Stormy Affair

by Mayo, Margaret

  Amber was more conservative, nibbling her way along the edge until she reached the egg, but she had to admit that the brik was delicious. The main course consisted of chunks of meat in gravy together with potatoes, peas and carrots, followed by a dish of pomegranate in syrup. Amber found this fruit entirely delicious and wondered how long it had taken for them to pick all those seeds from the fruit or whether it was done by machine.

  They sat for a while over their coffee before moving outside where many of the other residents had now gathered. The crowd were in high spirts. The bar was open and they sipped their drinks beneath the stars. When one of the Germans started a sing-song they all joined in and later some of the local waiters made up an impromptu band with their zoukra pipes and a

  tabel drum. One of the French girls rose and gave a fair imitation of a belly dancer, gyrating her hips with more suggestiveness than grace, and after that it was a free-for-all, each one getting up and doing a turn whether it was singing or dancing or even a gymnastic display. Soon Amber and Hamed were the only two who had not participated and amidst much hand-clapping they were forced to take the floor.

  'I can't do anything,' hissed Amber, 'I've never been any good at this sort of thing.'

  'You can dance,' he said, 'we will dance together, then perhaps you will not feel embarrassed.' So to the mournful wail of the zoukra and the rhythmic beat of the drum he pulled her into his arms, holding her body suggestively close and pulling her head down on to his shoulder. Amber closed her eyes and with the feel of his hard body next to hers she could almost far-get that they were being watched. She and Hamed were sharing this romantic evening beneath the tropical night sky where only the stars winked down and the palms whispered between themselves.

  When he began to sing it caught her by surprise and she stopped. They stood like that in the middle of the arena, Hamed holding her at arm's length, his smiling face looking down into her upturned one. She had no idea what he was singing, since he used his native tongue, but it sounded like a love song and judging by the rapt expressions on their audience it was having an equally moving effect on them. When his song finally finished they returned to their seats. The crowd cheered and clapped, but Amber. was only aware of the magnetism that drew them together. It had been so very strong during those few minutes on the floor.

  It was a pity that the evening had to end, but one by one the crowd drifted away until at length Hamed stood up. 'Are you ready?' he asked.

  Ready for what? she thought, attempting to stifle the sudden rapid beating of her heart. Ready for sleep —or was there something else he had in mind despite his earlier assurance?

  'In a few more moments,' she said shakily. 'It's so peaceful here under the stars, I wish it could go on forever.'

  He smiled, plucking her hand from her lap and pulling her to her feet. 'Nothing lasts forever, my little romantic, nothing.'

  But she knew that her love would. No matter what he did or how he treated her. It was something much bigger than herself.

  CHAPTER TEN

  BACK in their little square room Amber could not still her quickened pulses and felt sure Hamed must be aware of her unease. Not that he himself seemed perturbed. He whistled softly to himself as he pulled off his sweater, but when he began to unzip his, jeans Amber hastly turned her back, pretending to be searching in her bag for a comb. It was not until he said, `Come along, slowcoach,' that she turned.

  He wore only a pair of black silk pyjama trousers and Amber's consternation was se great that it threatened to choke her. Was he going to stand and watch her undress? Hadn't he the decency to turn his back

  . as she had done? 'I thought you were tired,' she said, hoping he would take the hint and climb into bed. But he merely smiled and perched himself on the edge.

  `Our relaxing evening has revived me. I don't feel in the least like sleep now.'

  Amber toyed nervously with the buttons on her jacket, realising that she couldn't stand there forever-- in the hope that he would do the decent thing. She was quite convinced that he was deliberately watching and that he was enjoying her discomfiture. 'I'm sure if you tried you would have no difficulty,' she said.

  'Something tells me you are trying to get rid of me,' he said, still with that aggravating smile. He rose and came round the bottom of the bed towards her. 'Dearest Amber, why are you terrified of me? Didn't I give you my word?'

  She licked suddenly dry lips, praying he would not touch her. She knew that if he did she would not have the power to resist. Those hours spent beneath the stars had triggered off a primeval reaction and she ached for his touch, while at the same time her pride would make her fight with all her strength if he so much as attempted to. She had no intention of breaking her vow never to give in to him again. 'I—I'm not afraid,' she said. 'What makes you think that? Your word is good enough for me.'

  He came a step nearer, so close that she could feel the warmth emanating from his body. 'Then why are you trembling, my little passion flower? Look, your fingers are shaking so much you cannot undo your jacket. Allow me,' and without giving her the chance to refuse he unfastened the buttons. She was uncertain whether it was an accident that his hand brushed her breast, but it made her catch her lip between her teeth and she was sure that he must hear the wild beating of her heart.

  'Thank you,' she whispered, when he would have slipped the jacket from her shoulders. 'I—I can manage now,' adding beneath her breath, 'Oh, please go to bed! Don't you know what you're doing to me?'

  He tipped his head to one side and stood back a pace, grinning sardonically. 'If you need any more help just say the word. I'm more than willing to oblige.'

  'I bet you are,' she flung back, her breathing easier now that he had moved slightly away. 'You're an expert at this sort of thing, aren't you?'

  'You could say that,' he acknowledged easily. 'Most

  women seem to get confused with me watching. I wonder why?'

  She could have told him. She could have said that his smouldering dark eyes did things to a woman that should never be allowed, that one glance from beneath those thick dark lashes turned a woman's limbs to jelly. But she didn't. Instead she said, 'You're conceited. It has nothing to do with you watching. It's merely a matter of pride. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but there are occasions when I like privacy and this happens to be one of them.'

  'Are you ashamed of your body that you don't want your future husband to see it?' he mocked, still refusing to move.

  'As a matter of fact,' Amber was feeling desperate now, 'I don't believe you really intend to marry me—not that I shall ever agree,' she hastened to add, 'but I think you—you're only trying to get out of me what you can. Perhaps I ought to tell you now that you're wasting your time. I'm not one of those girls who hop into bed with any man who cares to ask her and then forgets all about it afterwards. I'm a one-man girl and whoever I marry I shall have to be darn certain he loves me first.'

  He nodded his head solemnly. 'Admirable sentiments and I agree wholeheartedly. But you fail to mention your own feelings. Would you need to love this lucky man just as much, or wouldn't that matter so long as he loved you?'

  'Of course I would love him. Marriage can't be one-sided.'

  'And what sort of a man are you looking for to fulfil these worthy conditions?'

  His open mockery whipped up her anger. 'Certainly not anyone like you!' she flared. 'I want a man who will treat me with respect.'

  'You mean you want a weak little yes-man who would do everything you say and vow his undying love?' His face mirrored disgust.

  'Don't be ridiculous,' she snapped. 'You know what I mean.'

  'I know what you want,' he said tightly, 'and it isn't what you think. You need someone who will set fire to your blood, someone to make you feel all woman so that you make love as wildly as you are now arguing.' He paused, his face brooding, his eyes dark and unfathomable. 'In other words,' his hands were on her shoulders now, 'you need me,' and he pulled her to him so that she could feel the throb
of his desire.

  She felt herself drowning in the tide of her emotions, but even, so knew that she must resist. To give in now would set the seal on her future. Her arms were pinned to her sides, but she still had on her shoes—and his feet were bare! Without stopping to consider the consequences she ground her heel on the top of his foot, feeling a sadistic delight when he yelled out and let her go.

  'Perhaps now you'll realise that I meant it when I said you were not my type,' she said, smiling a little, but not altogether sure what his reaction was going to be. Looking down at his foot she saw that the high heel of her sandal had drawn blood and she immediately regretted her action. She had not meant to hurt him—not that much. When she looked back up at his face his expression frightened her. It was menacing but sexually exciting at the same time, and her pulses

  began their erratic race all over again.

  'You deserve punishing for that,' he said thickly. 'I know I promised not to touch you and I'm not normally a man who goes back on his word, but I'll make you pay if it's the last thing I do.'

  Amber cast a scared glance towards the door, but the key was missing. There was no escape that way. 'I—I'm sorry,' she began, 'I—I didn't

  'Sorry be damned,' he broke in. 'You knew what you were doing, but it's a pity it's had the opposite effect to what you hoped.'

  Her jacket had swung open in the affray, revealing the curves of her breasts. His eyes dropped to them now and with a harsh exclamation he ripped the coat from her shoulders, dropping it to the floor. Her bra followed and he did not stop until he had her stripped naked. Her attempts to check him were ineffectual and when he had finished she stood, her eyes downcast, all fight gone out of her, knowing without a shadow of doubt what he was going to do next and equally sure that nothing she could do or say would halt him.

  But strangely enough it was her very meekness that had the desired result. Now that the aggression had gone out of her Hamed too appeared to lose interest. 'For goodness' sake put your nightdress on and get into bed,' he said tersely.

  She needed no second bidding and within seconds was lying between the white cotton sheets, crying silent tears for Hamed—because he desired her, but did not love her.

  For what seemed like hours she lay still and silent—and awake, listening to the creak of the other bed as Hamed tossed and turned. Was he troubled too or was

  it merely the strangeness of their surroundings that kept him awake?

  When she could bear the loneliness no longer she called out softly, 'Hamed, are you awake?'

  A long pause before he said, 'Yes, it's too warm. I'm going to open the shutters. I would have done it before, but I thought I might disturb you.'

  She sat up and looked at the luminous hands on her watch—just after three and she felt wide awake. She hoped Hamed would sit and talk, but he got back into bed and this time fell into an immediate sleep. She could' hear his breathing, deep and rhythmic—and envied him.

  A breath of wind came through the mosquito mesh —it was welcome and the last thought Amber had before she too fell asleep was that she would like to see the sun rise over the Sahara, hand in hand with the man she loved.

  She dreamt they did. She dreamt that out there in the milky white desert he made love to her—and it was beautiful, like nothing else she had ever experienced. But afterwards, when he had wrung a confession of love from her, he had laughed, just as he had on that other occasion—a ruthless, calculated laugh that told her it had all been a game, and he had won.

  'I hate you, Hamed,' she cried, 'I hate you! '

  She had woken then, the cry of anguish still on her lips. Immediately she looked across at the other bed. It was empty, so too was the room, and she breathed a sigh of relief that he had not heard. For he would certainly have wanted to know what had brought about such an emphatic denial.

  A glance at her watch revealed that it was well after

  eight. So much for her early rise. She dressed quickly and let herself out of the room. The key was back in the lock! After a quick wash she brushed her teeth and then back in their but packed her clothes into her overnight case. Hamed had already seen to his case which stood beside the door ready for their departure. He must have worked very silently, she thought—or had she been deeply asleep, dreaming about him? The memory brought a delicate flush to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes, and it was at this moment Hamed returned.

  He studied her silently for a few seconds, but apart from saying, 'Breakfast's ready,' he kept his thoughts to himself.

  'Are we still going on our camel ride?' she asked conversationally, trying to break the silence that had settled between them as they ate their rolls and sipped hot coffee.

  'If you want to.' He sounded indifferent.

  'Well—if you do.'

  'Oh, for God's sake don't be a little martyr! Either you do or you don't and that's all there is to it. I couldn't care less myself.'

  If this was going to be his attitude then neither did she—except that she had been looking forward to it. Once she had become used to the idea it had appealed to her. Besides, she might not have another opportunity. The way things were going it would not be long before she was heading back to England: 'I would like to,' she said finally with a tentative smile.

  'Right.' There was no softening of his expression and she began to doubt the wisdom of this camel-trek, but she refused to change her mind now and give him

  something else to grumble about.

  In the end she was glad she went. There were several others who had booked camels that morning and Amber found her excitement mounting as she donned a loose-fitting cotton robe, similar in style to a kaftan, and wrapped a white silken scarf about her face and hair until she could hardly recognise herself. But when she looked at Hamed her heart seemed to stop beating. This was the real flamed. He looked the true part of an Arab—the English part of him disappeared altogether. This was his country, his way of life—and she could expect no part of it.

  The brown eyes that looked at her from between the folds of white silk were deep and disturbing, probing right into her and baring her soul. She turned away to hide her confusion and walked with the others out of the hotel grounds to where the camels waited.

  It was with trepidation that she climbed on to the back of the one nearest to her, helped by the smiling owner, and she scarcely heard Hamed call, 'Hold tight!' before the great beast started to rise. She just managed to grab the wooden part of the harness in front of her to stop herself from falling backwards, before she lurched forwards, finally ending up several feet in the air with a look of wide-eyed astonishment on her face.

  'I meant to warn you,' called Hamed from his position on an even larger camel at her side. He was openly laughing and she wondered whether he would have found it even more hilarious if she had fallen off altogether.

  'Thanks,' she returned primly. know better next

  time.'

  When everyone was astride their ungainly-looking beasts they set off. Amber found the swinging, ambling gait of her mount distinctly uncomfortable and clung on for dear life until after a few hundred yards she got used to the rhythm and was able to relax.

  Hamed on the other hand looked perfectly at home as though he had spent his entire life riding through the desert—and of course he had no one leading him! Amber was glad though of the dusky-skinned man who led her camel, checking him when he attempted to wander away from the others, and she was even more relieved that she was not the American lady whose camel decided to trot and she was bouncing up and down on his back in a manner that looked as though it shook every bone in her body.

  Hamed had been right about the desert. Never before had Amber seen sand so white and fine. Miles upon miles, broken only by occasional scrub or palms, bewitching, awe-inspiring, casting a spell over her as had no other part of Tunisia. Exactly why she did not know. Whether it was the vastness or the fact that it opened up a whole new concept on life, she was not sure, but whatever it was she felt at peace with h
erself and those around her. Hamed's indifference was a thing of the past and she smiled up at him. 'I think I'm beginning to enjoy it.'

  Perhaps he too felt the change of atmosphere, for he did not ignore her. He nodded, 'I thought you might,' and as a curious groan came from her camel, causing her to look at the animal in alarm, he said, 'Do you know why the camel holds his head so disdainfully?'

  Thinking it some kind of joke Amber laughed and shook her head.

  'Because, according to their Arab masters, although man knows the ninety-nine names of Allah the camel knows the hundredth.'

  Now she knew he was teasing and she was glad he had got over his moodiness. She had not been looking forward to their journey home, not if he continued with the silence that had begun at breakfast.

  A few miles into the Sahara they stopped. This time Amber was ready when her camel lowered himself to his knees in his peculiar three-stage manner. They climbed a sand dune and sat in the shade of the palms, and she loved every minute. Hamed was close, as close as he could be without their bodies touching. He was gazing at the horizon and there was nothing on his face to say what he was thinking.

  'Haven't camels got ridiculously long eyelashes?' said Amber, more for something to say than because it was particularly interesting. Hamed in this mood left her slightly puzzled and unsure exactly where she stood.

  'They are to keep out the sand,' he explained, turning then and squinting at her through the sunlight which was full on his face. Faint lines appeared round his eyes and tiny specks of sand glistened on his eyebrows. His lips were parted slightly and she wanted to kiss them, to bring to life the dream that he had made love to her out here in the desert. She wanted all these other people to go away and leave just the two of them alone. 'When there's a sandstorm,' he continued, unaware of the line her thoughts were taking, 'he falls to his knees and stretches his neck along the sand, closing his eyes and nostrils. His master shelters behind