Cinderella: Hired by the Prince / The Sheikh's Destiny. Marion Lennox
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from Cepheus,’ he said, and all was explained.
Cepheus. She knew it. A tiny principality on the Mediterranean, fiercely independent and fiercely proud.
‘My father told me about Cepheus,’ she said, awed that here was an echo from her childhood. ‘Papà was born not so far away from the border and he went there as a boy. He said it’s the most beautiful country in the world—but he also said it belonged to Spain.’
‘If he’s Spanish then he would say that,’ Ramón growled. ‘If he was French he’d say the same thing. They’ve been fighting over my country for generations, like eagles over a small bird. What they’ve come to realize, however, is that the small bird has claws and knows how to protect itself. For now they’ve dropped us—they’ve let us be. We are Cepheus. Nothing more.’
‘But you speak Spanish?’
‘The French and the Spanish have both taken part of our language and made it theirs,’ he said, and she couldn’t help herself. She chuckled.
‘What’s funny?’ He was suddenly practically glowering.
‘Your patriotism,’ she said, refusing to be deflected. ‘Like Australians saying the English speak Australian with a plum in their mouths.’
‘It’s not the same,’ he said but then he was smiling again. She smiled back—and wham.
What was it with this man?
She knew exactly what it was. Quite simply he was the most gorgeous guy she’d ever met. Tall, dark and fabulous, a voice like a god, rugged, clever…and smiling. She took a deep breath and went back to really focused scrubbing. It was imperative that she scrub.
She was alone on a boat in the middle of the ocean with a man she was so attracted to her toes were practically ringlets. And she was crew. Nothing more. She was cook and deckhand. Remember it!
‘So why the debt?’ he asked gently, and she forgot about being cook and deckhand. He was asking as if he cared.
Should she tell him to mind his own business? Should she back away?
Why? He’d been extraordinarily kind and if he wanted to ask…He didn’t feel like her boss, and at this moment she didn’t feel like a deckie.
Maybe he even had the right to know.
‘I lost my baby,’ she said flatly, trying to make it sound as if it was history. Only of course she couldn’t. Two years on, it still pierced something inside her to say it. ‘Matty was born with a congenital heart condition. He had a series of operations, each riskier than the last. Finally, there was only one procedure left to try—a procedure so new it cost the earth. It was his last chance and I had to take it, but of course I’d run out of what money I had. I was working for Charlie for four hours a day over the lunch time rush—Matty was in hospital and I hated leaving him but I had to pay the rent, so when things hit rock bottom Charlie knew. So Charlie loaned me what I needed on the basis that I keep working on for him.’
She scrubbed fiercely at a piece of deck that had already been scrubbed. Ramón didn’t say anything. She scrubbed a bit more. Thought about not saying more and then decided—why not say it all?
‘You need to understand…I’d been cooking on the docks since I was seventeen and people knew my food. Charlie’s café was struggling and he needed my help to keep it afloat. But the operation didn’t work. Matty died when he was two years, three months and five days old. I buried him and I went back to Charlie’s café and I’ve been there ever since.’
‘I am so sorry.’ Ramón was sitting back on his heels and watching her. She didn’t look up—she couldn’t. She kept right on scrubbing.
The boat rocked gently on the swell. The sun shone down on the back of her neck and she was acutely aware of his gaze. So aware of his silence.
‘Charlie demanded that you leave your baby, for those hours in the last days of his life?’ he said at last, and she swallowed at that, fighting back regret that could never fade.
‘It was our deal.’ She hesitated. ‘You’ve seen the worst of Charlie. Time was when he was a decent human being. Before the drink took over. When he offered me a way out—I only saw the money. I guess I just trusted. And after I borrowed the money there was no way out.’
‘So where,’ he asked, in his soft, lilting accent that seemed to have warmth and sincerity built into it, ‘was Matty’s father?’
‘On the other side of the world, as far as I know,’ she said, and she blinked back self-pity and found herself smiling. ‘My Kieran. Or, rather, no one’s Kieran.’
‘You’re smiling?’ He sounded incredulous, as well he might.
‘Yes, that’s stupid. And yes, I was really stupid.’ Enough with the scrubbing—any more and she’d start taking off wood. She tossed her brush into the bucket and stood up, leaning against the rail and letting the sun comfort her. How to explain Kieran? ‘My father had just died, and I was bleak and miserable. Kieran came into port and he was just…alive. I met him on the wharf one night, we went dancing and I fell in love. Only even then I knew I wasn’t in love with Kieran. Not with the person. I was in love with what he represented. Happiness. Laughter. Life. At the end of a wonderful week he sailed away and two weeks later I discovered our precautions hadn’t worked. I emailed him to tell him. He sent me a dozen roses and a cheque for a termination. The next time I emailed, to tell him I was keeping our baby, there was no reply. There’s been no reply since.’
‘Do you mind?’ he said gently.
‘I mind that Kieran didn’t have a chance to meet his son,’ she said. ‘It was his loss. Matty was wonderful.’ She pulled herself together and managed to smile again. ‘But I’d imagine all mothers say that about their babies. Any minute now I’ll be tugging photographs out of my purse.’
‘It would be my privilege to see them.’
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘Why would I not?’
Her smile faded. She searched his face and saw only truth.
‘It’s okay,’ she said, disconcerted. She was struggling to understand this man. She’d accepted this job suspecting he was another similar to Kieran, sailing the world to escape responsibility, only the more she saw of him the more she realized there were depths she couldn’t fathom.
She had armour now to protect herself against the likes of Kieran. She knew she did—that was why she’d taken the job. But this man’s gentle sympathy and practical help were something new. She tried to imagine Kieran scrubbing a deck when he didn’t have to, and she couldn’t.
‘So where’s your family?’ she asked, too abruptly, and she watched his face close. Which was what she was coming to expect. He’d done this before to her, simply shutting himself off from her questions. She thought it was a method he’d learned from years of employing casual labour, setting boundaries and staying firmly behind them.
Maybe that was reasonable, she conceded. Just because she’d stepped outside her personal boundaries, it didn’t mean he must.
‘Sorry. I’ll put the buckets away,’ she said, but he didn’t move and neither did she.
‘I don’t like talking of my family.’
‘That’s okay. That’s your right.’
‘You didn’t have to tell me about your son.’
‘Yes, but I like talking about Matty,’ she said. She thought about it. It wasn’t absolutely true. Or was it?
She only talked about Matty to Cathy, to Susie, to those few people who’d known him. But still…
‘Talking about him keeps him real,’ she said, trying to figure it out as she spoke. ‘Keeping silent locks him in my heart and I’m scared he’ll shrivel. I want to