Читать книгу Penny Jordan Tribute Collection - Пенни Джордан, Penny Jordan - Страница 38

MARIELLA stared worriedly at her mobile phone. She had just tried for the fourth time since her arrival at the villa to make contact with Tanya, but her sister’s mobile was still switched onto messaging mode. She had left a message saying that she was staying at Xavier’s villa, and had asked Tanya to contact her at the villa or call her cell phone. Mariella realised to her consternation that it was days since she had actually spoken to Tanya. A little tingle of alarm began to feather down her spine. What if something had happened to her sister? What if she wasn’t well or had hurt herself. Or…

Quickly Mariella made up her mind. It took her quite some time to get the telephone number for the entertainments director of her sister’s cruise liner, but eventually she managed to get through.

‘I’m sorry, who is this speaking, please?’ The firm male voice on the other end of the line checked her when Mariella had asked for Tanya, explaining that she had been unable to make contact with her via her mobile.

‘I am Tanya’s sister,’ Mariella explained.

‘I see… Well, I have to inform you that Tanya has actually left the ship.’

‘Left the ship!’ Mariella repeated in disbelief. ‘But… where? Why…?’

‘I’m sorry. I can’t give you any more details. All I can say is that Tanya left of her own accord and without giving us any prior warning.’

From the tone of his voice Mariella could tell that he wasn’t very pleased with her sister!

Thanking him for his help, she ended the call, turning to look at Fleur, who was fast asleep in her brand-new bed.

As Hera had already warned her, Xavier had instructed a local baby equipment store to provide a full nursery’s worth of brand new things, all of which Mariella had immediately realised were far, far more expensive and exclusive than anything she or Tanya could have afforded.

Tanya! Where was her sister? Why had she left the ship? And why, oh, why wasn’t she returning her calls?

It was imperative that she knew what was happening, and, for all her faults, her impulsiveness and hedonism, Tanya genuinely loved Fleur. It was unthinkable to Mariella that she should not make contact with her to check up on her baby.

In Tanya’s shoes there was no way she would not have been on the phone every hour of every day… No way she could ever have brought herself to be parted from her baby in the first place, Mariella recognised, but then poor Tanya had had no alternative! Tanya had been determined to pay her own way.

Emotionally, she stood over Fleur looking down at her whilst she slept. Increasingly she ached inside to have a child of her own. When she had made her original vow never to put herself in a position where she could be emotionally hurt by a man, she had not foreseen this kind of complication!

Xavier frowned as he paced the floor of his study. A flood of faxes cluttered his desk, all of them giving him the same information—namely that his cousin had not been seen in any of his usual favourite haunts! Where on earth was Khalid?

Xavier was becoming increasingly suspicious that his cousin had been deliberately vague about Fleur’s true paternity. Out of a desire to protect Fleur and her mother, or out of a desire to escape his responsibilities?

Surely Khalid knew him well enough to know that, even if he couldn’t approve of or accept Fleur’s mother, he would certainly have insisted that proper financial arrangements were made for her and Fleur, and if necessary by Xavier himself? Of course he did, which was no doubt why he had now written to Xavier informing him that he was Fleur’s father.

It irked him that he had been so dramatically wrongfooted in assuming that Mariella was Fleur’s mother. The security information the prince had revealed to him had made it brutally clear just how wrong he had been about her.

Here was a young woman who had shouldered the responsibility, not just of supporting herself, but of supporting her younger half-sister as well. Not a single shred of information to indicate that Mariella had led anything other than the most morally laudable life could be found! There were no unsavoury corpses mouldering away in the dusty corners of Mariella’s life; in fact, the truth was that there were not even any dusty corners! Everyone who had had dealings with her spoke of her in the most glowing and complimentary terms.

And yet somehow he, a man who prided himself on his astuteness and his ability to read a person’s true personality, had not been able to see any of this! True, she had deliberately deceived him, but…

But he had behaved towards her in a way that, had he heard about it coming from another man, he would have had no hesitation in immediately denouncing and condemning him!

There were no excuses he could accept from himself! Not even the increasingly insubstantial one of wanting to protect Khalid.

Wasn’t it after all true that the last thing, the last person who had been in his thoughts when he had taken Mariella to bed had been his cousin? Wasn’t it also true that he had been driven, possessed… consumed by his own personal physical desire?

He could find no logical excuse or explanation for what he had done. Other than to tell himself that he had been driven by desert madness, and he felt riddled with guilt, especially for the way he had coerced her into staying with him at his villa. He would of course have to apologise formally to Mariella!

A woman who already had proved how strong her sense of duty and responsibility was. A woman with whom a man could know that the children he gave her would be loved and treasured…

He had sworn not to marry, rather than risk the hazards of a marriage that might go wrong, he reminded himself austerely.

Surely, though, it was better to offer Mariella the protection of his name in marriage rather than risk any potential damage to her reputation through gossip?

He had already provided her with sufficient protection in the form of his great-aunt as a chaperone, he reminded himself grimly. If he continued to think as he was doing right now, he might begin to suspect that he actually wanted to marry her! That he actually wanted to take her back into his bed and complete what they had already begun.

Angrily he swung round as the sudden chatter of the fax machine broke into his far too sensually charged thoughts.

‘So, here we are, then. Xavier has summoned me to be your chaperone, and I am to accompany you to the palace whilst you paint pictures for His Highness, non?’

‘Well, not exactly,’ Mariella responded wryly. It was impossible for her not to like the vivacious elderly Frenchwoman who was Xavier’s great-aunt and who had arrived half an hour earlier, complete with an enormous pile of luggage and her own formidable looking maid.

‘I am not actually working at the palace, but at the new enclosure at the racecourse, and, to be honest, I don’t agree with Xavier—’

‘Agree? But I am afraid that here in Zuran we have to comply with the laws of the land, chérie, both actual and moral.’ Rolling her eyes dramatically, she continued, ‘I know how difficult I found it when I first came to live here. My sister was already married to Xavier’s grandfather for several years by then. She was older than me by well over a decade. Since the death of my husband, I live both in Paris and here in Zuran. The child I understand is Khalid’s?’ she commented, with a disconcerting change of subject. ‘He is a charming young man, but unfortunately very weak! He is fortunate that Xavier is so indulgent towards him, but you probably know Xavier does not intend to marry and he intended for Khalid’s son to ultimately take over his responsibilities! It is such foolishness…’

‘Xavier does not intend to marry?’ Mariella questioned her.

‘So he claims. The death of his own parents affected him very seriously. He was at a most impressionable age when they perished and of course my sister, his grandmother, was very much a matriarch of the old school. She was determined that he would be brought up to know his responsibilities towards his people and to fulfil them. Now Xavier believes that their needs are more important than his own and that he cannot therefore risk marrying a woman who would not understand and accept his duty and the importance of his role. Such nonsense, but then that is men for you! They like to believe that we are the weaker sex, but we of course know that it is we who are the strong ones!’

‘You have great strength, I can see that! You will miss the child when you eventually have to hand her back to her mother,’ she added shrewdly.

The speed of her conversation, along with the speed of her perceptiveness, was leaving Mariella feeling slightly dizzy.

‘I see that you have chosen not to occupy my late sister’s room. Extremely wise of you if I may say so… I could never understand why she insisted on attempting to recreate our parents’ Avenue Foche apartment here! But then that was Sophia for you! As an eldest child she was extremely strong-willed, whilst I…’ she paused to dimple a rueful smile at Mariella ‘… am the youngest, and, according to her at least, was extremely spoiled!

‘You would not have liked her,’ she pronounced, shocking Mariella a little with her outspokenness. ‘She would have taken one look at you and immediately started to make plans to make you Xavier’s wife. You do not believe me? I assure you that it is true. She would have seen immediately how perfect you would be for him!’

Her, perfect for Xavier? Fiercely squashing the treacherous little sensation tingling through her, Mariella told her quickly, ‘I have no intention of ever getting married.’

‘You see? Already it is clear just how much you and Xavier have in common! However, I am not my sister. I do not interfere in other people’s lives or try to arrange them for them! Non! But tell me why is it that you have made up your mind not to marry? In Xavier’s case it is plain that it is because of the fear instilled in him by my sister that he will not find a woman to love who will share his dedication to his commitment to preserve the traditional way of life of the tribe. Such nonsense! But Sophia herself is very much to blame. When he was a young and impressionable young man she sent Xavier to France in the hope that he would find a bride amongst the daughters of our own circle. But these girls cannot breathe any air other than that of Paris. The very thought of them doing as Xavier has done every year of his life and travelling through the desert with those members of the tribe who had chosen to adhere to the old way of life would be intolerable to them!

‘Xavier needs a wife who will embrace and love the ways of his people with the same passion with which he does himself. A woman who will embrace and love him with even more passion, for, as I am sure you will already know, Xavier is an extremely passionate man.’

Mariella gave her a wary look. What was his great-aunt trying to imply? However, when she looked at her face her expression was rosily innocent and open.

Madame Flavel’s comments were, though, arousing both her interest and her curiosity.

Hesitantly she told her, ‘You have mentioned the tribe and Xavier’s commitment to it, but I do not really know just what…’

‘Non? It is quite simple really. The tribe into which Xavier’s ancestor originally married is unique in its way of life, and it was the life’s work of Xavier’s grandfather, and would have been of his father had he not died, to preserve the tribe’s traditional nomadic existence, but at the same time encourage those members of it who wished to do so to integrate into modern society. To that end, every child born into the tribe has the right to receive a proper education and to follow the career path of their choice, but at the same time each and every member of the tribe must spend some small part of every year travelling the traditional nomadic routes in the traditional way. Some members of the tribe elect to live permanently in such a fashion, and they are highly revered by every other member of the tribe, even those who, as many have, have reached the very peak of their chosen career elsewhere in the world. Within the tribe recognition and admiration are won, not through material or professional attainment, but through preservation of the old ways and traditions.

‘Xavier’s role as head of the tribe means, though, that he has a dual role to fulfil. He must ensure that he has the business expertise to see that the money left by his grandfather generates sufficient future income to provide financially for the tribe, and yet at the same time he must be able to hold the respect of the tribe by leading it in its ancient traditional ways. Xavier has known all his life that he must fulfil both those roles and he does so willingly, I know, but nevertheless it will be a very lonely path he has chosen to follow unless he does find a woman who can understand and share his life with him.’

Mariella had fallen silent as she listened. There was a poignancy about what she was hearing that was touching very deep emotional chords within. The Xavier his great-aunt was describing to her was a man of deep and profound feelings and beliefs, a man who, in other circumstances, she herself could respect and admire.

‘Madame, I assure you there is really no need for you to remain here with me,’ Mariella told her chaperone firmly as she studied the long corridor that was to be her canvas.

Fleur was lying in her pram playing with her toes and Mariella had pinned up in front of her, on the easel she had brought with her, the photographs she had taken of the prince’s horses.

‘It is for this purpose that Xavier has summoned me to his home,’ Madame Flavel reminded her.

‘You will be bored sitting here watching me work,’ Mariella protested.

‘I am never bored. I have my tapestry and my newspaper, and in due course Ali will return to drive us back to the villa for a small repast and an afternoon nap.’

There was no way she intended to indulge in afternoon naps, Mariella decided silently as she picked up her charcoals and started to work.

In her mind she already had a picture of how she wanted the frieze to look, and within minutes she was totally engrossed in what she was doing.

The background for the horses, she had now decided, would not be the racecourse itself, but something that she hoped would prove far more compelling to those who viewed it. The background of a rolling ocean of waves from which the horses were emerging would surely prove irresistible to a people to whom water was so very, very important. Mariella hoped so. His Highness had certainly liked the idea.

It wasn’t until her fingers began to ache a little with cramp that she realised how long she had been working. Madame Flavel had fallen asleep in the comfortable chair with its special footstool that Ali had brought for her, her gentle snores keeping Fleur entranced.

Smiling at her niece, Mariella opened the bottle of water she had brought with her and took a drink. Where was Tanya? Why hadn’t she got in touch with her?

The door to the corridor opened to admit Hera and Ali.

‘Goodness, is it lunchtime already?’ Madame Flavel demanded, immediately waking up.

Reluctantly Mariella started to pack up her things. She would much rather have continued with her work than return to the villa, but she was very conscious of Madame Flavel’s age and the unfairness of expecting her to remain with her for hours on end.