Margaret Pargeter

by Sanja

  Ross pondered on this while she ate slowly. The quality of the food she was given never ceased to amaze her. It might be comparatively simple, but it was always beautifully cooked and served, as if every meal received all the thought and attention of a banquet.

  'It is because our women devote themselves to satisfying their menfolk,' Armel replied, when she tentatively remarked on it. As usual, Ross decided, his observation was double-edged.

  Deliberately, because her heart began to throb too uncomfortably, she retorted, 'So much luxury here, while my poor brother and his friends must be receiving vastly different treatment!'

  If she had hoped to disturb Armel it did not seem she had succeeded. 'Rest assured, girl,' he rejoined thinly, 'you could find it very hard to enjoy life here indefinitely ! We would perhaps be forced to remove that sharp tongue of yours first. It defeats me how you come to show such concern about men who had no scruples in exposing you to the worst kinds of danger, while never sparing a moment to ask of one who saved your life if he is well. How he has fared in the burning, remorseless desert during the past three days?'

  As if she didn't know only too well he couldn't care less whether she thought of him or not! 'Of course, monsieur, I have wondered . . .?' Her. voice, she hoped, was as suave as his.

  'But only in connection with your half-brother? So, mademoiselle , it can do no harm, and I believe you owe it to me, to devote at least the length of one meal to the correction of such a regrettable omission.'

  'As you wish, monsieur .' Her thick lashes lowered submissively over the blue sulkiness of her eyes, Ross attempted to nibble a piece of meat from a skewer. What did he expect her to talk about? He ruled out Freddy, for the time being, but her thoughts were so anxious she found it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

  'So obliging!' Armel was continuing smoothly. 'Of course, monsieur —as you wish, monsieur ! Perhaps one should never suspect the honey-bee of having a sting in its tail! You can begin by dropping the so proper monsieur. Your French leaves much to be desired, in any case. My name is Armel. If our acquaintance is to progress we must be on friendlier terms.'

  Ross stared at him, her eyes wide, this time, with bewildered surprise. 'You talked of disliking me, of punishment?'

  'But I did not stipulate exactly what form such punishment might take.'

  Confused, she shivered, knowing it better to ignore his ambiguous remarks. It might be cold comfort, but she was convinced that under his half hidden threats he was more civilised than he wished her to believe.

  'What have you been doing with yourself today, Rosalind?' he inquired, after the small silence had lengthened noticeably. 'If you still find it difficult to talk normally to me theii let me ask you something.'

  Her name on his lips had a caressing ring to it that brought a sudden warmth to her cheeks, which annoyed Ross as he sounded so cool. 'I have been wandering about your oasis, asking your people questions they didn't choose to answer.'

  'How foolish—of you.' He even smiled.

  'Foolish or not,' she flared, 'would you have me sit in my tent all day like an unobtrusive stick?'

  His smile widened. 'Hush,' he advised softly. 'It is exacdy what I guessed you would do. That is why I left orders that your curiosity should remain unsatisfied.'

  'Or more likely that I should have no evidence to incriminate you when I get back to a town.'

  He simply glanced at her lazily, and annoyed by her own rather undignified outburst, Ross popped a sweetmeat too quickly into her mouth, half choking as a result.

  'Ohl' she cried, tears starting in her eyes, as without hesitation he leant over to thump her lightly on her back. 'You don't have to . ..' she spluttered.

  'The old cures are often best,' he told her soothingly. 'I'm sure I exerted just enough—er—pressure to prevent you from suffering.'

  Unhappily Ross subsided into her corner. She felt, in some way, defeated. His action had been so spontaneously natural, so like the treatment she might have received at home, that momentarily real tears mingled with the others in her eyes. Surreptitiously she rubbed them away and, as if moved to a fleeting sympathy at the sight of her tremulous young face, Armel ben Yussef said abruptly:

  'If you've quite finished your meal I'll tell you what news I have of your brother.'

  'Freddy!' She immediately felt a wave of subdued excitement and dared scarcely move for fear Armel changed his mind. He was so unpredictable she never knew quite where she was with him. She was learning to tread warily, even to acknowledge his strange fascination, but if he ever thought of her with anything more than contempt, he gave no clue.

  He hesitated, getting up to adjust the flickering lamp, or making this an excuse to draw it nearer. Ross had a sudden suspicion it was because he wished to see her face quite clearly as he talked. Saida came in but did not speak as she swiftly removed the remains of their meal from the table. After she had gone Armel put the table firmly to one side before seating himself again on the low couch.

  'You'll understand, of course, that I can't produce your half-brother, like a rabbit out of a hat, but I do have a little information.'

  Well, at least it must be something. Ross gazed at him fixedly, her blue eyes almost pleading, as he paused reflectively.

  He looked directly back at her, into her anxious eyes, frowning slightly, as if he didn't care for her revealing expression. 'It would be senseless to. try and explain how I contacted the nomad who tied you all up. It wasn't easy. I might not have persisted if I hadn't had the right incentive.'

  'Incentive? You mean—good over evil?'

  His eyes shifted to the lovely curve of her breast and Ross quivered as he replied indolently, as if her unconscious panic amused him. 'You promised, remember? That for news of your brother I could do as I liked?'

  'I haven't got any yet!' she retorted tersely, her cheeks flaming, aware exactly what he meant. Her rash promise!

  'Why the agitation? What can't you wait for?' he teased deliberately. 'To carry out your promise. To be in my arms?'

  She choked on that, her heart pounding crazily. Again her eyes lifted and she stared at him, not able to help herself. The moment went on, snatched out of time, fraught with significance. He made love without even touching her, and it seemed incredible that her untutored body should respond so vividly, as if every part of her was straining towards him. Only a desert man, surely, could speak as he did. What did she say now? The only dignity seemed to lie in silence, but it cost Ross a lot to achieve this, not to fling every insult she could think of and rush out. 'I think you over-estimate a few hasty words, monsieur. I simply implied that I would be grateful.'

  'Which is exactly what I expect,' he nodded smoothly. 'So back to your brother—and the nomads whom I eventually ran to earth. I was fortunate. We of the desert have our own ways, but I assure you they are not always infallible. It appears, after we left that day, the truck broke down again, and this time Ali released his prisoners so they might make another attempt to fix it. To sum it up briefly, they succeeded—and escaped.'

  'Escaped?' Ross's eyes suddenly glowed. 'How?'

  'One of your friends, Ali complained, was craftier than the others.'

  'Lance, I should think. But why did he let them get away ?'

  Armel's dark brows lifted. 'A man in a truck might still have the advantage over horses, if he knew what he was doing, but maybe Ali didn't try very hard to pursue them. These men are not necessarily very brave. I believe Ali feared he might get into trouble with the authorities. He had what you would call second thoughts. The desert is not quite the isolated place it used to be, you know. There is the army and the police.'

  'How long ago did you say this happened?' she asked.

  'The same day as I rescued you.'

  For a long moment Ross could only look at him. 'So I could have been with them all along?'

  'You might, or there again you might not.' He didn't pretend to misunderstand. 'You were small and they didn't want you. They might simply h
ave left you lying in the sand. I think your little act was still your best bet, ma chere, even though it might have repercussions.'

  Of that she chose to take no notice. 'I expect Freddy has informed the authorities about me,' she said. 'After all, we had committed no crime.'

  'That,' Armel rejoined dryly, 'remains to be seen. I doubt if they will be any keener than our friend Ali to get in touch with someone in an official position. Ali believes, and I'd be inclined to take his word, they have moved on. They didn't even waste a short time in trying to find you.'

  'The other two must have forced Freddy to go with them.'

  Armel's mouth thinned. 'You really think so?'

  'I don't know,' Ross confessed, suddenly shaken out of her former relief. 'They could be looking for me in spite of what this Ali says 1'

  'I shouldn't bank on it.'

  'Why should I trust the word of a thief? Ali didn't strike me as being a man of great integrity !'

  'I can assure you I didn't rely entirely on his information, but other pieces which I gleaned merely seemed to support what he told me. If your half-brother turns up then this theory will be proved wrong. In the meantime you stay here!'

  Ross did not remove her wide blue eyes from his face. 'You really wouldn't let me go? He might never find me! And if he's in some kind of trouble, he could be needing my help.'

  Armel merely shrugged. 'Three questions all in a row ! So I will make my answer brief. No—to all three of them !'

  She bit her lip hard, swallowing a huge lump of outraged pride. Need he be so adamant? 'Couldn't you do anything to find him? As I've just said, he could be in trouble.'

  'He could, but nothing his sort can't wriggle out of. Hasn't he already escaped one tight corner? I should advise you, Rosalind, to save your sympathy for a more deserving cause.'

  'He's all I have.'

  'Come, aren't you forgetting you have others?' Dismissing her plea abruptly, Armel rose to his feet. 'Before you get too hysterical, girl, I think we will seek a breath of fresh air. It will not only help you to sleep better but might also provide you with something to take your mind off your half-brother. We will walk around the oasis.'

  Without waiting to hear whether she wanted to accompany him or not, he took up her discarded caftan, draping it protectively about her slim shoulders, while she stood gazing up at him doubtfully. 'I don't know that I feel like going out,' she protested.

  'I didn't ask how you felt. I gave an order,' he said sarcastically, almost thrusting her before him from the tent.

  Bitterly Ross allowed his hand beneath her arm. Didn't he realise how deserted she was feeling? If it was true that Freddy had just gone off and left her then she would be the first to agree that such callousness put him beyond the pale. But she was not yet convinced. It wasn't possible to believe without more evidence. It was better to ignore the suspicion that Freddy did not, probably never had, cared two hoots for her, that his affection was merely a great fallacy she had dreamt up over the years for her own comfort.

  Armel was so tall and relentless she found him impossible to resist. Nor did she seem to have any more energy left to fight him, not this evening anyhow. Why wasn't he smaller, more like the men who worked for him? He was probably of mixed blood, which seemed often to produce the most attractive specimens of humanity. Maybe, in the distant past, some of his ancestors had married with the Spanish or French, as he had occasionally a very definite European look about him.

  Lost in thought, Ross wandered passively by his side, her mind, as unstable as a butterfly, not letting her concentrate wholly on Freddy. It would be better to wait until she was in bed before contriving to plan an escape so she might help him. Otherwise she had little doubt she was a prisoner until Armel chose to let her go.

  The hour was late. Arguing with Armel, she had not realised how time had fled. Already his men, wearied from a long day in the saddle, were asleep, their tents strewn like flat black blobs around one end of the oasis were quiet. The air, after the heat of the day, was still faintly warm. Later it would cool so that it was possible to actually shiver in bed, to wonder at a climate that could reach two such different extremes in the same twenty-four hours.

  It was still a wonderful country, Ross mused, her imagination caught, as always, by the vastness around her. By night one was aware of the stars, the huge almost touchable glitter of them. The moon, too, possessed the same magically fey quality of light over water, and the desert, Ross knew, could be as cruel as the sea, yet just as enchanting if its mood was benign. Tonight there was no moon and the silence seemed deeper because of it, with only the stars to pierce the velvety, sapphire darkness. These, and the whispering, sibilant sands, in the motionless, limitless desolation.

  In daylight the sands became even more limitless, their isolation even more complete, but there was always something fascinating to forestall any monotony. Apart from the utter fantasy of the elements, in camp there were the children, beautiful brown-eyed babies who captivated her completely. And from the women she had been learning to cook, or rather to probe the secrets of their exotic dishes. In turn she had been trying to teach them a few of her own Western customs which she thought might prove useful. It was difficult to know if she was any more successful than they were, but the happy laughter that marked their efforts assured her, at least, that, unlike their master, they appeared to like her.

  Ross sighed, her lips, as if enchanted by the dark mystery around her, softening. Her sigh, only faintly discernible to the watchful man who stalked beside her, seemed to mix and blend with the length and breadth of the Sahara and to be carried away for ever on the secret, whispering wind.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  For a short while Armel did nothing to disturb the more agreeable tenor, of Ross's thoughts. He might almost have been in a better mood himself as he allowed her to wander where she chose, his hand closely under her arm, so that she didn't stumble in her unaccustomed long skirts. Not caring that he should be assisting her like this she tried discreetly to free herself but as his grip merely tightened adamantly, she was forced to put up with it!

  They had reached the outer edges of the oasis before she realised how far they had come. Here there was nothing but a few scattered trees of palm and fig, a few piles of flat, smooth rocks where the camp children sometimes played during the day. The stars gave out a ghostly glow, emphasising the long shadows and contorting ordinary ones grotesquely. Involuntarily, as she stared around, Ross shuddered, drawing unconsciously nearer Armel as apprehension caught nervously at her throat.

  'I never knew such silence existed,' she whispered, feeling it might well be sacrilege to break it, that the very gods might object.

  'You probably never took time to notice before,' was all Armel said, as if it was a line he had heard all too often.

  'I'm not sure' she began.

  'You're not sure of a lot of things, ma chere,' he interrupted gently but firmly. 'You have been around, but you've gathered little self-confidence, or so it seems to me. You wander with a man through such brilliant star-studded darkness, yet you tremble! If I didn't know better I would judge you to be full of small uncertainties. You burst into conversation, as if it was a matter of life or death. Don't you know, cherie, that you don't talk on a night like this? The desert, whether you believe it or not, was made for lovers, it can give intense delight.'

  Ross's breath had caught so deeply as to be painful. If she hadn't known better she might have suspected he was deliberately teasing. 'Is this what you have found, monsieur?'

  It was too dark to see clearly, but she thought she caught the glint of white teeth. 'I am merely a man, Miss Lindsay.'

  A man and a half! she thought despairingly. Too forcibly she felt the pull of his attraction, despite what he did, -fhe ruthless, taunting things he said. 'I have seen little romance since I came to the desert,' she retorted, as coolly as she was able.

  'And you feel cheated?'

  'It rather depends what you have in mind, monsieur?' sh
e muttered cautiously, wondering with a little jerk of her heart if they might be talking at cross-purposes again, that she might be phrasing her sentences unwisely. ■ His laughter came cruelly, low in his throat. 'My mind, Rosalind, is depressed to consider your girlish disappointment. It seeks to correct such an omission. In fact it commands me.'

  Without further words, as the sand whispered around their feet, he turned her to face him, and she wondered why she failed to struggle—why, when her caftan fell to the ground and he stood staring down at her, she didn't resist him. He was like some tall virile god silhouetted against the dark glow of the horizon, and she could only stand, a bemused prisoner in his hands, a sensation similar to the sharpest excitement taking hold of her.

  The steely fingers on her arms slid to her shoulders. 'Don't pretend you are afraid,' he taunted, 'I'm willing to believe only so much 1 Wide-eyed, slender, silky-haired,' he mused, his gaze intent on her paling face, 'you were made for love—for a man's pleasure.'

  'Armel!' The expression in her blue eyes reflected some understanding of her immediate danger, but her voice was without any great strength.

  She was half prepared that he should ignore her helpless plea, but not for his cold flash of anger. 'I see you shrink! You who must have known many worse men than me! Is it because the hands that hold you now are twisted? That you