Читать книгу Penny Jordan Tribute Collection - Пенни Джордан, Penny Jordan - Страница 15

PROMPTED by Achmed, Raschid had made arrangements to entertain his guest by taking him hawking, a trip which could take two or three days dependent on the game to be had.

Nadia had begged Achmed to intercede with Raschid on behalf of the female half of the household, declaring that it was unfair that they should be left behind while the men enjoyed themselves.

The plan was that the men would take Raschid’s falcons, a couple of servants and two Land Rovers to hold all their gear and spend a couple of days relaxing in the desert.

Nadia explained to Felicia that in their younger days she and Zahra had often accompanied Raschid on these trips, revelling in the freedom from routine these outings provided.

‘In the old days the men used tents, like the Badu, cooking over an open fire, but nowadays things are a bit more civilised. We use sleeping bags and camping Gaz,’ Nadia laughed. ‘Raschid does not really approve. He still prefers to follow the old ways of our people, but Mother used to worry that Faisal would burn himself or get indigestion from half cooked food and so, in the end, Raschid had to give in.’

Even so it sounded enviably exciting—the wide open spaces of the desert, men in long white robes, eating under a dark blue velvet sky studded with stars. Felicia gave a faint sigh. Uncle George had never approved of picnics, or indeed eating out of doors at all.

‘Don’t worry, Achmed will be able to persuade Raschid. He’ll have to,’ she added with a darkling look, ‘otherwise I’ve told him he won’t be going himself.’

Felicia burst out laughing. Nadia was so refreshingly modern in her outlook, and it was plain that Achmed adored her.

He came into the women’s quarters while they were watching Zayad’s antics, a beaming smile splitting his face.

‘Raschid has agreed that you girls can come with us. Not without an awful lot of persuasion, I might add, and I’d better warn you, we mean to set off after first light tomorrow, and Raschid is in no mood to make allowances for you. He says if you are to come with us you must expect to be treated just like the men.’

‘Isn’t that just typical of him?’ Nadia complained. ‘I swear he thinks more of his falcons than he does of us.’

‘Quite probably,’ Achmed agreed cheerfully. He looked thoughtfully at Felicia, who was trying to play cat’s cradles with Zayad. ‘This will be your first trip into the interior of the desert, won’t it? Nadia will tell you what to take along.’ He frowned and seemed to hesitate.

Had Raschid expressed doubts about the wisdom of taking her along because she was to be a member of the party? A casual enquiry of Zahra had elicited the information that unless they sent someone to Kuwait to collect it they would receive no mail while they were in the desert, and so, thinking herself safe for at least a few days, Felicia had closed her mind to the heartache she was storing up for herself, determined to make of the precious time left to her enough memories to warm her through the long cold years ahead.

A little later in the day Nadia went with her to her room to sort out what she ought to take on the trip. ‘Your jeans, I think,’ she announced, pursing her lips, ‘and a long-sleeved blouse. I think I have riding boots that will fit you. When the falcons are hunting the hubara we shall have to follow on foot, and boots protect the ankles and legs from snakes and scorpions.’

‘Raschid didn’t want us to go because of me, didn’t he?’ Felicia interrupted quietly, needing to know the answer, in spite of the pain it might cause.

Nadia looked uncomfortable, and Felicia knew she had guessed correctly. ‘It is just that it is our custom for each girl to be accompanied by a man to watch over her safety,’ Nadia explained, ‘and in Faisal’s absence Raschid is very conscious of his responsibility towards you. Zahra and I are accustomed to the desert. You are not.’ Her smile softened the words. ‘Don’t worry, Felicia, we shall take care of you, but try to understand….’

‘To understand what? That your uncle considers me an unwanted nuisance? I understand that already.’

Nadia bit her lip, her eyes clouded. ‘Forgive me, Felicia, but this hostility you feel towards Raschid—could it be that you use it to mask other—very different emotions?’

One look at Nadia’s face told her that the older girl had guessed the truth. Pride made her grasp at any straw, however frail, to conceal her feelings.

‘If you mean love, I consider that any woman who fell in love with your uncle would need to be either a fool or a masochist!’

Felicia saw with relief that Nadia was staring at her in stunned surprise, but it was several seconds before she realised why. When Nadia continued to stare over her shoulder, the hairs at the back of her neck began to prickle warningly, and she swung round just in time to see Raschid’s coldly furious expression as he strode past the door.

‘Do you think he heard me?’

Nadia recovered her voice, nodding her head commiseratingly. ‘I’m so sorry. I never heard him until it was too late.’

Felicia shrugged, trying to tell herself that it did not matter; another stone on the wall separating herself and Raschid was hardly likely to make much difference one way or the other.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she assured Nadia. ‘After all, he’s never made any pretence of liking me. In fact I’m sure he’s feeling exceptionally pleased with the results of his eavesdropping. He’ll be more positive than ever now that I’m everything he thought, and worse!’

‘Let me explain to him,’ Nadia suggested, but Felicia shook her head decisively. What was there to explain? That Nadia had accused her of being in love with him, and in order to defend herself she had claimed that no woman could be? He would know she was lying.

‘What’s the point? Let him think what he likes.’

‘It’s all my fault,’ Nadia admitted apologetically. ‘I shouldn’t have teased you in the first place. I am sorry.’

When Nadia had gone Felicia stared at her clothes hanging in the wardrobe. Soon it would be empty. They would not be staying at the oasis much longer, and once Faisal’s letter reached Raschid, she would have to face the day of reckoning. If only she did not have to apply to Faisal’s family in order to get home! She was not left with even that shred of pride intact.

AS ACHMED HAD foretold, Raschid lost no time in announcing that if the girls were intent on accompanying them, they would have to present themselves in the outer courtyard at first light.

That had been last night, and now, pulling on her jeans in the pearly light of the false dawn, Felicia rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Below, in the courtyard, she could hear sounds of activity. Tiredly she brushed her hair, securing it with a ribbon. Following Nadia’s advice she added a thick, chunky sweater to the absolute necessities Raschid had limited them to—a change of underwear, a clean blouse, some soft woollen socks to wear inside Nadia’s boots, and a pair of sunglasses.

She could see a couple of menservants loading things into the two Land Rovers parked below. Nadia had invited her to travel with herself and Achmed, and Felicia had accepted. It would be less wearing on her fragile nervous system than riding with Raschid.

Breakfast had been set out for them in one of the salons, although Felicia’s stomach rebelled at the thought of yoghurt and dates before the sun had crept over the horizon.

Zayad gave them all a sticky kiss as they prepared to leave, then went docilely to his nurse.

‘He’s so good, isn’t he?’ Felicia marvelled.

‘Kuwaiti children are accustomed to being obedient, Miss Gordon,’ Raschid said crisply from behind her. ‘Unlike in the West.’

It was an unjust accusation, and hot words of rebuttal trembled on her lips, to be swallowed when she reflected that any ill-feeling between Raschid and herself was bound to spoil the enjoyment of the others. Heroically she merely gave him a polite little smile, and pushed back her chair intending to follow Nadia.

The first rays of the sun crept over the horizon, glinting on the large oval brass dish on a small table, and Felicia, her attention momentarily diverted, felt the blood freeze in her veins. In the dish lay half a dozen envelopes; the top one an airmail letter, very obviously addressed in Faisal’s hand and bearing Raschid’s name.

Her hand crept to her throat, she longed to reach out and pluck the letter away before it could ruin her last precious memories, but Nadia was urging her through the door and she had perforce to follow.

The morning air rang with the bustle of their departure, the strident cries of the falcons drawing Felicia’s attention.

Until Nadia had mentioned it she had not realised that Raschid trained the falcons himself when he could spare the time. Even hooded, their cruel beaks and curving talons made her shudder, striking a chill right through her; the birds’ scarlet jesses were blood-coloured in the early morning sun.

The bird nearest to her let out a shrill cry and flapped its wings. The servant holding it grinned.

‘Very good falcon, this one. He is named Sahud.’

Felicia raised her hand to touch the bird’s tawny feathers, and instantly her fingers were seized in a crushing grip. ‘Don’t touch him!’

Both Zahra and Nadia looked round to see whom Raschid was addressing with such controlled fury, and Felicia’s face burned beneath the open amusement of the saggar holding the falcon.

‘Those birds cost upwards of two thousand pounds apiece, Miss Gordon,’ Raschid said crushingly. ‘They are trained to attack and maim anything that moves—and that includes those pretty fingers you were fluttering about in front of him.’

There was a large lump in her throat. She wanted to make a furious retort, to tell him that she thought the saggar had been inviting her to stroke the bird, but pride prevented her.

‘No harm has been done, Raschid,’ Nadia said soothingly, coming to Felicia’s rescue. ‘Honestly, you treat those birds like children!’

‘Because like children they have to be trained to obey, and rewarded when they do so.’

A servant was handing him a leather glove, heavily embroidered with silver and gold threads, the leather as soft and supple as silk. Raschid pulled it on, smoothing it over his hand before transferring the bird from the saggar’s wrist to his own.

Felicia watched as he proffered it a piece of raw meat. It took it, ripping the flesh with its talons and beak. Slightly nauseated, she turned away.

Nodding to the saggar, Raschid handed the bird back to him.

‘This is life, Miss Gordon,’ he told her drily, proving that he had observed her reaction. ‘In the desert one has to fight to survive.’

‘And kill?’ she whispered, trying not to look at the bright splash of blood on the cobbles.

‘When necessary,’ Raschid agreed coolly. ‘Perhaps you would prefer to remain behind and keep my sister company?’

And miss the opportunity of those last remaining hours of his company? She shook her head, and their eyes clashed.

‘Very well, on your own head be it. I warn you now, though, there will not be time to make allowances for your inexperience and ignorance of our ways.’

Nadia and Achmed were already in the Land Rover, Zahra chatting eagerly to her sister through the open window.

‘Sorry, I didn’t realise we were ready to leave,’ Felicia apologised, hurrying towards them.

Raschid’s voice halted her.

‘You will be travelling with me, Miss Gordon,’ he announced. ‘Please get in the Land Rover. Zahra, will you go with Achmed and Nadia. Selim, Ali, one of you go with Achmed and the other come with me.’

Almost paralysed with dismay, Felicia glanced pleadingly at Nadia. ‘Miss Gordon, you are keeping us waiting,’ Raschid reminded her.

Nadia made a sympathetic grimace and gave her a little push.

‘Go on, he won’t eat you!’

There was nothing else for it. With dragging footsteps she walked across to the second Land Rover, her face resolutely averted from Raschid’s masked features.

The door slammed behind her. Selim climbed into the back, reaching over to hand Raschid the pile of letters Felicia had seen in the hallway.

‘Ali brought the mail when we went for the Land Rovers.’

Taking it from him, Raschid stuffed the letters on to the shelf in front of him, giving them only the most cursory glance. Faisal’s letter was at the bottom, and holding her breath Felicia waited to see if he had noticed it. Apparently he had not. She opened her mouth to say that she had changed her mind and would not be going with them, but it was too late. The gates were open and as the sun finally burst over the horizon in a dazzle of molten gold they drove out into the unknown.

With every second she expected Raschid to reach for his mail, but he was concentrating on his driving, and gradually she allowed her clenched muscles to relax. They would have to stop sooner or later, and when they did…. She closed her eyes in despair. When they did he would read Faisal’s letter and then…. She dragged her thoughts away, trying to concentrate on her surroundings. Even this early in the day she could feel the heat rising from the desert, and before too long her blouse was clinging stickily to her back. Only the odd remark in Arabic punctuated the silence as Selim pointed out various landmarks to Raschid.

Secretly Felicia considered that one sandhill looked very much like another, but obviously this could not be so, for several times during the course of the morning Raschid changed direction.

After a while she noticed that he always kept the sun on the left-hand side of the Land Rover, and feeling rather pleased with herself she deduced that he was using it to navigate. There was no compass in the Land Rover, but to a man used to the desert and its ways, the sun would be all the guide he needed.

This supposition was reinforced when Raschid brought the Land Rover to a halt shortly before noon, his abrupt nod confirming that she should get out. Her eyes flew instinctively to the letters, her mouth dry with apprehension.

Her clothes and face were gritty from the sand thrown up by the tires, but it was tension that was responsible for the cramped state of her limbs. She almost fell out of the jeep, and it was Raschid who saw what was happening and thrust open his door, striding round to swing her unceremoniously to the ground. Beneath lowered lashes she watched him. Hard and impassive, his face had a quality of strength that would give one confidence in him. If one had to be lost in this vast wilderness, he would make a good companion, she thought irrelevantly. A woman could rely on his strength even when she could not hope for his tenderness.

He started to walk back to the Land Rover.

‘Stiff?’ Zahra teased.

‘A little,’ Felicia acknowledged, her eyes on Raschid. He was taking the letters from the shelf. ‘Do we hunt now?’ she asked Zahra absently. Was he going to open them now? Already she could hear his sardonic jeers.

‘After we have eaten and had a drink. The men will put up the falcons and we will follow them in the Land Rover. Sometimes they fly several miles without spotting a single hubara. They are wily birds, because although they cannot fly great distances, they have learned how to remain immobile while the falcon flies over them, and they can also discharge a thick, slimy substance into the falcon’s eyes and feathers which renders it defenceless, so you see the hunt is not all one-sided.’

Achmed’s eyes twinkled.

‘I can see that such a state of affairs appeals more to your British sense of fair play, Miss Gordon. Like your fox, our hubara, although a much humbler species, nevertheless has its own native cunning, which allows it to outwit its much more intelligent foe.’

Raschid hadn’t spoken during this interchange, but at this he raised his head, regarding Felicia with a sardonic smile.

‘I doubt if Miss Gordon would be quite as impressed with the hubara’s cunning if she had to rely on its meat to survive.’

‘I am not the fool you would have everyone believe me, Sheikh Raschid,’ Felicia said quietly, with dignity, ‘but I thought the purpose of this outing was to enjoy ourselves, not catch our dinner.’

‘Touché, Miss Gordon. I doubt if Raschid has ever eaten hubara meat in his life, have you, my friend?’ Achmed asked gaily.

‘Then you would be wrong,’ Raschid replied, without elaborating.

If only those letters had remained in Kuwait! How long would it be before he opened them? After lunch?

The falcons started to screech, sensing freedom, and the subject of hubara meat and its desirability was dropped. Accepting a cup of fresh lime juice from Zahra, Felicia sat down next to her, letting her aching limbs relax. She lay back and closed her eyes, letting her body absorb the sensations of her surroundings—the coarseness of the sand under her fingers, the heat of the sun, the faint smell of petrol, the soft murmur of Arab voices.

‘What do you think of the desert, Miss Gordon?’

Raschid’s voice startled her and her eyes flew anxiously to his.

There was no sign of Faisal’s letter. She started to tremble, wondering if he had devised some subtle form of torture, whereby he was going to say nothing until she herself raised the subject. Very well, two could play at that game!

‘It’s magnificent,’ she said coolly, glancing round.

‘Whenever I’m here I wonder how I can endure to shut myself in an office, like an animal in a cage, but even the freest among us is chained by something; the greater our responsibilities, the greater the chains that bind us. A woman who shares the life of a man such as I has to learn to share his love for places such as these.’

‘Like your grandmother, you mean?’

‘She was an exception,’ Raschid said curtly. ‘There can be few women who would give up so much merely for the love of a man. In those days my family had no wealth as we know it today, and life was hard. I cannot see you, with your pale skin and pampered existence, forsaking life’s luxuries to cleave to one man, and one alone.’

‘Because you don’t want to see it,’ Felicia said quietly. ‘You see in me only what you want to see.’

‘I would to God that were possible,’ Raschid said harshly, his eyes suddenly intent. ‘Now you are angry,’ he told her softly, ‘and your eyes glint green fire as though they would consume me in their depths.’ His own glittered like jet between the fringe of his lashes. ‘And yet when I kissed you the other day, they were pools of mysterious jade.’

‘Raschid, Felicia, are you ready to eat?’

Felicia didn’t know whether to bless Nadia or to curse her. ‘Ready!’ she called, jumping to her feet.

They had a snack lunch prepared by the servants at the villa, and as soon as it was over the men moved over to the falcons.

‘This is where we become unwanted appendages,’ Nadia warned her. ‘Once the birds are put up, the Land Rovers will follow. If you take my advice you will get in the front and be prepared to hold on tight. It can be a pretty hair-raising experience. It is a matter of pride not to lose a falcon, and the men don’t make any allowances for female passengers.’

Felicia was glad that Zahra had warned her.

As she climbed into the Land Rover her eyes went automatically to where Raschid had placed the letters. They were gone. Her heart started to thump heavily. He must have read Faisal’s letter. It could only be a matter of time before he confronted her, unless of course he was deliberately prolonging her agony, playing a game of cat and mouse, enjoying her mental torture. If only she had had the courage to tell him before. If only she had not let her foolish heart sway her judgment. She felt the jeep rock as Raschid climbed in. He slammed the door and switched on the engine, and then she was hanging on for grim death as the vehicle bounced and swayed over the sandhills, lurching from left to right as they followed the falcon, soaring above them, a tiny speck in the deep blue sky.

Sand clung to her eyelashes and hair. Every time she inhaled she tasted it in her mouth, the fine particles getting everywhere as the wheels threw up cloud after cloud behind them.

They crossed deep gullies and sharp inclines, at frightening speeds, the engine racing as it battled to obey Raschid’s commands. At times they doubled back on themselves, and Felicia felt bruised all over as she was flung against the door and dashboard.

Selim shouted something in excitement and Felicia felt the Land Rover buck like a temperamental horse. The tiny speck disappeared. Raschid cursed, his hands tensing on the wheel as he swung the Land Rover hard over. Felicia held her breath, her fingers clinging to the dashboard. The whole world seemed to turn upside down, sand and sky rushing past the window. She was flung against the door with a jolt that drove the breath from her body, and then they were speeding across a flat plateau, sand spraying across the windscreen.

‘You all right?’ Raschid asked tersely.

She could only nod her head. Painful, nerve-tensing—the chase was nevertheless exhilarating, and she wouldn’t have missed it for the world, she realised to her surprise.

Even when the falcon hovered motionless against the cobalt sky, dropping to earth with the swiftness of a desert night, she could feel no revulsion, only relief that the end was mercifully quick, the unfortunate hubara despatched with one efficient twist of the falcon’s talons.

The saggar whistled tunelessly and within seconds the Land Rovers were halting, the saggars climbing out to wait for the falcons’ return.

Exhausted but thrilled, Felicia waited while the whole business began again. She had been told that the falcons could kill up to eight or nine times in one day, but as Nadia explained, Raschid thought it unfair to take so much game when they were merely hunting for pleasure, so he normally restricted his bag to two or three hubara per falcon.

She had been relieved to discover that they would not be expected to eat the results of their expedition. Although the hubara were not particularly lovable creatures, her tender heart would have found it difficult to contemplate eating their flesh, no matter how delicious it might be.

The dying sun was casting long shadows across the sand when Raschid finally called a halt. Weary but exalted, Felicia tried to relax as the Land Rover plunged through the brief Eastern dusk to a small oasis where they were going to make camp.

Raschid had suggested that they would make the return journey that night, but Nadia had demurred, and from the looks she was casting Achmed, Felicia suspected that the velvet darkness of the desert night held special memories for them that both were eager to renew.

Nadia confirmed this later when they made camp at the oasis, informing Felicia that they had spent their honeymoon in the desert, just the two of them with a tent and a Land Rover, full of equipment. ‘And very romantic it was too,’ Nadia confided reminiscently, rummaging for the sleeping bags. ‘I’d better give these to Selim. Make the most of this trip,’ she advised Felicia. ‘It’s the only time you will see the men making themselves useful.’

It was true. Even Raschid was pitching in, helping Ali to unload boxes of food and the camping stove. It was all vaguely reminiscent of her Girl Guide days, Felicia thought, only on a far more sophisticated level.

Someone had got a fire going, feeding it with material brought from the villa, and in its flickering flames Felicia saw Raschid’s face, his expression for once unguarded as he smiled down at Zahra. Her heart caught in her throat, and unbearable pain swept her because he had never looked at her like that.

As though suddenly aware of her intense scrutiny he lifted his head, his eyes blazing into hers, and she trembled on a convulsive shudder. Maybe it was as well that her self-inflicted torture would soon be brought to an end. She was beginning to appreciate the meaning of the phrase ‘living on one’s nerves’.

‘Will the Sitt have some rice?’

It was Selim, soft-footed as a cat as he padded up to her. Felicia shook her head. Despite the fresh air and Faisal’s letter. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ali filling Raschid’s plate. Here in the desert formality went by the board. Selim and Ali moving among them, silent and hawk-eyed, filling plates and coffee cups with no regard for the normal rule of male precedence, and Felicia even saw Achmed draw Nadia within the curve of his arm, feeding her tidbits from his own plate, his eyes tender as he looked down into her laughing face.

There was a huge lump in her throat.

‘They are fortunate, those two,’ Zahra whispered at her side. ‘Tonight they will share each other’s bed under the stars, at one with the universe and each other. It makes me long for my Saud.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I should not say that, I know. Poor Mother would be shocked if she heard me.

‘Do you ache for the one you love, Felicia?’

Silently she nodded her head, her eyes lifting instinctively to Raschid’s broad shoulders. He was sitting barely a yard away, talking to Selim, obviously deep in conversation.

‘Yes,’ she admitted painfully, ‘I do, Zahra.’

SHE AND ZAHRA were to share one of the tents, while Achmed and Nadia had the other. Raschid and the servants were sleeping out in the open and after a quick dip in the oasis, Felicia was glad to crawl into her fleecy bag.

She had heard about the intense cold of the desert night, but this was the first time she had experienced it first-hand. Sleep evaded her; Raschid’s face kept coming between her and the oblivion she desired. Next to her the sound of Zahra’s quick, even breathing filled the tent. Outside was all the glory of the Eastern night—the stark beauty of the desert, palm trees whispering their indolent message to the night breeze; above, the dark blue velvet canopy of the sky studded with stars brighter by far than any diamonds. No wonder the wandering Badu called no man master, counting themselves more endowed with riches than any city-dwelling king.

She rolled on to her side, punching her pillow and trying to blot out the image of Raschid. Half an hour later she crawled wearily out of her sleeping bag. Her body was tired, but her mind refused to let her sleep. A short walk might help ease her tension, might help her to prepare some sort of defence against the accusations the morning was bound to bring.

Outside it was bitterly cold and she was glad of the thick sweater she had put on top of her blouse. Disregarding the boots Nadia had loaned her, she padded across the sand, breathing in the pure crystal air, and filling her lungs with its sharp freshness.

‘Miss Gordon!’

She spun round. Raschid was standing by one of the Land Rovers watching her. Her heart sank. If only she had stayed in the tent! What better time than now, when they were alone, for him to confront her with her duplicity? What possible excuses could she offer for abusing their hospitality by remaining with them when she knew that Faisal no longer wanted her? Could she plead Zahra’s birthday, or would he see through the protective sham and pluck the truth from her heart?

‘What are you looking for, Miss Gordon? Money? Romance? Does even your mercenary little heart yearn for a man’s hard arms to possess your slenderness and bind it to him, on a night like this? His lips against yours as the coldness of the desert gives way to the heat of mutual passion?’

Felicia gasped in pain, wondering if he knew how he was tormenting her. She sensed that here in the desert he was a different man from the cool, sardonic entrepreneur who ran their vast empire.

‘I merely wanted to walk,’ she stammered. ‘I couldn’t sleep….’

‘Because you longed so much for my nephew?’ he mocked savagely. ‘Well, I have longings too, and am as able to assuage your needs as Faisal—also I have the advantage of being here, while he is many miles away.’ He crossed the small space dividing them and took her in his arms.

If he had wanted to punish her he must have succeeded beyond his wildest imaginings, Felicia thought despairingly, looking pleadingly up into his face for some trace of pity. In the moonlight her skin was the colour of a waxen waterlily, only her eyes glowing darkly as they searched in vain for some sign of remorse. There was none—only the hardening demand of his arms, and the cold implacable purpose in his eyes, as he bent his head, obliterating the moonlight and filling her world with darkness, his face reflecting all the cruelty of the falcon’s descent to its prey.

It was impossible to resist. Impossible and unthinkable. This was her one moment stolen from time, and she admitted that in the hidden recesses of her heart she had dreamed of something like this. She longed for his touch even when it was fuelled by rage, and out here in the darkness she could pretend for a while that the arms that held her were those of a lover, that Raschid strained her body against his in desire and not anger, that the hands possessing her body trembled against her skin in passion and not fury.

She closed her eyes so that she would not see the contempt in his eyes, and gave herself up to his kiss, letting his mouth mould and teach hers. She had been kissed before—but she had never known this complete subjugation of self—this complete need to be one with another person to the extent that she was pressing herself against Raschid as though she wanted to imprint the feel of his body against her very bones.

Somehow her sweater had been removed and the buttons of her blouse unfastened, leaving her pearly skin exposed to Raschid’s impatient mouth. Her own hands mutely implored closer contact with his body, her murmured protest silenced under the pressure of his mouth as it taught her the meaning of desire.

His lips trailed lazily across her cheek, nibbling the lobe of her ear, descending to caress her neck and the fragile hollows of her shoulder blade, and then lower still to the shadowy cleft between her breasts.

Her heart was beating like a trapped bird. Stupid to feel so shy and so aroused. A lassitude enveloped her; she longed for his complete possession, and arched instinctively against him. He growled deep in his throat, his hands inside the waistband of her jeans, holding her so close to him that she could feel his impatient desire, her breasts swelling tautly in answering need. Through the thin barrier of their clothes she could feel the hard maleness of him, and fire licked along her veins as she sought to convey her growing desire. A small creature moved in the undergrowth, disturbing the heavy silence of the night. Realisation shuddered through her, breaking the spell that had enchanted her. Her flesh shrank under Raschid’s touch, and she felt him probing the darkness, listening… waiting….

The moment was gone. They were no star-crossed lovers, impatient for the culmination of their urgent lovemaking, but two enemies using their bodies to wage a war of attrition—or at least that was what Raschid thought. What had he intended to do? Make love to her and then throw Faisal’s desertion in her face? Perhaps he didn’t realise that she already knew, and was deliberately leading her on, waiting until she was at her most vulnerable, to throw the truth at her.

He was not like the falcon after all, she thought; they at least killed quickly and cleanly.

‘Obviously I was not a totally acceptable substitute after all,’ he drawled at her side. ‘A pity. You should have used your imagination a little more, or have you forgotten that I am far richer than Faisal, and far better equipped to pay for my pleasure?’

And then he was gone, melting into the darkness, leaving her to stumble back to her tent alone.

‘SO, DID you enjoy your journey into the desert?’ Umm Faisal asked Felicia.

They had arrived back just after lunch and Nadia and Achmed had gone to their own quarters with Zayad. Zahra was with the dressmaker being measured for her wedding clothes and Felicia was alone with Umm Faisal.

‘Very much,’ she replied listlessly. Since their return from the desert, a curious inertia seemed to have enveloped her, coupled with a nervous dread that kept her continually on edge.

‘Raschid has received a letter from Faisal,’ she continued. ‘Soon he will be returning home, I am sure.’

Felicia shuddered. So Raschid had read the letter. Dear God, how was she going to face him? She could not! Excusing herself to Umm Faisal, she went to her room. If only they were still in Kuwait and escape were just a relatively simple matter of presenting herself at the British Embassy. But they were not in Kuwait. They were in the desert. The desert…. She looked out across its golden emptiness; perhaps a breath of fresh air might help clear her thoughts.

She went downstairs. Outside Umm Faisal’s sitting room she paused, hearing voices. Raschid’s voice.

‘Rest assured, she will not marry Faisal,’ she heard him saying, and her face whitened with pain and despair.

Without knowing how she got there she found herself in the courtyard. The huge wooden gates stood open; the desert beckoned, offering solitude and escape from her agony. Like a sleepwalker Felicia walked through the gates to where the waters of the oasis glittered.

So many small wounds, so carelessly inflicted, all combined to make her heart and body one dreary mass of pain from which there was only one cure—Raschid’s love.