by Liz Fielding
‘You should be comfortable here, madame.’
Tara smiled. ‘I hadn’t realised we were to be your guests, Mr Rashid. I had assumed we would be staying in an hotel.’
‘But, no. You will be more private at the villa.’ He opened the door and helped her out. A servant immediately appeared and unloaded the baggage.
At the door Hanna offered his hand. ‘We will meet later, for dinner, when you have rested.’
Tara frowned. ‘But, I don’t understand...’ Something in Adam’s face made her stop.
‘There’s a car in the garage, Adam. We’ll see you at about ten?’
‘Thanks, Hanna.’ He put his arm around Tara’s waist and swept her inside. The door closed and she turned on him.
‘What—?’
‘This is Hanna’s summer home. Even in winter his British guests find Manama a little humid.’
‘But I can’t stay here alone with you.’
‘No?’ He stood back to let her enter a beautifully furnished drawing room. ‘You’ll be quite safe, Tara. I’m fussy about sharing.’ He helped himself to a drink and offered her one. She shook her head, speechless. He drained his glass. ‘Shall I show you to your room?’
‘No, thank you. I’m sure I can find it myself.’
He shrugged. ‘Well, don’t get lost.’
His warning was unnecessary. The elderly man servant who had taken their bags was waiting to conduct her to her room, which was just as well. The villa was far larger than she had realised and left to her own devices she might never have found it.
Built on two floors, all the upstairs rooms were reached via a covered veranda, which overlooked a courtyard garden in which a small fountain splashed seductively and, which now the sun had set, was illuminated with concealed lighting.
Tara unpacked her bag and took advantage of the luxurious en suite bathroom, pampering herself with bath oil to soak away the dried out feeling from the pressurised atmosphere of the aircraft. Then she sorted out something to wear. They were having dinner at a nightclub in Manama and since she had no idea how dressy it might be, settled on her “little black dress”.
Adam would no doubt curl his lip, but she told herself she didn’t care. With a practised twist she fastened her hair into its familiar chignon and kept her make-up to the minimum. Anything else would undoubtedly bring down an accusation of flirting from Adam. Plain or fancy, she knew she couldn’t win.
She slipped off her cotton wrap and briefly examined her reflection. Never able to resist beautiful underwear, the satin and lace of her flimsy teddy drew a smile of genuine amusement to her lips, as did the black stockings. Then she covered it all with the plain black crepe evening dress, that had done duty at more dull functions for more companies than she could remember. The joys of being a temporary secretary.
She glanced at her watch. It was a little after nine. She had no wish to join Adam downstairs to be tormented by his barbed comments, but neither did she relish sitting in her room. She had noticed a stairway down into the garden and decided to explore a little.
The evening was cool, but not unpleasantly so after a British winter and there was a delicate scent in the air that drew her down the path and when she reached the little fountain she sat beside it, listening to the pleasing sound of water.
‘You like the garden?’ His voice out of the shadows made her jump.
‘It’s lovely.’
‘And very private,’ he said, moving to her side, starkly compelling in the severest dinner jacket, the simplest of dress shirts. No ruffles, no wing collars to bolster this man’s ego. ‘A concealed garden to protect his women from the gaze of lustful men. Hanna Rashid is all charm, Tara, but despite his French manners he is an Arab. They have different ways. Their women are protected from casual encounters, but the men are quite happy to take advantage of the freer attitudes of European women. You would do well to remember that.’
Her eyes flew wide open. Surely he wasn’t suggesting that this was a... Of course not. He was teasing her. ‘I have no idea what you mean.’
‘Oh, I think you do,’ he said, sitting beside her, ‘but if you want me to spell it out for you, then I will. Just so there are no misunderstandings.’ He lifted his hand to her cheek and touched it very gently. She kept very still, knowing instinctively that this was not a threatening gesture, that just for a moment she was quite safe. He turned her face towards his. ‘While Hanna Rashid believes you are here for my pleasure, Tara, you will be safe from his attentions.’
His hand was suddenly burning a brand on her cheek and driven by some devil inside her, she asked, ‘Is that what you told Jane?’
His mouth straightened in a thin line. ‘In her case it wasn’t necessary. She understood the danger and he knew that she was out of bounds.’ He stood up abruptly. ‘It’s time we went.’
She fetched her bag and a stole and by the time she had found her way to the front entrance the car was waiting. He opened the door for her and then climbed in and on the way into the city reminded her of the people who would be at dinner with them. An American banker and his wife, a couple of local businessmen, Hanna Rashid. She barely listened. She had memorised all the names before they left. Instead she dwelt on what he had said in the garden.
So long as he believed she was there for Adam’s pleasure.
Maybe some businessmen took their secretaries away for ‘pleasure’. He had made it crystal clear that Jane had been happy enough in her position. But she wasn’t a pleasure girl and she wasn’t about to let anyone think she was.
Hanna met them at the restaurant door and welcomed them. As he bent over Tara’s hand, she caught Adam’s cynical eye watching them and when the man straightened, she rewarded him with a brilliant smile, allowing him to take her arm and introduce her to the other guests.
Somehow she found herself seated at one end of a long table, with Adam on the opposite side at the other. But Hanna kept her entertained, asked her about her life and managed to extract a great deal more personal information over the period of several hours than she would normally part with. But when the floor show ended and the dancing started Adam was at her side before Hanna could move.
‘Tara?’
She very nearly refused, but one look at his face was enough to immediately disabuse her of any such notion.
He took her firmly in his arms and began to dance. ‘What the hell did you two find to talk about all evening?’ he demanded under his breath.
‘Nothing of any importance. He’s very amusing.’
‘He’s also very clever. I hope you weren’t discussing business.’
She leaned back slightly. ‘I’m not a complete idiot, Adam. I know when I’m being pumped for business information.’
‘I hope so.’ He pulled her close again. ‘So what did you talk about?’
‘Life, love, poetry,’ she teased.
‘A loaf of bread… a flask of wine… and thou...?’
‘That sort of thing,’ she agreed, nonchalantly
‘Well, don’t complain that I didn’t warn you.’ The music stopped and he returned her to Hanna who immediately claimed the next dance. It wasn’t the same. The man danced superbly, he was amusing and charming, but he wasn’t Adam. He was dancing with the American woman, making her laugh, being amusing and charming to her, instead.
She sighed and Hanna was immediately all concern.
‘You are tired, cherie?’ he said. ‘It has been a long day for you. Let me take you home.’
A spark of alarm suddenly penetrated. ‘Oh, no, thank you. I’d better wait for Adam.’
‘Surely you are off duty now?’ he said. ‘And Adam is going to be a while, I think,’ he said, a slight edge to his voice. Tara glanced around and both Adam and the American woman had apparently disappeared. She went very cold.
‘I am tired,’ she admitted, ‘but I don’t want to take you away from your party.’
‘Everyone will be leaving soon.’ He shrugged. ‘Those who haven’t already gone.’<
br />
She swallowed. ‘Then, thank you. That would be very kind.’
She bade goodnight to the rest of the party and allowed Hanna to usher her into the lift. He took her hand and she stiffened, but he made no other move on her and she gradually relaxed.
He settled her in the front seat of his beautiful Mercedes and then drove slowly through the desert night, pointing out the constellations that seemed so much closer than at home.
‘Tomorrow afternoon I will take you out into the desert and show you what it is really like, beautiful Tara. But tonight, you need to sleep.’ They were at the villa now and he helped her from the car as if she was the most fragile bloom. A final touch of his lips to her hands and then he was gone.
She unpinned her hair shook it loose. So much for Adam’s warning. She smiled as she unzipped her dress and stepped out of it. She slipped it onto a hanger and was putting it away when there was a sharp rap on the door and Adam’s voice rang out.
‘Tara!’ In her underwear, she hesitated. ‘Tara! Are you there?’
She grabbed a wrap and held it in front of her before opening the door. ‘Yes? What it is?’
‘So you’re back. Are you alone?’ he demanded, his face a mask of anger.
‘Of course —’ But Adam swung around the door, not convinced.
‘What on earth made you leave...?’
His voice died away as he took in her appearance. Her hair loose about her shoulders, a dramatic contrast to her pale skin, her figure more revealed than covered by the delicate lace that clung to her breasts before swooping over her hips.
She stepped back, but only drew attention to the fact that she was wearing fine black stockings.
She clutched at the wrap in an attempt to cover herself. ‘Get out!’
He made no move to go. Instead he plucked it from her trembling fingers and flung it to the other side of the room and drank his fill. He finally dragged his eyes back up to her face, white but for the heat she knew would be staining her cheeks. ‘You do well to keep it under armour plating, Mrs Lambert. Mr Lambert is a lucky man. You can tell him I said so.’
He turned and walked quickly from the room, closing the door behind him. She flew to it, turning the lock and standing with her back to it as if that would keep him at bay if he tried to break the door down.
Then she shook her head. ‘Stupid!’ she said, quite softly to herself. If she had held out her hand to him he would have been unable to help himself. But she had no practise in the art of seduction, despite everything he thought of her. And probably that was just as well. There was Jane and her baby to consider, after all.
The following morning she dressed to dampen any thoughts of lust. She screwed her hair up tighter than ever, skewering it into place with a silver pin, and covered the silk and lace with a severe navy linen dress.
Adam was in the dining room, helping himself to coffee.
‘This is an Arab breakfast. If you would like eggs, the cook will prepare them for you.’
‘This is fine thank you.’ She helped herself to yoghurt and pitta bread and coffee, not quite feeling up to tomatoes, olives or goats cheese.
‘Did you sleep well?’ he enquired, politely.
‘Yes,’ she lied. ‘Did you?’
He raised his head to look at her. She knew he wasn’t seeing the navy dress, but what he imagined, with a good deal of justification, was beneath it.
‘What do you think?’ he asked, but didn’t wait for an answer, instead launching into a discussion of the day’s programme. ‘We have a meeting at the bank this morning. It should be over by twelve and we’ll have lunch, then work here this afternoon. There’s a cocktail party at the British Embassy this evening and then a change of plan. We’ve been invited to dinner with the commercial secretary and his wife.’
She made a note in the diary. ‘When did you arrange that?’
‘I saw Mark at the restaurant last night when he was on the point of leaving and walked with him to his car.’ His look made her flinch. ‘I was gone all of five minutes, quite long enough apparently for Hanna to talk you into a look at the desert by night. But then a blind man could have seen you wouldn’t take much convincing.’
‘But he said...’ She stopped, unwilling to betray herself. If she admitted to leaving because of Hanna’s implication that Adam was otherwise engaged he would know just how vulnerable she was.
‘Yes?’ he prompted.
‘He was a perfect gentleman.’
‘How disappointing for you. But then, he hasn’t seen you in your underwear. Yet. I can guarantee he won’t manage my self-restraint.’
‘If Hanna Rashid sees me in my underwear, Adam, it will be at my invitation.’
‘You’re playing with fire, Tara.’ He stood up, his breakfast half eaten. ‘But you’re a grown woman and hardly my responsibility.’
‘And you need me too much to send me packing, no matter how much you’d like to.’
His look was a warning that she was on the edge of insolence, but Tara knew that they had long ago stepped across the boundary that should remain in any professional relationship. And she knew without doubt that but for Jane she would already have taken Beth’s advice to enjoy herself. Adam Blackmore had already managed to go a fair way to breaking her heart and all the pain and none of the pleasure seemed a little hard.
The day proceeded very much according to plan. Hanna Rashid was there, but in the background and Adam casually seated himself alongside Tara, cutting out the other man at lunch.
There was a well-furnished office at the villa and Tara spent the afternoon typing up her notes and dealing with correspondence, while Adam was on the telephone.
At four Hanna Rashid arrived, much to Adam’s ill-concealed annoyance. ‘But I promised the beautiful Madame Lambert I would show her the desert. The sunset.’
‘Then it will have to be some other time, Hanna. She’s here to work and she’s too busy to go gallivanting off to look at the sunset. Or any other interesting things you might have in mind to show her.’
He looked at Tara and shrugged. ‘Another time,’ he promised. And his eyes told her it would be soon. His smile would break your heart she thought, if you were fool enough to believe it. She smiled back warmly, but only because she knew it would make Adam furious.
She paid for that smile with an onslaught of work that left her lying in the bath at six-thirty, trying to recoup sufficient energy for the long evening ahead.
She wore a dark red evening suit, the skirt a little shorter than usual. It wasn’t part of her business wardrobe. There was a limit to that. And she was rewarded with a faint smile when she descended to the drawing room.
‘Hanna won’t be there, this evening, Tara,’ he reminded her.
‘I know.’
‘Then isn’t that rather a waste?’
‘If that’s supposed to be a compliment, Adam, thank you.’
‘Anytime. A drink?’
‘Just a tonic water, please.’ He handed her a tall frosted glass and she took a long, cooling sip. ‘Any instructions for this evening?’
‘Just enjoy yourself.’
‘And are those your plans, too?’ He raised his own glass with a cool smile and a slow flush darkened her cheekbones.
He took the barely touched drink from her hand. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
The cocktail party was just another version of dozens she had been to. No better, no worse. But the Commercial Secretary, Mark Stringer and his wife Angela were good company afterwards.
‘What are you doing on Friday?’ Angela asked.
‘We’ve nothing planned,’ Adam said. ‘To be honest I had hoped to get away on the Friday flight, but Hanna is dragging everything out. He enjoys the haggling too much to be hurried.’ He glanced briefly at Tara. ‘At least I hope that’s why he’s delaying.’
‘We’re going to the races at Awali.’ She turned to Tara. ‘It’s a long way from Ascot, but it’s fun. Horses and camels. Why don’t you come along?’
Tara made no response, it wasn’t her place to accept such invitations. But Adam shrugged. ‘Why not?’
They made the arrangements and then Adam drove Tara back to the villa. When they arrived there was a message waiting. ‘Damn!’
‘What is it?’
‘The Ruler is holding a majlis tomorrow morning and I’ve been summoned to meet him.’
‘A majlis?’ Tara repeated. ‘What is that?’
‘It’s sort of open house. Anyone can visit the Ruler’s majlis — his court, I suppose — and ask for favours, or for help, or just to pay his respects. Occasionally he holds formal ones, simply to shake hands with everyone. A bit like a Palace garden party, except it’s less likely to rain and women aren’t allowed. I have to go and shake hands with him.’
‘Heavens, I’m impressed.’
He pulled a face. ‘It will take all morning. You’ll be bored to death here by yourself. I’ll ring up Angela and ask her to take you down to the souk to do some shopping if you like. The gold shops are worth a visit.’
‘There’s no need.’
Adam’s eyes narrowed. ‘It’s no trouble,’ he replied and she didn’t bother to argue. ‘And Angela will enjoy showing you around.’
* * *
Half an hour before Angela was due to arrive she telephoned.
‘Tara? I have a crisis. My youngest has broken out in a rash and I’m afraid it will need a trip to the doctor. I am so sorry.’
Tara was all sympathetic concern. ‘Please don’t worry, Angela. I’m fine here. I just hope there’s nothing seriously wrong.’
‘I suspect chickenpox, which means I’ll have to go into purdah for a week or two.’
‘Oh, I am sorry.’
‘A mixed blessing, my dear. At least I won’t have to host the bridge club this week. But I’m sorry to miss seeing you again.’
Tara wandered about the house for a while. She tidied up the office, glanced at a magazine and was wondering whether it was quite warm enough to put on her swimsuit and sunbathe in the garden when she heard a car arrive and the servant admitted Hanna Rashid.
