'I'm not in the habit of answering knocks on my bedroom door in the middle of the night/ Lisa informed him shortly, knowing perfectly well that he would have heard her turn the key last night. 'Especially in the present circumstances/
'You may quite safely do so this morning/ Yusuf suggested with a hint of impatience, and Lisa stepped back to let him come in, automatically following him across the cabin. 'May I?'
He indicated a pair of tall folding doors that Lisa had assumed led into another cabin. She had not bothered to discover how true it was once she had found the bathroom, and she watched curiously as Yusuf pointed to them. 'Yes, of course/
'My sister used this cabin last/ he told her, 'and unless I know Zeineb less than I think I do, she will almost certainly have left something in her wardrobe that could be of use to you/
'Your sister?'
The question was irresistible and there was no mistaking the meaning behind it. But Yusuf apparently decided to take it at face value, for he merely inclined his head to acknowledge the correction. 'My half-sister.
since you prefer to be precise, mademoiselle*
Feeling rather small, Lisa watched him open up the folding doors and reveal, not another cabin, but a deep clothes cupboard. There was a row of brass-handled drawers at one side and a long row of mostly empty hangers swinging from a wooden rail. Several of them, however, had dresses carelessly hung awry as if the owner could not be bothered taking care, and Yusuf eyed them critically.
They were quite simple cotton ones for the most part, although much too good to have been discarded by anyone except a woman who had no need to worry about replacing them. He opened the pedestal of drawers too, and Lisa saw various articles of lingerie, discarded with the same casual disregard.
'As I thought/ he remarked dryly. 'Zeineb always leaves some of her things behind, and in this instance her carelessness will serve a purpose.' Even while he was commenting on his sister's habits, he was taking explicit stock of Lisa's size and shape, with no hint of embarrassment and with the air of a connoisseur. Tou will probably find them a little too large for you/ he decided. 'Zeineb is taller and more— dodue. Our women are less inclined to slenderness than Europeans, but you should find something here that you can adapt/
Lisa was eyeing him curiously, the question of replenishing her wardrobe forgotten for a moment. 'You speak as if you're not European/ she said; and quoted his own words at him. 'Our women are less slender than Europeans, you said. Aren't you part French?'
His expression suggested that, just for a second or two, she had surprised him; then he shook his head slowly, it is evident that you know more about me than I realised. Miss Pelham, if you are aware of my French blood. It is not widely known that I am partly French/
'Are you ashamed of it?*
He took the challenge with a slight narrowing of his eyes, but he kept his temper, or so it seemed to Lisa. 'No, mademoiselle, I am not ashamed of it. My mother married a Frenchman, but I scarcely knew my father, and T have always counted myself Moroccan, as she is. I was born here and it is my country, although I was educated entirely in France for my father's sake.'
She had not expected him to be so forthcoming, and Lisa found the subject an unexpectedly intriguing one, so that she followed it up unhesitatingly. 'I've noticed that you resort to French more often than you do to Arabic when your English fails you/ she pointed out.
It had not occurred to her what implication could be drawn from her obvious interest, until she looked up at him for a moment and saw something in his eyes that brought swift colour to her cheeks. 'You have evidently observed me very closely, mademoiselle.* His voice seemed deeper suddenly and was curiously affecting, touching something in Lisa's senses and bringing a sudden urgency to the pulse that beat at her temple. 'Is it perhaps a case of—know thine enemy?'
Quickly on the defensive, she sounded a little breathless. 'I'm interested in people in general/ she told him. 'Not you in particular, Mr ben Dacra/
'Ah!'
Quite obviously he was not convinced and Lisa hastily returned to her own situation rather than become any deeper involved in discussing her reaction to him. 'I'm interested at the moment in when you're going to let me go home,' she said. 'Don't you think this has gone on long enough? You can't keep me much longer without there being an almighty rumpus, you know. I'll already have been missed, don't you realise that?'
'Yes, of course I realise it.' He made the admission so coolly that Lisa stared at him, for he seemed so unconcerned it was hard to believe. 'It has also occurred
to me that while I have you, your friends are unlikely to put their threat into action at Zobi. Here, in my hands, you are a very useful form of insurance, mademoiselle. 9
Lisa eyed him incredulously, seeing his intention clearly for the first time. He was very probably right about the group hesitating to go into action while she was still held aboard the Djenoun; but she could not imagine why he felt himself immune from high-level repercussions if he went on holding her. No matter how influential Sheik Abahn and his family were, they could not get away with detaining a foreign national for very long.
There must be some other reason than sheer arrogance to account for his staggering self-confidence, she felt, although she could not for the moment think what it might be. Uncertain what else to do, she resorted to vague threats. 'When my father gets to hear about this, then you'll see what will happen!' she warned. 'You said yourself he's quite an important man, and he won't let you get away with holding me hostage like this!'
He still did not turn a hair, but eyed her levelly, and did not even raise his voice when he spoke. Tour father understands the position far more clearly than you do, mademoiselle, and he is satisfied that you will come to no harm while you are aboard the Djenoun.* Lisa stared at him open-mouthed, but he ignored her obvious disbelief and pressed on in the same cool, confident tone. 'I contacted him yesterday by radio-telephone,' he told her, 'and he has agreed that I act in loco parentis until such time as I can conveniently put you ashore.'
'But that's ridiculous!' Lisa's brain refused to function normally and she could only stare at him for a second or two, shaking her head slowly back and forth. 'I'm not a child, I'm a grown woman; no one has that sort of right over me, not even my father, whatever he told you. I'm twenty-two—nearly twenty-three, and responsible
for my own actions! Whatever impression you've been given, I'm no longer under parental control!'
The dark eyes did not waver and a hint of a curl on the firm lips suggested he was unimpressed. 'In my country, Miss Pelham, a daughter is under the control of her father until she marries, and you have a saying, I believe—when in Rome, do as the Romans do, yes ? You have behaved in this matter with a total lack of responsibility, which suggests you have had less parental control than you should; but if you consider that your years demand you be treated other than as a wayward child, then so be it. You will be treated as a young woman in need of a severe lesson in how to behave responsibly in a foreign country— my country. But whichever you are, child or woman, your father has asked my indulgence, and in the circumstances I have agreed.'
Her heart was thudding so hard that Lisa almost choked on its urgency. She had to believe that he had contacted her father as he said, for it was the kind of positive step he would take. But it was harder to accept that her father had been quite so co-operative as he suggested.
It made it harder when she realised that the situation was entirely of her own making, and she knew her father would have little sympathy with the aims of the group, any more than Yusuf ben Dacra did. He was also sufficiently knowledgeable about the country he lived in to trust a man of Yusufs standing in almost any circumstances; though she was suspicious of his readiness to trust him with the care and safety of his daughter in this instance.
'Why should he trust you, a stranger, so readily?' she asked, and for a brief moment Yusufs dark eyes seemed almost to pity her.
'Did you not know that my father and I have k
nown John Pelham for many years?' he asked. 'He accepts my
word that you will be safe, even though the situation is somewhat—unconventional.'
Lisa remembered that fierce, unexpected assault on her senses yesterday and assumed he had neglected to mention that to her father. If only she had paid more attention when her father spoke about his work, she might have gained an insight into the character of this dangerous adversary. As it was she was at a disadvantage. Yusuf had been able to lull him into a sense of security so that he had agreed to her being held incommunicado as an assurance of the group's good behaviour.
'What did you tell him?'
It did not matter now what he had told her father, but she needed time to think. She was again on the verge of crying in sheer frustration, but she saw no sign of relenting on Yusuf's dark face as he watched her.
'I told him how you had smuggled yourself aboard with some silly notion of warning me off the Zobi project, and that you were virtually a stowaway. I also told him that in exchange for my not informing the police and for keeping the whole matter as quiet as possible, you have agreed to remain on board and cook for my crew.' -"
'Blackmail!' Lisa accused bitterly and unhesitatingly, but Yusuf continued to eye her sternly and unwaveringly.
'It is nothing of the kind, Miss Pelham,' he denied firmly. 'Your father understands the delicacy of his own situation were this to become public knowledge. Zobi has government approval although it is our company's project. Any attempt to sabotage it will be seen as against our country's interests; and with foreign nationals involved the result could be very serious indeed; for those involved and their families.'
Suspecting that he was making it sound far more
serious than it was, Lisa nevertheless was bound to see some sense in his reasoning, though she admitted it reluctantly. And not at all to Yusuf ben Dacra. 'I rather think you're exaggerating/ she observed, far more casually than she felt. 'Daddy's too well known to your government for them to believe he's responsible for what I do.'
Dark eyes scorned her refusal to face facts, and clearly he had no intention of giving her the chance to change her mind. 'Whatever you feel, Miss Pelham, the fact remains that you are more useful to me as an insurance of your friends' good behaviour than you are free and getting into more mischief. In the circumstances your father feels I have been very lenient and he feels you will benefit from a little discipline. He is much happier knowing you are aboard the Djenoun rather than becoming further involved with your friends.'
'Oh, you've got it all nicely worked out, haven't you?' Lisa looked at him darkly, her eyes half-lidded and rebellious. 'I don't believe your government has an interest in building an hotel at the expense of a small community, and the group will go ahead, whether or not you hold me hostage. Don't you realise that?'
'I think not.' His gaze travelled slowly over her face and he shook his head, confident as ever. 'I understand there is a young man who will ensure their good behaviour; Geoffrey Mason ? 1 would guess that he was the same young man who waited for you outside my father's house the other night. He cares enough about you to prevent the rest from acting irresponsibly, so I hear.'
'Oh, how could he!' Lisa despaired of what she saw as her father's treachery; of his readiness to side with authority as represented by one of Sheik Abahn's family. 'How could he entrust me to someone who sees me only as a hostage, and makes me wait on his crew as well!'
'You exaggerate,' he said coolly. 'Your father has
trusted me with the task of seeing that no harm comes to you, and I shall see that he has no cause to regret that trust/
'Isn't it a little late for that?'
The reminder was unmistakable and Lisa saw the quick tightening of his lips, but his self-control was unwavering and she got little satisfaction from the jibe. He probably regretted that fierce, impulsive kiss far more than she did.
This Geoffrey Mason is your lover?'
Lisa flushed and reacted more angrily because of it. He had no right to question her about Geoffrey or anyone else. 'No, he isn't!' she denied firmly. 'Geoffrey is a good friend, but that's all!'
'That is not your father's impression,' Yusuf observed, making it perfectly clear whose version he believed. 'However, now that you know your father has been informed and is satisfied, I am sure you will have less cause for anxiety.'
'It's no consolation to me! I want to go home !'
There was a certain pathos in the demand, but if Yusuf was affected by it he gave no sign. He consulted his watch, then indicated the open cupboards behind her. 'Take what you need,' he said. 'And then set about making breakfast for the crew. It is getting late and they too prefer to do their work with a full stomach,'
'Do I get Ali's help again ?'
He shook his head firmly. 'No!'
He turned about and Lisa stared after him, glaring desperately at his broad unheeding back. 'How can you do this?' she demanded plaintively, and he turned just briefly in the doorway.
'Because you leave me no choice/ he said, and closed the door firmly behind him.
Lisa wore her borrowed clothed a little self-consciously,
for they were at least two sizes too big for her and it was difficult to disguise the fact. Really the dresses were much too good to be worn for kitchen work, but Lisa had little option but to make use of them, since she had no idea how long her enforced cruise was likely to last.
Her first choice had been a coral-red cotton with short sleeves and embroidered at the neck and hemline with white. She had chosen it partly because it was bright and cheerful and would be good for her morale, and partly because it brought out the golden tones in her skin and hair. She felt the need to look her best in her present circumstances.
When she first put it on it had hung like a sack on her slender form, but a scarf from Zeineb Boudri's discarded wardrobe served as a belt and pulled it in to fit, as well as making it a little shorter. The neck gaped and revealed rather too much cleavage, but there was little she could do about that, and Yusuf ben Dacra could hardly blame her in the circumstances.
Having supplied the crew's lunch she had eaten a little of the same meal herself. No invitation had been forthcoming, so seemingly Yusuf had taken her refusal last night as final. As on other occasions, as soon as the meal was cooked and served, she sought the cooler air on deck, leaning on the rail to watch the shoreline that seemed so tantalisingly near.
She actually thought it was nearer than ever today, but could not be sure, and there was no one she could ask. It was a different man at the wheel, but she was not optimistic enough to suppose he would be any more ready to defy his employer's instructions than his predecessor.
Nevertheless there was something about his wrinkled and weatherbeaten features that was not exactly discouraging, and she made her way along to the wheel-house. The man acknowledged her rather tentative smile
with one of his own, and Lisa took heart. 'Bonjour!' she said.
She spoke no Arabic and very little French, but a lot of Moroccans spoke at least a little French, and perhaps her greeting would convey a feeling of friendliness. Evidently the elderly man was not one of them, for although he nodded in response, he made his reply in Arabic. Disappointed, but not entirely put off, Lisa stood in the narrow doorway of the wheelhouse and indicated what looked like a small town in the near distance, sprawling along the shoreline.
'What's that place called?' she asked, and narrowed her eyes against the harsh sun, trying to judge distances and shapes. 'Is it a town?'
Sh^ thought she could make out buildings, but not distinctly enough to be sure whether the place was a village or a town, or simply another port of convenience like Bouli, where she had so nearly escaped. The sun hurt her eyes if she stared too hard, and she looked to the man at the wheel to enlighten her, if he could.
Following the direction of her pointing finger he squinted his dark eyes into furrowed wrinkles of flesh and said something in Arabic, of which only one word meant anything to Lisa
. When she heard it she turned her head again quickly and looked once more at the distant buildings shimmering in the heat. Heart thudding hard, she pointed again insistently while she repeated the name.
•Zobi? That's Zobi?'
The man nodded, looking at her curiously, and Lisa fidgeted with impatience because he did not speak English. It was just possible that an older man, probably a man with daughters, might have helped her if she could have made him understand her predicament. As it was, she sighed resignedly and moved back to the rail to stare into the distance, almost blinded by the glaring
brassiness of the sun on water.
It was fascinating seeing the place that had come to mean so much to her in the past few days; the place she had risked so much for. It did not look very big at this distance, but Zobi was a village, not a town. There were only a very few palm trees, dotted like ragged mops along the skyline and suggesting that Zobi offered little in the way of shade; Lisa thought it looked a harsh and unfriendly site to build an hotel.
She was still gazing at it when she felt someone come up beside her, and she turned to find Ali at her elbow. 'Mademoiselle.' He gave her a smile, but it lacked the beaming openness of the ones he had treated her to before, and it puzzled her. 'Monsieur ben Dacra wishes you to '
Tm not very interested in Mr ben Dacra's wants at the moment/ Lisa interrupted swiftly, unwilling to hear new instructions from her jailer. 'That's Zobi up ahead, isn't it, Ali?' He nodded, although it was clear he was not happy about having his employer's message ignored. The village of Zobi that we're making for?'
That is so, mademoiselle.'
'We'll be putting in there—when? This afternoon? Tonight?' It was so difficult to tell just how far away they were, but Ali was almost sure to have some idea. 'When, Ali?'
He was cautious, and Lisa blamed Yusuf ben Dacra for putting him on his guard. This afternoon, I think, mademoiselle. But we shall not go into Zobi itself.' Lisa guessed he had volunteered the information because he had been unable to resist showing off his knowledge, and she looked at him encouragingly. 'It is not possible to take the Djenoun into Zobi because there is a sandbank that makes it impossible, you understand. So we must go a little more along the coast.'
Close to the Heart Page 10
