The Sheikh's Baby: One Night With The Sheikh / The Sheikh's Blackmailed Mistress. PENNY JORDAN
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WAS CERTAINLY attracting a lot of attention, Mariella reflected tenderly as people turned to look at the baby she was carrying in her arms, oblivious to the fact that it was her own appearance that was attracting second looks from so many members of the fashionably dressed crowd already filling the stable yard.
Her slim silk dress had originally been bought for a friend’s wedding, its soft, swirling pattern in colours that ranged from palest aqua right through to turquoise. Over it, to cover her bare arms, Mariella was wearing a toning, velvet-edged, silk-knit cardigan, several shades paler than her hat and shoes.
A member of the prince’s staff had been on hand to greet her as she stepped out of the limousine that had been sent to collect her, and to pass her on to a charming young man, who was now taking her to introduce her to the prince.
The purpose-built stables were immaculate, the equine occupants of the stalls arching their long necks and doing a good deal of scene stealing, as though intent on making the point that they were the real stars of the event and not the humans who were invading their territory.
The breakfast was to be served in ornamental pavilioned areas, off which was the crèche, so Mariella had been informed.
Her stomach muscles tightened a little as she saw the group of people up ahead of her. People of consequence and standing, no matter how they were dressed, all possessed that same air of confidence, Mariella acknowledged as the crowd opened up and the man at the centre of it turned to look at her.
‘Miss Sutton, this is His Royal Highness,’ her young escort introduced her to the prince, her potential client.
‘Miss Sutton!’ His voice was warm, but Mariella was aware of the sharp, assessing look he gave her.
‘Your Highness,’ she responded, with a small inclination of her head.
‘I have been very impressed with your work, Miss Sutton, although I have to say that, especially in the case of my friend and rival Sir John Feinnes, you have erred on the side of generosity in the stature and muscle you have given his “Oracle”.’
A small smile dimpled Mariella’s mouth.
‘I simply reflect what I see as an artist, Highness,’ she told him demurely.
‘Indeed. Then wait until you have seen my animals. They are the result of a breeding programme that has taken many years’ hard work, and I want them to be painted in a way that pays full tribute to their magnificence.’
And to his own, Mariella decided, but tactfully did not say so.
‘My friend Sir John also tells me that you have some very innovative ideas…The finishing touches are currently being put to an exclusive enclosure at our racecourse, which will bear my family name, and it occurs to me that there could be an opportunity there for…’ He paused.
Mariella suggested, tongue in cheek, ‘Something innovative?’
‘Indeed,’ he agreed. ‘But this is not a time to discuss business. I have invited you here as my guest, so that you can meet some of your subjects informally, so to speak…’
Fleur, who had been staring around in wide-eyed silence, suddenly turned her head and smiled at him.
‘You have a beautiful child,’ he complimented her.
‘She is my niece,’ Mariella informed him. ‘I am looking after her for my sister. I think my agent did explain.’
‘Yes. I am sure he did! I seem to remember that my personal assistant did mention the little one.’
Some new guests were waiting to be presented to him, and Mariella stepped discreetly to one side. In the distance on the racecourse she could see a string of horses being exercised, whilst here in the yard there were grooms and stable hands all wearing khaki shorts or trousers, and tee shirts in one of the prince’s three racing colours denoting their status within the hierarchy of the stables.
‘If you would care to take the baby to the crèche,’ the prince’s assistant was asking politely.
Firmly Mariella shook her head. Such was her sense of responsibility towards her niece that she preferred to keep her with her for as long as she could, and, besides, the yard was far too busy for her to be able to do even the briefest of preliminary sketches of the animals. The event was providing her with a wonderful opportunity to do some people watching, though.
* * *
SURVEYING THE CROWD filling the prince’s racing yard, Xavier wondered what on earth he was doing here. This kind of social event was normally something he avoided like the plague! It was much more Khalid’s style than his, and if Khalid had not taken a leave of absence without warning he would have been the one to attend the event! However, since Xavier was involved in shared business interests with the prince, he had felt that perhaps he should attend the breakfast—especially as it was in aid of a charity that he fully supported.
Several people had already stopped him to talk with him, including various members of the royal family, but he now felt that he had done his duty and was on the point of leaving when he suddenly frowned as he caught sight of a silky flash of turquoise-blue as the crowd in front of him momentarily parted.
Grimly he started to stride towards it.
People were starting to move towards the pavilioned area where the breakfast was about to be served, but Mariella hesitated a little uncertainly, suspecting that it would be a diplomatic move now to take Fleur over to the crèche area rather than into the pavilions. A little uncertainly she glanced round, unsure as to what to do, and hoping that she might see the prince’s helpful assistant.
Xavier saw Mariella before she saw him, his eyebrows snapping together in seething fury as he realised his suspicions had been confirmed. It was her! And he had no difficulty in guessing just what she was doing here! Some of the richest men in Zuran were here, and very few of them were unlikely to at least be tempted by the sight of her! From the top of the confection of straw and tulle she was wearing on top of her head to the tip of the dainty little pink-painted toenails revealed by shoes so fragile that he was surprised that she dared risk wearing them, especially when carrying her child, she looked a picture of innocent vulnerability. But of course she was no such thing! And dressing the baby in an outfit obviously chosen to match hers seemed to proclaim their mother and baby status to the world.
Unaware of the fact that Nemesis and all the Furies were about to bear down on her with grim zeal in the shape of a very angry and disapproving male, Mariella shifted Fleur’s weight in her arm.
‘Very fetching! Trust you to be here, and with the very latest European accessory—I have to tell you, though, that you’ve misjudged its effect in Zuran!’
‘Xavier!’ Mariella felt her legs wobble treacherously in her high heels as she stared at him in shock.
‘I don’t know how you managed to get past the security staff—although I suspect I can guess how!’ he told her cynically. ‘Kept women and those who sell their favours to the highest bidder are normally kept out of such events.’
Kept women! His condemnation stung not just her pride, but her sense of sisterly protection for Tanya. She knew that if this conversation were to continue, she would have to explain she was not Fleur’s mother, but right now she was due in the pavilion for breakfast. She was here on business and she would not jeopardise the commission by having an argument with Xavier in front of the prince! ‘I refuse to speak with you if you are going to be so rude,’ she said tersely. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go and join the others.’ A flash of light to her left made her gasp as she realised a photographer had just caught the two of them on camera!
‘Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing here,’ Xavier told her challengingly. ‘You know that Khalid is going to come to his senses and realise just what you are, and you’re looking for someone to take his place, and finance you.’
‘Finance her!’ The feathers nestling in the swathes of chiffon on Mariella’s hat trembled as she