Читать книгу The Ice Maiden's Sheikh - ALEXANDRA SELLERS - Страница 7

They descended the magnificent worn marble staircase to the main courtyard, where an air of subdued confusion hung over the wedding party. People were milling around, wondering and speculating, or simply looking bewildered.

Only the Sultan and Sultana looked unruffled, serenely chatting to whoever approached them, so that a tiny island of calm was created in the sea of unhappy excitement.

“What happened?”

“Where is the Princess?”

“Has someone been taken ill?”

“Is the wedding called off?”

The cloud of questions billowed her way, but Jalia didn’t stop; Latif was striding along as though the people were so many trees, and she was grateful to have the excuse to keep going. She had nothing to tell.

In the spacious, pillared reception hall, the families were grouped together on the low platform at one end of the room, talking in quiet, distressed voices. Everywhere the rich carpets were spread with tablecloths laid with china, crystal and silver, as if a thousand people had decided to picnic at once.

“Jalia!” Her mother and aunt, both looking tearful and confused, ran to her. “Did she say anything to you before she went? Where is she going? What happened?”

“H-has she really left the house?” Jalia stammered. She had never seen the two princesses so deeply distressed. Oh, how she wished she had been a little more reasoned in her opposition to Noor’s wedding! If her interference had contributed to this unhappiness…

“Didn’t you know? She has gone! She took the limousine! Still wearing her dress and veil!”

“She didn’t even change?” Jalia gasped. “But where could she go in her dress and veil, except back to the palace? Did she take any luggage?”

“The servants say it is all still stacked in the forecourt, nothing taken. There’s no sign of her at the palace. They will phone if she turns up, but if she had been heading there, surely she would have arrived by now! Tell us what happened!” her aunt begged.

“Aunt, I have no idea what happened! I wasn’t with her.”

But any information, she knew, was better than nothing at a time like this. “I went up with the other bridesmaids to collect her at the right time. The hairdresser said she’d gone into the bathroom. We waited. After about five minutes, I followed her in. She wasn’t there.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Zaynab, I should have raised the alarm right away, but I thought it was just nerves or she’d gone out to the wrong balcony or—” She bit her lip. “So I went to look for her. I suppose that wasted time, but I thought…”

Her aunt patted her hand. “Yes, you thought it was just one of Noor’s little games, Jalia. Anyone would have. But it’s more serious than that. It must be, for her to leave the house. Did she say anything to anyone? When I was with her she was fine, laughing, so happy and excited….”

“Aunt, she—I found her ring. It was on the floor in the room I am using. She must have gone out that way to avoid being seen.”

Latif produced the al Khalid Diamond. Her aunt all but snatched it from him, moaning with horror.

“She must have panicked,” someone offered. “Bridal jitters.”

All around the room, eyes dark with blame rested on Jalia. She was saved from whatever might have been said next when Bari al Khalid’s uncle came into the room, looking harassed and bewildered.

“Bari has gone, too! The guards say he drove out a few minutes after Noor!”

“Barakullah!” Princess Zaynab wailed. “What is going on?”

Latif Abd al Razzaq spoke, his calm voice stilling the rustle of horrified panic. “One of the guards saw her drive away and came to tell Bari. He went after her to bring her back.”

Where Latif stood was suddenly the centre of the room. Everyone turned to gaze at him.

“He asked me to find Jalia and ask her what she knew.”

Again, as one, they all turned more or less accusing eyes on Jalia.

“I don’t know anything about it!” she wailed. “She didn’t say a word to me.” She flicked a glance at Latif. She was sure he had deliberately dropped her in it. “Is it possible she got a phone call—?”

“The maids say not.” Princess Muna answered her daughter.

“Where’s her mobile? Did she phone someone?”

“In her handbag, in the bedroom. She didn’t even take money, Jalia!”

“Oh, my daughter! What is to be done now?” Princess Zaynab cried. “If Bari finds her, so angry as he must be…”

“I will go after them,” Latif announced.

“Ah, Your Excellency, thank you! But if you find Noor—”

“Jalia will come with me.”

Jalia looked up in startled indignation. “Me? What good can—”

Her mother hurried into the breach. “Yes, go with His Excellency, Jalia. You might be able to help.”

Go with Latif Abd al Razzaq? The words had a kind of premonitory electricity that made her skin shiver into gooseflesh. Why was he asking for her company, when he clearly thought her poison?

“Help how? I don’t know where she’s gone!” she protested, but not one face relaxed. She glared at Latif. “I have absolutely no idea what she’s…”

He only lifted an eyebrow, but it was a comment that she was protesting too much. She could see in their faces that most people saw his point. Damn the man!

“Of course you don’t, Jalia,” Princess Zaynab murmured, patting her hand again, her soft dark eyes liquid with worry. “But Bari will be so angry. Please go with Latif. She may be…calm her down and bring her back. Tell her it’s not too late. We will wait here.”

Outside, a hot, dry wind smacked her, blowing her wedding finery against her body and dust into her eyes.

The hem of her flowing skirt and the bodice of her tunic were encrusted with gold embroidery, sequins and gold coins. How stupid to go searching for Noor dressed like this! As if she were one of the mountain tribeswomen she had seen in the bazaar, who even seemed to go shopping dressed in magnificently decorated clothes. Some of them were blond, with green eyes, like Jalia, though she had always believed that her own colouring came from her French grandmother.

By the time Latif’s car arrived from the parking area, her skin was glowing with sweat and she realized she had taken nothing to protect herself from the sun.

The Cup Companion’s ceremonial sword in its jewelled scabbard had been tossed into the back seat. He watched her silently as she slipped into the seat beside him.

“I can’t imagine why you feel you need me!” she remarked.

Sheikh Latif Abd al Razzaq gave her a long unreadable look.

“Need you?” he repeated with arrogant disdain, and she felt a strange, dry heat from him, like invisible fire deep under dry grass that hadn’t yet burst into open flame. “I was getting you out of the way before they all turned on you. Not that you don’t richly deserve it.”

As the big gates opened the car crept forward, and two men and a woman flung themselves towards it. One man had a camera on his shoulder, and the woman was thrusting a tape recorder towards Latif’s face as she banged on the window.

“Excellency, may we have a word, please?”

“Can you tell us what happened? Did the wedding take place?”

“Why did Princess Noor drive off?”

More reporters were now surging around the car, forcing Latif to drive very slowly to avoid running them down. The questions continued nonstop, shouted through the windows at them, while rapid-fire flashes burst against the glass. Several little red eyes gazed hotly into the car, as if the cameras themselves took a fevered interest in the occupants.

“Damn, oh damn!” Jalia cried.

“Don’t give them an opening,” he advised flatly.

Jalia had to admire Latif’s cool. Although forced to drive at a speed of inches per hour, he gave no sign that he heard or saw the media people. She, meanwhile, found her temper rising as the reporters deliberately blocked their path, banging on the car as if somehow they might not have been noticed.

The fact that the air-conditioning hadn’t kicked in and the car was like an oven didn’t help her mood.

“Princess! Your Highness!” someone called, and she turned in dismay as another flash went off right in her face. How did they know? She had been so careful!

“Can you tell us why Noor ran?”

“Where did she go?”

“Was she escaping a forced marriage, Princess?”

Forced? Noor had been laughing all the way to the altar. Jalia couldn’t prevent a slight outraged shake of her head. Instantly someone leaped on this sign.

“The marriage was her own free choice? Are you surprised by the turn of events?”

But she had learned her lesson, and stared straight ahead. “Damn, damn, damn!” she muttered.

Latif put his foot down on both brake and gas, spinning the tires on the unpaved road. Immediately the car was enveloped in a cloud of dust that blinded the cameras.

Coughing, frantically waving their hands in front of their noses, the journalists backed away. Latif lifted his foot off the brake and, belching dust, the car spurted away.

For a moment they laughed together, like children who have escaped tyranny. Jalia flicked Latif a look of half-grudging admiration. She would have congratulated anyone else, but with Latif there was an ever-present constraint.

“I’ve been so careful to avoid being identified!” she wailed. “How did they know who I was?”

Unlike Noor, who had reacted with delight, Jalia had greeted the news that she was a princess of Bagestan with reticence, and was determined to avoid any public discovery of the fact. She hadn’t told even her close friends back home.

Who could have given her away, and why?

Latif’s dark gaze flicked her and she twitched in a kind of animal alarm. It was just the effect he had on her; there was no reason for it. But it annoyed her, every time.

“They just took an educated guess, probably. Your reaction gave you away.”

The truth of that was instantly obvious.

“Oh, damn it!” cried Jalia. “Why did I ever take off my veil?”