'Have you ever not known where you were going, Hamed? Have you ever felt so uncertain of the future that it terrifies you?' Amber disregarded the warning glint in his eye. `No, of course you haven't. You have your own fine home and your servants, everything that money can buy. But it won't buy me. You think you're a little god sitting in your palace, lifting your finger for everyone to do your bidding, but this is one girl who can see right through you, and you'll never get your way with me, not if you keep me here until I'm a hundred!'
For one moment she thought she had gone too far. Hamed had risen, his tightened jaw and dark narrowed eyes clear evidence that he too was angry. When he curled one hand into a fist she thought he was surely going to hit her and closed her eyes, tensing herself for the inevitable. After a few long seconds, when nothing happened, she squinted through her lashes, still sure that some terrible punishment was about to come her way. But the room was empty. With that superb self-control of his he had curbed his temper and left her to 'finish her breakfast alone.
She scraped back her chair and stood up, only then realising that her limbs were trembling. She had got away lightly, she realised that, but did not regret anything she said. She had meant every word. He was lord and master of his estate, a respected man in the area, according to Rafika, and no doubt used to issuing orders and having them obeyed. Perhaps Tunisian girls liked their men masterful, she thought, but she was English, and proud of it, and if he wanted to marry her he would have to win her love, and then ask her, not command it. It was like some fictional tale of which one only read. It just couldn't be happening to her. It was too ludicrous for words.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT truly was beautiful. There was no denying the fact, thought Amber, having completed a further tour of the house and gardens. With Hamed at her side yesterday she had been more aware of the man himself than her surroundings, but now she had spent more than an hour admiring the exquisite Moorish style villa and the vast gardens resplendent with flowering shrubs as well as orange and lemon trees, to say nothing of the pomegranates and bananas. She had picked an orange as she walked and decided that never before had the fruit tasted so sweet.
Now she sat in an inner courtyard, with rooms opening off on all four sides. Above her the sun blazed down and all about her was colour. Purple bougainvillea frothed over a white stone arch and crimson hibiscus beneath it vied for attention. The pale rose hid itself shyly in a corner while the more flamboyant geraniums grew proudly in ornamental tubs. It was a haven of peace and Amber wriggled on her wrought iron chair trying to make herself more comfortable.
The anger she had felt after her outburst had faded. -Who could be cross for long amidst such tranquillity? Hamed's way of life was different from hers—perhaps she had been wrong to blame him for his high-handed manner. It came natural to him, whereas she herself had never come up against anyone of his type before. In her office job she had encountered all sorts of
people, but they were all ordinary and had none of the natural arrogance so typical of Hamed. When she had left work to look after her mother she had had hardly any connection at all with the outside world. Doctor Greer was the only member of the opposite sex with whom she had come into direct contact. And he was a dear. She recalled how concerned he had been over her future and had it not been for his insistence she would never have come to Tunisia.
She smiled as she wondered what he would think if he could see her now. She was sure that if he had had any idea that anything like this would happen he would not have sent her. It might be a good idea to write to him. Maybe he could use his influence to get her away. But she knew she wouldn't. Hamed's house was beginning to ensnare her, perhaps more so than the man himself.
A few minutes later her reverie was rudely interrupted. 'So there you are i I've been looking all over for you.' It was Rafika, dressed in a smart woollen suit in vibrant green, looking as though she had stepped straight out of a Paris magazine. Amber at first thought her overdressed before she realised that this was the beginning of the Tunisian winter and although she herself found it warm the inhabitants thought it distinctly chilly. She recalled seeing some of the men in Sousse dressed in thick winter overcoats while she herself had worn nothing more than a sundress.
`Oh, hello, Rafika,' she said. Hamed really need not have bothered you. I enjoy my own company.'
'It will give us an opportunity to talk,' said Rafika silkily, pulling up a chair beside her. 'I think there
is much you need to know about Hamed and me.'
'I doubt it. I can't see that your private lives are any concern of mine.'
The dark oval eyes looked steadily at Amber. 'They are when it concerns my happiness. I think you are maybe under a misapprehension.'
Amber frowned. 'I'm sorry, I don't understand.'
'Hamed introduced you as his fiancée. From that I take it he has asked you to marry him?' Rafika paused expectantly.
Amber said, 'And if he has?'
'He is making a fool of you. Nothing will ever come of it.'
Disliking the vehement tone of the other girl's voice, Amber said, 'What makes you so sure?'
Rafika studied her well-manicured nails. 'Flamed and I have known each other all our lives and there has been an understanding between our two families that we would one day get married.'
Amber frowned. 'I did not know that arranged marriages still took place here?' She struggled to keep her composure and not let Rafika know how disturbed she was by this information. She was sure Hamed did not love Rafika, as sure as she was that he did not love her. She had seen the way he treated the younger girl, more like a little sister than anything else. There had certainly been nothing loverlike in his attentions.
'Oh, yes, in certain families,' returned Rafika haughtily.
'But Hamed has no family,, so surely he has a right to speak for himself.'
Rafika's beautiful eyes narrowed. 'It was what his parents wanted before they died and if you know
Hamed as well as I do you would know that he will respect their wishes.'
Amber was not convinced. 'If that is so why has he not married you before now?'
'He is—' Rafika shrugged, 'he is waiting for me to—well, he said I am too young,' she finished defensively.
`You mean you have discussed marriage?'
'Of course.' Rafika's chin jutted.
'Or would I be right in thinking that it is you who have asked him, not the other way round?' asked Amber. Rafika had suddenly become uneasy, confirm. ing Amber's suspicion that it had all been a bluff. 'I haven't known Hamed long, but I don't think he's the type of man who would two-time anyone.'
'Two-time? What is that?' asked Rafika crossly.
'I mean,' exclaimed Amber impatiently, 'that he wouldn't ask me to marry him knowing full well that he was committed to you.'
Rafika stood up and turned her back. 'He asks many girls to marry him. It means nothing.' She turned abruptly. 'But I am the one he loves. I know and understand Hamed. I love him ' her voice broke, 'and soon, when he realises that I am a child no more, I will show him that Rafika knows how to love.'
Amber suddenly felt sorry for her. Unless she was badly mistaken Rafika was harbouring a delusion. It was true she loved Hamed, or thought she did, having grown up at his side and worshipped him all these years. But as for Hamed returning her feelings, Amber very much doubted it. He was at least twice the girl's age and from the short time she had seen them together Amber was sure his feelings went no deeper
than pure friendship. `It wouldn't be wise to build up your hopes too much,' she said kindly. 'You could be wrong. Hamed
'Are you jealous?' snapped Rafika, without waiting for her to finish. 'Can't you bear the thought that he might prefer me instead of you? Well, let me tell you something else, you are not the first girl he has brought home, nor do I expect you will be the last.'
'Yes, I know. Hamed told me.'
This information shocked Rafika, her eyes widening into huge twin orbs. 'You are
lying,' she cried desperately. 'Why should he boast about it?'
'Because I asked, him,' replied Amber 'I couldn't believe I was the only girl in whom he'd been interested. A man as attractive as Hamed must have had countless affairs.'
'And you are not bothered?' Rafika was clearly unable to believe that Amber was as indifferent as she made out.
'It's in the past,' shrugged Amber. 'It's the present that's all-important.' She found it easy to put on a face in front of the younger girl. 'You'll find that out as you get older.'
Rafika glared. 'Don't you start! I have enough with Hamed treating me as though I am still a schoolgirl!'
Mercifully at that moment Fatima brought out a tray of mint tea and the two girls sat in silence for a few minutes; Rafika brooding over her period of adolescence while Amber herself wondered what they were going to do for the rest of the day. With Rafika in this mood it did not augur well for the time at their disposal. Had the young girl been well disposed towards her they could have spent a few pleasant hours
swimming and sunbathing. Then she remembered that the water would be too cold for Rafika. If she wanted to swim it would have to be alone, and after her painful experience that morning she deemed it wise not to go in again. What then could they do? She was about to ask whether she had any preference when Rafika spoke, indicating all too clearly what was on her mind:
'If Hamed does not marry me he will still not marry you. I have seen it happen too often to believe that he is serious this time. He has some sort of notion that it flatters a girl if he asks her to marry him, but he never keeps his promise.'
Amber forced a smile. 'Are you warning me or threatening me? I'm perfectly capable of judging. Hamed's sincerity for myself.'
'And you think he is sincere?' Rafika's doubt was reflected in her clear brown eyes.
The truth was Amber did not. She had mistrusted Hamed right from the beginning, still not sure what game he was playing, but she would not give Rafika the pleasure of knowing this. 'I have no reason to doubt him,' she said with conviction.
'Not after what I've told you?'
Amber shrugged. 'I knew most of it and guessed the rest. It came as no surprise.'
Rafika rose, brushing against the tray carelessly and apparently deliberately, knocking the delicate china cups on to the stone floor so that they smashed into irreparable pieces. 'I'm wasting my time here. I don't know why I bothered to come,' and disregarding the damage she rushed back into the house.
Amber dropped to her knees and began picking up
the tiny pieces, distressed to see such beautiful cups destroyed, exclaiming aloud as a needle-sharp fragment dug into her finger and realising the folly of trying to gather up the pieces by hand. The wisest thing would be to find Fatima and ask for a dustpan and brush.
On his tour of the house Hamed had not shown her the kitchens, stating firmly that she would never need to use them. 'I pay my staff well,' he had added, 'they will look after your every need.'
But Amber was not used to giving orders and did not like asking Fatima to clear up the mess. Besides, it would find her something to do in what promised to be an interminable day.
She found the kitchens down a flight of steps at the far side of the house. They were modern and clean and something with a tempting aroma was simmering on the stove—but finding a brush was not so easy.
'Just what do you think you are doing?'
Amber brought up her head from a cupboard in which she had been searching, encountering the hard questioning stare of Hamed.
'I find Rafika frantically telephoning for a taxi and you in the kitchen where you have no right. What has gone on between you?' he demanded.
If Rafika had not told him Amber felt that she had no right to betray the other girl, although Hamed would have to be blind if he did not know Rafika loved him. She shrugged carelessly. 'Rafika decided to go home. There was nothing I could do to stop her.'
'I don't suppose you even tried,' he returned shortly. 'And you—what are you doing in here? If there was something you wanted you only had to ring the bell.'
Amber tossed her head. I'm not entirely incapable, you know. I'm not used to servants, nor do I think it a good' idea to use them when I can do the job myself. If you would tell me where you keep your brushes I can get on with the job I started.'
His frown deepened. 'Brushes? What do you intend doing? No wife of mine will spend her time cleaning.'
The whole thing was growing out of all proportion, but with his deepening anger Amber felt only a stubbornness not to tell him what she really wanted a brush for. Let him think she was going to do some housework! Serve him right for being so pompous! What did he think he was—a lord? 'I'm not afraid of dirtying my hands,' she said pointedly, 'and if you won't tell me where they're kept I'd better go on searching.'
At that moment a heavily built man came into the room. He wore a white nylon coat over his grey trousers and blue shirt. His face was lined and interesting and Amber judged him to be well into his fifties. It had to be Mustapha. Who else would look at her with such obvious annoyance—apart from Hamed, of course, but despite his displeasure his respect for his master was such that he said nothing, merely looking interrogatingly from one to the other.
`Ah, Mustapha,' said Hamed. 'Perhaps you will tell Miss Christy that there is no need for her to do any work. She insists she is after a sweeping brush, though what she intends to do I have no idea.'
The look Mustapha bestowed on Amber made it clear that he thought this a slight on his housekeeping, but in deference to the fact that she was a friend of Hamed's he said politely, 'What was it you intended
to do, Miss Christy? If you have any complaints I would rather you told me than attempt to rectify them yourself.'
The situation was now completely out of hand and Amber looked helplessly from one to the other. 'If you must know,' she said with attempted dignity, realising there was no point in hiding the truth any longer, 'all I wanted to do was clear up the mess from a tray that was accidentally knocked over. Surely there's nothing against me doing that little job?'
Had she realised the effect her words would have Amber might have been tempted to keep quiet. Mustapha clapped a hand to his mouth. 'The priceless china! I told Fatima not to use it, but the stupid girl insisted.' He ended in a torrent of Arabic, apparently begging the pardon of Hamed Ben Slouma.
Amber too felt aghast. She had known it was beautiful, but not its value. Now she felt nothing but reproach for Rafika's carelessness. And yet the girl had not bothered, had not even looked down at the shattered remnants. She must have known it was something special. Had she thoughts only for herself, her own pitiful love, so that anything as mundane as a tea-set meant nothing to her?
Judging by the accusing faces now turned upon her it was evident that the two men both thought she had been the one to cause the damage, and Mustapha's distress was so great that one would think that the china had belonged to him. It would be like telling tales now to say that Rafika had done it. They would think she was trying to pass the blame on to the absent girl to clear herself, so Amber said nothing, standing before
them feeling something like a prisoner waiting for his sentence.
`You had better go and see, Mustapha,' said Hamed at length. 'Perhaps they can be repaired.'
Amber could have told him that it was no use, but she said nothing, wishing she could just turn and walk out of the kitchen, but realising it would appear nothing short of an admission of guilt. And to say she was sorry would achieve nothing either. How could apologies replace the broken cups? So she stood there, abject misery on her face, her lids lowered so that she could not see the censure in Hamed's eyes.
When Mustapha returned, shaking his head, Hamed said, `They have been in my family for generations, but you would not know that, Amber. I do not blame you. It is Fatima who was wrong. She must go. I do not wish such another expensive mistake.'
'Oh, no!' exclaimed Amber. 'You can't blame her. She wanted—to impre
ss. me, I think. An understandable feeling.'
'Then she should have told you to be careful. Perhaps I ought to warn you now that my house is full of such valuables. Some of them inherited, some collector's pieces. I would appreciate it if you did not touch them.'
`Are you suggesting I'm accident-prone?' asked Amber heatedly, hurt that he should even think such a thing.
'No,' he replied calmly. 'But perhaps you are not accustomed to having rare objects about you. One has to be that little bit more careful than under normal circumstances.'
He spoke patiently, as though she was a child to
whom he had to explain things in great detail. Amber said hotly, In that case why do you not put your precious possessions in a glass case where they can't possibly get broken?'
'Because I like them about me,' he said. 'It has never before been necessary to hand out any warnings.'
And it had to be me, thought Amber despondently. She had been brought here against her will and now had to suffer the indignity of being accused of something she had not done. If he thought she was so clumsy why did he not send her away? It would solve his own problems as well as Amber's and it would be best to go now before her love grew too great to bear parting. 'In that case,' she said, deciding she may as well voice her thoughts, 'why don't you take me back to the Sahara Beach? At least then you'll have no need to fear that I'll cause any further damage.'
His dark eyes hardened as he looked into the paler brown of her own. 'If I thought you had deliberately broken that tea-set in order to get sent away—I would—'
He broke off, but Amber knew what he had been going to say. 'You're a sadistic brute!' she yelled. 'Do you really think me capable of such a thing? Why, I never even realised the value of it until a few minutes ago. If you would like me to pay for it—just say so.'
One brow quirked. `Do you know what you're saying? It would take a lifetime using every penny you earn, and even then you would only pay a fraction of its value. No, it was an unfortunate accident and something best forgotten.' He turned reassuringly to Mustapha, who still looked as worried as if he had broken the china himself. 'Do not blame yourself, my good
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