The Sheikh's Shock Child

by Susan Stephens

  One passionate night...

  One shocking consequence!

  Working aboard Sheikh Khalid’s luxury yacht, innocent laundress Millie hides in the shadows—until she succumbs to his touch. Overwhelmed by the intensity of their encounter, she doesn’t even realize his yacht has set sail—and soon she finds herself between his golden sheets! But becoming Khalid’s mistress isn’t the only consequence of their reckless desire...and Millie’s scandalous news will bind them, permanently!

  “You win the prize for the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met.”

  “Good,” Millie said.

  “As the mistress of the ruling sheikh of Khalifa, you’d have no competition—”

  “Your mistress?” Millie repeated this as if she had something unpleasant on her tongue. “So, I’d have no competition for your attention. Is that right?”

  “None,” Khalid confirmed.

  “Forget it, Your Majesty,” she told him with an incredulous shake of her head. “Just tell me what I need to know, and we’re done here.”

  He had an answer to that, and dipping his head, he enforced silence with a kiss. And not just any kiss, but one that melted her from the inside out. She only had to taste him, and she was lost. Khalid was everything that was missing from her life. His touch seared her senses. His kisses rocked her world. Being lost in his arms was the best prescription she knew for forgetting the past and living in the present. He offered oblivion, which was exactly what she craved. If she thought any more about events she couldn’t change she’d go mad.

  One Night With Consequences

  When one night...leads to pregnancy!

  When succumbing to a night of unbridled desire, it’s impossible to think past the morning after!

  But with the sheets barely settled, that little blue line appears on the pregnancy test, and it doesn’t take long to realize that one night of white-hot passion has turned into a lifetime of consequences!

  Only one question remains:

  How do you tell a man you’ve just met that you’re about to share more than just his bed?

  Find out in:

  The Pregnant Kavakos Bride by Sharon Kendrick

  A Ring for the Greek’s Baby by Melanie Milburne

  Engaged for Her Enemy’s Heir by Kate Hewitt

  The Virgin’s Shock Baby by Heidi Rice

  The Italian’s Christmas Secret by Sharon Kendrick

  A Night of Royal Consequences by Susan Stephens

  A Baby to Bind His Bride by Caitlin Crews

  Claiming His Nine-Month Consequence by Jennie Lucas

  Contracted for the Petrakis Heir by Annie West

  Consequence of His Revenge by Dani Collins

  Princess’s Pregnancy Secret by Natalie Anderson

  Look for more One Night With Consequences coming soon!

  THE SHEIKH’S SHOCK CHILD

  Susan Stephens

  www.millsandboon.com.au

  SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Harlequin style, they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday and married three months later. Susan enjoys entertaining, travel and going to the theater. To relax she reads, cooks and plays the piano, and when she’s had enough of relaxing she throws herself off mountains on skis or gallops through the countryside, singing loudly.

  For Megan, for excellent editing and steely nerve. Thank you.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Claiming His Pregnant Innocent by Maggie Cox

  CHAPTER ONE

  SAPPHIRES DRIFTED IN a shimmering stream from the Sheikh’s fingers. Backlit by candlelight, the precious gems blazed with blue fire, dazzling fifteen-year-old Millie Dillinger. Seeing her mother cuddled up to the Sheikh had the opposite effect. Toad-like and repellent, he was hardly the dashing hero Millie had imagined when her mother had said they were both to be guests at a most important royal engagement.

  Millie had just stepped on board the Sheikh’s superyacht after being brought straight from school in a limousine with diplomatic plates, and found this a very different and frightening world. Sumptuous yes. Everywhere she looked there were more obvious signs of money than she’d seen in her entire life, but, like the Sheikh, the interior of his vast, creaking superyacht was sinister, rather than enticing. She kept glancing over her shoulder to check for escape routes, knowing it wouldn’t be easy to go anywhere with heavily armed guards, dressed in black tunics and baggy trousers, standing on either side of her, with yet more posted around the room.

  Much in Millie’s life was uncertain, but this was frightening. Her mother was unpredictable, and it was always up to Millie to try and keep things on an even keel. That meant getting them out of here, if she could. This big room was known as the grand salon, but when she’d seen pictures in magazines of similar vessels, they were light and elegant, luxurious spaces, not dark and stale like this. Heavy drapes had been closed to shut out the light, and it smelled bad. Like an old wardrobe, Millie thought, wrinkling her nose.

  The Sheikh and his guests were staring at her, making her feel she was part of a show, and it was not a performance she wanted to take part in. Seeing her mother in the arms of an old man was bad enough. He might be royalty, and he might be seated in the place of honour on a bank of silken cushions beneath a golden canopy, but he was repulsive. This had to be their host, His Magnificence Sheikh Saif al Busra bin Khalifa. Millie’s mother, Roxy Dillinger, had been hired to sing at his party, and had asked Millie to join her. Why? Millie wondered.

  ‘Hello, little girl.’ The Sheikh spoke in a wheedling tone that made Millie shudder. ‘You are most welcome here,’ he said, beckoning her closer.

  She refused to move as her mother prompted in a slurred stage whisper, ‘Her name is Millie.’

  As if names were unimportant to him, the Sheikh beckoned again, and more impatiently this time. Millie stared at her mother, willing her to make her excuses so that they could leave. Her mother refused to take the hint. She was still so beautiful, but sad for much of the time, as if she knew her days in the sun were over. Millie wanted to protect her, and quivered with indignation when some of the guests began to snigger behind their hands. Sometimes it felt as if she were the grown up and her mother the child.

  ‘See, Millie,’ her mother exclaimed as she raised and slopped a glass of champagne down an evening dress that had seen better days. ‘This is the type of life you can have if you follow me onto the stage.’

  Millie shrank at the thought. Her dream was to be a marine engineer. This was more like Walpurgis Night than a theatrical performance, with every witch and warlock gathered to carouse and feast at the feet of the devil. Candlelight flickered eerily over the faces of the guests, and an air of expectation gripped them. What were they waiting for? Millie wondered. She didn’t belong here, and neither did her mother, and if her mother started to sing it would be worse. A careless approach to her health had ruined Roxy Dillinger’s renowned singing voice. She had squeezed herself into a shoddy and revealing floor-length gown, but Millie knew that the best she would be
able to manage was a few cigarette-scarred songs for people who didn’t care that Roxy had once been known as the Nightingale of London.

  Millie cared. She cared deeply and passionately for her mother, and her protective instinct rose like a lion for its cub. Ignoring the impatience of the Sheikh, she held out her hands. ‘It’s time to go home. Please, Mum—’

  ‘Roxy,’ her mother hissed, shooting a warning glance at Millie. ‘My name is Roxy.’

  ‘Please... Roxy,’ Millie amended reluctantly. Whatever it took, she would get them out of here somehow.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ her mother snapped, staring round at her less than admiring public. ‘I haven’t sung yet. Tell you what,’ she said in a change of tone. ‘Why don’t you sing for us, Millie? She has a lovely voice,’ she added to the Sheikh. ‘Not as strong and pure as mine, of course,’ she added, snuggling up to him.

  The way the Sheikh was looking at Millie made her skin crawl, but she refused to back down. ‘If you come home with me now, I’ll buy cakes on the way,’ she coaxed her mother.

  Unpleasant laughter greeted this remark. A gesture from the Sheikh silenced his guests. ‘I have world-renowned pastry chefs on board, little girl. You and your mother can eat your fill—once you’ve sung for your supper.’

  Millie suspected the Sheikh had something else in mind other than singing. With her plaits, spectacles and serious demeanour, she would certainly be a novelty for his sophisticated guests, who had started to chant her name. Far from this being encouragement, as her mother seemed to think, Millie knew it was mockery of the cruellest kind. Her neck burned with embarrassment as she begged, ‘Please, Mum. You don’t need the Sheikh’s money. I’ll take an extra shift at the laundry—’

  Screeches of laughter drowned out her voice. Desperate now, she glanced longingly in the direction of the marina, where life would be carrying on as normal. If this was how the super-rich lived, Millie wanted no part of it. Tonight had cemented her decision to forge a life she could control.

  ‘Sing for us, Millie,’ Roxy slurred. ‘You can be my support act.’

  Millie loved singing, and had joined the school choir, but her real passion was discovering how things worked. Once she’d passed her school exams, she was determined to put in as many hours as it took, working at the laundry to fund more education.

  The crowd continued to chant, ‘Millie... Millie... Millie...’ Her mother’s eye make-up was smudged, and she looked so tired. ‘Please, Mum...’

  ‘You’ll stay here,’ the toad on the dais rapped. At his signal, the guards closed around Millie, cutting off all avenues of escape. ‘Come closer, little girl,’ he drawled in a sugary voice that frightened her. ‘Dip your hands into my bowl of sapphires. They will inspire you, as they have inspired your mother.’

  Millie flinched away as someone shrieked an ugly laugh.

  ‘Touch my sapphires,’ the Sheikh continued in the same hypnotic tone. ‘Feel their cool magnificence—’

  ‘Step back!’

  The icy command was delivered like a shot and shocked everyone rigid. Millie turned to see a colossus in travel clothes striding into their midst. The guards snapped to attention as he passed, and even the Sheikh’s spoiled mouth remained petulantly closed.

  What a devastating man, Millie thought. Much younger than the Sheikh, he was infinitely more attractive, and Millie’s ideal when it came to a romantic hero. While the Sheikh overflowed his cushions, this man was lean and fit, like a soldier or a bodyguard.

  ‘Why, brother, you’re such a prude.’

  When the Sheikh drawled this, she gasped. His brother? This was the toad’s brother? There was so little resemblance between the two men it didn’t seem possible. While the Sheikh sent shivers of disgust shooting down her spine, his brother inspired a very different response.

  She cringed to see the Sheikh wrap his arms a little closer around her mother, as if claiming his property in the face of a challenge. ‘Have you never played Bridge the Generation Gap before?’ he asked, glancing between the newcomer, Millie, and her mother.

  ‘You disgust me,’ the newcomer rapped. ‘She’s just a child,’ he observed as he flashed an appraising glance at Millie.

  That brief look seared her to the depth of her soul. She would never forget it. There was anger in his eyes, but also concern, and it made her feel safe for the first time since she’d boarded the yacht.

  ‘I can’t believe you’d sink so low as to include a young girl in your debauchery,’ he said scathingly.

  ‘Can’t you?’ The Sheikh gave a careless shrug. ‘She’s a pretty young thing. Why don’t you take a turn when I’m finished with her?’

  ‘You and I are very different, brother.’

  ‘Evidently,’ the Sheikh conceded. ‘But it’s no business of yours how I spend my free time.’

  ‘When you bring our country into disrepute, it is my business.’

  The Sheikh’s striking-looking brother had everyone’s interest, Millie noticed, and no wonder, with his skin the colour of polished bronze, and that thick, jet-black wavy hair. His body was as powerful as a gladiator’s, his eyes as fierce and unforgiving as a hawk’s, while harsh cheekbones and sweeping inky brows added to the exotic picture of a man who commanded the room.

  ‘You sicken me,’ he rapped with disgust. ‘I return from fighting alongside our forces, to find you indulging yourself in the most depraved manner imaginable. You won’t be satisfied until you’ve brought our country to its knees.’

  ‘I’ll bring something to its knees,’ the Sheikh agreed with a lascivious glance at Millie.

  Millie gasped as the younger man swept a protective arm around her shoulder. ‘You won’t touch her,’ he warned.

  The Sheikh’s response was a lazy wave of his hand. ‘You take things too seriously, Khalid. You always did.’

  Khalid.

  Learning her guardian’s name, Millie felt a rush of emotion. He remained standing between her and the Sheikh, to protect her from his brother’s crude remarks and lewd glances. If only he could rescue her mother too.

  ‘Don’t bring your bleeding heart here,’ the Sheikh dismissed with a scornful look. ‘It’s not appreciated.’

  ‘A bleeding heart because I care for our people?’ the Prince challenged, stepping away from Millie. ‘Where were you when our country needed you, Saif?’ he demanded. ‘You left our borders unprotected and our people in danger. You should be ashamed of yourself,’ he finished with icy disdain.

  ‘It is you who should be ashamed for ruining the evening for my guests,’ the Sheikh remarked, unconcerned. ‘And it is you who should apologise,’ he insisted.

  Shaking his head, Prince Khalid assured his brother that he would do no such thing. ‘Come,’ he added sharply to Millie. ‘You’re leaving right now. And if you had any sense,’ he added to Millie’s mother, ‘you’d leave too.’

  Roxy’s response was to turn her sulky face into the Sheikh’s shoulder.

  ‘Is this what you want?’ the Sheikh asked Millie.

  ‘Yes,’ Millie almost shouted, ‘but I’m not leaving without my mother. Please—’ It was useless. Her mother didn’t move.

  ‘At least take some sapphires with you,’ the Sheikh suggested in a mocking tone.

  ‘Don’t touch them!’ his brother rapped.

  ‘As if I would!’ This time she did shout, and it was so unlike her to lose her temper, but if he thought for one moment she could be bribed with sapphires!

  Prince Khalid smiled faintly as he looked at her, and there was almost respect in his eyes, Millie thought, as if he knew she found this situation as deplorable as he did.

  ‘You’re a disgrace to the Khalifa name,’ her rescuer thundered, turning his attention to Sheikh Saif. ‘If you weren’t the ruler of Khalifa—’

  ‘What would you do?’ the Sheikh queried in an oily tone. ‘I stand between y
ou and the throne. Is that what’s really troubling you, brother?’ Opening his arms wide, the Sheikh drew in his avid audience. ‘My poor brother can never get over the fact that he can’t have things all his own, dull way. How boring life would be with you in charge of the country, Khalid.’

  This was greeted by murmurs of agreement from his guests. Millie risked a glance to see how the Prince had taken this latest insult. Apart from a muscle flicking in his jaw, he remained unmoved. ‘I’m taking the girl,’ he said, ‘and I want the mother gone by the time I return. Her daughter should not be left alone at night with so many unpleasant characters roaming King’s Dock.’

  A gasp of affront greeted this remark. The Sheikh remained unconcerned. ‘But she won’t be on her own, will you, my dear? She’ll have you,’ he added with a sneer for Prince Khalid.

  By this time, Millie was consumed with fear for her mother. ‘I can’t leave her,’ she told the Prince when he tried to usher her away.

  Gripping her arm firmly, he warned, ‘Don’t get any ideas. You’re leaving now.’

  ‘Not without my mother,’ Millie said stubbornly.

  ‘Get her out of here!’ her mother yelled with an angry gesture in Millie’s direction.

  Having finally dislodged herself from the Sheikh’s embrace, her mother was standing with her fists tightly clenched. ‘You’re nothing but a little killjoy,’ she railed at Millie. ‘You always spoil my fun!’

  Gasping with hurt, Millie was barely aware that the door of the grand salon had slammed behind her, making her last memory of that night her mother’s voice screaming at her to go.

  * * *

  ‘What’s your name?’ he asked the pale, tense child as he escorted her off the Sapphire. He needed something to distract her from the ordeal, and wanted to keep her talking. She seemed so unnaturally quiet.

  There was a silence and then, to his relief, she said in a strained whisper, ‘Millicent.’

  ‘Millicent?’ he repeated. ‘I like your name.’ It suited the girl with her serious demeanour, heavy glasses and neatly braided hair.

 
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