Ramsbottom’s cabins. However, when she got to the end and found that it led into yet another corridor leading in a different direction, she realised that she had come the wrong way.
As she turned to retrace her steps, she saw someone coming towards her and hesitated, wondering if there was some way to avoid another meeting. It would look foolish if she went back the way she knew led only to the staterooms, so she really had no choice but to stand her ground.
‘Ah, so we meet again,’ he said and looked amused. ‘I really think we should introduce ourselves, Miss…?’
Chloe hesitated, then took a deep breath. This was ridiculous!
‘Chloe Randall,’ she said and offered her hand. ‘I am travelling with Miss Amelia Ramsbottom and Professor Charles Hicks—and I seem to have taken a wrong turning.’
‘Very easy to do,’ he said, and took her hand, holding it for a moment before releasing it. ‘I am Armand…Philip Armand…and if you would care to tell me the number of the cabin you seek, I should be delighted to help you find your way, Miss Randall.’
Chloe was trying to make up her mind what nationality he was. His surname sounded a bit French, but she didn’t think he looked French—and he had hesitated for a moment, almost as if the name he had given her was not his own. But surely he wouldn’t lie—why should he?
‘I—it is nice to meet you,’ Chloe replied formally and then felt silly. ‘My cabin is number fifty-two and Miss Ramsbottom’s is fifty-nine. I was going to call on her and see how she was feeling before I went to bed. She wasn’t well earlier.’
‘Bed so early?’ His brows rose, a curl of amusement on his lips. He was very much the sophisticated man of the world, and made Chloe aware of how young and naïve she must seem. She knew that her clothes were too young for her, and nowhere near as elegant as the other women on board were wearing. ‘You shouldn’t think of such a thing while on board ship, Miss Randall. A young girl like you should be dancing the night away with a handsome partner.’
Chloe knew he was mocking her. She hadn’t seen any handsome young men on board—and the few older ones who fitted his description would be dancing with someone more interesting than little Chloe Randall.
‘I assure you that I have no intention of dancing with anyone, Mr Armand,’ she said. ‘It has been a long day and I am tired. If you could please direct me to my cabin, I shall not trouble you longer. Especially if there is someone waiting for you…’
Now why had she said that? It sounded as if she were interested—and she wasn’t! Not in the least.
‘Unfortunately there is no one I care to dance with either,’ he replied, smiling oddly. ‘My fiancée was forced to remain in London. However, I should be happy to have you as a partner if you do feel tempted to dance another evening—when you are not so tired.’
To her annoyance, Chloe found herself blushing again. How was it that he was able to make her feel like a stupid schoolgirl? She was about to ask him for directions again when she saw a steward come out of one of the cabins, and turned to him quickly.
‘Certainly, I can show you the way, miss,’ he replied to her hasty question. ‘I am going that way now. Please follow me. Goodnight, Mr Armand.’
So he had not been lying about the name after all, Chloe thought as she nodded to him and followed the steward. Philip Armand shot her an amused glance and walked on down the corridor to where Chloe knew the staterooms were situated. They were much larger than her cabin, and had an opening so that the fortunate guest could step outside in privacy and take the air. She had been told that there was also a sitting room and two large bedrooms, and felt a little envious of the passengers who could afford such luxury.
But she was lucky to be here at all! Chloe reminded herself. She would never even have had the chance to travel abroad like this if it had not been for the generosity of Charles Hicks.
She knocked at Amelia’s door and was asked to enter. When she went in, she saw that the poor woman was lying flat on her back and looked most unwell.
‘Can I do anything for you?’ she asked, and Amelia shook her head. ‘Would you like me to call the doctor to you?’
‘Thank you, no,’ Amelia replied. ‘The steward has already given me something to help settle me. It was good of you to ask, Chloe—but all I want is to be left in peace. I shall be all right in a day or so.’
‘I’m sorry to have disturbed you,’ Chloe said and closed the door quietly as she left.
She was thoughtful as she went into her own cabin. Who was Mr Armand, and why had she had the distinct impression he was lying when he gave her his name?
There was really no reason why he should lie to her—or none that she knew of. Perhaps he was travelling under a false name? Yet why should he be? Was he a spy or something underhand like that—a gangster, perhaps?
Chloe didn’t visit the cinema regularly for nothing! And yet he didn’t look anything like the pictures she’d seen of gangsters in the movies.
She considered what he did look like, and decided he was rather like a picture she had seen in a newspaper of a foreign prince a few weeks earlier. No, not a prince…but she was sure it was something of the sort. She couldn’t quite place the article, but she thought it had something to do with politics…or was it big business? She wasn’t certain, and gave it up.
It surely didn’t matter, because she wasn’t likely to have much to do with him. He would probably avoid her like the plague in future, especially if he happened to have a glass in his hand.
Chloe smiled as she remembered his face when Justine had tipped half that champagne over him. He had been rather put out at the time, but on the second occasion he had seemed as if he had begun to see the funny side of it—and he had been perfectly pleasant this evening, even if she did suspect that he had enjoyed mocking her.
She yawned as she began to undress. She really was sleepy, and she had become irritated by Jane Vermont’s meaningless chatter. It would be too bad if she was forced to put up with that for the whole of the voyage, and once again she regretted that her cousin had not been able to come on the trip with them.
Sighing, she went to bed and fell asleep almost instantly, dreaming of the film she had just seen, but at some time during her dream the face of the Sheikh changed, becoming that of someone she had just met.
‘You are a beautiful, dangerous woman,’ he told her as he looked deeply into her eyes. ‘I shall have to take you to my casbah and lock you away.’
Waking briefly, Chloe remembered where she had seen that article, then went back to sleep and forgot all about it again…
Chapter Two
H e stood watching the dancers for a moment, his features as hard as the Atlas Mountains, which banded the plains where his ancestors had roamed for centuries, moving relentlessly through deserts and fertile regions on the caravan routes from Gaza to the Barbary Coast. Pasha Ibn Hasim, otherwise known as Philip Armand—or even on occasions Philippe—watched as the girl danced with her elderly employer, a frown on his face that was generally considered strong rather than handsome.
At first he had thought she must be the professor’s niece or his mistress, for he had watched her saying goodbye to her father and
