Escape from the Harem

by Mary Lyons

  ‘I’ll manage somehow,’ Leonie murmured soothingly. ‘There’s no need to worry.’

  ‘Well, I can’t help worrying. I’ve been pleased to do what I can, looking after Jade while you’ve been at work—but even you must realise that it hasn’t been an ideal situation. Whether you’ll admit it or not,’ Mrs Elliot added firmly, ‘the plain truth is that Jade is a bright, intelligent little girl who needs a father.'

  ‘Oh, Mother!’ Leonie groaned. ‘Don’t let’s go through it all again! My marriage was over almost before it began, for heaven’s sake. I know your views on the sanctity of marriage, but all I want is a divorce!’

  Mrs Elliot sighed heavily. ‘I don’t approve of your getting a divorce, of course, but I thought that Badyr had agreed . . .’

  ‘The letter to my solicitor from Dhoman was quite specific. It said that he "might be prepared to consider such a course of action"--but only if I’d agree to meet him and discuss the matter.' Leonie shrugged. ‘There’s no way I can possibly agree to that. Badyr doesn’t know about Jade, and I daren’t take the risk of his finding out about her.’

  ‘I’ve always said that it was quite wrong of you not to tell Badyr about his child,’ her mother said stubbornly. ‘He has a legal right to know about his daughter, and your fears that he would take her away from you are quite ridiculous.’

  Leonie had suppressed a sharp retort. There was little point in resurrecting all the old arguments as to why she had not informed Badyr about Jade. He had been under arrest in Dhoman when his daughter was born, and couldn’t have received the message in any case. By the time his despotic old father had been despatched into exile, she had heard and read about too many cases of Arab fathers snatching their children and disappearing without trace, to be able to feel that she could take the risk.

  At the thought of Jade’s possible abduction, Leonie could feel her stomach contract with panic. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that she had made the right decision--however morally wrong it might be--not to have told her husband about their daughter. All she had to do was to wait for another year, and then she could get a divorce with or without Badyr’s consent. Not that she had any intention of marrying again--far from it! That one, brief experience, had been quite enough to put her off matrimony for life.

  ‘Hey! What are you trying to do--jab that steak to death?'

  ‘What...?’ Leonie looked up, startled out of her bitter, introspective thoughts by Sally’s laughing comment. ‘I was just . . . er . . . well, I was just thinking that I must make a greater effort to find a nanny to look after Jade while I’m at work. God knows what will

  happen to the business if l don’t.’

  ‘When I last saw you, your employer had just been carted off to hospital. Has it caused a lot of extra work?'

  ‘And how!’ Leonie gave a mock groan. ‘Business is booming at the moment—which is obviously good for the firm, and since Dimitri has placed me in overall charge during his absence, I’ve found myself run off my feet. However, if I’m to be honest,’ she added with a grin, ‘I have to admit that I’m loving every chaotic moment!’

  Sally laughed and then looked thoughtfully down at the table as she fiddled with the stem of her glass. ‘I can see that you are frightfully busy, but I would be grateful if--well, if you could find the time to do me a favour.’

  ‘Yes, of course I will, if I can.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t for me, exactly. . .’ Her friend paused and then took the plunge. ‘I realise I may be treading on painful memories, but the fact is that one of the girls sharing my apartment has gone and got herself engaged to a Prince from Saudi Arabia.’

  ‘Oh Lord!'

  ‘Yes, my sentiments exactly! However, I wondered if you could have a talk to her. The other two girls and I have tried to warn her about the pitfalls, but she simply won’t listen. She may be in love with the man, of course, but we suspect that it’s much more likely that

  she’s simply dazzled out of her mind by his fast sports car, dining at the Ritz practically every night, and the expensive, fabulous jewellery he’s been throwing in her direction.’

  Leonie sighed heavily. ‘It’s so difficult, isn’t it? How on earth do you explain to someone--especially if they think that they’re madly in love--the differences between East and West; the drastic culture-shock she’s likely to experience? I know that I refused to listen to any advice at the time, however well intentioned.’

  ‘l read somewhere that Saudi Arabia has by far the strictest regime, as far as women are concerned. Is that right’?’ Sally asked.

  ‘Yes. Most of the Gulf states are fairly liberal, but all women living in Saudi Arabia--of whatever nationality--must conform to very strict rules. For instance: she won’t be able to work, or drive a car.’ Leonie ticked the items off on her fingers. ‘Neither can she leave her house, even for a simple thing like going to the shops--not unless she is accompanied by a male relative. In effect, it means that your friend will be a prisoner in her home for very long periods of time. What’s more, she’ll probably see very little of her husband. He’s more than likely to dump his new wife with his mother, and then spend most of his time with his male friends. So, unless she can speak Arabic, she will find herself living a silent, lonely life among complete strangers.’

  ‘Oh, my!’ Sally shuddered. ‘It sounds horrific!’

  ‘Well, yes, it is—if you’ve been brought up to a life of freedom in the Western hemisphere. However, I suppose that if you and I had been born in Arabia, and raised strictly according to the Moslem faith, we would think it was a perfectly normal and generally happy way of life.’

  ‘Did you find . . . I mean, was your existence in Dhoman as bad as that?’ Sally looked at her with concern.

  ‘Good gracious no!’ Leonie smiled bitterly. ‘Living in Saudi Arabia would have been a picnic compared to the medieval harem in which I found myself!'

  ‘But I thought . . . surely, now that your husband is a king, or whatever. . .’

  ‘Sultan,’ Leonie corrected her. ‘His Majesty, Sultan Badyr ibn Raschid Al Hamad, to be precise! He ousted his old father from the throne some years ago--and I hope he’s enjoying himself,’ she added grimly. ‘Because, believe me, a more backward, hopelessly archaic country would be hard to find! God knows, I was only there for a short time, but as far as I’m concerned it was the worst three months of my entire life!’

  Although they had been friends for years, Sally had been abroad when Leonie had got married and knew very little about her husband, or the life she had led in the South Arabian Kingdom of Dhoman. She was only aware that the experience had left her friend withdrawn and silent on the subject: Leonie having always made it very clear that she didn’t want to talk about her brief marriage.

  ‘I had no idea. . .! I mean, I wouldn’t have brought up the subject if I’d known . . .’ Sally muttered, wishing that she had kept her mouth shut.

  ‘There’s no need to worry, and I’ll certainly do what I can to persuade your friend to take a long hard look at the life in front of her! As far as my marriage is concerned,' Leonie said crisply, ‘it ended nearly five years ago and now, when I look back, I can appreciate some of the good things about the country and the people--even if I couldn’t see it at the time.’

  She paused as she tried to find words to express the complex ideology of the East. ‘It’s so totally alien to everything we in the West have been brought up to believe in--it’s a completely different way of life. For instance, an Arab husband would be astounded and

  deeply offended if you accused him of being cruel to his wife by keeping her incarcerated inside her home. The men are taught to cherish and protect their women, and what you and I would definitely think of as a jail sentence, they regard as warm, loving care.' She shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s only fair to say that they do have a tremendous feeling of close family unity, a solidarity and fierce pride, not only in their immediate family, but also in their country.’

  ‘I still think that th
e life sounds simply awful! What we need is another glass of champagne,’ Sally said firmly, catching the eye of a passing waiter. ‘And while I’m on the subject, I’ve got some friends coming in for a drink early this evening, why don’t you call by on your way back from work?’

  Leonie shook her head regretfully. ‘I’d love to, but I have an appointment to value a carpet at six o’clock. Besides, I always try to be home reasonably early, so that I can bath Jade--it’s the one part of the day when we can spend some time together.'

  ‘There’s no doubt about the fact that motherhood suits you,’ Sally assured her with a grin. ‘If I could have a guarantee that I’d look as good as you do, I might be tempted to get married and have a baby!’

  ‘Is Robert Armstrong still trying to persuade you to name the day'?’ Leonie queried, referring to her friend’s long-standing relationship with her boss.

  ‘Well . . .’ Sally blushed. ‘I’m getting to the point when I think I might give him the shock of his life, and agree to marry him!’

  ‘Goodness! What’s brought on this change of heart?’

  ‘Reaching twenty-five!’ Sally moaned, staring gloomily down at the bubbles in her glass.

  ‘You poor old, middle-aged hag!’ Leonie laughed as she rose to leave. ‘I’ll see you and your parents at Mum’s wedding of course, but in the meantime, I should snap up Robert while the going’s good. You know that you are both crazy about each other--so say "yes" and be happy, hmm?’ She bent down to kiss her friend’s cheek. ‘I’d like to stay longer and help you to drown your sorrows, but I’ve got a million things to do back at the office.'

  She hadn’t been exaggerating, Leonie told herself some hours later as she paid off a taxi and looked at the impressive exterior of the large town house. The telephone had never stopped ringing all afternoon, and it had been a scramble to get here on time for her six o’clock appointment.

  ‘l believe Sheikh Samir is expecting me,’ she said as the door was opened by a portly butler, dressed in a black coat and striped trousers. With a deep bow he silently conducted her across the black and white marble hall and up a wide staircase to the first floor of the large building. Knocking discreetly on a large pair of doors, he pushed them open and then stood aside to allow her to enter the room.

  My goodness--it’s the size of a ballroom! Leonie thought, hardly given time to take in the proportions of the enormous room as a short, dark-haired young man came forward to greet her.

  ‘Sheikh Samir?’

  ‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss--er--Elliot,’ he murmured, bowing his head over her hand and then gesturing towards the large carpet lying beneath a brilliantly lit chandelier.

  Leonie knew of no precise formula for analysing the quality of a rug, but by any criteria the deep, glowing pool at her feet had to be one of the finest antique carpets she had ever seen. Totally immersed, she bent down to examine it closer, delighting in the exquisite workmanship and in the subtle tones of the jewelled silk colours, all in perfect harmony. A breathtakingly beautiful carpet, with its pile length, fringes and borders all as good as new--it was a masterpiece!

  'This is obviously an extremely valuable rug,’ she said as she rose to her feet, unable to tear her eyes away from such perfection. ‘Forgive me for being blunt, Sheikh Samir, but I must point out that you have been taking a considerable risk in not insuring such a piece before now, and I must urge you to contact an insurance broker first thing tomorrow morning. I will, of course, measure it in a moment and give you a firm valuation, but I can tell you straight away that a rug in this condition would fetch at least a thousand pounds a square foot.’

  Leonie forced herself to turn away from the carpet, anxious to impress upon the Sheikh just what a precious object he owned. But to her bewilderment, he seemed to have vanished into thin air. Puzzled, she looked about her, before a movement in a dark corner of the room attracted her attention.

  Still amazed at the discovery of such a superb example of the rug-makers’ art, Leonie frowned, peering into the grey shadows which lay beyond the brilliant pool of light over the carpet. A sudden shiver of fright ran down her spine, her eyes widening with shock at the sight of the tall figure walking slowly towards her.

  'B-Badyr. . .?’

  Her incredulous, hoarse whisper reverberated about the enormous room, echoing in her ears as she closed her dazed eyes for a moment. It couldn't be! It simply wasn’t possible! What on earth was her husband doing here? And in London, of all places?

  CHAPTER TWO

  'WELL, well. What a pleasure it is to see you again, my dear Leonie. It has been a long time, has it not?’

  Oh, dear God! There was no mistaking that deep, faintly accented and coolly ironic tone of voice. Leonie put out a hand to grab the top of a nearby chair for support, her whole body shaking with tension as if in the grip of a raging fever. Fighting to control her ragged breathing, she gazed with stupefaction at the man she hadn’t seen for almost five years.

  It was . . . yes, of course it was Badyr. And yet, as her eyes swept over the man who had now come to a halt on the other side of the carpet, it seemed as if she were looking at a complete stranger.

  Leonie stared blankly at his tall figure. Her dazed vision filled with the sight of broad shoulders tapering to slim hips elegantly attired in an expensively tailored dark suit, the impeccable fit emphasising the lean tautness of the body that she remembered so well. No, it wasn’t his tall frame that was so unfamiliar. Forcing herself to raise her eyes from his immaculate white shirt, contrasting sharply against the brown column of his neck, she felt the colour drain from her face for a second time.

  What on earth had happened to Badyr? There seemed to be nothing she could do to hide her shock and confusion as she gazed at the black patch covering his left eye, from which a deep scar carved its way down over his tanned cheek to the line of his jaw. The raven’s-wing blackness of his hair, lying thick and smooth against his well-shaped head before curling over the collar of his suit, was the only instantly recognisable feature that she could recall. It was almost impossible to reconcile the memory of her husband’s lazy charm, his handsome appearance and warm personality, with the harsh, rugged features and physically dangerous aura projected so strongly by this . . . this man, whose one, glittering dark eye was subjecting her to a slow, silent appraisal that almost scorched her skin.

  ‘W-what are you d-doing here ...?’ she stuttered, trying to pull her distraught mind together.

  ‘Such a warm welcome after all these years!’ Badyr murmured sardonically. ‘Perhaps I felt it was about time that we should meet to discuss various matters, hmm?’

  ‘There’s nothing . . . nothing for us to discuss—other than a divorce, of course,’ she retorted, clasping her hands together to hide their trembling agitation.

  ‘I can think of one or two other items,’ he drawled. ‘However, if you particularly wish to talk about the l termination of our marriage, then I am prepared to hear what you have to say.'

  Leonie gasped, anger and resentment sweeping through her body at his casual condescension, the patronising note in his voice. How dare he treat her like this? It wasn’t her fault that she had been forced to flee from Dhoman all those years ago. Never once, in all that time, had he even bothered to contact her. And now, suddenly appearing from nowhere like a genie from a bottle. Her stomach lurched, apprehension and a dawning realisation of the truth welling up like sickness inside her.

  ‘Sheikh Samir . . .?’ she whispered.

  ‘My aide-de-camp.’

  ‘And . . . and the carpet?’

  Badyr gave a negligent shrug, moving with lithe grace to lean against the edge of a table. ‘It was merely a convenient bait to draw you within my orbit—nothing more.’

  Leonie shook her head in confusion, waving away his words with a gesture of irritation. ‘That carpet is priceless, for heaven’s sake! I simply don’t understand what’s going on. It . . . it doesn’t make sense!’

  ‘On the contra
ry, it makes excellent sense.’ The sensual curve of his mouth twisted in a wry smile. ‘For over a year, your solicitor has been repeatedly told that I wished to talk to you personally, face to face, and each time I was informed that you would not agree to such a meeting. I therefore decided to take matters into my own hands--and here you are! What a fortunate man I am,’ he added with cynical amusement, ‘to have the opportunity of at last being able to see my--er-- darling wife.’

  I'm not you darling wife! she wanted to scream, feeling that she had somehow strayed into a nightmare. With a nervous, unconscious movement, she raised her hand to smooth away a stray tendril, which had fallen down from the heavy knot of hair on top of her head. Her heart thudded in her chest as she felt his gaze linger on the curve of her breasts, thrown into prominence by her action. Leonie’s cheeks grew hot and flushed beneath his analytical scrutiny.

  When he spoke again, the tone of his voice was subtly different. It contained a new, personal warmth which sent shivers feathering down her spine. ‘You are thinner than I remembered, Leonie. It doesn’t suit you.’