‘Very well, habibti. I’ll see you then for Easter?’
‘I’m invited to Uncle Naguib and Aunty Nabila’s for Easter, but yes, I’d be delighted to join you for Sham El Nessim.’
‘Well, if I don’t see you before then …’ Camelia smiled, ‘take good care of yourself and stop brooding. Call me when you’re back in Luxor.’
Aida thanked her friend and climbed into the back of the car, and as the Bentley made its way down the drive towards the gates of El Ghouroub, she breathed a little easier.
* * *
At the wheel of her new burgundy Ford convertible, Aida drove out of Luxor market. She had gone to the souk to order nuts, dried fruit and a variety of sweetmeats that would be distributed to the staff of Karawan House for Easter and Sham El Nessim. The heat had lessened; dusk was not far off. Although business was over for the day, most of the women still clutched stalks of bananas and sugarcane, standing among their hencoops with peering round-eyed children to stare at the newcomer. As she manoeuvred the car through the narrow streets, Aida’s mind was preoccupied as usual.
In the days that followed her return to Luxor, she had found it difficult to put Phares out of her mind. There was a strange stirring in her heart that had never been there before. Her whole being reached out towards this new and intangible feeling, one that was quite beyond her narrow experience. It felt so real, yet somehow impossible to put into words.
She had attempted desperately to fill every hour of the day, trying not to think of what had happened with Phares at the pyramids, but to no avail. Although work on the estate was absorbing and she gained some satisfaction from taking control of her own affairs, Aida found that she missed nursing. But when she thought of her work in the London hospitals, her thoughts only naturally brought her back to Phares. How wonderful it would be if he could give her a job at his hospital. Surely they would value her experience? Still, after the other night there was undoubtedly a rift between the two of them. She should let some time pass before asking for favours.
Leaving the confines of Luxor, Aida drove with the bonnet down, feeling the breeze lifting the hair at her temples. A blue haze clung to the far-off dunes, giving way slowly to rising temperature. Ahead lay the colourful, cultivated fields of sugarcane, broad beans and cotton. She took the dirt road that led straight across the plain, roughly parallel with the river. Uneven and potholed in places, it meandered in a lazy fashion as if bent on whims of its own, and the car lurched and swayed in spite of her expert driving. There was a much better asphalted road, which would have led her straight to the estate, but it was further away; it would have added fifteen minutes to her journey and she was already late for Uncle Naguib, with whom she had an appointment to discuss some of the problems she’d had with Megally, the estate manager.
The sun was setting, casting a pink glow over the fields and date palms. In a few moments it would disappear and the countryside would suddenly be shrouded in darkness. The road thronged with natives and animals on their way home – the usual routine at dawn and dusk. The fellahin’s camels and patient donkeys jogged beside carts laden with local peasant women coming back from the fields. Aida was making slow progress, but she didn’t really mind. Feasting her eyes on the scene, she realised how much she had missed all this. She was sure it could not have changed since the days of the pharaohs.
It wasn’t quite dark yet. A pale, opalescent gleam lingered in the sky, falling on the clustered figures in the road. The colour of the women’s clothes and the contrasting drabness of the men’s merged into the strange half-light, softened to a muted kaleidoscope against the backdrop of slanting palms. No, this certainly wasn’t London, with its chaotic streets ravaged by bombs, the buildings in ruin, ambulances tearing up and down, sirens blaring. Aida had forgotten how primitive the people were in this place she had chosen to live. It was as though they had been spirited right back to the beginning of the century.
Soon the road began to wind between tall hedges of sugarcane ready for cutting. This was Pharaony land. The unfenced acreage from here to the extensive cottonfields a few miles ahead belonged to Phares’s family. The moon had risen, swinging into the empty blueness of the sky, and a light wind wafted the cane into a waving silver sea. The scenery was lovely, just as Aida had always remembered it …
She slowed down as she steered the car across the narrow wooden bridge over the Nile. The ground was soft here, almost like quicksand. As Aida rounded a corner, the car skidded in the mud and she lost control of the wheel. Unable to steer, she stamped hard on her brakes, sending the vehicle hurtling sideways, narrowly avoiding collision with a man on horseback who came out of the shadows.
In the dazzle of the headlights the horse and rider, who had lifted an arm to shield his eyes from the glare, looked massive – like one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Aida could see the whites of the horse’s eyes rolling, the only movement of man and beast, who stood as still and threatening as an enormous bronze statue.
A deep voice swore in Arabic, making Aida jump, and the rider moved away from the beam of her headlights.
‘Well, well, well, Goldilocks! What are you doing taking a turn at that speed – and at night as well?’ Phares stared down at her, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to reveal muscled forearms flexing against the reins. ‘You startled my horse, you could have killed us all.’
Aida’s heart skipped several beats and she swallowed hard. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured rather nervously, ‘I lost control of the wheel at the turning. The ground is so muddy.’
‘Do you even have a driving licence?’ he asked curtly.
Outraged by his arrogance, she found her voice. Turning glittering, angry eyes on him, she retorted hotly, ‘Yes, of course. What do you think?’
Phares leaned forward and stroked his horse’s ears. ‘Well, maybe you should take the test again.’
Aida gritted her teeth. She really didn’t want to enter into another argument with him. Their last meeting had left her humiliated and confused and she wasn’t about to encourage an encore.
‘I thought you were still in Cairo,’ she said testily.
He straightened in the saddle. ‘Well, as you can see, I came back.’
Rider and horse moved out of the road and on to the verge. Phares signalled her to drive on, but as Aida turned on the ignition, as hard as she tried, the car wouldn’t start.
It was her turn to swear under her breath.
‘No wonder your engine’s stalled, habibti. Has no one told you there’s another road? You should have come that way. Not only is this one hopeless by car, but the bridge back there is rickety. You could have found yourself in the river.’ Even in the dim light Aida could feel his gaze travelling over her, appraisingly. ‘You’ve been in London too long. I think you’ve forgotten what our country roads are like … Luckily, we’re not far from the estate. We’d better fetch some help.’
Aida stepped out of the car, slamming the door. ‘Don’t worry, you don’t need to accompany me. I’m perfectly capable of walking a couple of miles,’ she said, locking her car.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re coming with me.’ Phares jumped off his horse and, reaching into his pocket, took out a torch.
‘Oh, you’re lending me your horse?’ Aida said, somewhat taken aback. Perhaps he was a gentleman after all.
His eyes glinted in the torchlight. ‘No such luck, young lady. You can ride pillion. Come on, let me give you a leg up.’
She was acutely aware of him standing next to her. ‘Sharing a horse? No way!’ she exclaimed, appalled by this suggestion but unable to control the excitement that coursed through her at the idea of sharing a saddle with him.
A smile strayed into his eyes. ‘What are you afraid of?’
‘People will gossip.’
‘I never heard such nonsense! You forget that my grandfather and grandmother stamped on that myth a long time ago.’
Aida knew the story of Phares’s grandparents, Sélim and Gamila. T
hough very much in love and officially engaged, they had to respect the custom which dictated that they should not see each other until they were married, except on special occasions when both families were gathered. They used to meet in secret, and finally, tired of the gossiping of their neighbours, they both decided to give the people of Luxor something to talk about. One day, with their parents’ blessing, Sélim took Gamila on horseback through the town to the market. Subsequently, they went riding together most days and even though it was unheard of at that time, people soon became used to it.
‘We are not engaged,’ Aida replied roundly.
‘Oh, but make no mistake, habibti, we will be. As sure as I see you now standing in front of me,’ he murmured under his breath.
At that moment, seeing him standing there lit by the moon that had risen from behind a clump of ragged palms, Aida could have smacked the mock-serious expression clean from his face.
Phares made an impatient sound in his throat. Before Aida knew it, his hands were on her waist and he swung her up into the saddle. Soon he was astride the beast behind her, and they were away.
Phares’s steely clasp crushed her to his broad chest. Locked between his powerful arms, she felt herself tremble as his burning lips brushed the side of her ear, his warm breath fanning her cheek. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t let you go, Goldilocks,’ he whispered, sending an unwelcome but nonetheless delicious quiver down her spine.
Night lay mysterious and silver upon the face of the desert. In the sky, the great bright stars hung in clusters. Like a huge plate of gold, the yellow moon was still low in the midnight-blue canopy, entangled, or so it seemed, in the branches of the tall trees. Its pale light turned the countryside into an enchanted fairyland lit by a magic lamp.
Through the shadows they sped. Soon, from the road bordered by palms and sycamore trees, they emerged into the open. Fields of sugarcane swayed on both sides and the wind tugged at Aida’s hair. The air was soft and balmy. Phares’s chest was hard against her back, the movement of the horse rhythmic beneath her thighs. She was acutely aware of him seated behind her, recognising in the way he held her that his need mirrored her own. A sensuous warmth spread through her body, making her light-headed, so much so that she wished he would kiss her as he had at the pyramids. She leaned into him, gently resting her head against his shoulder, wanting to connect further with his muscled body.
Had Phares sensed this? The tension between them was so electric that Aida could not see how he could ignore it. Presently, he slowed the horse and his arms tightened around her, pressing her to him; his strong fingers holding the reins slid over hers and Aida felt her skin burn where they touched. The longing welled up in her, a craving to be in his arms. Her heart was racing, her breathing coming fast with a short, staccato rhythm.
One hand pushed up her blouse and slid beneath it, for a moment resting palm down and motionless against the bare skin. The contact sent a sharp flame of desire shooting through her, warmth flooding her loins, and an almost imperceptible moan escaped her lips.
Then, although they were still half a mile away from the Pharaony house, Aida realised Phares was leading the horse off the road, taking them on to a narrow path bordered with centuries-old sycamores.
‘Where are we going?’ she ventured in a hoarse voice.
‘To a game park.’
His somewhat ambiguous tone set a quiver of apprehension shivering along her spine.
‘A game park?’
‘Yes, a place where we can continue our games without running the risk of being disturbed, chérie.’
Aida’s throat went dry. His words acted like a cold shower, sobering her at once.
‘What do you mean?’
He didn’t answer, but brought the horse to a halt and dismounted. There was something unnerving in the way he was looking up at her now, his eyes on her face, studying her with an intensity that made her tremble. From his face to his muscle-bunched shoulders, to the legs that were firmly planted on the rough ground, there was tension. Beneath his tan he was pale, and his eyes burned with a familiar, dangerous flame she was beginning to recognise.
She stared back at him silently, her heart thudding crazily against her ribcage.
‘Don’t bat those innocent eyes at me, Goldilocks. It won’t get you anywhere. Desire is not a game. You refuse me and yet your body does not. I think you may find,’ he added very softly, ‘that you are not a girl anymore.’
Aida flinched. What had she got herself into? This was not what she wanted … or was it? She took in his black hair, windswept over his brow, his full lips and strong jaw, the muscle that ran down his neck flexing, and the raw hunger in his dark gaze. ‘I know you wouldn’t hurt me,’ she said jerkily, though she raised her chin in defiance.
‘So you decided to take advantage, eh? Like to provoke, excite and ignite a man’s desires, do you?’ A low, dangerous note came into his voice. ‘Well, this man is going to show you that playing with matches has its own dangers.’
His possessive glance outraged her. Her eyes blazed jewel blue as hot blood rose to her cheeks. Though Aida felt bonelessly weak, she stared at him, wanting him so badly that every nerve tingled in shock. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’
Before she knew it, she was off the horse, prisoner of Phares’s powerful embrace, his body pushing against hers as he folded himself around her. Aida’s every nerve was sensually alive with her longing for him; his strength was so overpowering, she could not have pushed him away. Not that she tried.
Of their own volition, her arms lifted and she locked her hands behind Phares’s neck, her lips parting instinctively, inviting his assault. And then she remained quite still as his head descended and for a moment they traded breaths, their lips almost touching. Then he crushed her possessively against him, moulding her soft body to the hard length of him before his ardent mouth found hers, forcing back her head until she was utterly consumed by his kiss. His tongue was tantalising in the warm secret places of her mouth; he tasted wonderful … a delicious mixture of fresh tobacco and mint.
Somewhere inside her was the knowledge that she should not be behaving in this way, that young Egyptian unmarried women, true virgins, did not conduct themselves with such wantonness. Purity and innocence were virtues men looked for in a woman when choosing a companion in this highly conservative country; and Phares, with all his foreign education, his travelling and his soi-disant enlightening experience was, in Aida’s opinion, just as chauvinistic as the rest of them. On top of that, in his eyes Aida belonged to him, even though she had turned down his offer of marriage …
And now his hands began to move over her, exploring her shoulders and her throat, sliding down to her waist, shaping themselves to the soft curve of her hips, and she moved instinctively against the thrust of his arousal, saying without words the way she also felt about him.
Phares’s fingers tangled in her hair, the silky golden curls tumbling about her shoulders as they escaped their combs. ‘You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met,’ he whispered between kisses. ‘I could drink you in one go and still feel thirsty for you.’ His mouth gentled, tasting, tenderly biting, and Aida responded avidly, her breasts, the nipples firm, urging his caresses as they pressed against his muscled chest.
He stroked them lightly over the flimsy fabric of her dress, sending the most acute sensations to the nerve centres of her upper body and causing her to shudder from head to toe. Tremors of unfamiliar need rippled through every inch of her flesh, numbing her brain. She was not thinking anymore. Her qualms forgotten, only two things were real: the silence of the night and these delicious sensations that were rippling through her like quicksilver. The roar and hum of Luxor was inaudible here. Civilisation seemed so remote from this sleeping deserted place to where she had been charmed away by her mesmerising pharaoh. From somewhere far off on the banks of the Nile came the sound of a young Arab’s flute, and the whole land slumbered as though in an enchanted sleep.
Now Phares was lifting her ski
rt, tracing the long, smooth muscles at the front of her thighs, letting his thumbs curve upwards until he found the lacy edge of her panties. Her focus blurred, her lips parting as he slid his thumb beneath the lace. Only then did an alarm bell go off in Aida’s head.
‘No,’ she cried out, sobering suddenly and pushing him back.
Phares lifted his head, his arms loosening their hold. ‘This was rather more than I had in mind, chérie,’ she heard him say a little hoarsely. His face was unreadable; the hard, passionate mouth parted in what might be a smile, or was it a sigh?
‘That’s all right,’ she said softly. ‘I should have stopped you sooner.’
His mouth twisted derisively. ‘You should have but actually I was thinking of myself.’
Aida’s breath caught in her throat as she jerked her head up to look at him. The coldness she now read in Phares’s glittering ink-black eyes froze her to the core.
‘You really are angry with me?’ she said uncertainly.
He fixed her with a dark, impenetrable look. ‘Not angry … disappointed.’
Aida felt a warmth colour her cheeks. She bit down on her bottom lip, finding it hard to bear the disapproval written all over him. Why did he always make her feel like she had done something wrong? He had brought her here to ‘teach her a lesson’, and now he was disappointed that she had responded to his advances? She was used to his patronising objection to her comparatively liberal ideas and attitudes, upon which he had always frowned, but this was quite different: he was condemning her!
Embarrassment turned to fury at his hypocrisy.
‘I can go back alone, the house isn’t far now.’
‘On foot?’ He gave a mirthless laugh.
‘Believe me, I’m perfectly capable.’
‘I won’t let you do that. No, Aida, I’m not letting you out of my sight until you are safely home.’
‘But I want to go back by myself,’ she insisted hardily.
His tone was clipped. ‘Learn to give in gracefully, if nothing else. You’re coming with me!’
Song of the Nile Page 19
