'It's warm,' she grumbled.
Melissa bit her lip, aware of the film of perspiration on her own skin. Suddenly she had an idea. 'Why don't you move into my room?' she asked. 'It's on the other side and it doesn't get the full force of the sun.'
'Don't you mind?'
'Not in the least. Come on.' Melissa put out her hand to steady the younger girl as she stood up. 'You'll find it much cooler.'
Soon after the transfer was made Amorel drifted into a sleep from which she did not awake till sundown. When she did wake she looked a lot better, announced that her headache had almost gone and proved it by eating her first proper meal for two days.
When she had finished she said : 'You've been awfully sweet to me. I'd better shift myself back and leave you in peace.'
Melissa shook her head. 'There's no need. Stay here until tomorrow. Then if you're okay you can move back tomorrow night.'
'Don't you mind?'
'Not in the least. I'll just take my night stuff and my wrap.' Melissa went to fetch her spongebag from the bathroom, and when she returned Amorel said, 'Don't bother. Just use anything of mine you need.'
Melissa looked down at the handful of things she had collected and gathered up her pyjamas. 'It's okay. I shan't need anything else—and it's only a few yards if I do. See you tomorrow.'
She had reached the door when Amorel said suddenly : Will you ask Raoul to come and see me?'
'Of course.'
Melissa deposited her things in the other room and
went to pass on the request. She found him in his study, sitting at the desk and intent over some papers. He looked up and his face held only polite enquiry as she started to speak.
He nodded. 'Very well. I'll see her presently, when I've finished this.' He waited, quite obviously expecting her to close the matter, and Melissa's intention of doing just that fled abruptly. Something about his offhand manner set all her earlier resentment of him simmering again. She did not move and he stared at her. 'Well?'
For a moment she held his cool glance, then she said bluntly : 'What are you going to do about Amorel?'
He frowned. 'In what way?'
'About her future? She's ...' Melissa hesitated, it wasn't going to be easy to put it into words. She took a deep breath. think Amorel's fretting.'
Raoul put down his pen and sat back. 'And why should she fret?'
'She's worried about her future.'
'She has no need to be. Her future is assured.' The furrow stayed between his brows. `I'm afraid I don't understand.`I—I was afraid you wouldn't. Oh, please—suddenly Melissa relaxed caution—`don't think I'm repeating a lot of things she's said, it's not like that at all, but I'm sure she's wondering about your own plans for her future, if you're going to insist on her adhering to the conditions of that will.'
'Of course I shall insist on that. I'm bound to, from respect to my grandfather's wishes.'
'So you're going to insist on her staying here?'
'This is her home now.' His gaze did not flicker and his expression showed no trace of softening. 'And she knows this. It was all made perfectly clear to her right at the start.'
'Yes, I know,' said Melissa desperately, 'but can't you see? She's been brought up in England since she was a baby. All her friends are there, everything she's come to love, all the people she's grown up with.'
'She will come to love Kadir,' he said in the same inflexible tone, 'and there is no reason why her other family and friends should not visit her here.'
The final shred of caution flew. 'So it's true, you do intend to make her stay here. Well, I think it's ghastly. Your grandfather had no right to make such a condition, and I think you're inhuman to insist on carrying it out. You're making her sell her freedom.'
No one is making Amorel sell anything,' he said coldly. presume this is what she wants to see me about. You have lost no time in wielding your influence, Miss Blair.'
haven't wielded anything,' she cried hotly. I've merely said what I think, and thank God you can't stop me from doing that.'
see.' He pushed the papers away and stood up. 'You obviously consider that life at Kadir wouldn't be worth living.'
`I do.'
'Too far from the coffee bars and the blare of transistor radios?' His brows went up. 'And the freedom to indulge every selfish whim of the moment. Are those the qualities on which you base your sense of values?'
`No, and if you think that of us it only shows how
little you know of Amorel's other life. She doesn't live in coffee bars and she isn't selfish. Can't you get it into your head that she's torn between two loyalties?'
know more about my cousin than you imagine,' he said dryly. 'It is you I'm talking about.'
'Is it?' She regarded him steadily and there was pain in her eyes. 'Well, I'd prefer to be left out of it. I never wanted to be in it in the first place.'
'You've already made that fact extremely clear. You've also made it clear that you've decided my cousin is in need of championship. Poor little rich girls —and illtreated beasts of burden .. .' A cynical smile gathered on his lips as he walked to the door and held it open for her. 'Misguided or not, you seem to have found much in our land to enlist your sympathies.'
'Yes, I certainly have.' She faced him in the doorway. 'But it's better to have misguided sympathies than none at all.'
Head high, she walked coolly along the terrace. But once in her room the coolness vanished and the turbulence of emotions which he always invoked started up again. He was impossible ! Did he expect everyone to obey him meekly and never ever dare to question his decisions? Submission ! Her mouth set in a tight, mutinous line as she prepared for the night. At least there was one girl who had crossed his path who would not submit tamely to his will.
Melissa donned her thin silk pyjamas and tried to tell herself that she had put up a good fight in trying circumstances. Raoul hadn't left her much leeway in the ruthless way he had forced her into his plans but at least she hadn't left him in any doubt as to her personal opinion of him, even though the thought
brought little consolation ...
She was on the point of getting into bed when she remembered her book. For a moment she hesitated, aware that her wide-awake senses were not disposed towards sleep, and reached for Amorel's mansouriah which was lying carelessly over a chair. It would only take a minute to slip along to her own room ...
Leaving the screens open and the bedside lamp burning, she flitted softly along the terrace, then stopped as she saw the shadows within the room. Raoul was there, and she could hear his deep tones mingling with the soft husky voice of his cousin.
Melissa drew back and stifled a sigh of impatience Even if she felt inclined to intrude, which she didn't, the thought of facing Raoul again filled her with reluctance. The book would have to wait.
She turned to make her way along the shadowed terrace towards the soft dim glow spilling from the room she had left, and suddenly a rush of sadness fell on her like a weight. Why was she such an idiot? If she'd had any sense she would have refused to listen to Avril's plea and insisted on leaving with her. It was all utterly ridiculous, Raoul making conditions about her staying. What right had he to enforce them? And what right had Avril to go off so airily?
Not for the first time Melissa wondered bitterly why she had ever been so crazy to stay involved. Why hadn't she told Philippe the whole story and asked him to take her back to Casa? Face it, she told herself with scorn, you dare not challenge Raoul's strength; and you dare not trust your own emotions when he's around! the small inward voice taunted.
She walked into the room and turned automatically
to draw the grilles shut, and it was all over before she could draw breath to scream.
Two shadows moved behind her. A choking pad was forced into her mouth and whipped tight. Dark stifling folds descended over her head, tightness pinioned her arms to her sides and clamped round her ankles, and she was dragged roughly off her feet.
The cry 'Raoul!'
choked in her throat, and she was borne helplessly into darkness.
CHAPTER VII
MELISSA'S capiors did their work swiftly and silently.
The tallest of the three figures carried her across the outer terrace and down the incline towards the little side door which now gaped open to the night. One of the others ran swiftly ahead while the third man followed like a small shadow, the dark shape in his hand held ready for instant attack if necessary.
But no one heard a single sound to indicate that anything untoward had happened. Near the main drive gates Mahmoud still lay senseless, blood trickling from a head wound after the blow that had fallen from the darkness behind him, and in Amorel's room Raoul Germont was bidding his cousin goodnight before he strolled into the riad to light a cheroot and reflect on certain tasks which awaited him the following day ...
Outside the walls of the house a battered old Land Rover was parked without lights under the cover of a clump of stubby palms. The first of the three men was already in the driving seat and one of the others climbed in beside him while the tall man dumped Melissa without ceremony into the back of the vehicle and swung himself in beside her. The engine spurted into life and the vehicle gathered speed down the track that led away from the direction of Kadir and towards the desert.
Each jolt and lurch sent Melissa rolling helplessly
and thudding painfully on the vibrating metal floor. Her senses still whirled with shock and fear. It had all happened so quickly. She began to struggle frantically, twisting her head to try to shake free of the stifling folds over her head. It was some kind of a sack, the cords drawn in a slip noose that cut cruelly into the soft flesh of her arms. But her struggles only seemed to make the bonds tighter, and her heart thumped with frightening speed. The gag and the lack of air made the fear of suffocation very real, and with a sudden surge of terror she tried to drum her heels against the floor of the vehicle.
Her efforts did not go unnoticed when the LandRover lurched again and her feet encountered something soft. Unseen hands closed round her and hoisted her into a sitting position so that she rested in an angle against the framework of the vehicle. The hands fell away and the muffled sounds of movements ceased.
Her thin slippers, soft embroidered baboudies bought in the bazaar at Fez, had fallen off and the warm dirty metal of the floor bruised her heels as she made another desperate plea for release. Where were they taking her? Why? What was going to happen to her? Who were they?
Waves of clamminess broke over her and sickness welled up from the pit of her stomach. Melissa sought desperately for gulps of air and suddenly slumped sideways. She slid down over the hump of the wheel chassis and went limp ...
She had no means of knowing how long she had lain unconscious. It could have been minutes or hours before she opened her eyes and moved fitfully, and felt an illusion of blessed freedom.
But it was short-lived. The imprisoning sack had been removed, but that was all. Her hands and feet were still bound, and the gag was still tied firmly over her mouth.
Gradually her frightened eyes became accustomed to the darkness and faint shapes began to outline themselves. The vehicle still tore into the night, lurching and jolting over a potholed track that led God knew where, and the framed square of starlit night above the tailboard only suggested a limbo of wilderness and loneliness.
She turned her head and made out the darker blurred shape of a man.
He was lounging opposite her, his face in shadow, only faint twin gleams betraying his eyes watchful over her. She moved convulsively, making choked sounds against the gag, and felt despair close in again as he gave no indication of taking the slightest notice.
Hour after hour the nightmare journey continued, until the pearl flush of dawn crept across the sky. Full light came quickly, and just as Melissa felt she couldn't hold on to sanity a moment longer the Land Rover slowed to a halt. The driver, a wiry young Arab, and the other man came round to the back of the vehicle, and began a sharp, unintelligible confab with the bearded man. Presently the bearded man turned back to her and untied her bonds. He waited while she rubbed at her cramped and chafed limbs, then reached up to lift her down.
She flinched, her parched mouth trying to work off the effects of the gag, then her croaking whisper found strength and she began to demand and protest.
The bearded man shook his head and snatched at
her arm, making it plain she was to follow. She dragged back, trying to fight, and the younger Arab came quickly, menace in his surly features. Their words and gestures were crystal clear : that it was useless for her to run, and wearily she stumbled along the narrow stony path.
She hadn't the remotest idea of where she was, except that it was in a wilderness. A high sandstone ridge sloped up at one side and on the other was desolate expanse of stone strewn, undulating sandy waste. She looked back towards the dusty Land Rover and saw the third man taking a choukhara, a large shapeless bag, from the vehicle. He caught up with them as they reached a deep cave like cleft in the ridge. Into this her captors led her and took from the choukhara an assortment of strong smelling edibles.
At least they were going to feed her; the lamb before the slaughter ! she thought hysterically.
The dried meat they offered her was beyond stomaching, and the water, from a goatskin pouch, was tepid and nauseating. But thirst overcame distaste and she was forced to drink greedily. They left her for a little while and she managed to eat one of the unleavened rolls and a handful of dates. By now she had drawn the only possible conclusion for her abduction; they thought she was Amorel, and even if they understood her protests it was unlikely that they would believe her. So Raoul's fears had had a strong foundation, she thought bitterly. The kidnapping threat had been no empty one. Her heart contracted with fear as the implications began to dawn on her : what would be their reactions when they found out the truth?
A few minutes later they came back and gestured
towards the Land Rover.
The journey recommenced, along the rough, featureless track, mile after mile, hour after hour in silence, while the sun rose high and made the heat unbearable. It was plain that they had no fear of her attempting to escape, for they left her free to huddle and shift to as comfortable a position as possible. Certainly a bid for freedom in this inhospitable terrain would end in a way perfectly predictable, she thought miserably.
Once they stopped, to let the engine cool and drink copiously themselves, then on again into the sun baked wastes ... Melissa dozed fitfully, trying to find escape in sleep, and was awakened by a shake from a hard bony hand.
She stumbled down and stared at her destination.
The sun was going down over the blood red desert and painting the stone of the squat square building to rich rose. It looked like an old fort or desert post, now partly in ruins. She was led through a doorway in which the old door hung loose from a broken hinge and along a dark passage ankle deep in soft sand that had drifted in for years. A ray of hope sparked in her, leading to wild thoughts ... if she got a chance to slip away from this ruin ... get the Land Rover started ... follow the track ... it must lead somewhere ... But the spark was quickly extinguished as her captors opened a heavy door and thrust her into the gloom beyond. The door closed with a thud, a key grated in the big old-fashioned iron lock, and Melissa was alone.
They kept her in the small stone cell for two days, and those two days were the longest Melissa had ever experienced. The only light and ventilation came from a small barred window high in one wall. During the day the heat and dust poured in, during the night the cold seeped from the stone and curled in with the long eerie fingers of moonlight through the bars.
She saw no more of the three men who had kidnapped her and she assumed them to be hired, as was the sullen woman who brought food and a ewer of water three times each day. The woman apparently spoke no English, or if she did she professed not to understand Melissa's repeated attempts to reason with her. After the first dreadful night Meli
ssa considered making a bid for escape. Fear added to anger was sufficient spur to drive her to physical attack. Could she overpower the woman, long enough to run beyond reach? The woman was hampered by the voluminous black djellaba she wore. If she could trip her, stun her with the only feasible weapon to hand—the heavy earthenware jug ... Could she bring herself to inflict injury? The thought of physical violence was repugnant to Melissa, but she had to do something. They had shown her little mercy, and how could she tell what their reaction would be when they discovered their mistake? At least she had the satisfaction of knowing that by the time they did it would be too late to do anything about it. Amorel would have reached her birthday; the terms of the will met, and Jules, if he was at the bottom of it all, couldn't do a thing. But what would happen to her?
The scorpion that scuttled from a crack in the floor early that morning drove Melissa to action. A scream
in her throat, she watched the loathsome insect disappear and knew she couldn't bear it a moment longer. When the soft shufffing steps sounded outside and the fumbling began at the lock she was ready.
Holding the now torn and filthy folds of what once had been Amorel's beautiful mansouriah, she stood tense behind the door as it swung open. When the woman entered Melissa flung the folds over her head, gave her a violent push that sent her sprawling headlong amid the wreckage of the tray, and rushed out to freedom.
Freedom lasted for the three steps that took her full tilt into the young boy who stood outside.
He was strong and wiry, and Melissa was no match for him. After a brief struggle she was thrust back into the cell, the door crashed shut and he went to help the bewildered woman to her feet. Then he turned to Melissa, and there was only reproach in his young face.
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