by Sanja
might be spared the agony of seeing them meet.
'You don't speak!' He studied her, and if she had been unsure of the warmth there was no mistaking his coldness. 'Occasionally,' he added, 'I suspect it pleases you to appear somewhat disturbed, so that I must seek every answer myself. Come here, you little deceiver!'
Before Ross could move his arms went out to draw her to him, slipping around her slender back so forcibly as to make her realise it would be useless to fight him. But she didn't want to—it was a fault in her that she never wanted to ! Her eyes widened, then closed, her whole body responding to the hardness of his touch. She turned up her mouth,"uninvited, as he lowered his, feeling the same urgent desire as her body moulded itself against his hard frame.
His hand came up, spreading and tugging through her tumbled hair, and she half lay against him, her balance gone. His mouth trailed over the soft skin of her cheek to the bare curve of her neck, seeking out each sensitive hollow as he bent her back over his arm. There were waves of white shooting stars breaking into shattering fragments about her head, and her lips parted as at last his returned to plunder them unmercifully. His voice was low, murmuring between kisses and she heard herself whisper his name as she answered him. Then, suddenly shocked by the recklessness of her own behaviour, she was pushing him away, denying that there could ever be anything between them.
She had not hoped he would let her go easily, but he did. 'I don't know why you feel you must go on punishing me,' she whispered, her face intensely white with emotion. 'You could be sorry.'
'That sounds very like a threat—or a warning?'
'No.' She must be careful! Hadn't Madame warned her not to say anything?
Armel stood back, his eyes glinting coolly. 'Well, I am about to issue both! An order, if you like, and I have no wish to be disobeyed ! I will send a girl to take you down to the gardens. Afterwards you will be served with a light lunch in your room. This evening you will join the family for dinner, to which I will personally escort you. My aunt will be there, for a little while. I am telling you this as you appear to derive more comfort from her presence than mine.'
Again, as he paused derisively, Ross wondered drearily how he could so quickly dctach himself from the emotional scenes they so frequendy shared. It pointed to only one thing, and she didn't care to think about it. Tears stung her eyes, the desolate tears which of late had been coming too frequently. He was in no way involved, not as she was! * He continued, As it seems you are particularly resilient you can begin working tomorrow on those letters which she feels can be put off no longer. But that is all! In a few days' time you could probably do a certain amount for me. We shall see.'
We shall see ! Ross's chin lifted angrily. It was his arrogant way of taking supreme command of the situation ! Did she have no say in the matter? 'You may find in the next few days, monsieur, you don't need me at all 1' There was so much emphasis in her voice as to indicate unmistakably that there was at least one thing he wasn't aware of. That he had a shock of some sort coming.
His mouth moved to a guarded line of suspicion, his eyes piercing on the surge of guilty, defiant colour in her face. 'What exactly has Yvette been up to now?' he snapped instantly. 'Just what has she been saying?'
Her nerve cowardly dispersing, Ross shivered unhappily. 'Why, nothing,' she faltered, wishing desperately for even a little of Armel's icy control. Before it her attack lay weakly shattered. 'What would she tell me—a stranger !'
'What indeed!' He was by no means pacified. 'After over thirty years in her position one might imagine she must have learnt all about discretion, but there are still times when she fails to stop and think before she speaks.'
'I'm sure you have no reason to judge her so unkindly,' Ross exclaimed, regretting again that she could not tell him all his aunt was doing for him. The happiness which was soon to be his. Hadn't she said too much already?
He ignored this, the set of his mouth no kinder as his eyes remained fixed on her revealing face. 'So I am not to be enlightened? Sometimes I think you make a much better enemy, ma chere, than a friend!' He slaughtered her with another withering look, then swung on his heel.
The girl came, though, as he had promised, and showed her how to find her way to the gardens. Ross, who was beginning to feel very curious about this Moroccan household, would have liked to explore herself, but keeping in mind her first disaster of an hour ago, she obediently followed her guide. She was aware there might be several members of the family she had yet to meet, but realised that routine here might be very different from the English one she was used to. There would be, in a house like this, a great deal of formality. People did not just wander in and out. She had no idea how it would be in many of the smaller dwellings of the asbah, but here she had already noticed several guards who, she suspected, were armed. Armel had mentioned that the Caid was a man of some importance. He had also told her that the Caid usually entertained foreign visitors himself in his country home, his wife only appearing on family occasions. In Ross's opinion this seemed to amount to something approaching the old feudalism, and she regretted the wistful thought that it might be wonderfully nice to be a woman and so protected against any possible rigours of the outside world. It was perhaps some of this apparently feudal system that had rubbed off on Armel and helped to make him what he was. If he had grown up here it must have done.
The gardens were, to Ross's surprise, beautiful, if not gardens in the true English sense of the word. They were more in the nature of deep green patios, cool and shady under densely planted trees. Many of the trees were fig and peach, but some were orange, and heavily laden with large, still green fruit. There were clumps of geraniums and sweet- smelling roses and in the middle of a wide paved area a fountain played, cascading its cool sprays of water into a shimmering pool at its feet. After the heat and dust of the desert the sight of such cool, cultivated greenness seemed too great a contrast to be instandy believable and for several minutes Ross found she could only stand and stare.
The air from the mountains was warmly seductive and reality faded. There came in its place a curiously free impression, a whisper of the harem of long ago. Of veiled and shrouded beauties, of nymphs, a houri of alluring loveliness with jewel-studded chains at her ankles and wrists, dancing voluptuously before her lord and master to the tinkling accompaniment of the two-stringed mandolin. All her desires, her racing pulse would be in tune with the throbbing heartbeats of the dark-eyed, watching man.
It took the, galloping hooves of a squad of the Caid's horsemen, the' derisive scream of a low-flying jet to break through her spellbound thoughts, making her conscious that she lived in a vastly different century, one far removed from that of her foolish imagination. But in her dreams she had seen herself as a dancer, Armel in the sheik's dark, hooded face .. .
Despondent, and curiously exhausted by an intensity of such unguarded emotion, she sank down on one of the flat stones by the fountain, her head drooping, her slim white fingers trailing the water. What was Armel doing at this moment? she wondered, unable to keep him long from her thoughts. Was he already making arrangements for his return to France, where his aunt had hinted he had much property to look after as well as his career? She must spend time thinking about her own future—what she would-do when she left here? Thoughts of England were engulfed in loneliness and, like a coward, she jumped again to her feet, searching for some new diversion, so that she might banish even the mental picture of it from her mind.
That evening Ross dined with the Caid and his family. With Armel by her side she met more aunts and cousins than she. ever suspected existed. Possibly because she had so few relatives herself she found herself considering them eagerly, trying to attach small histories to each one of them as, apparendy, most of them lived more or less permanently at the asbah. If they were a little reticent at first, they were soon chatting to Ross pleasantly, obviously taking an instant liking to the young English girl whom Armel appeared to watch over very closely. Moulay was ther
e. He had, Ross learnt, three sisters, all married, who lived elsewhere. He was very circumspect, so very proper that Ross was inclined to forget the languishing glances he had cast over her in the desert, his smiles, if discreet, which had caused Armel to round on her with such fury. Now Moulay was merely pleasantly friendly. Only his eyes showed a certain amount of interest.
The Caid greeted her charmingly, asking her a little about her homeland, which, as he moved in the highest diplomatic circles, she wasn't surprised to find he knew quite well. After a few such remarks he 'said reminiscently, 'I'm afraid the only Lindsay I ever knew was a foreign correspondent who was killed, not on the assignment he had just covered, but when his plane crashed in the desert. You remember it, Armel, about ten years ago?'
As Armel thought for a moment, then nodded vaguely, Ross said quietly, 'That was my father. It was one of the reasons why I agreed to come here.'
While the Caid murmured his genuine surprise and regret, Ross became aware of Armel's tight-lipped expression. She doubted if it was sympathy for something that had happened so long ago. She had never intended to mention her father, or how he had died, but in view of what the Caid knew it would have been silly to have said nothing. He might easily have found out.
It was not until the Caid moved away that Armel murmured sardonically in her ear, 'So I continue to learn, girl? I wonder what will be next!'
'Nothing that could compare with all I have learnt about you, monsieur,' she assured him, glad in every part of her when his aunt came up and took her away to talk to the other women. Yet she didn't escape so easily. She was conscious of his grim gaze following her the entire evening.
Ross was not there the next day when the plane carrying Armel's ex-fiancee arrived from Tangier. The maid brought the news with her lunch which she was having in her room after spending a pleasant hour with Armel's aunt. Ross had been worried that her French might not be good enough, in spite of the care Armel had taken, but she had found it sufficed. Madame had been pleased with her. By mutual, if unspoken, agreement Armel had not been mentioned. Now this news of his friend's arrival brought pain surging afresh. Her self-protective instincts curiously sensitive, she decided to stay in her room, but as the afternoon wore on this became clearly impossible. Eventually, unable to bear her own wretchedness any longer, she crept like a shadow down to the garden.
Unfortunately she met Moulay on one of the long, light corridors which seemed never-ending. As he saw her approaching his good-natured face broke into a warm smile and he bowed slightly from the waist, asking her where she was off to in his excellent French. They were all so kind, Ross thought distractedly, always remembering she spoke no Arabic.
'Down to the patio for an hour as I've nothing else to do,' she answered quickly. Then, feeling rather ashamed of such abruptness, 'Yesterday I found your gardens very pleasant.'
'Yes.' Moulay did not appear to be considering the splendours outside. 'I should like to accompany you,' he said earnestly, 'especially as my dear cousin has someone else to take his attention this afternoon 1 It seems sad that I must go immediately to Marrakesh on urgent business. I should have gone days ago but, as you know, I was seeking Armel. And because, for some mysterious reason, my efforts seem to have been wasted, my good father is more than usually impatient.'
Ross thought she understood. Moulay's mother had told neither her son or husband her real reason for wanting Armel's return. No doubt they would soon learn! 'Madame obviously has confidence in him when she is ill,' she observed tactfully.
Moulay nodded, having a genuine appreciation of his cousin's expertise. 'He saved my mother's life a few years ago. She has now repaid him by asking a very dear friend of his to visit. A charming American, mademoiselle.'
'And one whom he loves !'
'My mother believes so.'
'And you . . .?' Why was she punishing herself so, pouncing so hungrily, and with a complete lack of dignity, on
Moulay's slight hesitation? 'I expect you think so too?' she mumbled hurriedly, trying to conceal such an indecent searching after crumbs.
His dark eyes narrowed, suddenly too keen, reminding her too uncomfortably of Armel. 'Would it matter to you whether he loves this woman or not?'
'No—of course not!' How easily she lied! Unnatural colour flared in her cheeks. 'Monsieur Guerard is returning to France. He will wish for the kind of wife who will lit into his world. He rescued me in the desert, he was kind to me. How could I not wish him every happiness?'
'But you, Mademoiselle Rosalind, you would fit into his world too!r Moulay laughed softly down at her. 'You are young, beautiful and learn easily. You have also a certain delicate air of breeding, if that does not sound old-fashioned. If we are to look for faults then perhaps you are a little like myself, too impulsive. How long has Armel lectured me on this failing! I have a faint suspicion he sees the same thing in you, and believes you should be given time to correct it.'
Ross blinked on a drawn breath, staring at Moulay, attempting to fathom what he was trying to say—to tell her? But before she could ask for a clearer explanation he was gone. 'I'll see you when I return, ma chereV he laughed, as if there was no reason at all why either of them should be miserable.
She continued her way to the terraces, her heart refusing to be comforted by his devious optimism. Yet Moulay had provided a little diversion and she was grateful, even if she still failed to understand what he meant. He had gone to a famous English school, and could be, when he felt inclined, a curious mixture of East and West. Or maybe the confusion lay only in herself? She couldn't, however, see how her impulsiveness could affect Armel, even if he was astute enough to realise she was prone to it!
Down in the courtyards she sought out the one where the fountain played, but the happily splashing water, misted to gold in the sparkling sunlight, was so discordant with her present mood that she couldn't stay. Instead she wandered until she found another spot, this one darkly shaded by overhanging branches, quite a way from the main residence. It had obviously not been used for a long time. There were probably snakes and all sorts of things waiting to attack her as she invaded their privacy, but she could not seem to care. It looked as good a place as any other to hide her heartache from the outside world.
Although she did not intend to weep, such lengthy contemplation of Armel and his woman friend eventually brought tears. Against the low stone parapet, beside which lovers must no doubt once have wandered, she sobbed quietly, until at last, exhausted by the cold despair inside her, her fair head drooped to the warm stone and she slept.
A long time later she dreamt she was running towards Armel, but just as his arms reached out to catch her, she woke up, for a dazed moment having no idea where she was. It was almost dark and the shadows were long, although she was not cold. The quivering of her body could only be from reaction, as Armel was nowhere to be seen.
Numbly she raised her hand to brush the tangled hair from her face. She must look a mess, with bits' of dirt and leaves clinging to her hot skin. If she went straight to her room it was unlikely she would be seen, then, after she had washed, she would go immediately to bed. Her aching head would provide a truthful excuse to miss dinner, to avoid meeting the girl who by this time must surely, once again, be Armel's fiancee.
In her room Ross did not switch on the light right away. Her eyes felt too sore and strained to bear it and aimlessly she wandered to the window, wondering vaguely where she might best find some aspirin. Probably she should ring for the maid ?
Seconds later she nearly jumped out of her skin when the door opened and someone spoke her name. Of what use was the swift prayer that it might be her maid? Even before he spoke she had known it was Armel.
'Rosalind!' It came like a pistol shot, laced with impatience. 'What on earth are you doing standing here in the dark? Or should I say, where have you been? I came to take you to dinner and couldn't find you. I've been distracted, girl!'
Still she didn't turn—she could not. Not on any account must h
e see her face. 'I'm sorry,' she managed, her voice husky from tears. 'I went for a walk as I'd a headache. I don't want any dinner. I'm not hungry. If you would just go!;
Silence!
'Your fiancee,' she choked, bent on self-punishment, 'will be waiting.'
Now he really did move. He was across the room in two strides, his hands on her shaking shoulders, pulling her around to him. If he was shocked by her ravaged face, in the light from the doorway, he didn't say so, but his hands tightened perceptibly and his breathing changed.
'What do you know about my—er—fiancee?' he snapped, at last.
'Nothing ...'
'So that was what Yvette was talking about!' he exclaimed curtly, ignoring her denial.
'No, Armel!' Ross's voice broke with the force of her apprehension. 'Well, yes,' she confessed helplessly, before the relentless glitter in his eyes, 'she did say something, but it can't matter now, not when you have what you want.'
'I haven't—yet.'
That went over Ross's head. 'She knew how much you loved her.'
'Women!' It was an exasperated snort, but his anger seemed miraculously to be fading. He even smiled, which, Ross decided, was brutally unkind, as it must be at her own dishevelled appearance. 'I don't have any fiancee,' he went on to inform her suavely, 'although I hope to. Would you feel any better, I wonder, if I told you that the particular lady you are thinking of has been and gone?'
'You mean . .'
'Come, Rosalind!' Suddenly he was adamant. 'The atmosphere here is not quite the way I like it. We will grab some transport and I'll show you the mountains in the moonlight. It has always been my intention to do so. Events have merely precipitated this a little. We'll raid the kitchens when we return—I'll almost guarantee you have an appetite then 1'
