`Yes, let us be off. You have all your belongings?'
She nodded and slid across the wide front seat to her place beside the open window. The top of the car was of canvas, which would make shade and draught as they drove across the desert. The slightest bit of coolness would be more than welcome once they were out under the hot sun.
`You have forgotten your hiriz?'
She glanced at the tiny gold crescent that hung now with the gold fish on her wrist-chain. He had bought it for her when they emerged from the mosque to find an old, cowled seller of charms sitting on the steps. 'No, I have it safe. I do believe you're superstitious, senor.'
`I am the son of a Spaniard and the grandson of a Moorish princess,' he drawled. 'What else do you expect in a man of two nations so steeped in the lore of fate and Kismet?'
`Then you believe that everything hinges on fate, senor, and that whatever happens to us is inevitable, like the tide drawn by the moon?'
'Don't you believe it, chica?' Now he was driving along a narrow street, their wheels bumping over the ancient cobbles, the horn warning every few yards a jay-walking citizen of Benikesh. 'It could not be a thing of chance that we met at a moment when I needed to solve a problem close to my heart. Your resemblance to Joyosa was so uncanny, there in the mimosa. I thought for a moment that she had come back into my life.'
`And you wouldn't wish her to return, senor?'
His answer was in Spanish, and the curt tone of his voice imparted the full meaning of the words. Janna flinched, and felt as if she were included in his dislike because of her likeness to the girl who had fled from him and the Princess, afraid of his background and life in a desert house. Janna sighed, and felt his glance as the safari car turned out of the gates of Benikesh.
`Are you sorry to be leaving?' he asked.
`The place has a certain battered glamour, senor.'
`Wait until you see El Amara . . . a jewel of a place. The Princess has striven to make it so, and I have not been idle myself. We are not despots, she and I, living off the people and the land.'
`Have you no sisters or brothers?'
`I have some cousins who live at the house.'
`And they have met Joyosa?'
When he nodded, Janna grew anxious again. `I—I wish
I were going to El Amara as a guest instead of a fake.'
`What if you were going as yourself, Janna, without any pretence?'
She shot him a wide-eyed look, and he went on : 'The Princess might be so intrigued by you that she may forget her schemes with regard to Joyosa. It was never a settled thing. What she really desires is to see me with someone I might marry.'
Janna's heart beat quickly. But what of Dam Rachael? You spoke of finances; that a breakdown in your grandmother's plan to have you marry her ward might make things awkward for Joyosa's sister.'
`It would have done so if I had returned home alone, with no fair young thing to parade as my possible bride. My grandmother's anger will be softened by you, chica. She will be able to take an interest in you . . . a shy English girl with the complexion of a pale rose, and eyes so wondering and blue. You will be like a new toy for her. She will make plans, but after a month or so you will pretend tedium, a homesickness for England, and we will agree amicably to cancel the arrangement. No one need be hurt.'
`It sounds reasonable
`And much to your liking, eh? You need tell no lies.'
`I—I hated the thought of a barefaced deception.'
`Little Miss Prim !' he laughed. 'It is agreed, then, that from now on we are unofficial lovers. I have taken you on the rebound, because of your likeness to Joyosa, and so we make the Princess happy, we make Rachael secure, and we make Janna greatly relieved not to have to act a part.'
`And what of you, Don Raul?'
`I shall just enjoy myself.'
`I don't quite understand—'
`There will be a little more kissing,' he said wickedly. 'A little more show of affection . . . until the time comes when you wish to be set free.'
`Is it necessary?' she gasped.
`You are not compelled to enjoy it,' he taunted. But if
we switch our plan, and if my grandmother is to be convinced that you appeal to me, then now and again you will have to brace yourself for an embrace. Do you shrink from it?'
`I expect I shall manage to tolerate it,' she rejoined. 'So long as it's a kiss on the cheek or the hand.'
`It will be,' he drawled, 'in company.'
She shot a quick look at him, but his profile gave nothing away. It was carved clearly against the desert light, for now they were driving along the road that ploughed through the burning desert. The sands were tawny, like the hide of a great lion, and the road was pitched into mounds and sudden dips by the intensity of the sun. She pondered her childhood days, when sunshine had seemed as lacking as affection, and it filled her with wonderment that the sunshine of this land should be so abundant, so savage almost, flooding down upon the car and warming her right through her dress, a pale sleeveless thing of chiffon, that stopped short of her knees. Her glance took in her legs, long and slim and neatly composed beside the tan slacks of her companion. The sun found the charms on her wrist-chain and set them shining. And when she moved her hand, just a little so he wouldn't notice, the great emerald seemed a pool of mystery.
Words trembled on her lips, and once again her blue eyes were fixed upon his face. Her heart bounded . . . he was a handsome devil ! If she had to love someone, and if it had to last her a lifetime, the short time she would be with him, she would not have chosen anyone but this man. Unpredictable, taunting and amused by her unworldliness, he was also the most exciting of men to be with. She liked his eyes, the warmth to his skin when he came too near and she felt compelled to push him away. His shoulders never slouched, and that peak of dark hair was exactly in the centre of his forehead.
Perhaps she was in love with the look of him, never having loved before. But whatever it was, she liked the
feeling that she was of use to him. She would do a lot now to please him.
Did you plan it all along?' The words escaped her. 'I mean, it always seemed a bit beyond reason that I could pass myself off as another girl. Did you intend from the start to introduce me as Janna Smith?'
`Of course,' he admitted shamelessly.
`Then why did you pretend otherwise?'
`I wanted to find out how desperate you were to escape from dull routine. I was curious about you. You were so alone, so untried, so much the orphan that .I wondered if you could be faking.'
`That was cruel of you, to think such a thing!'
`Men are a little cruel, chica, especially when it comes to someone who mystifies them. I might have been asking a young adventuress to pose as my grandmother's ward. Only a girl of real integrity could have fought the idea as you did. An adventuress would have jumped at the chance. She would have been confident of acting the part. You were frightened, and agreed to my proposition only after your disagreement with Madam Noyes.'
`Knowing I was frightened, you could have told me your real plan.' Bewilderment crept into her eyes; he had played with her like a great cat with a timid mouse, and she wanted to wrench off his ring, but was helpless to do so when he looked at her with those dark eyes that demanded even as they enticed.
`I wanted to give you time to get used to me. Each time I spoke of Joyosa she was there between us, a third person in our lives. But as soon as I told you it was yourself with whom I wished to play the role of a lover I knew you might panic. To be afraid and fighting it is a different thing from panic. I waited until our very last hour in Benikesh to see if you would back out . . . when you didn't I knew the time had come to be completely frank with you.'
`You were so sure I would agree to your real plan, Don Raul?'
`Yes. I knew you would agree out of sheer relief. When I said "be yourself, be Janna Smith," it was as if I had saved you from a quicksand into which you were sinking up to your ears.'
`Y
ou devil!' She choked the words. 'No wonder you spoke of enjoying yourself. Oh, how I'd like to pay you back !'
`Being a female I am sure you will find a diabolical way to do so.' A laughter line creased his brown cheek. 'There is a coffee flask in the basket of provisions, and I begin to feel thirsty. Will you pour me a cup, chica?'
`Whatever you say, master.' She knelt on the seat and reached over to the basket. She opened it, took out one of the flasks and a pair of cups, and resettled in her seat. Then colour burned in her cheeks as she felt his glance on the short chiffon dress that revealed her legs, her arms, and her slim neck. She became acutely aware of his proximity. Little arrows seemed to shoot an exquisite pain through her body. It was as if his glance had caressed her.
She poured him a cup of coffee, which he drank with one hand guiding the wheel of the car. `Mmmm, delicious,' he murmured.
Janna was acutely aware of everything now, and it was as if he implied something else. She tingled as she sat beside him drinking her own coffee. Whatever would she do if he ever murmured such a word in her ear? Delicious .. . darling . . . desert stars. They were such evocative words, and she was involved with a man who was not exactly a saint.
She shivered . . . half with nerves, half with anticipation of what lay ahead of her. All these sensations were so new to Janna Smith, quiet little orphan, typist and runabout, who had never known the warm joy of nestling close to someone who wanted her.
`It is good coffee,' she said, needing to fill the intimate silence which had fallen between them.
`We have mocha coffee trees in El Amara, which are grown
along with the tangerines, which have the most magical smell, and various other fruits. Miles of groves. One of the largest in the whole of Morocco. Does it seem strange that the desert should produce fruit on such a scale?'
`Like lots of other people I was inclined to imagine the desert as an arid place.'
`Where there is water running beneath the surface of the desert an oasis will grow of itself, but my grandmother's people have cultivated date palms and fruit trees for over a hundred years. It was started in her father's time, and the Princess hopes it will continue during my lifetime, and my son's.'
`You have a son?' Janna tried to sound casual.
He laughed. 'You evidently think of me as an indulged sheik who has had girls for playthings since I became old enough to appreciate them. No, I have no sons, chica. But I hope to have them.'
Rachael's? She who had two small boys already, so lovely, and rather helpless somehow, and so much his concern.
`Do you like tangerines?' he asked.
`Mmm, they remind me of Christmas. We orphans always had one wrapped in silver paper to make it look exciting. A lady in the neighbourhood used to give them to the home.'
`And at my home you will see so many, suspended red-gold and luscious from the trees and filling the air with their fragrance. Crystallised orange flowers, and orange-flower honey are made from them . . . we don't wait for a festive time to enjoy their sweetness.'
She met his eyes and saw a kindness in them, so in contrast to the bold amusement she usually aroused. 'I shan't know myself, senor. I shall feel like a kid let loose in a candy shop.'
`You are very unspoiled, Janna. Very young, with much to learn, but much to give in return. Your lover will be a fortunate man, I think.'
`I—I'm not looking for a lover, senor.'
`When I speak of a lover, senorita, I mean the man who
will become your husband.' His tone became teasing. 'In your country is a husband not a lover?'
The word has a different meaning,' she said confusedly. `Extra-marital?' The teasing note deepened.
`Yes, in most cases.'
`Here we regard a man as a lover before anything else. He must be so, to become later on a protector, a father, and a companion. You have nothing to retort, Janna? Do I make you shy with my outspoken remarks? Or does it confuse you to think of being loved by a man?'
`I—I'm not really used to discussing such a subject with a man.'
Did Madam Noyes talk of such things? Romance is her business.'
`Her ideas of romance weren't exactly mine.'
`What are yours, senorita? Or can't you reveal them to a man?'
`They're quite simple.' Her cheeks were warm, and her eyes were fixed upon the desert. 'It must be nice to be the centre of someone's life, to share, and to grow close through the years, so that all the sad, cold things are shut outside when you are together. I would imagine that love—real love—was something like that.'
`You fail to mention excitement, chica. The rapture which is also part of real love.'
`I was taking that for granted,' she said demurely.
`That part should never be taken for granted, but being so innocent I suppose you know little about it?'
`I have not had your experience, senor.'
`You talk as if I had been a Don Juan. I wonder why?' `You certainly don't strike me as a choirboy, not with your face.'
`And what is wrong with my face?'
`Not a thing, senor. That is half the trouble.'
`Meaning that because I look rather wicked I have behaved so?'
`I expect you've sown quite a few wild oats.'
'It's in the nature of a man, Niña. And in the nature of a woman to prefer a bit of the devil to a lot of self-righteousness.'
`I know that.' She broke into a smile. 'I'm not an absolute prude, though you keep harping on my innocence. I am twenty years old.'
`Twelve years younger than I, and still quite a child in some ways.'
`Do you suggest that I show a few wild oats and discard my awful innocence?'
`I regard your innocence as part of your charm . . . there is a pothole in the road ahead, so I won't look your way if you are about to blush.'
They bounced in and out of the dip, and Janna told herself it was the reason her heart turned over, or seemed to. No one had ever told her that she had any charm and though he could be teasing her, she wanted to believe that he meant it. It made life more exciting to be admired by him even as it made this make-believe situation more dangerous.
`If the dazzle of the sun is beginning to make you drowsy, then take a nap,' he suggested. 'I shall drive until the sun is so hot that the wheel and the engine start to bake, then we will find somewhere to park for lunch. Though the desert looks quite barren, there are rock formations which will give us shade until the sun loses some of its ferocity.'
`I never knew the sun could be so brazen.' She looked at Don Raul, who was now wearing smoked glasses, and noticed that his tan shirt was beginning to cling to the firmly muscled shoulders. Noon was approaching, when like a flame the sun would blaze over the sands and set them scorching. It was a frightening prospect, and she was glad the man beside her knew the desert so well and would not break any of the rules that led strangers into trouble. He would ensure that their engine didn't burn out and break down; he would know where they could shelter when the sun reached its zenith.
`Because the days are so warm, the nights are quite cold,'
he said. 'The desert winds start to blow soon after sunset, and at certain times of the year the very dew in the rock pools turns to ice. The desert is a place of strange moods, sudden changes of temperament, and that is why a man never grows tired of it. Like a woman it perpetually challenges and mystifies . . . one moment so warm, the next so cold, like snow off the Atlas peaks themselves.'
`A man's world,' she murmured, 'where a woman might be an intruder.'
`You are having a slight case of nerves,' he said. 'You feel apprehension, a desire and a dislike . . . rather like the feeling a girl might have when for the first time she finds herself alone with a lover.'
It was a most unsettling simile, and yet it described her feelings so exactly. She was eager for what lay ahead of her, and yet at the same time she wanted to return to the safety of an English room, where she could turn the key in the lock and be untouched by the wild forces of life.
`Yon know altogether too much about female feelings,' she retorted, and resting her head against the shoulder of her seat she closed her eyes against the sun-glare and strove not to think of anything but the motion of the car. She heard him laugh softly . . . it was rather like a purring sound, velvety and resonant, stirring the soft skin at the nape of her slender neck.
`Sleep awhile, berida,' he said. 'Rest that active young mind of yours.'
Berida? It isn't a word I've heard before.'
`In Arabic it means girl.'
`It's a nice word, senor.'
`Arabic is a poetic language.'
`And you speak it fluently?'
`As fluently as any other desert sheik.' His tone of voice was softly mocking, but she knew he didn't really jest. He was Raul Cesar Bey, and the further they travelled into the desert the more aware she was of his affinity with the savage sun and the tawny sands. Here he was not the worldly
traveller whom she had met in the garden of a smart hotel. Here he discarded the suave manners of the cosmopolitan and became the man he really was . . . the grandson of a Moroccan princess. Here his shoulders carried a cloak with inborn grace, his eyes held the dark fires of an imperious nature, his skin the tawny warmth of the desert itself.
On the plane to Casablanca he had asked her if she thought herself the captive of a desert sheik.
She knew in this safari car with him that it was no longer a jest . . . he had made a captive of her heart and bound her to him by a promise. She would be literally his until he was ready to release her from their make-believe involvement. She would not be able to run away. She would at El Amara be a prisoner of his pretended love.
Janna awoke as the car came to a sudden halt. She stirred and thought drowsily that the shoulder of her seat was more comfortable than she had realised. She opened her eyes and found to her surprise that her sun-glasses had been removed and that her head rested upon the warm muscles of a masculine chest. She didn't dare to move for several moments, the aroma of warm male skin in her nostrils, mingling with the tang of tobacco smoke, and the bitter-sweet of healthy perspiration. Such a heady mixture of emotions ran through her . . . a desire to press her face closer against him, to breathe him deep, and never lose him to someone else.
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