by Lucy Gordon
Fran lay staring into the distance, happy, but troubled. At last she knew the truth about herself that she had suspected, and feared. Cool, efficient Frances Callam, who’d always prided herself on her good sense, her rational approach to every situation, was actually a woman who became a slave to her sensations in her lover’s arms. His touch, his kiss, could make the real world vanish. In his embrace she had no will but to stay there for ever. And that scared her.
Now she was herself again, passionately loving the man who lay beside her, but still herself, separate from him, and knowing that this was right. For if she were not separate, what did she have to give him?
He stirred and woke, gazing directly at her, and at something she saw in his eyes she felt her resolve weaken. What did anything matter but being with him?
He touched her cheek. ‘Is all well with you, my Lady Almas Faiza?’
‘Almost too well,’ she whispered.
‘How can that be?’
‘Because it’s dangerous to be so happy.’
‘Words. Happiness is every lover’s right. You give me such joy. In return, everything I have is yours.’
Now she should demand her freedom, but she put it off. She couldn’t bear to spoil this moment.
‘I’ve wondered why you called me Faiza?’ she said. ‘Whose victory were you celebrating?’
He looked at her with lazy, contented eyes. ‘And now you know the answer. Come here, lady, and conquer me again.’
Unable to resist, she did so, and in the sweetness of that loving all fears were forgotten. Their second loving was like their first in ardour, but with a new sense of discovery. They knew each other’s bodies and explored them eagerly and with tenderness. Afterwards they fell asleep again. But when Fran awoke the problems were greater than ever, and she knew that they had to be faced.
‘What shall we do today?’ he murmured. ‘The desert again?’
‘No, not the desert.’
‘What, then, my life?’
She took a deep breath and crossed her fingers.
‘Ali, let me go home.’
He stared. ‘Let you go? Now? When we have just truly found each other?’
‘But what have we found? I can’t love you as your prisoner.’
‘As long as you love me, does it matter how?’
‘It does to me.’
He yawned and stretched. ‘I think I will keep you with me for ever. Never speak of leaving me.’
‘But-’
‘Silence, woman,’ he said, drawing her into his arms and covering her mouth.
It was sweet to be there, sweeter still to kiss him and feel his desire. But there was a core of independence in her that wouldn’t let her yield. Summoning all her strength, she freed herself from him.
‘Come back to me,’ he said, laughing and trying to take hold of her again.
‘No! Ali, I’m serious. This is beautiful, but it’s unreal.’
‘Then enjoy it as unreality. But if you must be so serious I will do something to please you. You may visit the Water Company and ask them any questions you like. They will have my orders to tell you everything.’
‘Oh, you’re so clever,’ she breathed. ‘Buying me off with titbits.’
‘It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but you think you can talk me round so easily.’
He tightened his arms, pulling her hard against his chest.
‘What I think is that, while I’m stronger than you, I don’t need to talk you round,’ he growled.
He spoke humorously, but beneath the teasing it was still an assertion of power, one step short of outright tyranny.
And again he’d managed to confuse her. As a journalist she would give her eye-teeth to get into the Water Company, and he knew that. It also implied that he would soon release her to return home and write her story. So she had nothing to worry about. And yet…
She knew the next words were unwise, but nothing could stop her saying them.
‘Aren’t you afraid that while I’m in there I’ll find a way of escape?’
He released her abruptly and sat up. When he turned, the change in his face shocked her. It was as though winter had come.
‘If you ever tried to leave me,’ he said in a hard voice, ‘I would never forgive you.’
Rising, he pulled on his clothes, and left without looking at her.
CHAPTER NINE
A T ANY other time the visit to the Water Company would have thrilled Fran. As Ali had promised, everyone had orders to help her, and what she learned about the work was fascinating. Many women worked there, one of whom was deputed to accompany her, and who seemed extremely knowledgeable. Wryly, Fran thought she could hear Ali laughing at her.
But while she listened and smiled, and asked intelligent questions, she couldn’t banish the picture of his face as she had seen it that morning, threatening never to forgive her.
She left in the early afternoon and settled in the gardens, writing up her notes. When she’d finished she put her notebook away and wandered about the gardens, watching the play of the fountains, wondering what would happen next. She and Ali should have talked about the problem this morning, but instead, after the most wonderful night of her life, he’d simply silenced discussion like a dictator, and walked out. A shiver went through her at the memory.
She sat on the edge of the largest fountain and leaned over to gaze down into the water. Suddenly another reflection joined hers, and she looked up, smiling, to find Yasir beside her.
‘I believe in England you say “a penny for them”,’ he said merrily.
‘That’s right.’
‘What strange thoughts you must be having to bring such a melancholy smile to your face. Are you happy or sad?’
‘Both,’ she said with a sigh.
‘I’m a very good listener.’
He led her away from the fountain and they began to stroll down winding paths.
‘Isn’t Ali treating you right?’ Yasir asked sympathetically. ‘I’d heard that you please him so well that he piles every luxury onto you.’
‘But the thing I want most isn’t a luxury,’ she protested. ‘It’s a right. I want my freedom.’
‘You seem free enough to me,’ he said, looking around. ‘I see no guards.’
‘Who needs guards in the middle of the desert? Where could I run to?’
‘True. But do you really want to run from Ali?’
‘Not really,’ she admitted. ‘If I had my freedom, I’d probably use it to come back to him.’
‘But that would be your own choice, so it would be different.’
‘Yes, that’s it!’ she cried. ‘You understand. Why can’t he?’
‘My cousin Ali is a splendid fellow, but when he’s got what he wants he thinks that’s the end of the matter.’
‘I know,’ Fran said with feeling. ‘And it’s never going to be right with us unless I can come to him freely.’
Yasir nodded. ‘You two are perfect together. I hate to think of him spoiling it through pigheadedness. I have a little house near here. You can use my telephone to call the British ambassador.’
‘Yasir, really? As simple as that?’
‘As simple as that. We could go now.’
He took her hand and drew her away down a narrow path. She hurried with him, anxious not to lose this unexpected chance.
Yasir’s ‘little house’ turned out to be a modest palace, overly ornate and generally too much like the rest of him. Fran hurried in after him and looked around for a telephone.
‘Up there,’ he said, grasping her hand and mounting the stairs.
She could hardly believe that she was going to find a way out at last. She had a brief moment of hesitation. It was tempting to stay here, living a dream of love with Ali, but she knew it was a temptation she must refuse.
‘In here,’ Yasir said, throwing open a door and drawing her through.
She found herself in an ornate bedroom, heavily hung in crimson broca
de. One wall was bare of drapes, covered with knives of all kinds. Swords, daggers, scimitars, curved knives, long narrow knives, short thick knives. The air was heavy with some exotic perfume that Fran found vaguely displeasing, especially when joined to the disagreeable impression made by the weapons. But she had no time to worry about it.
There was a telephone by the bed and she snatched up the receiver.
‘How do I call the ambassador?’ she asked urgently.
She thought perhaps Yasir hadn’t heard her, for he only smiled. Fran put the receiver to her ear, but heard nothing. The phone was dead.
Then she noticed that Yasir was holding the wire in his hand. He had pulled it out of the wall. As she watched, he turned the key in the door.
And now she realised that there was something horrible about his smile.
‘I want to call the ambassador,’ she said, more firmly than she felt.
‘I’m afraid that wouldn’t suit me. I prefer that you stay here-with me. Ali can have you back when I’ve finished. If he still wants you by then. Which is doubtful.’
Why had she ever thought this was a charming young man? Behind the handsome face his eyes were cold and dead.
‘You’re mad,’ she breathed, backing away from him. ‘What do you think Ali will do to you?’
‘Oh, he’ll be very angry at first, but I’ll just make myself scarce for a while and he’ll forget. Women matter very little in this country, and the idea of two men carrying on a feud because of one is ridiculous.’
‘But it’s not about that, is it?’ she said to keep him talking. ‘Not on your side.’
‘How clever of you. No, you’re just the instrument. Ali will get over this in time, but he’ll suffer, and that’s what matters. All my life he’s taken everything from me, including the throne that ought to be mine. Now I’ve taken something from him. And I’m going to enjoy it.’
He made a determined move towards her. She backed off. Alarm was rising as she saw the dimensions of the trap she’d walked into. Yasir’s apparent good nature was a mask that deceived even Ali. Beneath it was cold hatred, and it was all turned on her.
Yasir was smiling again, a cruel smile, as though he was relishing the fight to come. Fran forced herself to stay calm and stop backing away. Yasir looked at her breast rising and falling, clearly enjoying himself. He didn’t see that she had changed the shape of her hand, so that it was balled into a fist except for two fingers. He came close, reached out to grab her.
The next moment he let out a yell of agony as Fran rammed her extended fingers into his solar plexus, with all her force. He doubled up, clutching his middle, his face contorted with pain and outrage.
But he was between her and the door. She was still trapped with a vicious man who no longer cared what he did, as long as he could show his hate.
‘You are going to be very sorry for that,’ he grated.
‘Not as sorry as you’ll be when Ali hears,’ she said breathlessly.
‘He won’t care about you once he knows you came with me. You’ll be so much waste to be disposed of.’
‘You’re lying to convince yourself. Ali loves me.’
He was still gasping, but he bared his teeth in a travesty of a grin. ‘You westerners with your foolish notions about men and women. Women are playthings, and he knows that as well as any man, whatever he may have told you. He’ll tell you himself, always assuming that he bothers to see you again. Now come here.’
Behind her was the wall with the knives. Unable to see what she was doing, she scrabbled and felt a hilt against her fingers. She wrenched, and to her relief it came off easily. Holding Yasir’s eyes with her own, she brought it around to the front. It had a long, wicked-looking blade.
‘I will use this if I have to,’ she said deliberately.
‘Don’t be a fool,’ he sneered. ‘I’m a prince and Ali’s cousin. Shed my blood and see what your lover does with you. It won’t be pleasant.’
She had a terrible fear that he might be right, but she kept her face impassive while she raised the knife to the level of his eyes and thrust it towards him in a series of little jabbing movements. As she’d hoped, he jerked his head back. She kept coming forward, trying to get between him and the door, but she couldn’t manage it. It was stalemate. She could keep him off, but not defeat him.
And then she heard a commotion below, the sound of footsteps running upstairs, a man’s voice that sounded like Ali’s- Oh, please God!
Yasir heard it too. His eyes glittered with spite. Moving too fast for her to follow, he grabbed the knife by the thin blade and pulled his hand down it. The next moment there was blood everywhere as the razor edge sliced his arm. He fell back to the floor at the exact moment that the door crashed in, and Ali stood there with a face as black as thunder. Behind him stood two huge men in the uniform of his personal guard.
‘Arrest her!’ Yasir shrieked. ‘She tried to kill me. I’m bleeding to death.’
The guards made as if to move but Ali raised a hand and they fell back. He stood in silence, looking from Fran, stood holding the blood-stained knife, to his cousin.
‘Give that to me,’ he said to her.
‘Ali-listen to me-’
‘Give it to me,’ he repeated in a voice of deadly quiet.
In despair she handed him the knife. He turned away from her, dropped to his knees beside Yasir, and examined his wound. At last he rose.
‘Guards,’ he said in a voice that was cold and bleak, ‘arrest this man.’
‘She’s a murderess!’ Yasir cried.
‘If she had killed you, it would have been no more than you deserve,’ Ali said. ‘Think yourself lucky that I don’t kill you myself. Take him away. Have his wound tended and see that he is watched at all times.’
Yasir set up a howl of rage, but the guards ignored it, raising him and hauling him off.
Fran leaned back against the wall, faint with relief.
‘I thought you were going to-’
‘You should have known me better,’ Ali said. ‘But we can talk later. Come.’
He was wearing long, flowing robes. He put an arm about her shoulders, enfolding her in a gesture of protection, and led her out of the house. He held her like that until they reached her tent.
‘He only wanted to get me away from you to make you suffer,’ she gasped, weeping. ‘I took the knife from his wall to fend him off, but I never used it. He cut himself deliberately when he heard your voice. Ali, you must believe me-’
‘Hush, I do believe you. He will be punished, never fear.’
‘How did you know where I was?’
‘Leena saw you speaking to him in the garden. She understood the danger better than you, and fetched me. You are shaking.’
She was trembling violently, from her own actions as much as Yasir’s. Ali took her face between his hands.
‘You were very foolish to go with him, but you were also wonderful. I am proud of you. My lady is a tigress.’
‘I thought you were going to arrest me-’
‘Then you did me an injustice. As though I could ever doubt you.’
His trust in her was unbearable. Fran forced herself to say, ‘Ali, I have to be honest with you. I went to Yasir’s house because I was trying to escape you.’
He stared at her blankly. ‘You went from me to him?’
‘No, of course not. I went because he told me I could telephone the British ambassador. Don’t look at me like that! You knew I wanted to get away.’
‘You-meant to leave me? Using the help of that creature?’
‘I didn’t know what he was like or I wouldn’t have gone with him,’ she cried. ‘What was I to do? Ali, this has to end; I must leave here.’
‘After last night-the closeness we discovered?’
‘It’s because of last night.’
‘Are you saying I was wrong?’ he asked in disbelief. ‘That I only imagined what happened to us in each other’s arms?’
‘No, you didn’t imagine i
t, but-this place is unreal. I’m not myself here, but somebody else that I don’t know. And if I don’t know who I am, how do I know what I have to give you?’
Looking into his face, she saw that he didn’t understand a word. For all his western ways, Ali was still part of a culture where it didn’t matter who-or what-the woman was, as long as she pleased the man. Fran’s ideas about giving herself in freedom had no meaning for him.
‘Ali, please try to understand,’ she begged. ‘This has to stop. It’s been wonderful but-it’s time for me to leave.’
To her dismay, his face hardened. ‘That is for me to say.’
‘But it’s madness to think we can go on like this. Can’t you see that-?’
‘I see only that it’s for me to make the decisions. I will not be dictated to by you or any other woman.’
‘You said if I tried to leave you you’d never forgive me,’ Fran cried in desperation. ‘Well, I tried. So where does that leave us?’
‘It leaves you exactly where you were before,’ he said in an iron voice. ‘Subject to my wishes. Did you imagine my anger would make me send you away? Don’t think it for a moment. If we’re enemies, that would make another reason for keeping you here. Do you understand me?’
The cold implacability in his face made his meaning all too clear. Fran shivered.
‘I offered you a life as my favourite, honoured by everyone, including myself. And you threw it back in my face,’ he said coldly. ‘Beware lest you find that the life of a discarded favourite is even less to your liking.’
‘That’s all you understand, isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘The language of force.’
‘Diamond, I have no wish to quarrel with you. I prefer to think of this as an aberration, best forgotten on both sides. I said that I would not forgive you, but I do, because I can’t help myself. Let us put this behind us, and return to that world where we are one.’
‘I don’t think we can ever return to that world,’ she said sadly. ‘It didn’t really exist.’
She wasn’t sure when he’d moved towards her, but suddenly he seemed very close, dominating her by his sheer intense vitality. Fran tried to step back from him but she couldn’t move. When he touched her she trembled.