by Anne Weale
‘Thank you...and thank you for making my arrival so pleasant,’ she added.
‘Let’s sit down.’ He gestured at the sofa.
Nicole sat down at one end of it, hoping he would take the other. He didn’t. He sat in the middle, crossing his long legs and swivelling his body towards her, resting one arm across the sofa’s low backrest, his other hand holding his glass.
He appeared to be totally relaxed. Nicole had never been more tense. She was almost certain that, when he judged the moment was right, he was going to put his glass on the table and his other hand would come snaking along the backrest to draw her into his arms.
Her problem was that common sense told her it would be crazy to let him get away with it, but all the rest of her senses were voting the other way. She was consumed with longing to be held close to that hard chest and kissed by those firm male lips. Overwhelming attraction was not an emotion she was accustomed to dealing with. Instinctively she distrusted it.
To postpone the moment of decision—if her instinct was right—she said, ‘I still can’t believe I’m here. It all feels slightly unreal.’
He drank some wine. ‘That’s an effect of jet lag. It will feel more real tomorrow when your body clock has begun to adjust.’
Then, so casually and unhurriedly that it took her by surprise, he removed the glass from her hand and set it on the table with his own.
‘I’ve been wanting to kiss you all evening,’ he told her. And did.
Forewarned was not forearmed, Nicole discovered. She had been braced for this to happen, yet his mouth was on hers before she could do a thing to prevent it. And the instant their lips met, she didn’t want to.
It was not a tentative kiss. It took her response for granted without going too far too fast. He gave her time to adjust to an unfamiliar embrace before tightening the arm round her waist and moving his other hand upwards till it reached the nape of her neck.
Knowing it was now or never, she mustered enough self-control to flatten her palms on his chest and push him away. ‘Dr Strathallen...please...this isn’t a good idea.’
Without releasing his hold, he allowed her to fend him off. To her astonishment, he laughed. ‘You can’t call a man you’ve been kissing by his surname. Try Alex. It won’t commit you to anything you don’t want,’ he added, his grey eyes mocking her formality, but with a warmth it was very hard to resist.
‘I definitely don’t want this,’ she told him firmly, wishing she meant it.
‘I think you do...we both do...but I’m not going to pressure you.’ He let her go, leaning back against the cushions and watching her with a combination of undisguised desire and amusement. ‘We’re both old enough to know what we’re doing. We want each other. Why pretend otherwise?’
‘We hardly know each other.’
‘OK, if that’s how you feel, I’d better say goodnight. Just one more kiss and then to my solitary bed.’
With the same disconcerting swiftness that had caught her off guard before, he took her chin in his hand and brushed three feather-light kisses on her lips, the tip of her nose and her forehead. ‘Sleep well...if you can sleep. Finish the wine. That might help.’
He rose and walked to his door where he turned to say, ‘We need to breakfast at seven so you’d better fix a wake-up call. Goodnight.’
Nicole didn’t linger in the sitting room after he closed his door. She put the bottle in the ice box, turned out the lights by the switches next to her door and, leaving his glass on the table, took hers into her room.
She was both relieved and disappointed. She couldn’t fault the way he had handled her rejection, but felt that a nicer man wouldn’t have made a pass on such short acquaintance. He couldn’t have rated her highly to think she would jump into bed with him the third time they met. Not that it seemed like only their third encounter. For a second or two, in his arms, she had felt strangely at home. But perhaps that was just because she had spent so many wakeful nights with an imaginary lover with strong arms and warm lips but a face she could never see clearly.
The wake-up call organised, she got ready for bed, lay down and turned out the light. ‘If you can sleep,’ he had said, knowing that, even if she denied it, she had wanted him and still did.
The frissons she had experienced earlier this evening were as nothing to what she felt now. Every nerve in her body seemed to be clamouring for his touch. Against her will, she tried to imagine him making love to her. But she couldn’t. She had no idea what he would be like as a lover, except that he would be different from the men she had known and now wished she hadn’t.
No, that wasn’t quite true. She could never regret the circumstances that had given her Dan.
Alex had had a cold shower and now was reading in bed but finding concentration difficult. He didn’t regret making his move too soon because at least it had proved that she wanted to go to bed with him even if her moral code forbade it.
He had felt the excited beating of her heart while he was holding her. Her arousal, if less obvious than his own, had been evident in her flushed cheeks and dazed expression. Had she really disliked what had happened, she would have looked very different and told him off far more sharply. The memory of that endearingly absurd protest, ‘Dr Strathallen...please...’ made him smile.
In a way he was glad she had turned him down...this time. If she had been a pushover, he knew he would soon have lost interest. He liked women with minds of their own who didn’t just go with the flow.
Next morning Nicole had packed her things and was ready to go when she heard voices in the sitting room. One of the speakers was Alex but the language he was using wasn’t English.
When, quietly, she opened the door she found him chatting to a couple of waiters. The conversation was obviously amusing them. All three were smiling, showing off their white teeth. Nicole had always thought good teeth an important asset. Dissatisfied with the treatment offered by her parents’ elderly dentist, she was having her son’s teeth looked after by a more up to date orthodontist. She wanted Dan to grow up with straight sexy teeth like Alex’s.
He noticed her standing in the doorway. ‘Good morning. Come and have breakfast.’
Reverting to the language he and the men had been using, he appeared to be thanking and dismissing them.
‘Was that Hindi or Urdu?’ she asked, as they left the room.
Alex drew out a chair for her. ‘It was Hindi. Although they’re written differently, there’s very little difference between them in speech. You could compare them with American-English and the English spoken in England.’
Nicole had expected their conversation this morning to be constrained by what had happened last night. But as Alex was behaving as if nothing had happened, she made an effort to seem equally at ease.
‘Tea or coffee?’ he asked. ‘I ordered both, not knowing which you preferred at this time of day.’
‘Tea for me. What about you?’
‘Coffee...when it’s available.” He glanced at the stainless steel watch on his left wrist. ‘How long will it take you to pack?’
‘I’m ready to go...apart from brushing my teeth again.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘What time did you get up?’ ‘An hour ago.’
Anticipating his next question and the provoking gleam in the eye that might accompany it, she focussed her attention on the tea he was pouring out for her rather than his face as he asked, ‘Sleep well?’
‘Yes, thanks. Did you?’
She expected a teasing answer such as ‘Not as well as I might have done’ and was grateful when he said only, ‘I don’t when the bed is too soft, but die beds here are firm. A lot of my nights are spent lying on a Therm-A-Rest.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a thin mattress used by wilderness travellers. But when Prince Kesri hosts one of his Desert Stars expeditions, the guests sleep on camp beds in magnificent tents. They’re paying big bucks and don’t expect to have to rough it.’
‘Tell me a
bout Prince Kesri. Considering he’ll be my employer, I know very little about him.’
Alex said, ‘You’ll be meeting him in a few hours and can form your own impression.’
It seemed an enigmatic answer. She wondered why he wouldn’t share his own view of the Prince with her.
It wasn’t until they reached the airport that she discovered they weren’t catching a scheduled flight but were flying in the Prince’s private aircraft piloted by Alex.
‘No need to be nervous. I’ve been flying since I was eighteen,’ he told her.
‘I’m not nervous,’ she assured him, wishing Dan were here to share the experience. ‘How far is it from Delhi to Karangarh?’
‘The rail journey, via Jodhpur, takes a day and a night. Only the toughest backpackers attempt the journey by bus. By air it takes about three hours. The aerial view of the fortress is something you won’t forget.’
‘How do you do, Miss Dawson? I’m delighted to meet you. Welcome to Karangarh.’
As he shook hands with her, Nicole thought she had never seen a more spectacularly handsome man than Prince Kesri. Only slightly shorter than Alex and equally broad of shoulder, he had the kind of looks that would easily have brought him stardom in films or TV, or male supermodel status in the magazine world, if his role in life hadn’t been fixed before he was born.
He had charm as well, oodles of it. But, for her, he lacked something that Alex had, something hard to define but even more noticeable when they were standing near each other. She had no doubt that most other women would unhesitatingly vote for the Prince if asked to make a choice between them. Even without his title and his extraordinary inheritance, he would have been highly eligible. But strangely, despite his status, he didn’t have Alex’s inherent air of authority, the steel she felt was the core of his personality.
Over a delicious lunch in the comfortable informality of his private quarters, the Prince proved himself an amusing and relaxed companion. It was soon apparent that he and the Scot were on very close terms with each other.
After one cup of coffee, Alex excused himself, saying he had things to do. Taking this as a signal for them both to leave, Nicole rose.
‘No. no, don’t go yet, Nicole.’ At the beginning of the meal the Prince had asked her permission to use her first name. ‘I’d like you to stay a little longer.’
His first question, when they were alone, was, ‘Am I right in thinking you’re a little nervous of Alex?’ Before she could answer, he went on, ‘I’ve heard him described as formidable and sometimes he can be...particularly with pretty women. There is a reason for that which, when you’ve been here longer, I will tell you. In the meantime, don’t be upset if at times he seems brusque and offhand. His bark is much worse than his bite...unless someone really gets on the wrong side of him and I’m sure you will never do that’
‘I hope not,’ she said. intensely curious to know more about the reason he had mentioned.
She wondered how the Prince would react if he knew that, far from being offhand, his friend had already made a pass at her.
‘We met at Eton,’ he went on. ‘I was miserably homesick. I hated the weather and the food. I longed for the sun and the colourful world I was used to. Alex was the only person who understood how I felt. He helped me through that bad time. I am forever in his debt. Now let me show you the rooms we have prepared for you. I hope you won’t be homesick.’
‘I’m sure I shan’t, Your Highness.’
‘There’s no need to be formal when we’re in private. My staff and the people of Karangarh continue to address me as they did my father and grandfather. Officially, the princely order was abolished in 1971. But old customs die hard... especially in places as remote as this.’
Later that afternoon Nicole was lying on the sofa in her sitting room when there was a knock at the door.
Not knowing the Hindi equivalent of ‘Come in’, she swung her feet to the floor, intending to admit whoever was there. She was halfway across the room when Alex came in.
‘Hello...how are you getting on?’
‘Finding it hard to adjust to acres of space. This room...a bedroom and bathroom...a studio twice this size...plus my own private roof garden and a balcony. My background is middle-class suburbia. This is all rather overpowering.’
As she spoke she remembered that, like the Prince, Alex had been educated at England’s most exclusive public school. Only the super-rich could afford to send their sons there. Although he himself seemed classless, lacking all trace of upper-crust snobbishness, his background might be rather grand.
‘You’ll soon get used to it. Have you met your maid yet?’
‘No, but it must have been she who unpacked all my things while we were having lunch.’
On their arrival at the palace, at Alex’s suggestion, she had given her keys to a dignified butlerish person.
‘Her name is Tara which in Hindi means star. If you put out the clothes you want to wear this evening, by the time we get back she’ll have pressed them.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘I’m taking you for a stroll through the old town, if that’s OK with you. If it isn’t just say no...as you did last night,’ he added, his smile disarming her.
She decided to take it lightly. ‘To a stroll I’ll always say yes. I need to change my shoes. What sort of clothes ought I to wear this evening?’
‘We’ll be eating à deux at the hotel. The dress code is what’s called “smart casual”. The skirt and shirt you wore last night would be fine.’
‘Won’t you sit down? I shan’t be long.’
Nicole went through to the bedroom. When she looked in the large free-standing wardrobe where all her clothes had been hung, she found some were missing, including the ones worn last night. Selecting another shirt and skirt, she spread them on the bed, then changed her soft-soled house shoes for a sturdier pair.
‘Finding your way in and out of the palace can be a puzzle at first,’ said Alex, when she rejoined him. ‘Do you have a good sense of direction?’
‘I think so, but it’s never been seriously tested.’
‘You’ll soon learn the short cuts. This is a quick way to the ramparts of the city.’
By a network of passages and stairways he led her to a doorway to a courtyard and thence through another courtyard where, outside a door in the wall, they startled a man in a scarlet turban who had been dozing.
‘The guardian of the door,’ said Alex when, after he and the elderly Indian had exchanged friendly greetings, they left him to resume his nap when they were out of sight. ‘It’s hardly ever used. Basically he’s one of the palace pensioners.’
‘Prince Kesri told me you and he were at school together...that he used to visit your home and sometimes you came here.’
‘Yes, we go back a long way.’ He glanced down at her. ‘Quite a heart-throb, isn’t he?’
‘Very good-looking and charming,’ she agreed. ‘Why isn’t he married?’
‘Because for the time being he prefers to play the field,’ Alex said dryly. ‘There’s a new intake of guests arriving this evening. You’ll see him in action...if the women include someone he fancies. In public life he’s an ardent reformer, in private an ardent womaniser. Don’t say you haven’t been warned.’
‘It sounds as if you’re two of a kind.’
‘We’re close friends...we’re not alike. If anything we’re opposites.’
She couldn’t resist retorting, ‘You certainly gave the impression of being a womaniser last night.’
‘Are you trying to convince me you’d rather I didn’t find you attractive?’ he asked. ‘I don’t buy that, Nicole. You feel the same way that I do. The attraction is mutual, as these things usually are. A one-sided attraction is rare. Tell me, hand on heart, that you don’t feel a thing and I’ll back off and stay backed off.’
She couldn’t and he knew she couldn’t.
She said, ‘I’m here to work, not to have an affair. I have room in my li
fe for friendships, but not for a casual liaison which is what you have in mind. That sort of thing doesn’t interest me. I would rather wait until I meet someone I can care for in the fullest sense. Physical attraction doesn’t last long.’
‘Are you speaking from experience?’
‘Since you ask—yes. But I don’t want to discuss it.’
‘All right, we’ll drop the subject. If friendship is what you want, friendship is what you shall have.’ He broke his leisurely stride to offer her his hand. ‘Let’s shake on it.’
Deep in her heart, Nicole felt a pang of dismay. Though she didn’t like to admit it, even to herself, this was more than she had bargained for. But having more or less demanded them, she couldn’t reject his terms.
‘Good...that’s fine...thank you,’ she said awkwardly, placing her hand in his.
As his long fingers closed over hers, she remembered feeling them at the nape of her neck last night. Her heartbeat quickened. Forcing herself not to pull her hand free and reveal to him how much even this casual contact affected her, she waited until he released it and they moved on.
The ramparts surrounding the fortress gave a bird’s-eye view of the less picturesque town that had grown on one side of the old city. But from other parts of the ramparts the new town was lost to view. There was only the desert stretching into the far distance, unchanged since the fortress was built eight hundred years before.
‘It’s been called the city at the end of the world,’ said Alex. ‘The rulers of this and the other medieval forts were known as the wolf packs of the desert.’
As he talked about Karangarh’s violent but colourful past, she had the feeling that he would have preferred those adventurous times to the era he lived in. Most of the men she encountered were domesticated animals who spent their days behind desks and their evenings watching television. Alex was different. It wasn’t hard to visualise him with a sword in his hand, or directing the ambush and capture of one of the great caravans traversing the ancient trade routes.