She was about to protest that his assumption was completely wrong when, in the manner of the sheikh who never expected women to voice a viewpoint, he continued speaking. ‘However, I did not demand your presence merely to take you to task, although,’ his brows beetled, ‘I must remember at some future date to elaborate upon the folly of allowing children to recognise dissent between their elders.’
‘I couldn’t agree more! Nor could I find fault with the opinions you expressed, it was simply a case of—’
‘Will you please be quiet, mademoiselle, until I have finished saying what I have to say?’ Ignoring her gasp of indignation, he went on, calmly and levelly, to astound her. ‘At the present time I am more concerned about the children’s safety than I am about their manners. Whispers have reached me of a coup that is being planned, an attempt by a person in high office to overthrow the Sheikh’s regime. I am almost certain I know the identity of the ringleader, but without proof I cannot hope to convince the Sheikh that he is in great danger ... especially from one as close to him as a brother.’
Blood turned to ice in her veins. ‘Zaid ...?’ she whispered.
He nodded. ‘You are very perceptive, mademoiselle. As you have been so short a time in the palace, I can only put it down to that phenomenon, feminine intuition. You were just guessing, were you not?’
Though the question was casually put Dove could feel his eyes raking her face and knew he was assessing every nuance of expression. Feeling uncomfortably suspect, she stammered, ‘Of course! I suppose, having taken a dislike to the man on sight, I jumped to a rather obvious conclusion.’
‘Another feminine trait,’ he opined dryly.
When he relaxed in his chair her taut body slumped with relief. For one horrifying moment she had felt distrusted, and the experience had not been pleasant. Granted, in such a job as his, he would need to be constantly on guard, suspicious of everyone’s motives, yet still she felt indignant. After all, he had gone to the lengths of travelling all the way to England in order to ascertain personally the honesty of the person chosen to be in close touch, all during the day and night, with two of the Sheikh’s most priceless possessions, and not for one moment could her own honesty and integrity be questioned.
She gasped, thoughts piling one on top of the other as her train of thought was halted as if by the impact of a brick wall. Heavens! If ever he should find out that she had lied! Imagination soared into wild, uncontrollable flight as she scrabbled to remember the forms of punishment most favoured by officers commanding the tough legionnaires. Thrashing was one! Being turned out into the desert without food or water was another!
She was not aware that he had left his seat until his shadow loomed over her. Instinctively she cowered.
‘Tiens!’ he rasped. ‘I did not intend to frighten you so.
Here, drink this!’ The rim of a glass was thrust between her teeth and when fiery liquid caught at the back of her throat she almost choked.
Spluttering, she jerked her head away. ‘No! Please, I’m all right now ...’
His disgust stung more than the brandy. ‘I had hoped,’ he indicted hardly, ‘to enlist your help by asking you to keep your eyes and ears open for any sign, any hint, however slight, that might in some way be connected with the safety of the children in your charge. However, you can forget I mentioned the subject, mademoiselle, for obviously you are a dove not only in name but also by nature.’
CHAPTER SIX
‘He might just as well have called me a coward!’ Dove fumed, pacing furiously around the sitting-room of the suite that had so delighted her when she had been shown into it the previous day.
Was it only yesterday?
The colour scheme of dreamy pastel shades that blended delightfully, giving an impression of being surrounded by flowers, struck her as puzzling. Arabs preferred vivid colours, hot yellows, brilliant sky blues, the harsh purples, oranges and reds of the sun as it set, throwing a nocturnal cloak of coolness over burning sands.
Her bedroom was decorated mainly in green with here and there a trace of white and touches of pale yellow. Lying in bed she could imagine she was back once more in an English meadow within plucking reach of daisies and buttercups and, if she tried very hard, she could almost hear the water of a stream gurgling over stones. The bathroom was pristine white but, as if at the insistence of an Arab hand, towels, bathmats and curtains were of various shades of blue and a row of bulbous glass bottles, tapered high to the neck, bulging to their pointed stoppers with perfumed bath salts, contrasted with sapphirine beauty against stark walls.
Dove hesitated outside a door adjoining the nursery quarters listening, from force of habit, for any sound that might indicate that her charges were awake. All was quiet. She need not have bothered, for besides the guards posted constantly at either end of the passageway a maid was in attendance upon the children all during the night, ministering to them if they awoke or just sitting in readiness at the side of their beds. It had been impressed upon her that the children were never for one second to be left alone—and knowing the barbaric punishments Arabs meted out to wrongdoers, she had no doubt the girl would carry out her orders to the letter.
Last night she had been almost too tired to eat. When supper had been brought to her room she had swallowed without tasting, then crawled into bed and slept without stirring right through until morning. But tonight she felt restless, keyed up by Marc Blais’s scathing remarks, so she decided that a walk in the garden might be beneficial to her peace of mind.
She had already showered and changed into a dress of fine blue wool. Having discovered that the desert night air was surprisingly chilly, she hugged a matching stole around her shoulders before making her way down to the gardens. The guard at the end of the passageway eyed her impassively as she passed him to descend the stairs. She shivered and snuggled closer into her stole. An aura of threat hung around the palace; even the floral fountain looked dejected, flowerheads drooping, drained of sap, casting petals outstanding as drops of blood on to the marble floor.
Outside a huge moon was progressing slowly across a black velvet sky. Slightly comforted, Dove noted the rise of the Milky Way over the far horizon. Here, at last, was a sight that was familiar, a twinkling reminder that home was not all that far away. Halfway along the path she halted to lift her eyes to the star-spangled sky and drew in deep breaths of mysterious, perfumed desert air.
‘According to legend, Miss Grey, the stars are no more than tiny holes in a tent the Gazelle threw over the earth in an attempt to trap her lover who always left her before dawn to avoid revealing his ugliness.’
Alarmed by the sensuous, amused voice reaching out of the darkness, she gasped, ‘Who’s there?’
A shadow detached itself from a dark bank of shrubs. ‘It is I, Zaid. Pray, do not be alarmed. I am delighted to discover that we have a common bond—you too are a lover of the night. Men of my race love the night because of its refreshing coolness, an attribute which you also possess, Miss Grey!’
She felt a prickle of fear. He too possessed the attributes of night—dark, and full of hidden danger. She forced a laugh and took a step nearer the palace. Sensing that to show fear would be as fatal as was the scent of blood to a hound, she instilled crispness into her reply. ‘Darkness can deceive the senses. On a night such as this even an atheist might be tempted to believe in God.’
To her dismay, his hand shot out to detain her when she made to pass him. ‘Don’t go.’ He smiled the lazy command.
‘I must!’ she protested, clutching at her stole. ‘I’m feeling cold.’
Swiftly he whipped the cloak from around his shoulders and before she could move encased her within its folds. Keeping a hand on either side of the collar, he drew her towards him. She stifled a cry of panic, knowing that to a man such as he resistance would be considered a challenge. Contempt was her only weapon; she used it like a sword, sharp and cutting.
‘I am no houriyeh and I very much resent being treated as one. Pleas
e let me go, or I shall be forced to complain to your brother, the Sheikh!’
Unmoved by her threat, Zaid pulled her closer, transfixing her with a fanatical gleam. ‘What is your melting price, maiden of the snow? We Arabs are well aware that you English girls come out East in search of gold, so gold you shall have. Name your price.’
Dove discovered deep within her a hidden well of temper that years of tranquil living had left undisturbed. It surged into life, a great flood of rage that rushed through her veins, sending a sparkle into her eyes and a tide of angry colour into her cheeks. Her lips were about to frame the first of a furious spurt of words when a voice crackled through the darkness.
‘The woman is mine, Zaid. She is not for sale.’
Dove had never imagined she would actually welcome the sight of the dark presence that loomed out of the shadows, but as Zaid’s hands loosened she squirmed out of the cloak and ran towards the tall figure ominously waiting.
‘Monsieur Blais!’ she choked, forgetful of pride, and was clutched by hands that dug unmercifully into her
waist.
Zaid stared, obviously astounded, then curled his lip into an unpleasant, meaningful leer. ‘By Allah, we live as brothers yet keep counsel as if we were but passing strangers. This woman must indeed be special if she has aroused your interest, for your views of the opposite sex are well known: Today the fire, tomorrow the ashes. Has that not always been your belief?’ He threw back his head and laughed; a sound echoing with triumph. Four things impair the strength of man— sin, starvation, privation, and sex! At last,’ his glittering eyes fell upon Dove, who shivered even in the protection of the hawk, ‘you have betrayed a weakness, friend Marc! The first three leave you unmoved, but this last,’ with a nod he indicated Dove, ‘could prove to be your downfall.’
With a stealth Dove found disconcerting he disappeared into the darkness. For seconds she did not move—did not want to move away from the hard arm that represented safety even though fingers of steel were inflicting punishment upon her waist. When he pushed her aside she felt deserted, the gap between them an alien no-man’s-land.
‘Thank you ...” she stammered, ‘for coming to my rescue. For a while there I suffered a few anxious moments.’
‘You amaze me!’ He expelled a hard angry breath.
She peered through the darkness, seeking a clue to his anger in a face made even more satanic by the shroud of night.
I warned you, did I not, of the consequences of leading on men of volatile temperament, yet you deliberately set out to ensnare the most dangerous of all. Zaid can give you riches, mademoiselle, but are you sure you are prepared to endure what will be demanded in return? The man is a barbarian,’’ he hissed, clutching her by the arm to stress with painful emphasis, ‘a monster who would show no mercy to a young idiot such as yourself!’ He released her suddenly, retreating as if from someone defiled, and charged with impatient contempt, ‘You deserve to be punished for your greed! Why I bothered to intercede I’ll never know ...”
The meaning behind his words struck her like a thunderclap. ‘You can’t possibly be thinking—! You surely don’t imagine that I encouraged Zaid!’
‘You surely don’t imagine,’ he mimicked with infuriating derision, ‘that I am simpleton enough to believe that you did not?’
Completely stumped for words, Dove glared into his implacable face, knowing protests would be useless. He was a woman-hater with a mind as scarred as his face, a man whose allegiance in any conflict between the sexes would inevitably lie with the male.
‘You really are convinced that I’m mercenary,’ she finally faltered.
‘And unscrupulous. And scheming. In fact, mademoiselle, I know that you are a young woman of very determined character who will not hesitate to employ deceit to further your own ends!’ She winced, feeling his barb landing uncomfortably near to the truth. Grimly, he continued, ‘The initial purpose for your presence here was to ease some of my responsibility towards the children, so allowing me more time for other pressing duties. As you have turned out to be just an added aggravation, I think the best solution would be for you to return to England immediately. Naturally, you will return the money that was advanced to you, less a percentage as compensation for the small amount of inconvenience you have been caused.’
‘You mean ... I’m being dismissed?’
‘I would not have put it so bluntly,’ he shrugged, ‘but yes, in effect, you are.’
Dove’s newly-found temper erupted. She had done nothing to deserve such treatment. They had entered into an agreement which he had insisted she must keep, yet he seemingly did not consider that the rules laid down were applicable to himself. Even through the darkness her defiance was apparent, as jutting her chin, she countered, ‘Sorry to disappoint you, monsieur, but as I no longer have the money I can’t return it. Whether you like it or not I shall have to stay ... Unless,’ in her temper she resorted to impudence, ‘you decide to write off the debt, in which case I shall begin packing my things?’
‘Not on your gold-digging life!’ She bit back a cry of pain when fingers like claws dug into her upper arm. Coiled-up fury emanated from his fingertips, an urge to punish which, had she been another man, would have terminated in a blow. Yet had he struck her she would not have winced so much as she did from his disgusted glare. ‘If that is the case, then you must stay. But don’t be too swift to congratulate yourself on your cleverness. One year spent in the desert can seem like ten—it shall be my pleasure to ensure that yours resembles an eternal hell!’ Dove crept upstairs to her room feeling shaken, battered by a storm of emotion, and collapsed on to the bed. Marc Blais meant every word, of that she felt certain, and who was better qualified to inflict both mental and physical torture than a man whose job it had been in the recent past to break the spirit of tough legionnaires, mercenaries, men of fortune, and some simply out-and-out rogues. The prospect of spending even one more day in his company was terrifying. Their enmity had now been openly declared—what armour had she against brute strength, against a thirst for vengeance? She closed her eyes and tried to picture the worst that could happen, but all she could see of her future was an opaque surface reflecting her own haunted eyes, woebegone mouth, and pale, solemn face.
The following morning, depressed and heavy-eyed from lack of sleep, she found it difficult to keep irritation from her voice when the children, deciding they had been on their best behaviour long enough, showed signs of tantrums and, in Salim’s case, downright disobedience. The breakfast table, when they had finished eating, resembled a battlefield, and when the clash of wills threatened to continue right throughout the morning Dove decided wearily that she had stood enough.
‘We must find some place where they can work off their surplus energy, Alya. Collect a few of their toys, we’ll take them into the garden to play. ’
‘Can I take my scooter and ride it up and down the paths, Miss Grey?’ Bibi pleaded.
‘If you wish,’ she nodded, relieved to see a smile replacing Bibi’s mutinous expression.
‘Me ... Panda!’ Salim was not asking permission, merely stating his intention, and she had to smile at the sight of a small boy tugging towards the door a giant panda almost as big as himself.
‘Why not let me carry Panda?’ she suggested lightly, foreseeing disaster should the toddler insist upon struggling down the stairs with his cumbersome burden. For a moment he glared, then, deciding he had been asked rather than commanded, he handed it over with a cherubic smile traced with a charm which in later years, Dove thought wryly, would win him anything he coveted. But then most Arabs had a practised charm. Unlike a certain Frenchman they could, if their mood allowed it, bestow almost poetic praise. Thrusting all thoughts of Marc Blais to the back of her mind, she ushered the children downstairs and out into the garden.
The two guards detached themselves from their positions outside the nursery and followed them outside, where they stood with arms folded, keeping the children within their line of vision.
At first their presence was an embarrassment to Dove—but then the children began demanding her attention and soon she was able to forget that the two sentries existed.
They played together for almost an hour, then, as gradually the children became absorbed in their own little worlds, she relaxed into a chair Alya had positioned under the shade of a tree and accepted gratefully the glass of lemonade that was poured for her.
‘Mmm ... delicious!’ She smiled her appreciation. ‘Life in the desert can be monotonous, but it does have compensations.’
Bibi sped past on her scooter, exercising her lungs as well as her limbs with yells of delighted pleasure, so Salim, who was never slow to imitate, picked up his toy drum and began strutting around the lawn plying his sticks with noisy joy. Dove leant back in her seat with a relieved smile. Clearly the novelty of even this small amount of freedom had gone to their heads; another hour or so of such activity would leave them pleasantly tired and far more amenable to
discipline.
‘We must make an hour or two in the garden part of our daily routine,’ she told Alya, watching through half-closed lids as Bibi negotiated the flower beds, then raced to scatter a flock of birds busy pecking in her path.
‘Miss Grey ...!’ Alya drew her attention to a young maidservant hovering anxiously behind her chair.
‘Yes?’ Dove smiled at the girl.
With downcast eyes, the girl intoned, ‘Mariam, my mistress has sent me with a request that the children should be taken indoors—their noise is disturbing her rest.’
‘Damn! ’ The girl could not have heard the softly breathed expletive, but the expression on Dove’s face caused her to back away. Feeling slightly ashamed, Dove apologised immediately. Seething though she was, she had no right to vent her anger on the girl. ‘I’m sorry,’ she told her gently. ‘Please tell your mistress that I shall do as she asks.’ Then, bracing herself for argument, she called out to the children: ‘Gather up your toys, it’s time to go indoors!’
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