Lucy and the Sheikh(6)
“Your hair is curling now it’s beginning to dry.”
“It has a mind of its own.”
“Like you.”
“Like me.” She stepped away, backwards at first before turning and running into the sea.
He watched as she ran into the sea, the flimsy purple bikini that he’d spent so much time contemplating, barely covering her slim hips and full breasts. Then she turned and waved as the swell of a wave surged around her, covering her body and shoulders with water, before she turned back and dived into the water and was gone: arms swiftly taking her back to the boat.
He’d said he’d see her again. And he would. She didn’t know it, but they already had an appointment.
CHAPTER TWO
Lucy traced the line of her sister’s face on the iPad. There was nothing unusual about the slightly out-of-focus photograph of Lucy’s sister—beautiful designer clothes, expensive smile, on the arm of a handsome man—only the best for Maia. No, the unusual thing was that it was the last photo she’d seen of her in four months, the last photo her sister had posted on Facebook.
Where are you, Maia?
Lucy scrolled up the page, skimming over the more recent messages Maia had supposedly posted, and frowned. The messages had definitely been written by Maia—no one else could have known the details she posted—but they weren’t current. Maia hadn’t been where she said she’d been. Lucy knew because she’d checked. She’d been to the places Maia was supposed to be and no one had seen her. Also, Maia wasn’t replying to any messages or comments, which wasn’t like her.
They’d made two pacts with each other as teenagers: one, to live life to the full and the other, to stay in contact. They were, after all, the only family each other had. Hence Facebook, hence Twitter. But for some reason Maia had stopped keeping in touch. Lucy wasn’t fooled by the recent updates. Something had happened to Maia and her only clue was this last photo: of Maia with the King of Sitra.
Lucy carefully tucked away the iPad into her rucksack and wished she could put away her concern as easily. Her fears for Maia were always with her, like a sharp tension running through her body. She swung the bag on her back and stepped out onto the deck.
They were sailing around the outer point of Sitra harbor. As they inched around the lighthouse that clung to the rocks, the pristine coastline gave way to the rambling terra cotta and sand-colored buildings of the medieval city of Sitra. The soft earth tones of the city’s buildings were interspersed with the grey-greens of date palms, pomegranate and fig trees, revealing the city’s oasis origins. The fresh water and strategic coastal position had made it a key port in the export of incense to the Mediterranean and India. Now, it was a backwater of outdated systems—a country rife with intrigue. And somewhere amidst the maze of winding streets, of ancient buildings and robe-swathed people, was her sister.
Where was she? Who was she with? Was she being held against her will? Either Maia was holding back the truth or someone was preventing her from communicating with Lucy. The thought made her sick to her stomach. She had to find her. Lucy’s mind drifted back to the photo of Maia and the King. It was all she had to go on.
A low wolf whistle drew her attention to Alex, the captain. She grinned and did a twirl, allowing the soft folds of her one and only dress to swing around her legs. She knew the white of the dress contrasted well with her deep tan. Then she let her sunglasses tip down her nose and peered over them in a come-hither look she’d seen her sister practice many times.
“Well, don’t you scrub up well? Still wearing your old compass though. Never know when you’ll need it, eh?”
Lucy fingered the antique compass that she always wore on a chain around her neck, one of the few reminders of her mother, and turned to Alex with a smile. He was leaning against the railings of the boat watching the city slowly draw near. She wandered over to him and leaned back against the railings. He ruffled her hair out of her carefully prepared French twist and she grinned. He might be a control freak with the rest of the crew but outside work hours he treated her like a kid sister and he felt like the brother she’d never had.
“Don’t want to get lost out there.”
“I don’t think you’re someone who gets lost easily. Anyhow, you look lovely.”
“Why thank you. Thought I’d better look my best for the King.”
“Good idea, but you’re wearing the wrong clothes. If you want to stay here a while, you need to get on the right side of the King and his people. What you need to do is wear this.” He passed her the robe that he’d slung over one shoulder. “I thought you wouldn’t be prepared.”