'There's nothing about me and Philippe.' Melissa hesitated, standing in the centre of the big rose and white bedroom. went to him first, to find where you'd gone.'
'Oh ... what did you think of him?'
was charming and very helpful.'
There was a giggle. would be. I know Philippe.
I hope you didn't take him too seriously.'
was too concerned about you to think seriously
about any man,' Melissa said tartly.
'More fool you. Philippe likes English girls. I had him just like that'—the careless snap of the fingers could not be heard but required little imagining—`it's a pity he's richer in looks than goods. I can just picture him coming to your rescue like a white knight on a noble charger.' Avril reappeared swathed in the fluffy pink folds of an enormous bath towel. There was amusement in her eyes as she added, `How far did he get?'
Melissa's mouth compressed. didn't.'
'Not even a kiss? Poor you.'
`Oh, you're hopeless!'
Knowing expostulation was wasted on Avril, and feeling as though she was beating helplessly against a stone wall, Melissa returned to her own room.
It was all the more infuriating that Avril, the cause of her present predicament, should take this attitude. Was it true that Raoul was paying her a thousand pounds to stay here for a few weeks and impersonate his cousin? Could there be any real foundation in his astonishing pronouncement that she was threatened with kidnapping?
Melissa ceased her restless pacing. If it were true his concern was understandable, and even the startling step he had taken in the attempt to foil the threat hanging over Amorel. But it didn't make his outrageous treatment of herself any more forgivable. He had no right whatsoever to drag her into his schemes and totally ignore her wishes.
She went to bathe her hot face. What was she going to do now? Whatever Avril said she couldn't—wouldn't—stay here. There were a host of new wor
ries to take the place of the main one now resolved with the reunion with her sister. She had to let their mother know. And there was the lesser, but intensely irritating matter of clothes. Her things were still at the hotel in Casa. The bill would be mounting up, they would wonder where she was, and there was Philippe . . .
Melissa replaced the towel on the rail and her expression hardened. She wasn't going to give up so easily. Why should she stay here against her will? A prisoner !All because of an autocratic, domineering suzerain who thought he could bend her to his will.
Strength and determination buoying her spirit once more, she set off in search of him. Surely he would see reason.
There were sounds of feminine voices somewhere within the cool shade of the riad and she hesitated, then went on to where the french window still stood open to the patio. The room within was empty, and she walked its length to reach the other window facing the outer terrace.
No one crossed her path as she continued her exploratory way along the terrace till she rounded the angle and reached the front of the house. Two boys in white cotton djellabas were working leisurely in the garden and she was about to turn towards the main entrance when she heard the car engine and saw the white car slide to a standstill a short distance from where she stood.
Raoul got out, slammed the door carelessly, glanced at his wristwatch and strode into the house without glancing to left or right. Obviously he hadn't noticed her in the shadows under the colonnade.
Melissa did not stop to examine her impuls Seconds sufficed for her to dart to the car, grope frantically for the rear door catch and slip into the back. She closed it softly and crouched down on the soft blue carpeting, out of sight, her heart racing like a piston. He had to be going somewhere. It didn't matter where, as long as she could slip away, find a phone, make arrangements ... thank heaven she'd picked up her bag through sheer force of habit.
In actuality about a minute and a half elapsed before Raoul emerged from the house and crossed to the car, but to Melissa it felt a tension filled eternity. She had a fearful vision of him opening one of the rear doors, seeing her—she could almost hear his startled exclamation—and venting his fury as he dragged her out ...
The vehicle responded with small fluctuations to his movements as he settled in and slammed the door, vibration permeated through the smooth springing and communicated to Melissa's limbs as she lay, and the sudden powerful whirr of the cooling fan made her start, then relax gratefully as the cool refreshing air began to circulate in the car. She sensed the speed increasing, and presently the masculine scent of a cheroot drifted to her nostrils. Immediately her nose began to tickle.
She struggled furiously trying to suppress the urge to sneeze. It was ages since she'd wanted to sneeze like this; all a year since she'd had even a cold, and now the tiniest whiff of cheroot smoke wanted to set her off. She burrowed down deeper and tried holding her breath, for no reason at all remembering Pig and Pepper and knowing a hysterical desire to giggle as
well as sneeze. Oh, to be like the Cheshire Cat and vanish, leaving only a grin—or a sneeze ! Then she forgot Alice and fantasy in the sudden awareness of silence. The car had stopped.
Raoul got out and the door slammed.
After a long minute of listening she raised her head cautiously and ventured a peep through the smoked glass window. A sigh of disappointment escaped her.
A short distance from the car, Raoul was standing with his back to her, talking to a young Moroccan in a blue checked shirt and denims. All around, as far as the eye could see, were date palms, thousands of them.
Melissa sank back, sick with disappointment. It was obviously a date plantation. What if he was merely visiting it, then returning to the house? Her uncomfortable bid would be in vain.
Apparently Raoul had no intention of wasting time. He called something she could not translate as he swung back behind the wheel and a moment later drove off again.
This time he seemed to increase speed considerably. The car bowled along and the road or track unseen soon deteriorated, greatly to Melissa's discomfort. The journey seemed to be going on for hours and now she was aware of the heat from the camshaft, which, no matter how she shifted her position, it seemed impossible to avoid contacting with some portion of her anatomy.
One hope buoyed through the most uncomfortable ride she'd ever experienced; that the end of it must surely lie in civilisation. She longed to look, but resisted the temptation; speeding into the unknown was yet another extension of the timeless limbo the days
had been since the loss of her watch. Just as she came to the conclusion that Raoul Germont could exist without food, water and rest, the speed slackened and the car stopped.
There were rustling sounds that suggested he was collecting some package or something from the front passenger seat, then when she least expected it his arm reached over the back of the seat and flipped down the little locking catches in each door. It seemed impossible that he had failed to see her, and when at last she was alone she gave a heartfelt sigh of relief.
She forced herself to wait, to give him time to get dear, before she sat up with the joyous anticipation of seeing streets and houses and people. She looked out and reality made her want to cry.
She was looking at an encampment in the heart of the desert.
A tall bearded man in robe and hood was greeting Raoul, leading him towards the main tent of the douar while children and lean dogs milled around and in the shadows beneath the open front of the tent refreshments were being brought in readiness for the guest. The shaik turned, gestured to the sky, and Raoul laughed, then they passed into the shadows and several of the children turned their attention to the car.
Melissa groaned. He was going to sip mint tea and exchange news, feast perhaps, and take his time about it, and these children would not depart until the fascination of their game around the car palled and they sought other pursuits. If she moved and betrayed herself they would set up such a commotion and ... Blast! She would pick his visiting day!, She was now
incarcerated
in a prison a great deal worse than that of the house she had fled from so impulsively. Just how unpleasant a prison it was became apparent within a very short time.
Melissa had forgotten the effect of the atmosphere on a car which stood stationary for any length of time in the sun especially a desert sun. Within a few minutes she was in a pitiable state, and the temperature climbed until the car interior began to resemble that of a furnace.
Her mouth was parched, and her head throbbed unbearably, and she knew she had to have air. Swimming senses invoked panic strong enough to oust the fear of discovery and she groped desperately for the gadget that would wind down the window. Red flecks danced before her eyes with the effort of manipulating the little handle and sickness made her sway unsteadily as she clutched at the window frame and dragged herself up towards the only slightly less hot wafts of air from without.
Dimly she heard shouts and sensed the commotion outside as her fingers slid helplessly away from their grasped object. Striving to hold on to consciousness, she heard the excited piping voices, the deeper one, authoritative, and the sudden silencing of them as the car door swung open and she toppled forward.
For the second time within twenty four hours Melissa felt herself lifted and carried like a limp rag doll in the arms of Raoul Germont.
'You are feeling quite recovered now?'
'Yes, thank you,' Melissa responded tonelessly, and
stared ahead at the crimson sunset that was staining the desert red.
She was having difficulty in sorting out the confusion of her emotions and her reactions to Raoul Germont. When he had carried her into the great tent and laid her on a soft woven white rug she had felt bitter shame at her helplessness and a despair that had vanquished her spirit. Solemn, dark eyed women had fluttered about her, bringing her water and bathing her face and wrists with a cool lotion that smelled faintly of roses. Later they had touched her throat and temples with oil of jasmine and smoothed a soothing balm on the painful marks of sunburn on her shoulders.
The perfumes still lingered faintly, a reminder of a day still tinged with a haze of unreality. Most unreal of all had been Raoul himself. She had expected anger and the icy castigation with which he had lashed her that morning. But he had remained so quiet she had wondered if it was all a dream, until he left her in the care of the Berber women, to rest until sundown, and she had wondered dully if he intended to abandon her there.
But he had returned some time later, asked her if she felt well enough to begin the journey back, and there had been no word of reproach, no furious demand for explanations.
The crimson darkened, merged into violet, became indigo, and Raoul slowed the car to a smooth standstill. He turned to face her. 'Don't ever dare to do such a thing again,' he said between tight lips.
She closed her eyes; was she so foolish as to imagine she could escape either Raoul or his anger? This was
delayed retribution. 'I'm sorry. But can't you understand? How can I make ...?'
understand only that your foolish action could have had tragic consequences,' he interrupted. 'If I had not found you and you had lost consciousness you could have become gravely ill.'
'That would have solved your problem—one of them,' she said bitterly, and heard him give an angry exclamation.
'How can I convince you that I mean you no harm? That I'm trying to do what I think best?'
'Yes, I know your cousin is in danger,' she said wearily. can understand your concern, but please don't start all that again. Can't you realise that our people are also desperately concerned about us? My sister apparently disappears from the face of the earth, and then I vanish.' She opened her hands with a gesture of appeal. must let my mother know we're both safe. To say nothing of the fact of my hotel bill running up. They are going to wonder what's happened to me. And, though I don't expect you to understand this—I have nothing to wear except what I have on now. To go two days in this climate without several changes—never mind one—of clothing isn't funny.'
'But I do understand these things,' he said coolly. 'If you had heard me out this morning I would have dealt with all these problems, and saved you all this distress.'
He paused and took a deep impatient breath. 'Will you endeavour to listen to me, now, and without flaring up to match those fiery tresses of yours?'
'Very well,' she sighed, concecling to defeat and the
growing realisation of the power of this adversary.
'First of all,' he leaned back, 'your sister is not nearly as conscientious as yourself, at least in the matter of correspondence. At my instigation she wrote one letter and later a card to your mother, which should have allayed amdety. It was no part of my plan to inflict worry on your sister's people—if you stop to consider recent events you must realise that a hue and cry over a missing girl was the last complication I wanted. However, to ensure it doesn't occur again I have instructed my agent in Casa to despatch a cable to your mother, announcing your reunion with Avril and that you are spending a three week holiday touring the country. And you will be writing in a few days. Which disposes of that problem.'
Just like that! Melissa expelled a sigh of annoyance. 'You've got a nerve.'
'Would you prefer me not to consider your mother's peace of mind?'
`No, but . . . It's the highhanded way you've done all this. As though we were puppets you have a right to to manipulate however you wish. I . .
'Because I could not foresee the circumstances of your arrival,' he interrupted. 'Presently, I think you will understand. But first, the problem of your personal possessions. Naturally I will take care of your hotel bill and arrange to have your luggage collected and brought to you, until then I'm sure my cousin will be delighted to help you over the emergency.'
She shook her head to dispel increasing bewilderment. Did he have to go to such lengths to maintain secrecy? She turned to him. 'Why? Why must you keep me here? I've nothing whatsoever to do with
your affairs. Surely you can let me return to Casa and make my way home.' She met his dark gaze with puzzled eyes. 'If you're worried about ... You can trust me. I won't tell anyone of—of all this. How can I cause danger to Amorel? I wouldn't know her enemies if I saw them, so how can I tell them? Even if I wanted to. Which you can't possibly imagine I should want to.'
He sighed, and his expression was grave. don't
believe any such thing, but there is a great deal you will need to know before you can judge whether my actions are completely outrageous, or completely justified.' He paused. 'Would you care to walk a little before we drive on?'
'In this?' Somewhat startled, she glanced at the limitless wastes of dark rippled dunes.
know the desert. Do not fear, you are perfectly safe. Provided you do not do anything so foolish as trying to run away,' he added sharply.
'My running away days are over for a long time,' she said dryly, getting out of the car and standing doubtfully by the glow of the headlights. 'Aren't you going to switch them off?' she asked. 'Your battery ...?'
'The lights are our beacon, and I carry a spare, always.' He came to her side and put a guiding hand under her elbow. 'This way.'
She was still wary of him, but her chastening experience of the afternoon and her increasing awareness of her puniness against the alien desert was more than enough to counterbalance that first wariness; for the moment, Raoul Germont was the lesser of the two proverbial evils.
Their long shadows danced ahead as they walked slowly down the brilliant spill from the headlights, and she remained silent, sensing the man at her side marshalling the pertinent facts he was about to impart. At last he said : 'How much have they told you?'
'Nothing,' she said with some surprise. 'Except in riddles.'
He forbore to comment on this. 'You'll have surmised that Amorel has spent most of her life in England.'
thought she was English.'
'Her father is English and she's lived in England since she was three years old, but she was born here at Kadir. My gran
dfather loved her; she was easily his favourite of us all and he was bitterly disappointed when her father found he couldn't settle here, partly because he never became acclimatised to the dry heat —away from a colder clime he suffered perpetual enervation—and partly because of pressure from his own family. Unfortunately, my Aunt Martine, who made a point of returning home at least once each year, bringing Amorel with her, was killed in a car crash three years later. Jack was drawn back completely under his family's influence—they never approved of his marriage to Martine—and my grandfather never, saw Amorel again. He was too proud to beg them to send the child to see him, and too stubborn to make the journey to England, a country which, with due respects to your nationality, Miss Blair, he never loved.'
Raoul stopped to get cigarettes out of the pocket of his still immaculate white shirt and offered her one. When they were lit he went on : 'My grandfather died
three months ago. He left Kadir to me, the house and the plantation, knowing I would continue to adminster it in the way he wished, and the bulk of his personal fortune he left to Amorel. But there were certain conditions she had to fulfil. First, she had to be resident in Morocco when she attained the age of eighteen, secondly, she could not transfer the capital anywhere abroad, thirdly, there is a retainer that if she marries without my consent before she is twenty she forfeits everything, and finally, should she fail to fulfil these conditions, the money is to be divided among the other members of the family. Half to myself, and half to Jules, my father's younger brother.'
He stopped and turned to face Melissa, and now she could perceive his deep rooted concern. 'Can't you see the invidious position in which I am placed? Should anything happen to Amorel I stand to gain, and this is why I'm determined that Jules shall not succeed in his aim. He almost succeeded the first time, but he shan't succeed a second time.'
The vehement anger was back in Raoul Germont's entire mien, the same scarcely controlled force which had been directed at her earlier that day. But now it was not for her. She said slowly : 'This Jules, he must be her uncle. Surely he wouldn't harm his own niece?'
The house of the Amulet Page 7
