man. What is done is done. I will talk to Fatima. She will not be so careless again.'
With that he took Amber's elbow and led her from the kitchen. Rafika had disappeared, seemingly unaware of the distress she had left behind. 'I suggest you get yourself ready for lunch,' he said. 'We don't want to upset Mustapha even further by being late.' His voice sounded normal, but there was a closed expression on his face which told Amber that he was not as calm over the incident as he pretended to be.
Fatima did not serve their lunch. Hayat appeared, an almost identical version of the other girl, but she was subdued and Amber guessed that Hamed had already spoken to Fatima who in turn had relayed the conversation to her sister.
When she returned to her room later she found Fatima unpacking her suitcases that had somehow appeared from the Sahara Beach, a trace of recent tears still on her face.
Before Amber could speak she cried out, 'Oh, miss, I am so sorry. It was all my fault. I should never have touched it. But you are so pretty and, delicate, like the china, I wanted you to use it—it seemed so right for you—and now look what has happened! The master will never forgive me. Oh, what shall I do?' Her tears started afresh, streaming down the dark cheeks and dropping on to the front of her yellow blouse. She clutched Amber's arm, her wide eyes imploring, all the vulnerability of her youth very much in evidence.
Amber attempted a comforting smile, but she herself felt so miserable that it was an effort. She placed an arm about Fatima's shoulders. 'I'm sure Mr Slouma will not be unreasonable,' she said. 'It's natural he's
upset. The cups were one of his showpieces, they are irreplaceable. Did you not know that?'
Fatima shook her head. 'I knew they were pretty, that is all, and I thought why should pretty things not be used. It seemed such a pity for them to stand on that shelf day after day with no one touching them except when they needed washing.'
Had Amber not learned their true value she might have agreed, but now she said, 'It's a hard lesson you have learned today, that we have all learned, I think, but no good will come by worrying. So dry your eyes and try to carry on your duties as you did before.' She crossed to her dressing table and pulled a handkerchief from the drawer, offering it to the sobbing girl. She felt sorry for Fatima, but at the same time the girl had to realise exactly what it was she had done. It was no use being too sympathetic.
Eventually Fatima became calmer. `I—I suppose I am lucky not to have lost my job,' she husked. 'I do not know what I should have done if I had. My mother desperately needs the money. Hayat and I are the oldest of ten and she relies on the money we take home to feed the others.'
'Well, you haven't lost your job,' said Amber matter-of-factly, 'but you'd better pull yourself together and start work, or you'll find yourself in trouble again.'
'Yes, you're right.' Fatima scurried towards the door. 'Thank you for listening. I miss my mother—and I needed someone to talk to.'
Amber had never looked upon herself as a mother figure before, but considering that Fatima could be no more than thirteen or fourteen she supposed that to her she did indeed represent an older woman in
whom she could confide. Apart from herself and her sister it was an all-male household—a disturbing enough thought at the best of times. She smiled wryly and changed her sandals for a pair of low-heeled walking shoes. She needed the peace and serenity of the garden. She needed to be alone to gather her chaotic thoughts together.
She was thankful no one saw her go out of the house —she had no desire for Hamed's company. How could she think rationally with him at her side when he was the main reason for her despair?
She paused for a while beside the pool. It seemed an age since this morning when she had lain by its side, Hamed rubbing her leg and sending shivers of passion running through-her body. It was strange he had shown no feelings of emotion himself—almost as if he had grown immune to her. He had been the perfect, attentive lover until last night, and now it was as though he had accomplished what he had set out to do and had no further interest. She did not believe his explanation that he was giving her time to come to terms with herself—that was ridiculous.
Was Rafika right? Did he in fact make a habit of proposing to girls, rejecting them once he had won their undying love? It was a curious pastime and she had thought that Rafika was making it up in order to make her, Amber, jealous. But now as memories came tumbling back, she realised that since Hamed had more or less forced that declaration of love out of her he had scarcely paid her any attention at all. The thought hurt, it hurt damnably, and she turned away from the pool, walking swiftly between the palms and cypresses away from the house.
She had not ventured this far before, but now the dark green of the cypresses gave way to the lighter green of the citrus and farther still the restful silvery leaves of the olive. These then were Hamed's olive groves. For as far as the eye could see were rows upon rows of trees, casting long sloping lines of shadow, their silver-grey leaves cool against the yellow sand. Amber stood for a few moments entranced before walking between the uniform rows. The fruit was already swelling and ripening, but Hamed had told her that it would be at least another month before it was ripe enough to pick. 'And then begins our busy season,' he had said, 'when everyone for miles around comes to help pick the fruit.' She wondered whether he would allow her to help, or whether that too would be considered too menial a task.
Without turning round she suddenly realised that she was being followed, and it struck her then that during the twenty-four hours she had been at the villa she had never once been left alone for any considerable length of time. She was unobtrusively being guarded! She really was a prisoner, a thought sufficiently frightening to make her breath catch in her throat. Her legs felt rubbery and she leaned back against one of the trees, her heartbeats quickening painfully. Just what devious game was Hamed Ben Slouma playing?
CHAPTER EIGHT
AMBER was not surprised to see that it was Hamed walking lazily between the rows of trees, his hands thrust into the pockets of his trousers. He had the slow, easy movement of a tiger, she observed. He looked relaxed but was ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.
`So this is where you are,' he said, halting at her side and resting one elbow against the bole of the tree. `Rached said he saw you coming this way. Are you admiring my olives?' Words lightly spoken but proving without a shadow of doubt that she was being watched and was a prisoner, as truly as if she had been behind bars.
`I was resting,' said Amber indifferently, hut yes, I suppose they are impressive. You must be very rich to own all this.'
`And does it bother you?' he asked, a sardonic gleam lightening his eyes. 'In my experience it is the one thing guaranteed to attract a woman.'
The lean length of his body was only inches away from her own and a faint lingering odour of the soap he used reached her nostrils. It incited her without her quite knowing why, but she refused to move away and give him the pleasure of knowing that his nearness was in any way disturbing. She looked up into the deep velvet eyes above her own, holding his gaze with a scarcely perceptible lift of her chin. 'Then perhaps
you've been mixing with the wrong type. If I loved a man I wouldn't care whether he was rich or poor.'
His other arm came round the back of her, imprisoning her against the tree, the whispering leaves closing behind them like a blanket. 'But I thought you loved me?' His voice was like a caress, subtly trying to persuade her to tell him the truth. 'Why then do you say, "if you loved a man"? There can be no ifs about it. By your own admission, my sweet passion flower, your heart belongs to me and you may as well know now that I have no intention of relinquishing it.'
'I must have been mad,' declared Amber passionately, 'when I said that to you. Why should I love you? Your manner towards me has been far from loverlike ever since that admission.'
'I have had other things on my mind,' he said gently, 'but it distresses me that you should think my intentions are less than honourable.' He to
ok her hand and held it against his chest. 'Feel how strongly beats my heart. It is beating for you, my desirable Amber.'
With his firm powerful body beneath her hand Amber could not quell the quickening of her own heart. The scene was set, she thought. If he took her into his arms now all would be lost. His close proximity had set off some crazy impulse inside her which was blossoming into a full-scale assault on her senses. No matter how much she told herself that he was a villain, that he had some ulterior motive in bringing her here to his villa, she could not deny the intense physical attraction between them. 'Words come easily to you,' she cried bravely: 'Do you really expect me to believe them?'
'I would never knowingly lie,' he said with an aggrieved air.
'Nor would you tell me all the facts. It lies with your friend Rafika to fill me in on the real Hamed Slouma.'
An odd light shone in his eyes. `Ah, so my little Rafika has been up to her tricks again! No wonder she was in a hurry to get away. What tales, I wonder, has she been spinning this time?'
Amber lifted her fine brows coolly. 'So far as I'm concerned she told me nothing but the truth.'
He inclined his head gravely. 'You are perfectly at liberty to believe her, but I think I should warn you that she has a highly fertile imagination and will stop at nothing to black me in the eyes of other females. She has tried it many times before—always, I might add, with success.'
So it was true, thought Amber with surprising despondency. Everything that Rafika had said was true, otherwise why did he not deny it? He must have some sort of idea of the things she had said. She could not believe that he would let his young friend get away with it—not if he truly thought anything of her. Or perhaps it was Rafika he would turn to in the end. She could be right when she said that he was waiting for her to grow up—and meanwhile he spent his time amusing himself with any available girl who took his fancy.
'I can see your thoughts disturb you,' he continued at length, and leaning a fraction closer, `Do you think I ought to do something to take your mind off such problems?'
The look in his eyes sent a shiver of anticipation through Amber. It was, not difficult to read his mind
and she lowered her lashes, looking away from those dark, stirring depths, not realising that this very action gave away her uncertainty. 'I—I think I should like to go back to the house,' she said hesitantly.
'When I am ready,' he said with a soft firmness she knew could not be denied. 'It amuses me now to spend a few moments alone with you knowing that we will not be disturbed.'
`So I am your plaything?' returned Amber hotly, 'someone with whom to amuse yourself when you have nothing better to do. If that's how you feel you can let me go right now,' and for the first time she struggled to escape.
But all she succeeded in doing was to bring herself closer to Hamed and as their bodies touched his arms came behind her, pinning her to him. 'Surely this is far more pleasurable than spending time on your own,' he murmured, the fingers of one hand caressing her nape and sending shivers of anticipation down her spine.
But quelling these thoughts she said distantly, 'No doubt it is to you, but it sickens me that you think you can daily with my feelings whenever you like.'
'My dearest Amber, I never daily with a woman's feelings. I am always perfectly sincere. Do you really doubt me?'
Enfolded in his arms and with 'her heart beating an erratic tattoo against her breast, how could she deny it? Every nerve-end clamoured for his touch, his kisses, it was only deep down that she knew the truth. The important thing was, did it matter? Did she care that she might be one of many, discarded as soon as he had finished amusing himself? Or was the experience
sufficient to make it all worthwhile? Was that what she wanted—the tortuous pleasure of Hamed's love now—and then nothing? It came as something of a shock when she realised that this was what she would settle for, making her wonder what type of a person she had become to allow herself to be used by this foreigner with the devastating looks and glib tongue.
She did not speak, but it was as though Hamed had read her thoughts, for he gave a satisfied smile before kissing her gently on the lips. Then he released her—and Amber felt an acute sense of disappointment. Her chagrin went deeper when he turned and walked away, back the way he had come.
Her warm passionate body felt rejected and the hurt went deeper than anything before. She was tempted to run after him, to say, 'Hamed, what is the matter, why are you going? I really do love you and I don't care that you don't love me. It doesn't matter.' But without losing what little pride she had left how could she? If Hamed had wanted her he would not have gone. He had shown her no mercy before, so why begin now?
Once Hamed was out of sight her emotions cooled, to be replaced by a burning anger that he should once more build her up to this fever pitch only to turn his back at the precise moment when she needed him most. She there and then vowed that it would never happen again. He would not make a fool of her a third time!
Amber did not see Hamed again until he joined her for dinner. She had been a little apprehensive about this next meeting, half expecting him to make some reference to their earlier conversation, and was relieved when he scarcely spoke. There was a detached air about him that puzzled her and she was able to
study him without his realising the fact.
He had changed into a formal dark suit that sat elegantly on his broad shoulders. His jaw was freshly shaven and his hair neatly combed,' and just looking at him caused her pulses to quicken. She did not realise how long it was that she stared, drinking in every feature of that beloved face from the straggling brows that shadowed his magnificent dark eyes, to those generous lips that she knew could wreak havoc with her senses, she only knew that suddenly he was speaking to her and that he had repeated his question twice before she become aware of the fact.
'Perhaps I should ask what it is that fascinates you about my face instead of whether you would like to go out dancing this evening,' he said cynically. 'Have I a smut on my nose or something?—you have been gazing at me for a, full five minutes.'
An exaggeration to say the least, thought Amber, but she had been guilty of staring and delicate colour suffused her cheeks that he should have observed her curiosity. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered, and trying to excuse herself, added, 'I was miles away. I wasn't really looking at you.'
'Then it's a pity,' he returned with a dry smile. 'I was flattering myself that you found my face so irresistible you could not tear your eyes away. Where were you, may I ask, that made you completely oblivious to your surroundings?'
Amber shrugged. 'My thoughts can be of no interest to you.'
'On the contrary,' said Hamed quickly, 'anything you do concerns me, but I will not press you as you are so clearly reluctant to confide. Tell me instead
whether you would like to go out dancing this evening?'
Could she bear the thought of surrendering herself into his arms, of the exquisite torture of feeling his body next to hers? The answer must be no if she was to remain faithful to her vows. She was exceedingly vulnerable where this man was concerned and her only form of defence was to keep as far away from him as possible. 'I don't think so,' she said, realising he was still awaiting her reply.
Those thick mobile brows rose until they almost disappeared into the thatch of hair which had already escaped and fallen across his' forehead in its customary manner. 'You surprise me. I thought you might see it as a chance to—er—give me the slip. Have you given up all idea of running away? Are you perhaps finding life here more enjoyable than you at first thought?'
What could she say? She had laid the trap herself. 'I do like it,' she admitted reluctantly. 'You have a very beautiful house.'
'That is why I want a beautiful lady to live in it,' he returned softly. 'You are like a breath of spring. I wish ' He stopped abruptly, a mask falling over his face which had softened in the dimly lit room. Now harsh shadows appeared, almost as though he regretted his sentimentality. 'Then we wil
l go for a walk,' he said, and it was a command, not an invitation.
As soon as their meal was finished Amber fetched a coat to protect her against the chill evening air which quickly followed the warm autumn days. As they let themselves out of the house Hamed took her elbow to guide her down the stone steps and out through the covered arches to the poolside. A whisper of breeze
stirred the palm fronds, their feathery outline clearly visible against the bright night sky, and the olives shivered as they passed through their shadowy rows.
It seemed to Amber that they walked for miles before the trees finally thinned and then she caught her breath in surprise. They were practically on the shore. The sound that she had thought was a deepening sigh of the trees was the surf as it ebbed gently across the pale sand. An almost full moon looked as though it was spilling silver tears across the dark depths of the Mediterranean and it was all so very beautiful that Amber could not help exclaiming out aloud.
Hamed smiled indulgently. 'An evening for romance, if one were so inclined.' It was the first time he had spoken since they set out and Amber wondered whether he had regretted his decision. But now he draped his arm about her shoulders and led her forward on to the beach.
She tensed beneath his touch and shrugging herself free ran on ahead, not wishing the intimacy such a scene suggested. But Hamed's long legs soon closed the gap between them and his fingers bit into the soft flesh, of her arm, spinning her about. 'Does my touch suddenly repel you?' he asked harshly.
In the light of the moon his face appeared pale—and taut—and his narrowed eyes compelled her to look at him, to stare into that handsome face which had become so dear to her. Mutely she. shook her head.
`Then why are you running away? Are you afraid?'
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