'That was the Nafir-'
'The what?'
'The Nafir,' he said again. 'It's a horn.' He was finding it harder every moment to remain aloof from her infectious cheeriness. 'It's a big horn about three metres long made of copper. It utters a single-note.'
'That's not much use, then, is it?'
He drew himself up to his full height. 'On the contrary. The Nafir is sounded on ceremonial occasions and will be played tonight to herald the start of the Sheikh's birthday.'
'So that was a dress rehearsal?'
'I expect so.'
She gave an exaggerated sigh. 'Well, that's a relief! I was thinking Walls of Jericho-you know? We wouldn't want that lot tumbling down on us, now, would we?' Hugging herself, she pulled a face as she stared up at the gigantic structure.
The Palace of the Moon had stood for centuries as a symbol of Q'Adar's pre-eminence in the Arab world, and he'd never heard anyone make light of it before. He didn't know what to make of this young woman-except, to say, she interested him. 'Don't you think you should be getting back?' He was conscious that she must have duties, and he didn't want her to get in trouble.
'Shouldn't you?' Cocking her head, she levelled a cheeky stare at him.
'Oh, I'm all right for a bit longer.'
'And so am I,' she said. 'There's ages to go before the ball.'
'So you're a waitress?'
She laughed out loud. 'Goodness me, no! Can you imagine it? Canapés flying everywhere and drinks all muddled up? I'd never be asked to do something like that!'
'So, you're a guest?'
'There's no need to sound quite so surprised,' she scolded him. 'Actually,' she confided, touching his arm in her eagerness to make him feel at ease. 'I'm halfway in between.'
He felt her touch like a brand, and had to refocus to ask her, 'Halfway in between what?'
'Halfway in between being a servant and a guest,' she told him blithely. 'I do work for the Sheikh, but I'm insignificant.'
'Insignificant?' he queried. Of all the adjectives he might have used to describe this young woman, 'insignificant' was not one of them. 'I wouldn't call you that.'
'That's very kind of you,' she said sincerely. 'But, I'd better tell you right away, I'm only a shop assistant.'
'Only?' He thought about all the other sales assistants who worked for him at his luxury stores worldwide. They were the lifeblood of his business. He considered them to be the front line, and this girl was the best of them, he realised now as the mystery unravelled in front of him. 'Tell me more,' he said, wanting to hear her version of events.
'I won best Shop Assistant of the Year for the Khalifa group, and this is my prize,' she said, gesturing around in a way he guessed was meant to encompass everything she had seen since arriving in Q'Adar.
'And do you like it?' She had already said she did, but he wanted to delve deeper into that quicksilver mind of hers.
'I love it. Who wouldn't? And they say the Sheikh's gorgeous!'
'Do they?' he said with surprise.
'I won't be able to pass an opinion on him until I see him tonight, but I'll let you know.'
'Would you?' he said, containing his amusement. She was so very young, he was surprised when she leaned forward to confide in him.
'You know, I feel sorry for that sheikh … '
'Do you? Why?'
She stood back a pace, and her face turned solemn. 'You probably think he's got everything, but a man like that is a hostage for life, isn't he?' And, without waiting for him to answer the question, she breezed on with concern. 'He can never do what he wants, can he? He can only do what's right for everyone else.'
He realised now that the inevitable question with its confident answer was part of her Liverpool charm. 'Can't they be one and the same thing?' he said, marvelling at the fact that he was entering into a discussion with her. But, then, he couldn't believe he was standing here at all with a woman he didn't know.
She stood and thought about it for a while. 'He'd have to be really strong to run a country, the Khalifa business, and find time for a private life.'
'And you feel sorry for him?' He felt faintly affronted.
'Yes, I do,' she said candidly.
Before he could argue with her premise, she shook her head. 'It must be hideous, having people bow and scrape around you all day without knowing who to trust.'
'Maybe the Sheikh is shrewder than you think.'
Her face brightened. 'I agree. He must be, mustn't he? Look what he's done with his business, for a start-and the other sheikhs wouldn't have voted him in if he wasn't exceptional. I like that, don't you?' she demanded without pausing for breath.
'What do you mean?'
'The way all the other sheikhs voted for him. And, of course, we couldn't be more thrilled back home that it's our sheikh that's going to be the ruler of Q'Adar. Except we're all worried now that he might sell off the Khalifa stores.'
'Why would he do that?'
'He might lose interest in business when he has the running of a country on his mind.'
'There's no danger of that.'
'You sound very sure.' Interest coloured her voice. 'You have the inside track, don't you?' And, when he didn't answer, she pressed him eagerly. 'You're someone important, aren't you?'
'I hear things on the palace grapevine,' he explained with a dismissive gesture.
'Of course you do-and it's the same for us back at the store. We always get to hear what's going on. What he's like?' she said after a moment's pause.
'The Sheikh?'
'You must know him if you work for him. I was off with flu last time he visited Khalifa in Liverpool, worse luck. Is he stern?'
'Very.'
'He's not mean to you, is he?'
'We have a good working relationship,' he reassured her.
'Oh, well, I'd better get a move on,' she said, heading off in the direction of the palace. 'Thanks for the chat. Are you coming?' she said, turning to face him. 'Only, I have to go now and put my glad rags on.'
'For the Platinum and Diamond Ball? Of course … ' He had almost forgotten. He had allowed himself to be distracted by a pair of slender legs showing their first hint of tan, along with fine-boned hips and a hand-span waist. The unaffected friendliness in the young girl's eyes was so refreshing, he allowed himself another moment's indulgence. 'Are you looking forward to the ball, Cinderella?'
Her face turned serious. 'Don't call me that. I'm not Cinderella; my name is Beth. Beth Tracey Torrance.' And then, taking him completely by surprise, she held out her tiny hand for him to shake. 'And I'm not waiting around for some fairy godmother to come and save me. I make my own luck.'
'Do you indeed?' he said, releasing her hand, which was soft and cool in spite of the heat, and delivered a surprisingly firm handshake. 'And how do you go about that?'
'Hard work,' she said frankly. 'I read something once written by Thomas Edison. You know-the light-bulb man? I've never forgotten it, and it's become my motto.'
'Go on … ' His lips were threatening rebellion, but he managed somehow to control them and confine himself to a brief nod of encouragement.
'Thomas Edison said, "opportunity is missed by most people because it comes dressed in overalls and looks like work".'
'And you agree with that?'
'Yes.' She drew the word out, as well as up and down the vocal register, for even more emphasis. 'It's worked for me. But then I love my work.'
'You do?'
'I love people,' she said, eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. 'I love seeing their faces when I find something in the store that's going to make a difference to their lives. Maybe it's a gift, or a treat they're buying for themselves-it doesn't matter. I just want to see the look transform their faces … '
And now her face was transformed with a smile. 'So the look's your secret of success?'
'Oh, there are others on the floor just as good as me,' she told him. 'Sales figures are all a matter of luck, aren't they?'
After what she'd told him, he very much doubted it. The horn sounded again, and this time she didn't jump. 'Isn't this romantic?' she said instead.
They both gazed up at the towering ramparts, where pennants were being raised in his honour. The sun had sunk low enough to turn the walls of his citadel a soft shade of rose madder, which, yes, he supposed could be called romantic by those with a vivid imagination and time enough to look.