Touch the Horizon

by Iris Johansen

  Yasmin cast a disparaging glance at the jeans and tunic Billie had tossed carelessly on the velvet stool of the vanity. “I’m sure you have, Miss Callahan,” she said with polite determination. “But there’s always room for improvement. Why don’t you let me try?” She was pushing Billie through the diaphanous curtain into the main chamber. “I will make you beautiful for Lisan.” Her eyes were narrowed as they ran critically over Billie’s slim, towel-draped form. “You are very graceful.” She tilted her head consideringly. “You aren’t as womanly as the kadines Lisan usually favors, but he must find you to his taste. We will do what we can.”

  “Thank you,” Billie said ironically. She’d been joking when she’d made that quip about being a candidate for a harem, but suddenly she felt exactly that way. She had found Yasmin very likable before, but now there was an element of steely obstinacy beneath that gentle courtesy. “I appreciate the fact that you’re willing to make the effort, but you seem to have the wrong idea about Mr. Bradford and me. I’m just a temporary houseguest while my Jeep is being fixed. Nothing else. Understand?”

  “If you say so.” Yasmin answered serenely as she crossed to the bed and picked up a gleaming short dress of white lamé. “I think you’ll find this dress adequate. It was left by one of Lisan’s kadines. Miss Nazare was far more voluptuous, as I said, but this is a shift, and it will not matter too much. It is silk-lined, so the lack of undergarments will not be uncomfortable.”

  “Miss Nazare? Who is she?”

  “No one important,” Yasmin answered absently, still appraising the dress critically. “Just one of the kadines the shiekh flew in for Lisan’s pleasure last month.”

  “Kadine? That’s some glorified Mideastern call girl, isn’t it?” Billie asked. Why was she feeling this sudden twinge of pain as she looked at the luscious scrap of lamé? What did it matter to her if Bradford had a hundred women to warm his bed? The man was nothing to her.

  “You don’t object to wearing such a woman’s clothing?” Yasmin’s brow knitted and her voice was earnest. “You must understand that in Sedikhan there is nothing degrading about the profession of kadine. These women choose their profession because it is a way to riches and even political power. It is a little like the Japanese geisha. Lisan would never use a woman unless she was willing and joyous in her giving. It is not his way.”

  “And does Karim Ben Raschid often import kadines for Mr. Bradford’s pleasure?” She could have bitten her tongue. That was certainly none of her business, and she had absolutely no interest in the answer.

  “Of course. Lisan is a very virile man, and the sheikh wishes him to be happy here at Zalandan.” Her smile was indulgent as she removed the towel from Billie and slipped the dress over her head. “Sometimes I think Sheikh Karim and his grandson act like small children competing for a favorite toy. They’re both constantly trying to think up attractions that will keep Lisan with them.” She shrugged. “But then, we’re all like that about Lisan.” She took a step back and smiled with satisfaction. “Yes, that is very lovely on you. You mustn’t worry, he won’t even remember who wore it last. Miss Nazare was nothing to him.”

  “I’m not worried,” Billie said with exasperation. “I wouldn’t care if his little kadine was the love of his life. He may be the fair-haired boy around here, but he’s nothing but a chance acquaintance to me. Why won’t you understand that?”

  “Do not upset yourself.” Yasmin’s voice was soothing as she hustled Billie to an inlaid vanity and pushed her down gently on the amber-cushioned vanity bench. “If you feel nothing now, it will come. Soon you will be willing to give Lisan everything he wants from you.”

  “What he wants? Look, I told you we’re practically strangers. He’s just playing the good Samaritan. The only thing he’s going to want from me is a thank you and a fare-thee-well.” She could see by the passivity of the other woman’s face that she just wasn’t getting through. “I’m not one of his kadines!”

  “I know that.” Yasmin said composedly. “But Lisan wants you, and that is all that’s important. He has a very special feeling for you or he wouldn’t have asked me to care for you. He has never made such a request before.” She picked up the portable hair dryer from the vanity. “Now. I will dry those pretty curls so that Lisan will look at you with pleasure.” And the roar of the dryer cut Billie off in mid-protest.

  The Sedikhan woman was obviously going to be as impossible to shift from her position as a tank, and Billie finally gave up the struggle and let her have her way. Thirty minutes later her copper hair was tumbling down her back in a cascade of stylishly careless curls, her features delicately accented with an artistry that would have done justice to an expert at Elizabeth Arden’s. Billie gazed at her reflection in the mirror with a degree of surprise.

  The white lamé shift was amazingly flattering on her. On its original owner it had probably been a subtle provocation, but on her own slight body it was like a delicate glittering icicle against the fiery vitality of her hair and the smooth, golden tan of her skin. Her bare shoulders looked positively alluring beneath the slender spaghetti straps. The dress reminded her vaguely of one of the flapper outfits of the roaring twenties. The matching high-heeled slides were a little big on her, but not too bad. David Bradford’s kadine probably even had voluptuously beautiful feet, she thought crossly.

  “It is fine,” Yasmin said, spraying her lightly with a scent that was hauntingly floral. “I would have done better if we’d had more time, but it will have to do. Mr. Donahue will be here in just a moment.”

  “I’m glad you’re satisfied.” Billie sighed. “I feel a little like a turkey that’s been stuffed for Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “I have heard of your Thanksgiving turkey,” Yasmin said with a smile. “Last year the sheikh had a complete authentic Thanksgiving dinner flown here from a fine hotel in New York as a surprise for Lisan. It made him very happy.”

  And, of course, that was the name of the game around here. It seemed that Yasmin’s precious Lisan had only to lift a wistful eyebrow and everyone fell all over himself to give him whatever his heart desired. Well, she wasn’t an expensive kadine or a Thanksgiving turkey, and she wasn’t about to be gift-wrapped and presented to the golden prince of the desert.

  Suddenly she chuckled as she realized she’d already been elaborately gift-wrapped, indeed, by the slavishly devoted Yasmin. It was all a little amusing, come to think of it, and there was no reason for her to come unglued about something so trivial.

  “And I’m sure that fact sent the entire household into raptures,” she said lightly. A discreet knock sounded, and she gestured for Yasmin to stay where she was. “I’ll get it. I assume that’s the grim Mr. Donahue, who will take me to the equally grim Sheikh Karim.” She moved swiftly toward the door. “It’s shaping up to be a really fun evening.” She glanced over her shoulder as her hand closed on the knob of the door. “By the way, your Mr. Bradford said Lisan was a Sedikhan nickname. What does it mean?”

  “A nickname?” Yasmin’s smile was glowingly tender. “I suppose you might call it that.” she said softly. “It means ‘the beloved.’”

  “You appear very thoughtful, Miss Callahan,” Clancy Donahue observed as he altered his long-legged stride to match her shorter steps. They had crossed a bewildering maze of corridors in virtual silence, and now his cool blue eyes held a hint of curiosity.

  “Do I?” Billie asked lightly, darting him a rueful glance. “Now, I wonder why I would have anything to think about? I’ve only been dropped into the middle of an armed fortress with security forces, royal heads of state, and mysterious allusions to death and mayhem. In addition, I have a feeling I’ve just been selected by Yasmin to honor the bed of an impossibly eccentric man who seems to be worshiped as some kind of god.” She shook her head wonderingly. “Whoever heard of anyone’s being called ‘the beloved.’”

  Donahue’s hard face softened with a smile of amusement. “Yasmin told you about that? David’s not going to be at all plea
sed. That little sobriquet embarrasses the hell out of him.” The smile faded, and the keen eyes once more became guarded. “However, it’s just as well you’ve been made aware of how everyone in Sedikhan feels about David. You’re wrong about his being worshiped by the people here in Zalandan, but they do love him.” His lips tightened. “And you can see David is protected by both Karim and Alex Ben Raschid, the two most powerful men in the Middle East. They’re both very ruthless men, Miss Callahan, and David is very special in their eyes. Should I tell you what would happen to anyone who tried to harm him?”

  Billie’s eyes were wide with shock. The threat in Donahue’s words had been too plain to be missed. “This is as absurd as all the rest,” she said blankly. “For heaven’s sake, are you actually suspecting me of being some kind of threat to your precious Lisan?”

  “I’m a very suspicious man, Miss Callahan,” Donahue answered quietly. “I’m especially suspicious of coincidences like the one that brought you and David together. You may not be a physical threat to David, though that’s a distinct possibility. Actresses have been known to be hired to play Delilah before. Particularly second-rate actresses, as you confess to being.” He shrugged. “Even if you’re not in cahoots with Ladram, there’s a chance you may be trying to hook a rich husband or protector. I assure you that Karim and Alex wouldn’t like the idea of David’s being used like that any more than they’d like him to be in physical danger.”

  “I don’t even know the man,” Billie sputtered, her violet eyes blazing. “I know nothing about him. How could I possibly know that David Bradford was wealthy?”

  “A little investigation would have revealed that Karim transferred a few acres of property to David three years ago as a birthday present,” he said cynically, “along with the fact that those acres are capable of yielding approximately the same amount of oil as the state of Oklahoma. It would also have made you aware that David was then in a state of near-mental retardation, a child in a man’s body. He would have been ripe for any unscrupulous manipulation you might have had in mind.”

  Mental retardation. That golden man, with his wise, clear eyes? She felt a sickening pain somewhere deep inside. “No,” she whispered. “You’re lying. There’s nothing wrong with David. There couldn’t be.”

  Donahue’s eyes were narrowed on her face. “You didn’t know,” he said slowly, and then a little smile lit the sternness of his face. “Unless you’re a far better actress than you claim, I’d say you didn’t have any prior knowledge of David’s background.”

  “He’s not retarded,” Billie said desperately, feeling her throat tighten with tears. “He’s intelligent, sharp, witty. He may be a little eccentric, but you can’t tell me there’s anything wrong with him mentally, dammit.”

  “Easy.” For the first time there was a spark of warmth in the coolness of Donahue’s eyes. “You’re right, there’s nothing wrong with David now. His mind is as keen as a scalpel, and as far as creativity goes, he’s quite brilliant. I just said that three years ago he was still suffering from a…a state like mental retardation.” His voice hardened. “While he was in college he experimented with one of the so-called mind-expansion drugs, and it damn near made a vegetable out of him. For years he was like a child, but gradually he began to regain the full powers of his mind. When Sabrina and Alex brought him to Sedikhan four and a half years ago, they weren’t sure he’d ever be well again.”

  “But he did get well,” Billie murmured, feeling a profound relief and thanksgiving that was as mysterious as all her other emotions in regard to David Bradford.

  “Yes, he did get well,” Donahue agreed. “I don’t know if it was a natural recovery or the battery of doctors Karim commandeered from all over the world to treat him.” There was a touch of amusement in his grin. “Karim had stepped down from his position as ruling head of Sedikhan, presumably for reasons of health. Actually, I think he just wanted to give Alex the experience of running the country while he was still hovering in the background. He needed something to focus his attention on, and he chose David. He whisked him away to Zalandan, using the excuse that Alex and Sabrina needed the time to get used to their new life at Marasef.” Donahue chuckled reminiscently. “They didn’t like it any too much, but tried to give in gracefully. Karim was an old man and had recently been very ill. Karim was all prepared to look upon David as a remote analytical problem to be solved and then returned to Sabrina and Alex. It didn’t turn out that way, though.”

  “How did it turn out?”

  “Karim learned to love David,” Donahue said simply. “I don’t think the old tiger had ever really loved anyone before in his life. He had a guarded affection for Alex and Alex’s cousin, Lance, but they were both such strong, independent personalities that there was an element of competitiveness that kept him from giving that love totally. With David that barrier didn’t exist. He was a beautiful, very special child who might remain that way for the rest of his life.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Little did Karim know that once David recovered, he’d have another powerhouse to contend with. By that time it was too late. David had breached all the old man’s defenses, and Karim was utterly devoted to him.” Donahue’s expression was suddenly thoughtful. “In spite of his regained mental powers, there’s still a quality of childlike honesty and simplicity about him that’s very moving. It arouses a fierce protectiveness in the people who care about him. If you do have any aims that might interfere with that protectiveness, you’d be wise to think twice, Miss Callahan.”

  “Are you back to that again?” Billie asked with a sigh. Somehow she was no longer feeling the anger she had before at Clancy Donahue’s insinuations. There was something very likable beneath that grim facade. “I thought you’d come to believe that I knew nothing about David Bradford before I came to Zalandan.”

  “I want to believe you,” he said soberly. “You’re a very charismatic woman, and, I hope, an honest one. It’s just my job to make sure of that, Miss Callahan.”

  “I suppose it is,” Billie said with an impish smile. “It might be interesting, at that, to be regarded as some sort of femme fatale.” She fluttered her long lashes vampishly at him. “Is this the way it’s done? You’ll have to excuse me, but I’m sinfully inexperienced in the role.”

  “I’m afraid it’s very obvious,” he said, his lips twitching. “Mata Hari you’re not, Miss Callahan.”

  “Billie,” she prompted as they paused before an intricately carved teak door. “It’s ridiculous to be formal when we’ve already been through so much together. Anger, suspicion”—her voice lowered dramatically—“intrigue. And now you’re evidently planning to play executioner.” She gestured to the door. “The tiger’s cage?”

  “The tiger’s cage,” Donahue agreed with a grin. “But I have an idea you just might be able to handle him…Billie.”

  “Oh, I’ll be able to handle him,” she said breezily, reaching for the doorknob. “There’s not much I can’t handle, Clancy. Come along and watch my style.”

  THREE

  SHE STOPPED SHORT just inside the door, her gaze on the portrait hanging on the wall over the desk.

  “David,” she whispered.

  It was David and yet not David. The man kneeling with a trowel in his hand and the sunlight burnishing his hair to white gold was younger, more aesthetic-looking, less virile somehow. But beautiful. No one could argue that. He was in a garden, dressed in faded jeans and a worn blue work shirt. A blue-and-white bandanna was tied around his forehead as a sweatband, and his hair was pulled back into an odd shoulder-length braid, revealing the classic strength of his features. The braid and bandanna gave him a slightly savage aura, but there was nothing savage in the eyes gazing out of the portrait. Sapphire blue, clear and gentle, they were almost radiant with a strange wisdom and understanding. Yes, that was David.

  “Exceptionally good, isn’t it?” Clancy murmured into her ear.

  “What?” she asked absently, then forced herself to look away from the portrait. “Oh, y
es, remarkable.” She shook her head as if to clear it and focused her attention on the man who was lolling lazily in the executive chair at the desk beneath that riveting picture.

  A tiger, Donahue had called him, and Karim Ben Raschid looked every bit as ferocious as he rose lithely to his feet. The gesture appeared to be more a positioning for a lethal spring than a courtesy. Dressed in a flowing white burnoose open down the front to reveal an impeccable black tuxedo, Karim had the powerful, vigorous body of a man of forty. There was only a dusting of gray in his dark hair and beard, and his flashing dark eyes were as piercing and dangerous as a hawk who’d sighted prey. Only his strong, gnarled hand toying with a gold pen indicated the years that he carried so lightly.

  “Ah, Miss Callahan, welcome to my home.” His voice was as smooth and mellow as a cello, and his smile wholly charming. “David and Clancy told me how lovely you were, but they weren’t eloquent enough. What a beautiful treasure you are to ornament my Casbah.”

  Oh, Lord, she really wasn’t up to all this flowery bull after her recent confrontation with Clancy. If she was going to be forced to stay here for the next few days, she’d better try to clear the air right away. Her feet sank into the pile of the rich Kirman carpet as she marched across the room to stand before the desk.

  “Sheikh Ben Raschid, I’m grateful for your hospitality, and I know I’m supposed to answer you with a phrase that’s as fancy and phony as yours.” She drew a deep breath and raised her chin belligerently. “I want you to know that I realize what I’m supposed to do. I have no intention of doing it.”

  There was a flicker in Ben Raschid’s dark eyes. “Indeed?” he said slowly. “And just what do you intend to do, Miss Callahan? I gather courtesy isn’t high on your list of priorities.”