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Far Sanctuary

Page 17

by Jane Arbor


  “I - I’d heard them myself and, when you came in from the patio, I was praying you hadn’t been there all the time. If you loved Leonore, I didn’t want you to find her out. At least, not like that. They’d been making a rendezvous for another evening, I knew, and when you came to the villa that very night I was afraid you would ask me if I knew where Leonore was. And of course I did.”

  “Equally - so did I! She was safely out somewhere with Galatas; Pilar was still on the sick list - which meant that I could hope to find you alone.”

  “You came, wanting to see me?”

  “Meaning to see you - or else! Hadn’t I warned Mulay Kassem to expect us to dinner?”

  “Oh -! So that explains how that dish - the pastella - which takes hours to prepare, could have been made for me. At the time, I thought I couldn’t have heard the Shereef Kassem aright. Oh, Mark, why didn’t you let me know that night what you felt about me?”

  “I wanted to. I tried. But even when I made an excuse to kiss you, you didn’t respond.”

  “I’d only just forced myself to face the truth that I was in love with you, and I didn’t dare respond.”

  “And I took it that you were comparing me with Galatas - distinctly to his advantage!”

  “But if you already knew about him and Leonore -?"

  Mark turned to look full at her for a moment. “My darling, use your experience! Love can be one-sided. To exist, it doesn’t have to be returned, and I thought you were infatuated with Galatas, even though I guessed he was only making the most of his opportunities with you. I could have pitied you if I hadn’t loved you so desperately myself, and I was left to snatch at crumbs - as I did, if you remember when I practically kidnapped you and your posy for the Flower Dance!”

  Emma laughed tremulously. “And Pilar and I thought you’d been mortally insulted by Leonore! ”

  Reflectively, Mark touched his cheek. “By Spanish standards I’d been given the cut direct, I suppose. In reality, the worst blow to my pride was to come - when I thought you were hankering to keep a thread tied to both your men, Galatas and Trench. Fool that I was, I almost despised myself for loving you when I found you in that fellow’s arms. To think that it took a cloudburst and a landslide to teach me that love doesn’t know any standards of pride! It’s just love, and there it is –”

  Emma shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t want you to love me, despising me at the same time.” Her mouth curved in a very faint smile. “Would it help to convince you, for instance, that there was nothing serious about Ramón’s embrace when I tell you that he was only expressing his enthusiastic thanks for his taxi fare with which to carry the news of his inheritance to Leonore?”

  “His taxi fare! You mean you had to lend our newest millionaire the wherewithal to pay off his taxi? How much, for pity’s sake?”

  “I gave him a hundred pesetas and hoped for the best I gather he’d already done the round of the café-bars, and the taxi had been ticking up outside the villa for some time. He returned the money the next day. But by then,” Emma added demurely, “he was sober. So he only kissed my hand.”

  Mark threw back his head delightedly. “Oh, lovely joke

  and on me! Let’s laugh and laugh, Emma, my sweet. For we’ve wasted too much time already, and laughter is one of the best things to be shared!”

  Emma’s dancing eyes met his willingly enough. But when the echoes of their merriment presently died, they shared a silence which was just as sweet.

  It had been dark before they had reached the walled fastness of Xauen, nestled at the foot of rugged, towering Beni Hassan, where no European had set foot until forty years ago. They had called first on Señor and Señora Silves, and Emma had heard Mark describe her in Spanish as his “betrothed”. Meanwhile, the rain had stopped at last; stars had come out to prick the dark sky, and after dining in the modern hotel where Emma would spend the night, they were sitting on its covered terrace, listening to the swollen rush of the river which watered Xauen’s orchards, while they watched the lights of the little town winking all over the valley.

  Before the meal, they had telephoned the Villa Mirador to give news of their whereabouts, but keeping their own news back for a later telling. And while they had dined they had talked of their immediate plans.

  Emma must return to the villa, of course, for the few days before Pilar’s wedding. But immediately afterwards - and Mark liked this idea - she would go, as she had intended, to Gibraltar to stay with the Marguans.

  “Could you be married from there?” Mark asked.

  “Married? Oh -! No, I don’t suppose so. I could hardly stay so long!”

  “I’ve always understood that the average marriage ceremony takes about half an hour.

  Emma blushed and laughed. “You know I didn’t mean that!”

  “Well then, I believe the most rigidly binding contract can be implemented in something under three days.”

  “You know I didn’t mean that, either. And I don’t want to be married in a hurry. I - I’ve got to get used to the idea!”

  “Well then,” Mark was obviously enjoying her confusion - “I must use my influence to prevail upon your friends to keep you while you do become ‘used to the idea’. I’m not letting you escape further than Gib. That’s flat. I must see you every day.”

  “But how can you - from Tangier?”

  “And what do you suppose,” asked Mark, with lofty tolerance, “is the use of owning an airline if you can’t borrow an aircraft in which to fly to see your ‘best girl’ every day?”

  Emma laughed: “Oh, Mark, I’d completely forgotten Maritime-Air for the moment! All right. I’ll go to Gibraltar and beg the Marguans’ hospitality for as long as I dare. Mrs. Marguan did say I could stay indefinitely. But if it could be arranged, I think I’d like to be married in Tangier. It’s Tangier that I’ve grown to love —” She broke off and was silent for a while. Then:

  “Mark, there’s something I must ask because it frightens me, not knowing. You must have realized I should go back to England after Pilar married. Supposing today hadn’t happened, would you, knowing that you loved me, have let me go without a word?”

  He put out a hand to her and drew her to her feet. Holding her close, he said: “No. I know now quite certainly that I shouldn’t. Pride and fear were keeping me back, but I told myself I should see you at Pilar’s wedding and that, somehow - somehow -I must get you to myself to tell you all that you know now. It could be hopeless, I thought. But I wanted you to know.”

  She did not tell him that, so very nearly, she had not stayed for Pilar’s wedding. She would not question with “If” and “Supposing” any more. It was enough to be here in his arms. Breast to breast with him, she was content with his nearness, asking nothing more.

  But his hold was closer, more urgent now, and the pounding of his heart became one with the quickened beat of her own as he buried his face in the curve of her neck and murmured incoherencies of pleading and gratitude and relief.

  She had not known that love could bring a man to such surrender. It put her in awe of her power with him until his lips sought hers in their first long kiss of passion. Then she was drawn in upon the arrogant tide of his desire, and she was reassured that, in the infinite age-old rightness of mating, they would hold a sweet balance between them - the surrender as equally hers as the power would be his.

  Presently they were quiet - close still, but briefly withdrawn into their own thoughts, and Emma found herself wondering at the pattern of fortune which had brought her such a long way, in distance and experience, to this moment in the enfolding darkness, fragrant with the after-scent of rain.

  This sky, alien once, was hers now; to this country her comings and goings of the future would belong. This she accepted without question, for her trust went hand in hand with her love. It was the fulfilment of love itself which was as yet the far place, the uncharted country- over-the-hill. But for her, with Mark, it would always be sanctuary, the place that was also home.


  She stirred in his arms and drew closer.

  “What-?” he asked of the eyes she lifted to his face.

  “Nothing. Just making sure that I’m really here. That you are —”

  “I shall always be here,” he said.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

 

 

 


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