Cinderella and the Sheikh. NATASHA OAKLEY

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СКАЧАТЬ for him to have got used to the idea of running the show—’

      If only. Anthony still showed absolutely no inclination to do anything of the sort.

      â€˜And if his well-bred wife thought of something other than horses that’d help.’

      â€˜They’ll have to manage while I’m away filming—’

      â€˜If we get our permit.’

      â€˜If,’ Polly agreed mildly.

      â€˜Well, try to sound like you mind one way or the other!’

      â€˜I do.’ Her smiled twisted. Sort of. It was just…leaving Shelton was going to be difficult, particularly since she knew it wasn’t in safe hands. Every time she tried to imagine herself packing her case and walking away from it…she couldn’t.

      Instead she’d think about how much there was to do. The Burns Night Supper, for example, or the Valentine’s Ball, or the craft fair held at the castle each Easter weekend…

      All bringing in desperately needed revenue if the conservation programme was to continue. The trouble was she cared. Somehow, and she didn’t really understand how, it had got into her bones. Shelton Castle had become her raison d’être.

      And, the truth was, it wasn’t hers to love. It was Anthony’s. His birthright. His privilege to nurture and succour the castle for future generations. And if she didn’t manage to detach herself she would eventually be left with nothing.

      Minty watched her with narrowed eyes. ‘We agreed. It’s time you left Shelton.’

      They had agreed that.

      â€˜And way past time you did a job for which you’re being properly paid.’

      Also true. Her head agreed. It was her heart that was more difficult to control.

      â€˜You’ve got no savings, no pension, no career structure—’

      â€˜I know.’ And she did. It wasn’t something that kept her awake at night, but she did know she’d allowed herself to drift for too long.

      And she knew Amrah could be the answer. The first real attempt she’d made to cut the umbilical cord that tied her to the castle.

      â€˜Well, then, be nice to Sheikh Rashid and I’ll have you on a plane within twenty-four hours of getting the paperwork through.’

      â€˜Be nice to Sheikh Rashid.’ That was easier said than done. There was no getting near the man. Polly moved back to conceal herself behind an extravagant white floral display of alstromeria, lisianthus and roses so she could watch him more easily. Or, more accurately, so she could watch him without anyone noticing that was what she was doing.

      Sheikh Rashid sat facing out across the ballroom. As he’d done all evening. His long legs stretched out in front of him, a look of faint boredom on his face. Silent. Arrogant. And rude, if she was honest.

      From the very first moment he’d arrived he’d been permanently surrounded by women who looked as if they’d stepped out of a Bond movie, but they could have been invisible for all the attention he paid them. Perhaps he was so used to it he didn’t notice they were there?

      But it was rude all the same. And, speaking as someone who’d often been all but invisible, she didn’t like it.

      Of course, they should have moved away rather than continue to try to attract his attention. That would have been classier, but they didn’t. Of course they didn’t. They hovered about, smiling and laughing. Hoping he might notice them.

      All of which made Minty’s cunning plan just that little bit more difficult to bring to fulfilment and left Polly stuck behind a large floral arrangement completely uncertain what to do next.

      Polly bit her lip. Minty would have powered her way across the ballroom and flicked aside all competition like flies off a trifle, but she wasn’t Minty.

      And he wasn’t the kind of man she’d ever be comfortable approaching. Contact lenses in, she was able to confirm her initial assessment of His Highness Prince Rashid bin Khalid bin Abdullah Al Baha as sex on legs. Or would be, if you liked that kind of thing. Which she didn’t.

      He was all too much. Too tall. Too handsome. Too…powerful. He looked like the kind of man who could crack a nut with his bare hands and wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to people if he had to. And, from all she’d read, he came from a long line of men who’d had to. Centuries of tribal disputes, years of colonial occupation and violent coups had shaped Amrah into the country it was. They’d shaped the men who ruled it, too.

      It was strange to think her great-great-grandmother had been an active participant in all that history. Or a small slice of it at least.

      â€˜Something wrong?’

      Polly turned to look down at her mother. ‘No. Why?’

      â€˜You’re frowning. I wondered if the ice sculpture was melting or the fireworks had got damp,’ she said, bringing her wheelchair into line. ‘It’s not often I see you frowning.’

      â€˜Nothing like that. As far as I know.’ Polly smiled and set her glass of untouched champagne down on the window sill behind her. ‘But I ought to stop standing about and check.’

      â€˜Polly—’

      She stopped.

      â€˜I just wanted to say you’ve done a beautiful job tonight. Again.’ Her mother reached out and lightly touched her hand. ‘I know Anthony doesn’t appreciate the work that goes into something like this, but I do.’

      â€˜I know.’ Polly spontaneously bent down and placed a kiss on her mother’s cheek. ‘Have you got everything you need? Can I get you a drink?’

      The dowager duchess laughed. ‘I’m fine. Any more champagne and I’ll be arrested for being drunk in charge of a wheelchair. You do what you need to do, darling.’

      â€˜Get someone to come and find me if you want to go to bed,’ she said, taking in her mother’s tired face. ‘There’s no need for you—’

      â€˜Stop fussing. I’ll be fine.’ Then, her attention snagged, ‘Who’s that man? I don’t recognise him.’

      Polly followed the direction of her mother’s eyes.

      â€˜With the Duke of Aylesbury? Front table, beneath the Mad Duchess oil painting?’

      â€˜That’s—’ She stopped as Rashid’s eyes met hers. The sensation was akin to how she imagined it would feel if you stuck a wet finger into an electrical socket. He was quite, quite still…and, heaven help her, he was definitely watching her.

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