‘But Heba, Veronique did not come with him this time,’ Jasmine pointed out, giving Emily an archly knowing look as though it was obvious to her who was being singled out to fill the sheikh’s empty bed.
‘Perhaps her professional commitments didn’t allow it,’ Emily reasoned, unable to feel the least bit flattered by the idea of being taken as a temporary replacement. Totally repulsed by it, in fact.
‘This could be so,’ Heba agreed. ‘The sheikh will be travelling through Africa for some months. Veronique may join him somewhere else on his tour of the Al Farrahn hotels.’
The Salamander Inn was obviously one of many such places, Emily thought, more proof of fabulous family wealth. Not that she needed it. What she did need was to plant her feet firmly on the ground and find a way to walk out of the hothouse atmosphere of this palace and get back to normal life, no matter how difficult her normal life could be at times. At least it was real, she told herself, and she knew how to deal with it, more or less.
‘Am I allowed to leave?’ she asked Heba. ‘I need to get to Stone Town.’
‘You must wait for a summons from His Excellency,’ came the firm reply.
There was no budging the women from that position and without inside help, any chance of just walking out of the palace was zero. The only way down to the ground floor was by the balconies overlooking the central atrium and security guards were posted at the foot of each staircase. It was impossible, wearing her own clothes, to get past them without being seen and apprehended.
No doubt about it.
She was stuck in this gilded prison until Sheikh Zageo etc etc decided to release her from it.
As the morning wore on, Emily felt more and more on edge about being kept here at his leisure. What was happening? Why couldn’t he make up his mind about her innocence in regard to Jacques’s activities? When the summons finally came, she was bursting with impatience to be led to the man who ruled her current fate, her mind fizzing with persuasive arguments to win her freedom.
It wasn’t acceptable to be either his prisoner or his guest. Now that she knew about his relationship with Veronique, any further offer of hospitality from him would have to be viewed as highly dubious. Besides, it was better all around to put this whole stressful episode behind her as fast as possible.
She did not expect to be escorted right out of the palace, transported to the harbour she had swum out of last night, and ferried to another boat!
Jacques’s yacht was gone.
This was a sleek and very expensive looking motor cruiser.
Emily did not want to get out of the small outboard motorboat and climb up the ladder to the deck of a cruiser that was capable of whisking her right away from Zanzibar. Rebellion surged through her veins. She looked at the water. Was swimming away an option this time?
‘It would be wasted effort, Emily,’ came the sardonic remark from above.
Her stomach contracted at the sound of that voice. Her heart fluttered in a panicky fashion. All the prepared arguments in her mind started crumbling as they were hit by a sudden sense of futility. She knew with instinctive certainty that until this sheikh willed an end to the hospitality he was extending to her, there would be no end.
All the same, her natural independence would not roll over into abject submission. Her chin tilted defiantly as her gaze lifted to his. ‘Why am I here?’ she demanded. ‘I thought you were going to have me checked out.’
‘Unfortunately the weekend is not a good time for reaching sources of information.’
‘When will be a good time?’ she challenged, though mentally conceding that what he said was probably true.
He shrugged. ‘Perhaps Monday.’
Monday. Two more days of living under a cloud and forced to endure the sheikh’s company whenever he commanded it.
‘Be my guest, come onboard,’ he urged.
They were orders, not invitations. Emily heaved a fretful sigh as she rose to her feet and stepped up to the ladder. ‘Some guest,’ she darkly muttered. ‘A considerate host would care about where I want to be and it’s not on another boat.’
‘But this is a pleasure boat which is fully crewed. No work at all for you,’ he assured her in the silky tone that made her skin prickle with an acute sense of danger lurking.
‘It’s still on the water,’ she grumbled.
‘What a strange complaint from someone who is supposed to be a professional dive specialist!’
‘Diving is something else,’ she insisted.
‘We shall see.’
There was something ominous in those words but Emily was hopelessly distracted from pursuing that thought. He offered his hand to help steady her as she stepped down onto the deck and it was so startling to find him very informally clothed, wearing only a white T-shirt and casual shorts, she accepted it, and the strong fingers suddenly encompassing hers gave her a further jolt of physical awareness.
She tried not to look down at his bare legs, specifically his thighs, a glimpse of which had felt far too erotic for comfort. On a powerful male scale, they added immeasurably to his sex appeal, as did his taut cheeky butt when he turned to give instructions to a crew member.
In an instinctive need to get a grip on herself, Emily wriggled her hand out of his grasp and folded her arms across her rib cage. Then she ended up flushing horribly when he swung back to her and observed that her block-out body language had inadvertently pushed up her breasts.
‘Relax, Emily,’ he advised with a quirky little smile and wickedly challenging eyes. ‘We’re simply going for a ride to Pemba Island where the water is crystal clear and the coral reef provides superb diving.’
‘How far away is it?’ she asked sharply.
‘Not far. People travel to it by ferry from Zanzibar.’
Ferry! Well, if she got marooned there, Emily reasoned, at least there was some form of public transport to get her back to Stone Town.
‘Come.’ He urged her towards the door leading to the cabin. ‘We will sit in the saloon for the crossing.’
The saloon on this boat was a far cry from the cramped cabin on Jaques’s yacht. Not only did it contain an elegant dining table that could seat ten people, the lounging area was also sumptuous; cream leather couches running along underneath the windows, plus a cosier conversational area with a grouping of chairs and sofas around a low table to allow the serving of light refreshments.
Emily chose to sit by the windows, her arm resting along the padded backrest of the couch as she looked out at the harbour Jacques had sailed into last night. She felt the vibration of the cruiser’s big engines being revved up and knew they were about to power this motorboat out to sea.