by Anne Mather
Alain drew a steadying breath, and Ashley swayed a little as he released her arm. ‘Miss Conway’s mare bolted, Hussein,’ he replied, as Muhammed dismounted also and came towards them. ‘Will you take Miss Conway back to the palace, Muhammed? I fear she is not strong enough to continue on to Numara.’
Muhammed bowed his head in acquiescence, and even Hussein looked mollified by this news. But Ashley was curiously loath to be despatched back to the palace like a unwanted parcel, and pushing back the tumbled weight of her hair, she put her hand on Alain’s sleeve.
‘Really,’ she said, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fine silk, ‘I’m all right, Alain, honestly.’
She realised her mistake the moment Hussein sucked in his breath. In spite of his growing attachment to her, she was still only the governess, and to hear her using his uncle’s Christian name seemed worthy of castigation in his childish eyes. With an open mouth displaying his outrage, he watched his uncle with bated breath, and Ashley, realising she had made the error, hastily tried to redeem her mistake.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she burst out hurriedly, withdrawing her hand in some confusion. ‘Prince Alain, you must forgive me. I—I don’t know what came over me. I think I must still be a little dizzy after falling from the horse.’
Hussein’s mouth closed, but his sense of indignation remained, and it was left to Alain to restore the status quo. ‘It is completely understandable,’ he said, his voice taut and unnatural. ‘And I think you must agree that it would be—safer to return to the palace. Muhammed will escort you, and I trust you will feel better soon.’
‘I’m sure I shall.’ Ashley spoke a little stiffly now, her blood cooling to leave the disturbing weight of what had happened bearing down upon her. ‘Thank—thank you for your concern, Prince Alain.’
Alain turned abruptly away from her, as if he could not bear to go on looking at her, and putting his hands on Hussein’s waist he swung the boy back up on to his pony.
‘Until later, Muhammed,’ he muttered, in an undertone, mounting the black stallion, and Ashley watched with a dry mouth as her son and the man he regarded as his uncle rode off into the shimmering haze.
‘May I help you, mademoiselle?’ Muhammed’s respectful voice aroused her fromhe dark depths of her reveriend with a faint movement of her shoulders she nodded her head.
‘The boy meant no harm, mademoiselle,’ Muhammed added, as she placed her foot in his cupped hands, and she realised he had interpreted her dejection as a symptom of her hopeless love for Hussein. If only it was that simple, she thought, giving the tall Arab a grateful smile. If only Hussein’s love was all she craved…
CHAPTER TEN
THE day dragged interminably by. Aching in every limb from the unaccustomed exercise, Ashley waited tautly for the summons she was sure would come, but as the evening shadows lengthened, she conceded that Alain did not plan to discharge her tonight. Instead she allowed Nuzab to coax her into taking a bath, and before dinner was served she relaxed in the scented water the Arab girl had prepared for her. It was an unwilling indulgence, but Ashley’s tormented emotions were salved by Nuzab’s gentle massage, and she gave herself up to the unthinking, unfeeling numbness of inertia.
By the time her skin had been soaped and dried and scented with sandalwood, Ashley was feeling infinitely more optimistic. With the honey-gold curtain of her hair loose about her shoulders, she left Nuzab to empty the tub, and walked into her bedroom wrapping the cream silk robe Princess Hélène had given her about her slim body. There was no point in dressing again, she had decided. She would eat a little of the dinner Nuzab would serve, and then go to bed. Maybe Alain would send for her in the morning, or maybe he would not. Either way, there was no point in flaying herself unnecessarily.
Concentrating on tying the cord of her gown, she did not immediately notice the man who was standing in the open doorway that led from the salon into her bedroom, but when she did, she started abruptly, one hand going automatically to draw together the wrapover neckline of the robe.
‘Alain!’ she exclaimed, and then more composedly: ‘Prince Alain! Wh-what are you doing here? I—I thought you would be with your father by now.’
Alain watched her silently, his eyes brooding. It was an unnerving appraisal, worthy of Prince Ahmed at his most intimidating, and Ashley had to sustain that stare when she was unprepared and unarmed, and at her most vulnerable. It was not his attire that intimidated her. This evening he was wearing European clothes, and the dark brown velvet trousers that moulded the powerful length of his legs, and the full-sleeved silk shirt, accentuated his French ancestry rather than his Arab blood. But the expression in his cold blue eyes was totally alien, and she waited with real apprehension for the anger that was to come.
‘Where is Nuzab?’ he asked at last, straightening from his indolent stance and looking briefly beyond her, as if in enquiry.
‘She—she’s emptying the bath,’ replied Ashley tautly, tightening the cord of her robe almost symbolically. ‘I—er—won’t you go through to the salon? I’m sure we could talk more easily in there.’
Alain hesitated, and as he did so, Nuzab appeared behind Ashley. She bowed low when she saw her mistress’s visitor, then waited impassively for her instructions.
‘I shall be dining with Miss Conway this evening, Nuzab,’ Alain announced coolly, much to Ashley’s indignation. ‘You may bring the food when you are ready. We will serve ourselves.’
‘Yes, Said.’
Nuzab bowed again as she made her departure, and Ashley, on the point of countering his orders, bit her tongue. What was the use of arguing with him? He would always have his way here. And how could she use Nuzab as a weapon, when the Arab girl might only suffer later? She had grown attached to her dark-skinned companion, and she would not like Nuzab to be punished because of her.
Left alone with Alain, Ashley squared her shoulders. ‘As it appears you intend to stay for some time, monsieur, perhaps you would permit me to put on some clothes. I didn’t expect any visitors this evening, and as you can see, my toilette is not complete.’
‘I like what you are wearing,’ retorted Alain, without expression. ‘Come, we will do as you suggested and go into the salon. Nuzab will serve dinner there, and we have plenty of time.’
Ashley didn’t quite understand what he meant by this, but deciding not to provoke any unpleasantness, she walked past, him into the room beyond. He stood aside to allow her progress, and the heat of his skin seemed to reach out and envelop her. The smell of his body disturbed her; it was out of keeping with his cool exterior. But she seated herself with apparent calmness on a low couch, and wrapped her skirts about her bare legs.
‘I—I suppose you’ve come about—about what happened this morning,’ she began, speaking quickly because her nerves would not allow much more of this game of cat and mouse. ‘I—I know I was careless. I know I made a mistake. But—but surely anyone—anyone can do that?’
Alain came to stand some distance from her, his arms folded across his flat stomach, his booted feet stationed some inches apart. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, without answering her, and taking an unsteady breath, Ashley assured him that she was fine.
‘I—I was a little stiff, that’s all,’ she explained. ‘But—but I took a bath, and I’m feeling much—much better.’
‘Good.’ Alain inclined his head. ‘It could have been more serious. Fortunately, Medina was scarcely moving when you slipped from her back.’
‘Yes,’ Ashley nodded. ‘I—I have you to thank for that.’
Alain made no response to this statement, but his hands fell to his sides, and he moved restlessly across the room. ‘Nuzab takes her time,’ he remarked grimly. ‘How long does it take to wheel a trolley along a corridor?’
‘She’s only been gone a few minutes,’ Ashley demurred, stung by his impatience. Was he so eager to escape from the contamination of her presence? she wondered. And if so, why had he chosen to join her in the first place?
&
nbsp; She wished he would sit down. His pacing was almost as bad as his brooding assessment had been. What was he doing here? Why had he come? Why couldn’t he tell her, instead of keeping her in this awful state of suspense?
Tilting her head, she looked up at him determinedly, and squeezing all her small store of confidence together, she said: ‘Why don’t you tell me why you’ve really come here, Prince Alain?’
Her words halted him at least, and he turned to look at her with a piercing blue gaze. ‘Have done with calling me Prince Alain,’ he snapped harshly. ‘You do not think of me that way, any more than I think of you as Miss Conway, or Miss Gilbert either, for that matter.’ His mouth compressed. ‘We will wait until Nuzab has brought the food. I have no intention of discussing my affairs within the hearing of such sharp little ears.’
Ashley sighed, and bent her head. ‘But if you’re going to find some reason to dismiss me, isn’t she going to find out sooner or later?’ she asked dully, and started violently when he covered the space between them with almost threatening speed.
‘Did I say I was going to dismiss you?’ he demanded, his hand reaching out almost against his will, and twining convulsively in her hair. ‘So soft!’ he muttered. ‘So silky!’ He bent his head and pressed his face to a handful, only to step back jerkily when the heavy doors were suddenly propelled open.
If Nuzab saw anything unusual in the fact that her master’s son was standing suspiciously close to the young English governess’s couch, or observed that the fine silk fall of hair she herself had brushed was now a little dishevelled, she knew better than to reveal her reactions. Working diligently, she quickly laid a marble-topped table with silver dishes and silver cutlery, and left the various courses simmering above their tiny gas flames. Although the room was lit by lamps, she lighted two candles and set them on the table, and then offered her work for Ashley’s inspection, smiling shyly when she was complimented on her skill.
‘I will come back later to clear the dishes, lady,’ she said, but here again Alain intervened.
‘Miss Conway will summon you, if she needs your assistance,’ he declared, speaking with more brusqueness than was usual to the bowing Nuzab. ‘Go! Make yourself scarce. Your services will not be required tonight.’
Nuzab looked at Ashley, but she could only shake her head. Her own reactions to Alain’s words were too chaotic to extricate, and as soon as the Arab girl had left them she turned on her tormentor.
‘Did you have to do that?’ she demanded tautly. ‘Did you have to behave as if I was some kind of concubine with whom you intended to spend the night? For God’s sake, you know what the servants are like, Alain! What are you trying to do? Get your father to dismiss me on grounds of promiscuity?’
Alain’s eyes had narrowed in the course of her dissertation, and she trembled violently when he came to stand in front of her. ‘Would that be so bad?’ he murmured, rubbing the palm of one hand insistently over the silky robe on her shoulder. ‘Spending the night with me, I mean? Does that sound so objectionable to you?’
Ashley caught her breath and whirled away from him, putting half a dozen paces between them before she trusted herself to speak. ‘Is that what all this is about?’ she choked disbelievingly. ‘Is that what this elaborate charade is intended to achieve? An opportunity for you to spend the night with me, Alain?’ She gasped. ‘My God! And I thought you were going to fire me!’
‘There is no need for you to become hysterical, Ashley,’ Alain retorted tightly, the tip of his tongue moistening his lips. ‘It is what you have wanted—what we both have wanted—and I see no reason to deny us something so elemental.’
‘You don’t see any reason!’ Ashley swallowed convulsively. ‘God in Heaven! You have a nerve!’
‘Why? Why do I have a nerve?’ he asked insistently, moving irresistibly towards her. ‘Was it not always this way between us? Was it not always impossible to control?’
‘No! No!’ Ashley backed away from him nervously, and then, realising she was behaving foolishly, she forced herself to stand still. ‘I—I learned from—from Tariq exactly how—how controllable your feelings were, Alain, and—and I have no intention of allowing you to hurt me again!’
‘I? Hurt you?’ he enquired, with some incredulity. ‘Oh, Ashley, that was never the way.’ With careful indulgence he stroked the errant strands of hair back from her ears, and then bent his head to explore their hollows with his tongue. ‘You were not hurt, only thwarted,’ he whispered huskily, and she dragged herself back from him and raised her fists.
‘I think not,’ said Alain dryly, capturing her hands before they could reach their target. ‘You have no idea how embarrassing it was, having to explain that I scratched my face on a rose bush. I want no further injuries to expose my weaknessses, even though I doubt your puny strength could achieve so much.’
Ashley’s lips trembled. ‘Why are you doing this, Alain? Why? You don’t really want me. You don’t. You just want to humiliate me, to show me you can still make a fool of me. Oh, for pity’s sake, let me go, let me go! I—I can’t bear it when you treat me like a—a discarded possession!’
‘But you are not a discarded possession, Ashley, are you?’ Alain demanded harshly, releasing her wrists to put his hands on her waist. Through the fine silk, their strength and hardness was unmistakable, and Ashley wondered if he was aware that she was naked beneath the robe. ‘I did not discard you,’ he continued, glittering blue eyes boring into hers. ‘You discarded me—for Hassan. Or had you forgotten?’
‘That’s not true!’ Ashley drew an unsteady breath. ‘Alain, I’ve told you—a dozen times. Hassan meant nothing to me, nothing! Until you abandoned me, and I used him to get back at you.’
‘So you admit it!’ Alain’s face was grim, and his hands at her waist had tightened painfully. ‘You admit that you used my brother. That you were the instrument of his death!’
‘No!’ Ashley’s eyes were wide. ‘You know how Hassan died. He killed himself—he deliberately drove his car into a tree. And you know why he did it, too, if you would only listen to your brain and not your emotions!’
Alain took several deep breaths, evidently trying to keep those same emotions in check. The conversation was not going the way he had intended, and she guessed he had not bargained for her unqualified resistance.
‘I did not come here to discuss Hassan’s untimely end,’ he said at last, his hands relaxing their grip, even while he propelled her closer. ‘I came because you are still like a fever in my blood, and in spite of my distrust of you, I still find your body irresistible.’
Ashley’s palms pressed against his chest, holding him off, but only so long as it suited him to allow her to do so. ‘And—and you think you can come here and make love to me any time you feel like it, is that it?’ she choked, wishing she could hate him for his arrogance, yet still ignominiously drawn to his dark masculinity.
‘I did not say anything about—making love,’ he corrected her huskily. ‘I said I wanted your body, and I do. I want to see your beautifully corrupt form laid out for my delectation, and I want to feel that silken sheath around me. But I said nothing about love, Ashley. Making love has nothing to do with it!’
Ashley’s features felt frozen in an attitude of numbed mortification, but although her response to his scornful denunciation was one of desperation, she knew she would never defeat him by angry resentment or reasoned debate. Alain was beyond those things. He despised her, and he despised himself for wanting her, but in this instance his will could not prevail. Her only hope of convincing him lay within the bounds of his admitted need of her, and somehow she had to use her body to make him see the truth.
Using what small amount of control she still possessed, Ashley made no move to draw away from him, as she guessed he had expected, judging by the tightening grip of his fingers, and instead allowed one pearl-tipped finger nail to probe the buttoned fastening of his shirt. ‘Tell me, Alain,’ she murmured, feeling his unwilling stiffening beneath her
touch, ‘why do you think I—gave myself to Hassan? What do you think he had, that you had not?’
Alain’s breathing was hoarse. ‘What kind of a question is that?’ he grated, his arms sliding round her waist, compelling her against him.
‘A valid one, surely,’ Ashley persisted, still resisting him, although the hardness of his thighs was unmistakable through the silken folds of her gown. ‘Alain, have you never wondered when Hassan and I had time to get to know one another so intimately? I spent all my free time with you. I hardly knew your brother!’
‘You married him,’ retorted Alain harshly, his face close to hers, his eyes frankly sensuous. ‘Let us have done with this foolishness, Ashley. I am growing impatient. I do not want to force you, but if I have to, I will.’
‘You’ve never forced me before,’ she reminded him, quivering in spite of her determination to remain calm when his tongue found the corner of her lips. ‘Alain, listen to me, please! Listen to me! How can you believe I could let Hassan touch me, when you had only to be near me to make me want to be with you?’
‘I do not want to talk about Hassan!’ declared Alain savagely. ‘In God’s name, Ashley, let the past die. How can you even speak of your husband when I am holding you like this? What are you trying to do—make me feel guilty?’
‘No.’ Ashley had to be honest, but Alain’s eyes had a growing accusation in their depths. ‘I’m only trying to defend myself, can’t you see? I’m trying to convince you that you’re the only man who has ever been a part of me!’
‘Nom de Dieu!’ With a groan of anguish, Alain thrust her away from him then, pushing unsteady fingers through the thickness of his hair, turning aside from her with bitter determination. ‘All right, all right,’ he muttered, closing his eyes. ‘You win. I will not touch you. But as God is my Witness, you deserve my contempt!’