Desert Hostage

by Diane Dunaway

  I've fulfilled my promise, Juliette told herself, and now I'm free to leave. But the air, so fragrant, felt wonderful. It was such a beautiful night, and shifting her weight from one foot to the other she remained where she was, contented to watch the stars, which were like far-off lanterns, and to feel the refreshing breeze.

  His eyes on Juliette's profile, Brandon drew deeply on his cheroot, exhaling long and slowly. She was an unusual girl, intelligent, beautiful, and maddeningly aloof. Yet before, when he held her in his arms, he could sense the woman in her, too-the dormant desire that would so easily blossom into ripeness.

  Now he realized he wanted her with a primitive need to possess, a need never experienced in the past. Always before he had felt unaffected by the typical fierce jealousy that characterized his Arab countrymen. But suddenly he understood why brother might murder brother, and a man might kill his best friend. It would be easy, even natural; to kill any other man who would dare touch this woman.

  The champagne still bubbling in her head made Juliette dizzy. She grasped the iron balcony railing and took another deep breath. Suddenly in the midst of the garden's loveliness and the stars and the strains of music drifting from the open doorway, she felt in some far-reaching way that everything was as it should be.

  From somewhere in the darkness, Brandon's hand was taking hers. His clasp was firm, though gentle, and once again he brought the back of her hand to his lips, kissing the soft flesh on her slender fingers.

  Juliette started to pull away, but he held her fast until she stopped pulling and let her hand remain in his.

  "It seems, Miss Thorpe, that we are having what you English term a bad start,"' she heard him say matter-of fact. "I'm sorry because I think we could become such good friends. Please accept my apologies if I have offended you.’

  Juliette glanced up at him, surprised to see that he looked sincere. How changeable and how charming he could be. And somehow, at the moment, she no longer cared that he had been egotistical and overbearing before.

  A smile appeared and grew at the corners of her mouth. Then she laughed lightly. "I think, Monsieur, that you are quite stubborn and probably so used to having your own way that you take it for granted."

  A look of pleasure came to his features. "Flexibility has never been an attribute of mine," he commented. "Perhaps the lack of it has grown to a fault"

  Still his energizing hand held hers, making her fingertips tingle. She looked toward the sea again, glad the shadow of the trellis covered her face from his searching eyes.

  He squeezed her hand. "Don't run away, little one. I will not harm you," he whispered in a teasing tone.

  All at once Juliette felt foolish and horribly transparent. Usually she could easily control the gentlemen who courted her, turning them into willing slaves. But this man seemed like none of the others. His code of behavior was entirely his own. She wasn't certain what to expect-he hadn't even tried to kiss her. And glancing up briefly, Juliette couldn't keep herself from wondering just what his mouth would feel like pressed against hers.

  She laughed then, suddenly nervous he might once again discern her thoughts. "I'm not afraid of you, Monsieur Phillips. Are there women who are?"

  "That doesn't matter as long as I don't frighten you."

  Juliette couldn't look at him. She turned toward the garden and, to her surprise, saw something moving in the shadows-a figure.

  Brandon must have seen a change in her face since, without turning around, he said, "It is Rashid, one of my servants," before she could ask. "He is usually close to me. Don't let his presence upset you."

  Juliette looked back at Brandon, and then to the figure again who already had melted into a darker corner. On the contrary, it seemed better not to be completely alone with this man.

  "He is a bodyguard?" she asked.

  Brandon nodded. "He is that and other things. He's been at my side for twenty years."

  "If it's a bodyguard you keep so close, perhaps it is you who is frightened, monsieur," she said with the hint of a challenge.

  He shrugged. "Often a man who has many interests and a certain amount of wealth has enemies. My father before me had bodyguards, and so do I."

  "He wasn't with you the other night swimming." Brandon smiled. "A nearly fatal error-except for you.’

  You have my gratitude-forever, if it would please you."

  "I wouldn't ask for so much-at least not `forever.' "

  "No, but you have it anyway. And since you wouldn't take the pearls, I'll have to find another way to thank you."

  Juliette looked at him sidelong, wanting to circumvent this dangerous ground. "I think, monsieur, you give this matter more attention than it deserves."

  "Indeed?"

  "Indeed." And to change the subject, Juliette asked, "Why did you go swimming the other night when it was so late and so lonely? I've wondered about it ever since I saw you dive in."

  Brandon braced an elbow against the column and looked out beyond the lawns and fibrous trunks of palm trees to where the sea crashed in a hypnotic rhythm of white surf.

  "I wanted to be alone. I was looking."

  "Looking? What were you looking for?"

  Suddenly he seemed to drift very far away, and following the direction of his gaze, Juliette waited for him to speak.

  "There are times when the world closes in," he began, "When there is neither space nor peace and everything seems tarnished. Once life was fresh and full of meaning. When I left home to seek a fortune, I was full of dreams and ideals. I thought reaching my goals would bring everything I wanted. But now that I have within my grasp all that I thought would satisfy me, I find it does not. Somewhere the essence of my dreams has vanished in the face of reality. Looking back I see how far I've traveled. Yet occasionally now I ask myself why."

  There was a pause inside the ballroom as the music stopped and, for a time, there was only the sound of the sea rushing in and out.

  "But perhaps you can find your dream again," Juliette said feeling that a tiny crack in the door of this mysterious man's character had been opened to her. "It is a person's dreams that get him over the rough spots in life."

  "You are so young, Juliette. What do you know of life's troubles?"

  "I know a little, more than I let on. Tell me what troubles you most now?"

  Brandon drew again on the cheroot before dropping it off the ends of his fingers and crushing it under his heel. Mists blew across the moon, forming a pale rainbow against the light as it passed. Then the full brightness shone again on Brandon's face, so Juliette could see the mood of reverie had already left him.

  Now his eyes were bright as quicksilver and teasing as before. "At the moment," he said, "my `troubles' are even worse than usual. Usually I find my life tolerable, which is until recently, when I've found myself wanting something that continues to elude me."

  "Really! And what is that?"

  "A treasure," he whispered coming closer as his gaze traveled from her hair to her eyes to her lips. "One fit for a king--a combination of gold and amethysts and rubies, so rich it hasn't been fully assessed."

  Juliette stepped backward. "Oh?" she said light and bantering, though she noticed again that no one had joined them on the balcony. "And now what will you do?"

  "Very little, at least now. I've found the treasure is well guarded by a tigress whose mood changes in the blink of an eye. She is unpredictable and has claws."

  Juliette laughed. "How frustrating for you. But didn't you say you have a way with wild things? Maybe you'll be able to convince this tigress."

  "I've tried cajoling," he said. "And that has brought me nearer. But this creature is wilder than imagined and I'm afraid I have a long wait until I can so much as touch the treasure let alone call it mine."

  "So what will you do?"

  "At the moment I have in mind to be patient and persuasive. But if there is no alternative, I will be forced to use power."

  "Ohhhh, power!" Juliette said, her eyes dancing, her heart
beating much too fast. "I thought power was the prerogative of kings. Are you really so powerful, monsieur?"

  Brandon only smiled. It had occurred to him the day before when he had found her alone at the pond to simply kidnap her, and it occurred to him now. His yacht was waiting in the harbor, and arrangements could be made to make it seem she was elsewhere until it would be too late for any rescue.

  Were he in his own country, there would be no question. A prince simply took what he desired. But here, even he had to adhere to European customs, a fact which now annoyed him.

  "I imagine the extent of my power will be tested only if persuasion fails. That will be soon enough to judge."

  Juliette raised her eyes, sensing something beneath his light tone that made her shiver.

  A part of her mind urged her to make some excuse, to leave this unusual man. Yet, at the same time, a certain fascination made her stay. She did not answer, and noticed him looking toward the ballroom where the music had begun again and couples were beginning to dance. On his neck, just behind his ear, she noticed a diamond-shaped birthmark.

  "Shall we dance?" he said. And not waiting for her acceptance or rejection, he was already taking her in his arms and whirling her back through the door and onto the dance floor.

  In his arms, Juliette was swept away again by the same excitement as before. He was silent then, his dark eyes seeming even darker, and he didn't smile. It seemed her feet barely touched down as they glided round and round. Juliette also found herself somehow lacking in words. And aware only of the violins and the sweep of rustling silk, and most of all, his arms holding her, time took on a new dimension, and she no longer noticed its passing.

  They moved from a waltz to a polka, Brandon carrying her through those lively steps so it became easy. It seemed then only a moment had passed when suddenly it was over and the music had stopped.

  On Brandon's arm; she bid her farewells and thanked the host and hostess. Then they were crossing the garden toward her room, his arm encircling her shoulders. A golden glow covered everything, and when they stood together outside her doorway, Juliette no longer thought of consequences or future as, with a tingle of warmth, she wondered if he would kiss her.

  Still he was silent, his expression serious, compelling, as he brushed a stray blond curl from her temple. And when he bent down Juliette couldn't keep herself from raising her own mouth.

  A pang of disappointment registered as she felt his lips press her brow instead. Then he was holding her away from him.

  "I look forward to our friendship, mademoiselle and to the days to come." Then he bowed, formally, as gracefully as a prince. "Au revoir," he said, and turning, left her, disappearing down the darkened hallway.

  Juliette stepped inside her room and shut the door softly behind her. Walking aimlessly around her bedroom she undressed, leaving her gown and stockings and chemise where she dropped them. Then in a hazy radiance, she slipped into bed, recalling with a smile how they had danced and how he had held her before she fell deeply asleep.

  Chapter 28

  The morning following the ball, Juliette Thorpe awakened early, full of a strange new excitement that wouldn't let her remain in bed. Immediately she dressed, choosing forest brown knickers, and quickly fastened the last pearl buttons of her shirtwaist blouse as she headed for the stables.

  When she arrived, she wasn't surprised to find Brandon Phillips there, already mounted and waiting to join her on her morning ride. She had thought of him several times this morning, concluding that he wasn't at all the monster she had once considered him to be. He had been a perfect gentleman last night, she thought. And maybe-yes, what harm would it do to see him again?

  In a few more days I'll be leaving for Switzerland anyway, and probably will never see him again after that, she told herself. So while Juliette would normally have given any male intruding on her morning solitude an icy reception, she now smiled a greeting, mounted her own horse and shouted, "Race you to the farmhouse!" before urging her chestnut into a flying gallop across a field patch worked with clumps of wildflowers.

  High Times leapt forward, seeming to sprout wings so that his hooves skimmed the grass as Brandon's black horse dashed after.

  They had galloped up a long gradual incline and then down again before Juliette looked back, expecting to pull up her horse to wait for Brandon. But turning, she was surprised to find him directly behind, riding easily in the saddle as his mount kept the pace.

  Juliette leaned lower so High Times body extended like an enormous greyhound as he scooped up the ground in long leaping strides. But after galloping up a second hill and down again, Juliette could still hear the black at her heels.

  They went on, the wind rushing against Juliette's face so tears came to her eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her glove and leaned lower over the chestnut's straining neck.

  Again High times lengthened his strides, pulling away from the black. But as they continued the big horse began quickly losing speed again while Brandon still remained just behind High-Times's churning flanks. Panting, Juliette reined her mount to a halt, twisting to face Brandon.

  He was chuckling, white teeth bold against his tanned complexion. "You didn't get away quite so easily," he observed, bringing his horse so close the suede knee of his knickers briefly brushed hers.

  "Usually High Times outruns everything!" she said, edging her chestnut two steps away.

  Brandon reached forward, running his hand under the black's mane and flipped the long mass of hair back and forth with fond familiarity as he said, "This horse has won several races in Paris. He has a son winning races as well. But you challenged me, Juliette."

  The breeze tossed Juliette's blond hair which had come unbound so it fell down in a shiny torrent. She brushed it out of her face to look closely at Brandon's stallion. Certainly he had lines for speed, and his small intelligent head suggested Arabian -blood. It was hard to know what to say. He had surprised her again. She felt foolish, but any protest would make her seem a poor loser, so silently she turned away, this time urging High Times into a trot and reining him on the narrow path that continued uphill.

  Brandon took a place beside her and neither spoke as they rode stirrup to stirrup, climbing ever higher, finally reaching an orange grove. Eight or so swarthy looking men in flowing robes were in the clearing at the summit, apparently making some kind of preparations.

  Arabs! Juliette had seen few of them, but whenever she did, it was impossible to repress a shiver of revulsion and a pang of fury as she recalled all the bitterness of her father's death. Even so their presence made her curious and, guiding her horse in their direction, she paused to observe them as she came closer.

  In the center of the clearing, surrounded by blossoming trees, was erected a large circular canopy with black tassels and a black and brown striped dome. A table beneath it was set for dining and was circled by large black and brown cushions. The occasional clang of a pot and the fragrances of food from beyond her view told Juliette they were cooking.

  As she sat watching, several of the white robed men turned and salaamed obsequiously. Their attention made her feel conspicuous. She was reining her horse away when Brandon's hand suddenly closed around her-arm.

  "Come," he said simply, "our breakfast is nearly ready."

  He's joking, Juliette thought, but her eyes filled with surprise as she saw he was already swinging a lean muscular leg off his horse.

  "Our breakfast?" she questioned.

  He nodded. "Come," he repeated.

  She couldn't refuse, she was here. Apparently he had prepared all of this for her. So she let him help her off her horse, and handed the reins to an Arab who came forward, bowing low before leading the horses away. Then Brandon drew her under the canopy, clasping her hand so naturally Juliette didn't think of rebuking him.

  "Make yourself comfortable here," he said indicating the grouping of elaborate cushions. And when she positioned herself, making an attempt to sit rather than recline,
he lowered himself easily beside her.

  Before them the green hills dotted with orange trees stretched below to the ocean. The fragrant air was filled with small insects that buzzed around their heads until, at a signal from an attendant, a small Arab boy, also dressed in spotless white, took up his station behind them waving a large woven straw fan back and forth in a smooth regular motion that discouraged the pests and cooled the air.

  Sniffing the sweetness, Juliette looked pensively at the view. It was a long time before she turned back to Brandon and found him watching her.

  "You're very sure of yourself, Monsieur Phillips," she said then. "What if I had decided to refuse your invitation this morning?"

  He shrugged. "I would have breakfasted alone." A sweep of his arm indicated the hills and trees. "It is pleasant here, although -more pleasant with you. I'm honored you came."

  An Arab servant approached, the breeze billowing his robes as he bowed and offered Brandon a tray of silver that held two long-stemmed goblets. Taking them, Brandon dismissed the servant with a nod before offering Juliette one of them.