Читать книгу Summer Sheikhs: Sheikh's Betrayal / Breaking the Sheikh's Rules / Innocent in the Sheikh's Harem - Эбби Грин, Marguerite Kaye - Страница 22

THEY were up before the sun. Desi bathed in the oasis pool, but the water left her skin feeling sticky, and afterwards she rinsed as best she could in a tiny ration of bottled water. Still feeling slightly grubby, she got into clean white cargo pants and a loose long-sleeved white shirt, hoping by this means to keep the heat off better than yesterday. She stuffed her hair up under her straw hat and felt a welcome morning breeze caress the back of her neck.

What she’d give for a shower!

Just before noon the desert monotony was broken by distant rocky hills and a long line of green on the horizon. Mount Shir towered above the scene, remote and majestic. They must have been travelling north for some time, but she had been too involved with her thoughts to notice.

‘What’s that green I see?’ she asked.

‘That is Wadi Daud.’

‘Wadi—does that mean oasis?’

‘Wadi means a valley, or a riverbed, where there is water only in the rainy season. But Wadi Daud has underground water and there is an irrigation project there, so it is green all year round. Not so green now as it will be in a few months, but still pleasant.’

Desi was surprised when a paved road appeared in front of them; she’d thought they were miles from such niceties. Salah turned onto it in a cloud of dust, and not long afterwards it slanted down into a broad, flat, rough-hewn valley with steep walls of purple-grey rock and a floor of green that stretched for miles in both directions. In the centre of the valley a stream trickled over a stony bed.

‘In winter that is a torrent,’ Salah said. ‘In summer it often dries up completely.’

Soon they were driving through palm and olive groves. Along the other side of the valley she saw a small village amongst the greenery.

‘Is that where we’re headed?’

‘I have friends who will give us lunch.’

The house was like those she’d seen in the city: low, white and domed, set in the middle of a broad courtyard surrounded by a high white wall. A servant opened the outer door to them with a murmured ‘Marhaban,’ and the blistering heat of the midday sun was instantly mitigated by the shade of numerous trees and the sound of a fountain.

A strikingly attractive woman with flashing black eyes and black curls cascading down her back came out of the house, smiling and calling what was obviously a warm greeting in Arabic. In a cotton summer dress, she had bare legs and feet; her arms were bare save for a few bracelets.

‘Marhaban, marhaban jiddan, Salah! Nahnou…’

‘Desi, Nadia,’ Salah said, just as Desi took off her hat to wipe her forehead and her fair hair came tumbling down. ‘Desi doesn’t speak Arabic, Nadia.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ Nadia’s level gaze met hers with a frowning smile as the two women shook hands. ‘Hello, how are you? Welcome! You are very welcome! Salah, it’s so good to see you!’ she said. ‘Ramiz will be here in a minute. Come in, come in!’

She led them across the shady but still hot courtyard and into the cool of a large, airy room whose decor seemed to blend West and East, modern and ancient, with perfect ease. It was a massive, spreading space obviously covering most of one floor of the house, protected from the midday sun by green-covered canopies and thick walls.

The furniture was a mix of Western and Eastern, with conventional sofas and chairs and coffee tables in a cluster at one end, and cushions on a massive knotted silk carpet at the other.

The right-hand wall had sliding glass doors looking out on to an obviously antique, mosaic-tiled pool with a fountain that reminded Desi of what she had seen at the palace. The left wall was a stunning row of pillars and delicately fluted arches through which could be seen an endless maze of pillars, arches and mosaic floors, and the corner of a distant, sunny courtyard.

It took Desi a moment to realize that the entire scene was a trompe l’oeil painting. She was looking at a solid wall.

‘This is spectacular!’ she exclaimed involuntarily, stopping to gawp as Nadia, happily chatting to Salah, led them along the length of the room down to a sofa at the far end.

Nadia and Salah turned in surprise, then, seeing what had caught her, laughed.

‘I love it, too,’ Nadia confessed with a smile. ‘You haven’t seen it since it was finished, Salah, yes? That shows how long since you visited us! Anna finished it almost three months ago. She’s a perfectionist, she kept coming back with her paints to put on “the final touches”! But now it’s done.’

‘It’s magnificent,’ Salah agreed.

‘Like living in a palace,’ said Nadia, grinning up at him. ‘Or is it?’

‘It’s like a page from a fairy tale!’ Desi said, still gazing, and feeling a little as if she’d been put under an enchantment. ‘Who is the artist?’

‘You may have heard of her. She is English, but she lives here in Western Barakat. Her name…’

‘Oh, my God, is this an Anna Lamb? Of course!’ Desi exclaimed. ‘She did one in London for Princess Esterhazy, and then everyone was after one! Fabulous, too, but not nearly as extensive as this.’

Nadia stared at her for a moment, then smiled broadly.

‘Oh my goodness! I knew I’d seen you before! You’re Desirée! How amazing!’

‘I didn’t expect to be recognized so far from…home.’ Desi laughed. She was glad she had stopped before saying civilisation.

‘We read Vogue in West Barakat, too! But what are you doing here? How do you come to know Salah?’

At that moment a dark, thin-faced man came into the room, closely followed by two servants carrying trays.

‘Salah! Great to see you!’ he cried, as the two men embraced. ‘What are you doing in Qabila?’

Salah turned. ‘Desi, this is my very good friend Ramiz.’

Soon the four were seated on sofas around a low table, on which had been placed jugs of juice and water, and tall glasses.

‘So why are you here? Just touring? Or is it a modelling assignment?’ Nadia asked eagerly. ‘That would be exciting for us, to have Barakat used as a background.’

‘No, something much more interesting, as far as I’m concerned. I wouldn’t spend days camping out in the desert for a shoot, let me tell you!’ She paused and looked at Salah, wondering if his friends knew about his father’s site.

‘Camping out in the desert?’ Nadia repeated in amazed tones. ‘In this heat?’

‘Desi wants to see an archaeological dig in progress,’ Salah filled in. ‘I’m taking her to Baba.’

Ramiz’s eyebrows went up. He exchanged a look with Salah, and then his eyelids drooped, masking his expression. The sound of a child’s voice came from the next room, and for the first time Desi realized that one of the doorways under the painted arches was real.

‘But I don’t understand,’ Nadia said. ‘Why are you…?’

‘You haven’t seen Safiyah for a long time,’ Ramiz said to Salah, over her. ‘She misses you. You’ll be surprised by how much she’s grown. Tahir, too.’

‘Ayna Safiyah?’ Salah called. ‘Ayna walida jamilati?’

The child’s high shriek answered him, and then a little girl came tearing into the room and ran straight into his arms, followed by a woman carrying a baby.

‘Aga Salah! Aga Salah!’ the child cried.

Desi watched as Salah swung the shrieking child up into the air. His face was suddenly soft, his expression relaxed and warm. The face of the Salah she remembered.

He was not lost, the man she had loved. He was still there, underneath. If only she could reach him.

‘Have you really been camping out in the desert at this time of year?’ Nadia asked Desi against the background of the child’s chatter. ‘What’s Salah thinking of?’

‘He did warn me, but I insisted. This is the only time I had to visit. The first night we stayed with nomads. Last night at Halimah’s Rest.’

Nadia frowned and shook her head. ‘Was the water clean enough to bathe in?’

‘Call it a large puddle.’

Nadia looked at her. ‘And then you drove all morning in the desert to get here? Salah must be crazy!’

‘I haven’t felt so grubby and sticky since I was five and my father took me for a day at the fair.’ Desi laughed.

‘Desi,’ Nadia said hesitantly, ‘would you like to take a shower now? I am sure…’

‘Oh, could I?’

So Nadia showed her to a bathroom, gave her towels and soap, and left her to indulge herself. Never had water been such bliss! She could have stayed under the cool flow for half an hour, but even here in Wadi Daud water must be a precious resource at this time of year. She restricted herself to five minutes.

She came out feeling human again, her newly washed hair twisted up on top of her head, her face cleansed, her skin breathing for the first time in two days. Heaven.

In the sitting room, meanwhile, Nadia took a protesting Safiyah away to get her lunch. Ramiz and Salah were left alone.

‘Two days through the desert, via West Barakat, to get to your father’s dig?’ Ramiz asked softly.

‘And we’re only halfway there,’ Salah replied blandly. ‘It’s a four-day trip. Nadia’s not likely to mention where the dig is, is she?’

‘Does she know? I don’t, not with any accuracy. Subtle form of abduction, brother? She’s very beautiful.’

‘Subtle form of interrogation. I want to know why she wants to see it.’

‘Ah.’ Ramiz pursed his lips. ‘Nadia recognized her. Supermodel? She would have a lot of connections among the wealthy.’

‘Got it in one,’ Salah said.

‘Could she be an innocent pawn?’

‘No. I tried that one. She’s hiding something.’

Even as he spoke he wondered why he had brought Desi to this house, where the least slip would expose the truth of this expedition. Was he tired of the deception, had he somehow accepted that she was innocent, that last night had taught him her real reason for coming? Or had he merely fallen victim to her wiles in spite of his best intentions?

‘The big mystery is, why has your father allowed it? Isn’t the site completely shut down to outsiders?’

Salah nodded. ‘I advised him to refuse. His sense of justice wouldn’t allow it. Desi’s family in Canada hosted me very generously every summer for years when I was a kid learning English. He couldn’t say no, even though we have to assume that whoever is behind it chose her for that very reason.’

‘So the desert is going to sweat the truth out of her?’

Salah nodded.

‘And what else?’ Ramiz asked.

Salah raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s more going on between you than just a spy story, Salah. The air catches fire every time you look at her. What else are you trying to sweat out of her?’

‘I have an idea!’ Nadia said.

After a delicious cold lunch of various kinds of salad, Salah and Desi were making moves to go.

‘We have a very interesting site close to Qabila. Rock carvings, two thousand years old, Desi! If you stop the night with us, Salah, you can take Desi to see them this afternoon.’

Desi glanced at Salah. It was tempting, the thought of a comfortable bed and cool sheets and a shower in the morning. But she was unsure what such an offer of hospitality meant. Was this one of those moments when you were supposed to protest three times before accepting?

‘Thank you, that’s very kind,’ Desi said with a smile. ‘But it’s such a long trip, and I am really eager to get there as soon as possible.’

‘But if you leave now, you will not get to the site till nearly sunset, maybe even after dark,’ Nadia said. ‘You may as well stay here and go tomorrow morning. Anyway, the road is safer in daylight.’

A funny little silence fell over the table. Ramiz and Salah exchanged glances. Ramiz started to say something in Arabic, but Desi was already asking, ‘The road?’

‘Yes, in the dark, you know, you can hit blown sand before you see it. Salah is a very good driver, but when sand grabs your wheels, it can be very uncomfortable.’

‘What road would that be?’ Desi asked carefully.

Nadia smiled and waved vaguely with her hand. ‘The main road to Central Barakat, of course! I really don’t understand why—’

‘The dig is on the main road?’

‘No, didn’t you tell us once it’s an hour or two off piste, Salah? But the secret is knowing where to turn off!’

‘Really. A whole hour off the main road.’

‘Shokran, Nadia,’ Salah said. ‘But we’ll go on. I prefer to do the last leg under cover of darkness. Harder to track us, if anyone is trying.’