at one and the same time. He had pretended to be someone ordinary...hadn’the? He had concealed his identity, misled her. Understanding and realisation set in hard. Dear heaven, she was working for him and he hadn’t known...hadn’t known she was on his wretched yacht until he’d recognised her! Whichever way she looked at the situation, it was an embarrassing mess for both of them and when she added in the reality that he had got her pregnant, the mess turned into a complete disaster!
The bodyguard removed the salver holding Circe from her frozen hands and angled his chin at another door. ‘You come this way?’ he said in guttural English.
Raif was staring at her, full-on staring as if he had never seen a woman before. Claire turned scarlet, suddenly aware of how unflattering her working garb was and hurriedly turning away to follow the older man holding open a door on the other side of the room for her.
Raif watched her depart. She was so small. How had he forgotten how small she was? He could not credit that she was working on the yacht. Circe was hers but naturally it had not crossed his mind that Claire could be on theMahnoor. She had said she was a chef, and he had seen her at the counter, but until she’d looked up at him with those very blue eyes, he had not recognised her.
How long had she been on board? All these weeks when he had been thinking about her, wondering about her, she had been within reach and only a few decks below him. He did not participate in the hiring of crew members because that was the captain’s job. How could he have guessed that she was no longer on the island? Had he phoned her as he had been tempted to do, he would have found out, he conceded ruefully. But then what could he have done with the knowledge that she was on his yacht? He did not and would not harass anyone who worked for him and anything of a personal nature would be inappropriate and indiscreet.
Claire followed the bodyguard down a long companionway and then downstairs to a gangway and on to the quay where a long white gleaming limousine awaited them. He set the salver carefully into the back seat and stood until she had slid in beside her immobile pet and then he climbed into the front passenger seat beside the driver.
She stroked a fingertip along the cat’s spine. Her eyes were wet and scratchy with unshed tears. She wouldn’t be able to bear it if Circe died. Had she noticed the cat mingling with the guests she would have removed her. After all, she understood that not everyone liked animals...but had that awful woman had to kick Circe with such violence? Circe must have brushed against her legs, had possibly given the beauty a fright. The nausea in Claire’s tummy increased. It was shock, shock at everything that had happened.
In her mind’s eye, she saw Raif poised in the saloon again, sheathed in a lightweight summer suit that only a man as formal as he was would have worn to such an event. But linking that version of Raif to the Raif she had met and liked and laughed with two months earlier was impossible for her. His reaction to the attack on Circe had been so polished, so smooth, so reserved.
Mohsin ushered her into a smart surgery where they were immediately attended by a veterinary nurse, who, clearly expecting their arrival, took charge of Circe and bore her off. Claire sat down shakily in the waiting area, trying not to wonder what such attention and treatment would cost, and all the time she was blaming herself for not restricting her cat’s freedom once the guests came onboard. She had been thoughtless,stupidand in the same way she had been reckless and stupid with Raif. It was a bitter truth that continuing to follow her father’s rigid rules of behaviour would have kept her safe. Asserting her independence and taking advantage of her freedom to do as she liked had steered her down a dangerous path. What could she possibly offer her baby as a single parent without even a decent income?
Mohsin approached her with a cardboard cup of cold water. ‘The Prince will make everything all right again,’ he assured her confidently.
No, he wouldn’t. The Prince would be severely challenged to make anything right in her life again, although it was perfectly possible that he would hope that she was willing to terminate her pregnancy. But she wasn’t prepared to even consider that option. She pulled off her hairnet, cap and apron and folded them together neatly.
The door opened and she glanced up. More than an hour had passed since their arrival. She tensed when she saw Raif speaking to the receptionist. He addressed her in fluent French and a few moments later, an older man appeared and began to speak to Raif at length. That conversation concluded, Raif approached her.
