Читать книгу Desert Wedding - Alexandra Scott - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

GETTING ready later in the evening, Georgia abandoned reticence, for some inexplicable reason chose to wear one of her more original outfits—the wide trousers which might, until she moved, have been a skirt.

Sheer silk organza, they drifted about her, giving tantalising glimpses of long, slender legs. Their colour—deep sea-green, a shade or two darker than her eyes—was one that she found irresistible, especially when scattered with cream polka dots. The tunic top, in the same silk but without the spots, had tiny puff sleeves with rich cream embroidery outlining the plain round neck.

It was all perfectly modest and restrained, but at the same time, standing in front of the long mirrors, she felt a qualm as she recognised the extremely potent image that she was seeing. It was as if—and this could not have been further from the truth—she were going out on a proper date, with a man she wanted to attract, for heaven’s sake.

Perhaps if she had taken less care with her make-up...only someone who knew nothing about it would imagine that it was casual and understated—that was exactly where the skill lay. Her eyes were emphasised with grey-green shadow, long, carefully curled lashes gave a romantic, luminous look, blusher merely touched the high cheekbones, and lips were barely brushed with a soft sheen.

But possibly it was hair which made the most positive statement, for, after washing it and treating it to an extravagant amount of conditioner, she had decided, after much trial and error, on a plait, which now hung over one shoulder and for some reason looked devastating. Hard to explain why. Was it the contrast between the sophistication of her outfit and the schoolgirl hairdo which gave it such appeal? Perhaps.

Perfume. Of course. She had always loved it. Turning, she picked up the bottle from the dressing table but, as she pressed the atomiser quite suddenly she panicked. This was all wrong; she wasn’t going out on a romantic date, and it was certainly the last message she wanted to send out to a man who had simply taken pity on her.

Perhaps the wisest thing would be a quick change into a simple skirt and blouse—but no... someone was at the bedroom door. Her heart started to hammer, but it was Enna with the message, ‘Master is waiting.’

‘Thank you, Enna.’ So what if she looked good? she thought. She slipped her feet into high-heeled mules, picked up her handbag and did a final check in the glass. She had always—at least, mostly—dressed to please Georgia Maitland, and this was not the moment to change the habits of a lifetime. She smiled rather grimly at her reflection and went to join ‘master’ in the hall.

And there was little doubt that Nathan, handsome or not—she still reserved judgement on that—was the kind of man who would attract attention. It had a great deal to do with his height, plus his width of shoulder. Men of his shape—powerful, slim-hipped—always pleased aesthetically, and there were other aspects that she could also approve. He was wearing dark trousers, white shirt, a tie in maroon with blue stripes and, over his shoulder, hooked on one forefinger, a lightweight dark jacket. Impeccable and...surprisingly attractive.

But was her appreciation of the more conventional style simply a reflection of her anger with Jordan...? A faint whiff of some masculine cologne distracted her and found an echo in his first remark.

‘Ah, you smell nice.’

‘Thank you.’ Not a word about her appearance. Not that she’d looked for any—didn’t want it, for heaven’s sake.

There was no conversation as they dropped to ground lift in the lift, but she was very aware of him—aware in the curious little prickle at the nape of her neck, in the slightly increased beat of her pulse. And there was little conversation in the car as they negotiated busy streets, then turned into a quieter area, through old narrow lanes which criss-crossed the ancient city, driving at last through an elaborate arched gateway, along a drive and into what appeared to have been the garden of a villa which now was a smart restaurant with tables and chairs set out under a canopy of vines and fragrant climbing plants.

‘How wonderful.’ She looked round with appreciation as Nathan held open the car door for her to step outside.

‘I thought you would like it. There’s quite a large garden. Let me show you round before we eat.’

Again his hand was on her elbow, guiding her along the path which meandered through a small shrubbery into a formal walled garden with a large fountain spilling water into a lily pond. Here, when she sat on the edge and trailed her fingers in the cool water, a brilliantly coloured fish came up and nibbled her fingers in its search for titbits.

‘Ouch.’ She smiled. ‘I came here to eat, not to be eaten.’

‘They always live in hope, but feeding the fish is not encouraged; it shortens their lives if they’re overfed. But I can see you’re feeling hungry so...’ They were walking round the side of the large, elegant villa; through open windows they could see diners inside. There was an air of wealth and opulence which Georgia supposed was a reflection of the recently arrived oil riches. ‘This is the main restaurant, as you can see, but if you prefer we can eat outside in the garden...’

‘Oh, outside! Please!’ Her appealing upward glance failed to register his changed expression, missed the way his eyes lingered on her animated features as she looked around. ‘Please,’ she repeated, this time smiling up at him, and was gratified by a slow smile in response.

‘Of course.’ His hand touched her elbow as they followed the waiter. ‘It’s what I prefer myself.’

‘Mmm. Perfect.’ She put her handbag onto the table and took the chair offered by the waiter, while her companion sat opposite. ‘How can anyone bear to be inside on a night like this and in such a setting?’

‘I prefer it to the more westernised places, though there have been lots of those since the oil came. But here you at least get the impression of reaching out to the old Raqat, brushing against the ancient culture.’ Menus appeared and he waited a moment while she opened hers. ‘I hope you’re hungry. Portions tend to be on the generous side.’

‘I’m starving.’ She forgot to be inhibited. ‘It’s the first time since I arrived. I picked up some bug on the flight out and I just haven’t felt like eating.’ Realising what she was saying, she felt embarrassed, coloured up and flicked a glance at him to see if he had noticed, and of course he had. An amused eyebrow was raised.

‘Ah?’ A short sound could speak volumes.

‘It was nothing much really, but I was afraid to risk anything much beyond an omelette.’

‘I’m glad you’re past that stage now. Maybe best to avoid anything too spicy, though. Couscous can be very easy to eat and comforting. A Scotsman I know says it has the same beneficial effects as porridge. And some of the lamb dishes are very good.’

‘Then I shall trust you to choose for me, Mr...’ She paused, feeling foolish that in these informal times she hadn’t got round to using his name directly. ‘Help!’ Best to make a joke of it. ‘I don’t know what I should call you.’

Because he was busy with the waiter he made no immediate reply, but when they were alone again his eyes sparkled. ‘For my part, I’ve no intention of calling you anything but Georgia. And my friends call me Nat.’

‘Nat,’ she repeated reflectively. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever known a Nat before. Well, thank you for bringing me; it’s a magical place.’ She sat back in the chair, turning her face up so that she could see through the trellis to the sky. ‘Why—why is the sky so different here? Millions of stars on a backdrop of black velvet.’

‘That’s why you came, isn’t it? You were curious about the desert.’

‘Yes, of course. At least, one of the reasons...’ her voice faded.

‘And the others?’ Nat looked up to nod at the waiter who had filled their glasses, then looked enquiringly at her when the man had withdrawn.

‘Don’t let us bother about that.’ Adopting her most consciously seductive smile, Georgia leaned her elbows on the table and took the glass to her mouth. ‘Mmm, delicious. I’m sure it would be much more interesting, even intriguing to know what you’re doing here.’

‘That—’ his eyes were intent on hers as he leaned forward, his manner relaxed and amused ‘—I contradict completely. But... I’m quite happy to tell you anything you want to know.’

‘Just what I said.’

‘Ah. Just that?’ His tone implied disappointment. ‘Then, by profession I’m a marine biologist, and by chance, when we were both at Cambridge, I got to know the present Sheikh of Raqat. He’s a very liberal, westernised ruler, in spite of your comments which suggest otherwise.’

‘Women drivers?’ she queried, eyes wide with assumed innocence.

‘Of course, he has to move slowly—religious attitudes are deeply ingrained. And I suggest—merely suggest—that many western men might have some sympathy—’

‘Don’t say it!’

‘All right.’ Now he was grinning. ‘Provided you don’t wave the feminist flag too wildly. It’s neither the time nor the place.’

‘It’s not exactly wild to want to drive yourself in your own car!’ With an effort she damped down her excitement, which was more than likely the effect of the alcohol on her brain... ‘But please carry on.’

‘Thank you.’ Grey eyes glittering with laughter seemed to add to her exhilaration; there was a challenging encouragement in them which she must ignore. ‘As I was saying, a liberal regime operates here, and has done since oil was discovered.

‘You probably know it is a fairly limited field so far; it won’t make the sheikhdom enormously rich, but it will make a difference to the people. You can see the benefits even now. But the Sheikh is desperately anxious that the wildlife, especially the marine life in the Red Sea, should not be harmed. So, he contacted me. I took a two-year break from teaching at Princeton to come out here and draw up a plan, give some guidance on a long-term strategy. As I told you, I’m three-quarters through the project now.’

‘Oh.’ Georgia hadn’t come close to identifying Nathan’s profession, hadn’t once thought of him as an academic. ‘It must be fascinating.’

‘And exciting,’ he added, and she noticed how his manner had changed from slightly laid back to animated. ‘I’ve done a lot of diving but I’ve never seen a reef with such a variety, such an exciting range of life as the one just to the south of the port. Not even the Australian reefs can compare, and it would be a global tragedy if that breathtaking world should be damaged.’ He paused. ‘Have you done any diving?’

‘A little.’ The words were out before she thought to monitor them. She had no wish to let him know that she had belonged to a college subaqua team—mainly due to the presence of the man she had been dating then. ‘But, it was a long time ago, and I’ve lost—’

‘You can’t lose the ability; it’s like riding a bike. Besides, it can’t be that long ago.’ By now the food had arrived, and she began to fork up the grainy couscous. ‘You’re not old enough.’

‘Quite old enough.’ Georgia had always mistrusted insincere compliments and it was time to change the subject. ‘Mmm, this is delicious.’

‘I’ve always liked it. Some of the food is not for the faint-hearted but you can graduate to that in due course. Now you can tell me your real reason for coming to Raqat. The bit about the desert and stars won’t wash.’

What point was there in being coy? she thought. Besides, it might not hurt to talk about it. ‘The reason, which I’m sure you’ve guessed, is that I made a complete fool of myself over a man.’

Nat’s hand came out, covered hers fleetingly, not giving her time to shrug him off, but it would have been mere pretence to deny the comfort that she found in his gesture. ‘That, Georgia, I find hard to believe. Unless he—’

‘True, nevertheless,’ she cut in before he could say more, then she applied herself to her food.

‘I think there must be much more to it, but I shan’t probe further.’

‘There isn’t a lot to say about it, simply that I realised in time what was happening and got out as quickly as I could, but...’ With her fork she traced some spirals on the couscous while she struggled with the painful memories.

‘But?’ he prompted, cutting through her musings, giving her the strength to shrug and smile. She even felt and enjoyed the movement of her silk tunic against her skin as she did so—such an...arousing experience...

‘It was just unfortunate that he happened to be my employer.’

‘I can see that might make life awkward’

‘It did.’ There was a certain defence in turning disaster into a joke. ‘I lost the job-and the man, which made it doubly annoying.’ She raised her glass and sipped. ‘And now that incident in the club this afternoon.’

‘You were simply unlucky.’ Both his expression and voice were contemplative. ‘I’m sure if Grev had been talking to any female, sixteen to sixty, his wife’s reactions would scarcely have varied.’

‘That, I promise you, doesn’t make the memory of it any more pleasant.’

‘Of course it doesn’t. But, just think, there are large numbers of unattached men here in the sheikhdom.’

‘Yes?’ It was difficult to see where the conversation was going.

‘Yes.’ He leaned forward, elbows on the table; he was frowning slightly—whether at her or at the glass he was holding she couldn’t decide. ‘And you, I hazard a guess, are sure to attract a good deal of attention. Of the Canning variety.’

‘So...?’ She was frowning, disconcerted more by the way his eyes were fixed unswervingly on hers now than by his words, which were casually spoken. ‘I think I can deal with anything like that.’

‘I believe you—especially after seeing how you dealt with Myra Canning! But...wouldn’t life be easier for you if footloose males were to imagine... well, to put it bluntly, if they thought you were in a regular relationship?’

‘Maybe it would be—’ she didn’t like the direction this discussion was going ‘—if I were, but... I’m not.’

‘I know that.’ Nat sighed as if she were being singularly obtuse. ‘You know that, but no one else needs to.’

‘You mean...?’ The idea was so ridiculous that Georgia laughed. ‘You mean that you and I should...? But we don’t even know each other; I hadn’t even seen you until today.’

‘Does that matter? Besides, I had seen you several times, even if you had refused to see me.’

‘Well, perhaps I did just catch a glimpse of you once...’

‘I’m grateful for that.’

‘I’m sorry.’ To her own surprise she giggled. ‘But when you’re trying to get over a broken heart—’ heavens, was she really making a spontaneous joke about it? ‘—and trying to throw off a stomach upset...’

‘Well, you’re over that, judging by how much you’ve eaten.’ Her hissed protest made him grin but he carried on. ‘But, as for the broken heart, it might help divert your thoughts to perpetrate a con trick on the ex-pat community here. Besides, imagine how Myra Canning would feel if she thought she had put her foot in it so completely.’

‘Well, that might give me a certain amount of unkind pleasure but...’ Georgia’s mind was churning with the effort of trying to balance so many conflicting ideas. ‘But...’ and this was the nub of the matter ‘...I can’t see—what is in it for you. You’re not, I imagine, so much into philanthropy that you’d risk damaging your reputation to help me out—someone you barely know.’

‘Reputation? Well, I doubt if it’s worth saving, but...of course you’re right. I do have an interest, rather along the lines of your own in fact; there’s someone I want to—how can I put this?—some-one I would prefer to discourage.’

‘Oh, of course.’ It was an irresistible opportunity for sarcasm. ‘Men are always being pursued against their inclinations.’

‘I didn’t say that.’ He. was amused rather than irritated—that was made clear when he leaned across and touched the tip of her nose with a reproving finger. ‘But surely you realise there are times when a man as much as a woman has to deal with unwelcome advances? What I’m suggesting could be the easiest way of going about it. Anyway, that is the proposal. So, what do you say?’

‘Well, I suppose...’ There was her accommodation to think of; even if an alternative were available she would never be able to afford it. ‘It would only be for just two more weeks—’

‘Not necessarily,’ Nat intervened swiftly. ‘It can be for as long as you choose to stay.’

‘I think—’ hurriedly Georgia made up her mind ‘—it’s a silly idea. I don’t for a moment believe I’ll be propositioned by anyone.’

‘You don’t?’ The assessing eyes scanned what he could see of her above the table. ‘Well, I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Especially if you go about dressed like that.’

‘What’s wrong with this?’ It was close to a wail.

‘I didn’t say anything was wrong with it. Rather the reverse. What I was saying was if you go about dressed like that every frustrated male in the territory, and quite a few of the others, will be homing in on you.’

‘Oh.’ She smiled, blushed, pleased in spite of her normal scepticism with the implied compliment. ‘But I wore this specially to...’

‘Yes?’ Nat was laughing. ‘You wore it specially to what?’

‘Oh...’ She shrugged, wondering how she had embarked on this particular conversation.

‘You do realise—’ he leaned across the table ‘—that lots of men are turned on by—by that particular look?’

‘What?’ She frowned, the darkly etched eyebrows coming together in a look of concentration. ‘I’ve no idea...’

‘This.’ He tweaked the end of her plait. ‘A lot of men find the schoolgirl look irresistible.’ The corners of his mouth twitched.

Avoiding Nat’s eyes, she raised her glass and stared at it. ‘I’ve always thought that some men have the weirdest hang-ups.’

‘Well—’ his voice trembled with suppressed amusement ‘—don’t say you weren’t warned. Anyway, you began to say something; I’m afraid I distracted you. You wore your present outfit specially to...to what?’

‘Oh.’ She felt the colour begin to rise again. ‘I suppose to give me courage, to soothe my battered ego.’ She gave a self-deprecatory shrug. ‘You see, when you told me you had a proposal I... I had no idea what you had in mind and... I decided the best thing I could do was to bring out the big guns.’

‘I’m very glad you did.’ Though he was no longer smiling, there was a warmth about him, a generosity that raised her pulses very slightly. ‘So glad,’ he went on softly, ‘that it seems almost a pity...’

‘What?’ After a moment Georgia found her voice, which was not easy when his eyes were so compelling, almost mesmeric-but surely that had a lot to do with the reflection of so many flickering candles. ‘What seems a pity?’ Still she sounded breathy and unfamiliar, as if she had just competed in a hundred-yard dash.

After a seemingly endless pause he answered, and there was something slightly forced about his grin. ‘A pity not to show it off a bit more than you’ve done so far, so why don’t we...after we’ve finished eating...go on to the club? They usually have dancing about this time, so why not embark on the great deception?’

It was strange that his explanation should be such a disappointment. She tried to view the situation with detachment, curious that she was so instantly aware that a rising sense of excitement had to be damped down and... Her eyes searched his face as if trying to discern some flaw. ‘You mean—?’

‘I mean,’ he interrupted, laughing, ‘just what I said. Why don’t we finish the evening by dropping into the club on the way home? It will give them all a lot to think about.’

‘But what if we see Grev there, maybe even his wife?’ It was almost a wail.

‘So? You’re going to bump into them sooner rather than later, in fact I shall be disappointed if they aren’t there.’