Читать книгу His Desert Rose - Liz Fielding - Страница 7

‘DINNER?’ Hassan repeated.

Rose blew away an errant curl that was threatening to make her sneeze. ‘That was you, this morning? “Simon Partridge requests the pleasure…” Tell me, does Mr Partridge know that you’ve taken his name in vain?’

‘Ah.’

Ah? That was it? ‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘Is dinner off? I warn you, I don’t do well on bread and water. I’m going to need feeding—’

‘Dinner has been arranged, Miss Fenton, but I’m afraid you’ll have to accept Mr Partridge’s regrets. He’s at present out of the country and, in answer to your first question, no, he has no idea that I have used his name. He is, in fact, entirely blameless in this affair.’

The significance of that was not lost on her. Investigations would quickly establish that this was a carefully planned snatch, that someone had used a known friendship to ensure her presence at the races. But when the authorities checked out the telephone number on that invitation, she just knew that it would lead absolutely nowhere.

‘Well,’ she said, after a moment, ‘I hope he gives you a piece of his mind when he does find out.’

‘I think you can rely on that.’

Actually, Rose had been planning to give him a piece of her own mind, but Hassan’s voice did not encourage liberties and she thought that it might be wiser to leave it to Simon Partridge. Wherever he was. She hoped he wouldn’t be away long. The sneeze threatened again and, inspired, she changed tack. ‘You didn’t have to bundle me up like that, you know.’ She gave a little cough. ‘I’ve not been well.’

‘So I’ve been told.’ He didn’t sound totally convinced by her act, and she realised that playing for sympathy would get her nowhere. ‘You seem to be managing to have a good time, though. Personally, I wouldn’t have thought that a busy round of cocktail parties, receptions, public relations tours of the city were at all good for you—’

‘Oh, I see! You’re doing me a kindness. You’ve abducted me so that I shouldn’t over-exert myself.’

‘That is a point of view.’ Hassan’s eyes creased in a smile. It was not a reassuring smile, however. ‘I’m afraid my cousin has no thought but his own pleasure—’

‘And mine. He told me so himself.’ She had not been entirely convinced by that, either. Prince Abdullah seemed terribly keen that she should get a very positive image of the country. The curtained windows of the limousine that had taken her around the city at high speed had, she felt sure, hidden a multitude of sins.

She’d been planning to put on one of the all-enveloping black abbayahs worn by the local women and, heavily veiled to disguise her red hair, have a closer look around on her own. Not that she had proposed to involve Tim in her little outing. She strongly suspected he would disapprove.

‘And as for standing about in the night air at the race course,’ Hassan continued. ‘Most unwise. It’s almost certain to lead to a relapse.’

Except that until she’d spoken to him she hadn’t planned on going anywhere near the race course. She didn’t bother to mention it, though. She didn’t want him to know he’d had anything to do with her changing her mind. ‘Your concern is most touching.’

‘Your appreciation is noted. You are in Ras al Hajar for rest and relaxation and it will be my pleasure to see that you get it.’

His pleasure? She didn’t care for the sound of that. ‘Prince Hassan al Rashid, the perfect host,’ she responded sarcastically, easing her shoulder from the hard floor of the Land Rover in as pointed a manner as she could manage, considering that she was practically being sat on.

The gesture was wasted. All she got for her trouble was the slightest bow of his head as he acknowledged his name. ‘I do my best.’ He ignored her snort of disbelief. ‘You came to my country for pleasure, a holiday. A little romance, perhaps, if the book you were reading on the plane is anything to judge by?’

Oh, good grief! If he was into fulfilling holiday fantasies, she was in big trouble. She swallowed. ‘At least The Sheik had style.’

‘Style?’

‘A Land Rover is no substitute for a stallion.’ She realised she was letting her mouth run away with her. Nerves, no doubt. She might refuse to admit to fear but she was entitled to be a little nervous. ‘Black as night, with the temper of the devil,’ she prompted. ‘That’s the more usual mode of transport for desert abductees. I have to tell you that I feel short-changed.’

‘Do you?’ He sounded surprised by that. Who could blame him? ‘Regrettably our destination is too far for us to ride there doubled up on a horse.’ His eyes smiled, and this time there was no doubt about it; there was not a thing to be reassured about. ‘Especially when you’ve been unwell.’ Oh, very funny. ‘I will make a note for the future, however.’

‘Oh, please. Don’t trouble yourself.’ She attempted to sit up, but he did not move.

‘The ground is rough, I wouldn’t want you thrown about. You’ll be safer lying down.’

With the length of his body covering hers? Did she have any choice? But he was probably right. It would be safer…

What? She couldn’t believe she was even thinking that! This man might fulfil all the criteria of the fantasy but that was all it was, a fantasy. He’d kidnapped her and she was far from safe.

She swallowed. Tried to gather her wits. The network briefed staff on this kind of situation before sending them to dangerous parts of the world. She knew that she was supposed to keep the man talking. Make him see her as a person.

The way he was looking at her, the fact that his legs straddled her, that his hips were pressed firmly against her abdomen suggested that he could do little other than see her as a person. A female person.

All the more reason to talk. ‘You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for my company. If you wanted to talk to me, why didn’t you come and join me on the plane? Or call at my brother’s house—’

Maybe he was getting the same thoughts, because without warning he moved, shifting to her side so that he was lying alongside her, eyeing her warily. ‘You knew who I was, didn’t you? Back there?’

Instantly. She had no intention of flattering him, though. ‘I shouldn’t think too many of the local bandits went to an English public school. And very few of them have grey eyes.’ Even in the darkness, his eyes had been unmistakable. ‘And of course there was your voice. I heard that just a few hours ago. If you’d wanted to remain anonymous, you should have sent one of your henchmen to capture me.’