He was in no frame of mind to see the love her note contained. Only one thing was clear. He had been rejected! He, Brandon Phillips, Sheik of El Abadan, a man of awesome wealth and enormous power, he who had been given his every desire without question, to whom women had always given themselves, freely, eagerly, while begging him to love them if only a little--he had been cast aside!
His face turned to stone. Her last line had been most insulting of all. "Tea at four o'clock." What did she think him--a serving boy to meet her at some appointed hour-a man with milk in his veins instead of blood? His jaw locked, slanting cheekbones growing pronounced. He would meet her. But the tryst wouldn't wait until four. This time, she had gone too far!
"Have the Black Hawk made ready," he ordered in a clipped harsh tone to Rashid, who was standing in an alcove. "We leave for Africa within the hour." Then, nearly knocking down the servant who scrambled to open the door, Brandon strode out into the rain.
Juliette sat in her bath, a vaporous dew rising around her head as she lay against the high-backed tub. Occasionally she turned to look again at the boldly scrawled letter placed upright on a stand beside the tub. The words leapt out at her, my sweetest angel, my fragrant rose of beauty, my lovely wayward child.
Juliette moaned and rolled her head to face away. If only she were different. If only she had never wanted, had never wished so bitterly long to become her own mistress. She couldn't give it up. And now, miserably, she wished she had never tasted the sweetness of wealth, never learned to love her joyous freedom.
If only I were just Juliette Clayton again, she thought mournfully, an orphan, then I would accept his devotion with love. With a wretched sense of weariness, Juliette rose and stepped out of the bath, patting the water droplets off her arms and body before giving her hair a vigorous scrub. Then, picking up Brandon's note again, she carried it to her vanity and laid it face down on the polished surface before taking up her brush and, with a sigh, starting to brush her hair.
From down the hall then the sound of footsteps came closer. They paused outside her door and abruptly Juliette drew a short breath as a knock came firm and resounding against it.
The color drained from her face. Brandon! And it was still hours until four o'clock. She couldn't see him!-not now!-and certainly not like this! She bit her lip as the knock came again, this time louder, bouncing the door against its hinges and making the barrier seem suddenly vulnerable. A deep voice followed, commanding with a snarl that made her cringe.
"Juliette! Open this door or I'll break it down."
Silently replacing the brush, Juliette ran on tiptoe to her closet, and slipped into a dressing gown.
If he thinks I'm not here, maybe he will go away, she thought. She couldn't open that door. There was a long thin silence while neither of them spoke or made a sound. Had he gone? She wondered. But with startling swiftness the door was smashed through by a single splintering blow, the lock smashing out of the door frame as the wood gave way beneath Brandon's shoulder. Then brushing loose bits of wood from his white shirt, Brandon stepped imperiously through the opening.
A lock of raven hair had fallen in a curl against his forehead, somehow making worse the look of concentrated fury on his face as he came toward her, speaking between clenched teeth and holding her crushed note out in his fist.
"What do you mean sending me this? Are you trying to make a fool of me?"
Juliette's eyes were enormous. How could he have actually broken down her door-dared come in here like this? He was capable of anything!
Unconsciously she pulled her dressing gown tighter to her throat and, determined to remain calm said, "Brandon ... Please. You must try to understand. Everything is just as I wrote. I care deeply for you, but last night I became... became carried away. I've been both rude and foolish. I've promised to marry you when I really have no intention of marrying anyone. It's not that I don't care for you, I…’
His hand interrupted with an impatient wave. "I'm not interested in excuses. I want you to be my wife!"
Unsmiling, Juliette raised her chin. "It isn't an excuse," she said coolly. "It is what I intend. I am unmarried now because I enjoy my present state and I . . ."
"Bah! That's not what you said last night!"
His flexing jaw, the mixture of fury and pain in his face made Juliette suddenly sorry, and her voice softened. "But last night I couldn't have refused," she began. "Don't you see? Last night you were kissing me and . . . and I had no choice… and… "
Immediately she regretted her words as he stepped closer, his menacing eyes moving to her lips and then her breasts which, even now, burned beneath the thin dressing gown. He moved to pull her into his arms but she quickly stepped out of range, placing her vanity chair between them and saying, "Brandon, please! It would do no good to kiss me now. I don't feel the same. I am . . . I am in control of myself now. While last night I wasn't. Last night there was nothing but you, and I'm afraid you rather ... well rather swept me off my feet." Her breath came in little pants.
His laugh was cold and hard, and his eyes blazed. "You toy with me," he said dangerously. "You toy with me as you do with Rodney and the other fools who moon over you. You have promised to marry me, and you are going to keep that promise!"
He had never seemed so large-so full of power. "I cannot and I will not," Juliette said losing her patience. "A woman has the prerogative of changing her mind."
"It is not a privilege I intend to allow."
"But it is one I intend to assert!"
Brandon didn't reply, but his face grew darker as they stood deadlocked, staring at one another, Juliette's jaw as firm as Brandon's, her violet eyes glaring into his black ones.
The silence lengthened while the air heated with tension.
Juliette was the first to become abruptly conscious of the scene they were making. Glancing at the broken door, she wondered how she would ever explain it. Then lowering her voice she-said, "I told you I would see you at four o'clock. Please Brandon, leave me now. This afternoon I will meet you."
"I will leave, but you will come with me. My yacht is waiting. We can discuss this when you're on board."
"I'm not going ...' I've told you before ..:'
A swift movement of his leg sent the chair between them skidding across the floor, two legs breaking like match sticks. Juliette recoiled, backing away but his hands encircled her upper arms like a vise, pulling her up on tiptoe and giving her a shake.
"You will come now or I'll take you over my shoulder."
Juliette's anger and defiance turned to fear. Any other man would have been bluffing, but not Brandon. "I can't now-can't you see, not like this."
"Then put something else on, but you are coming now."
Juliette was afraid to hesitate. Should he actually shoulder her and carry her out past all the gaping hotel staff and whatever guests might be available to witness her degradation, the scandal would force her to marry Brandon or resign herself never to facing polite society again. Her eyes dropped.
"You must allow me to dress properly first. You can't expect me to just put something on over this."
"I'm not interested in what you wear."
"But I am." Juliette said, and then more softly, "Brandon ... please," and there was a desperate tone in her words. "You have me at a terrible disadvantage. Do you want me to beg you? Just ten minutes and I will come."
Some of the fury left his face as he studied her. "All right, ten minutes. I'll wait in the hall for that long, but no more."
Juliette only nodded as he gave her a parting look that underlined his commands. Then making his way to the doorway, he stepped back through the splintered opening into the hall.
PART VI
DISCOVERIES
Chapter 86
As Brandon disappeared into the hallway, Juliette stood looking after him; her submissive expression melting away like a waxen mask as another, quite different, face emerged-a defiant face whose riveted eyes became beacons of outrage as she kic
ked the fallen vanity chair sprawling another yard across the floor.
She stalked to her wardrobe, flinging the doors wide and roughly searching through the multicolored array. Violent thoughts possessed her, and retorts she might have made began to form in her mind pouring more fuel on the tinder of her fury. "If I'd known you were still in the garden I never would have gone," she said, reliving the conversation as it might have been. "I want nothing to do with you! Is what happened my fault? First you offer me no choice but to say yes, and then you dare to be furious when it isn't what I want!"
Her searching hands paused, and hauling out a white silk blouse with mutton-leg sleeves, and a pair of broadcloth breeches, she dragged them into her dressing room and slammed the door. Then stripping off her dressing gown, she pulled on the blouse, breeches, and shiny leather boots before pausing and trying to collect herself.
For a full minute Juliette remained seated before, abruptly, she raised her head, her mouth rounding as a plan materialized in her mind. "Of course!" A smile curved her lips. "How infuriated he'll be. And it will serve him right!"
She stood up then and, opening her dressing room door a crack, looked toward the splintered doorway. The smoke from Brandon's cheroot drifted in the opening. Slowly, keeping her footsteps silent, she pushed the door wider and moved to the balcony, looking quickly over her shoulder as she eased open the door handle, subduing the squeak that emitted from one hinge.
She stepped through, shutting the door softly. Then swinging over the railing she secured hand and foot holds in the gnarled vine there and, without difficulty, backed down to the ground.
It had stopped raining and the sun shone between parted clouds as Juliette approached the wooden dock lined with yachts and local fishing craft bobbing on the blue-green swells.
It was easy to spot her own yacht, Whimsy. It was small compared to the others and entirely white, and half a dozen men were moving over her decks, laying in stores for the voyage due to begin the following day.
On the bow, Captain Buckman stood, stout and blocky, his blue hat pushed back on his head as he shouted orders to his men. His back was to Juliette as she walked down the narrow gangway, and he didn't see her until several crewmen tipped their caps and wheeled around.
"Aye! So it be Miss Thorpe," he said, his bulldoggish frown disappearing.
Taking his hat off, he held it crushed against his rounded belly with one meaty hand and smiled broadly. "I s'pose ye come to see how we be farin', miss. And I'm telling
ye we'll be ready to sail first thing in the morning. Most the men be still ashore. But I'm roundin' 'em up tanight so there won't be no delay." His eyes twinkled as he spoke, frankly mopping his round weathered face with a large red kerchief.
"That is exactly what I came to speak to you about, captain," Juliette began. "I've changed my plans. I want to leave for London this afternoon-immediately if possible."
Captain Buckman's mopping hand stopped in mid-wipe, his smile disappearing. "Immediately, miss?' he questioned as if not hearing right-and when she nodded, "Well, if that be yer need it can be arranged. We are a mite unprepared 'tis all .,, and can ye be meanin' to sail with no luggage?"
His dubious look made Juliette realize how ridiculous she must appear, standing here on the deck and demanding to leave immediately without her maid or Mrs. Welwright, or so much as a handbag. But she must not act suspiciously, she must not let anyone suspect the real reason for her hasty departure.
Bravado was the only answer, and raising her chin she said, "That is my affair, Captain Buckman. Please assemble the crew and inform each man he'll receive a bonus if the ship can set sail in less than an hour." Juliette was pleased to hear her voice was firm, and her eyes never wavered as they looked into the captain's questioning ones.
"Very well, miss," he said at last. "This be yer ship, and I be only the captain . . . I guess I has me orders."
Juliette smiled then, "Thank you, captain. I will be in my cabin." She started to walk away when, as an afterthought, she turned and said, "And, captain, be sure not to allow visitors on board. I don't want to see anyone."
"Yes, miss," Captain Buckman nodded again and tipped his hat as she took the stairs below decks. Then waiting until her blond head disappeared, he gestured with annoyance.
"Quality!" he announced with a mixture of frustration and awe. "There never was any use trying ta understanding 'em when they all were unpredictable as the sea itself." He shook his head, and, pushing his hat back further, turned to one of the nearby seamen.
"You, Smitty. Git up to that damned whorehouse, sober the men up, and fetch 'em down here. We be sailin' in an hour.'
The seaman looked uncomprehending.
"Now move yer arse, lad," the captain roared at Smitty's blank stare. "The ledy ain't got all day ta wait. And don't be asken no foolish questions neither, cause it ain't none yer business."
Satisfied that the yacht would be ready to sail as quickly as possible, Juliette hurried down the corridor to her cabin and turned a key in the brass latch until it clicked open.
Her quarters were modest, containing a four-poster, a desk, and a wall of drawers, and closing the door behind her, she walked to a porthole and turned the carved handle.
Brandon's yacht, the Black Hawk was berthed only a few ships away. From here she could see its crew moving about the decks and climbing the rigging, though none of them glanced in the direction of the Whimsy.
A steady breeze came in from the open porthole, bringing the smells of saltwater, damp wood, and a trace of smoke from the small braziers the crewman used to cook fish. From somewhere out of her view came the cries of a boy selling candy and tobacco.
Yes, it all seemed peaceful enough. Apparently no one had given any notice of her coming on board her yacht, and by the time Brandon realized where she had gone, it would be too late. She would travel home to London, and be rid of him, and all this ridiculous talk of love, for once and forever.
A half-hour had passed when she heard shouts from the deck, and glancing out the porthole again, Juliette noticed the men were arriving. She hoped they were sober and could get the ship underway without further delay.
A knock on the door interrupted her musings. "Yes, come in."
The door knob turned and Captain Buckman's large face appeared. "S'cuse me, miss. You said there was ta be no visitors. But there is a gentleman here asken for ye. Pretty determined, too, he is, miss. Caused quite a fray with the men when we told 'em he wasn't ta be allowed ta see you.’
.
Juliette swallowed thickly, her mouth abruptly dry. So, he had found her. Not even an hour had passed! How did he know? But no matter. Now she had no choice but to
deal with him. .
"Did he state his business, captain?"
"No 'fraid not, miss. I asked 'em. But he wasn't sayin'. Only says he knows ye well and that you'd see 'em."
Juliette's mind raced. It would be difficult, if not impossible to calm him. Perhaps if she agreed to stay another week. No, that would be giving in to his bullying. She frowned. She would try to reason with him; try to make him see the wisdom of what she did. If he was foolish enough to be forceful . . . well, he was on her ship this time. She had a dozen men at her instant command. If necessary she could . . . and would, have him physically ejected.
"Very well, captain. Send him in."
"Yes, miss. I'll tell him directly, miss."
The captain left, and it was only a few moments when she heard him returning, his footsteps echoed by another pair following. Juliette held herself erect as the color drained from her face, her throat constricting.
There was a small deferential knock at the door before it opened. The captain's face appeared first, frowning, and in his wake, to Juliette's surprise, Rodney's blond head bobbed into the room. A wondering smile spread over her face, and Captain Buckman, seeing the guest was in fact welcome, nodded in both their directions before backing out the door and closing it behind him.
Rodney rush
ed forward to take her shoulders. "Juliette! Are you all right? I saw your door this morning. Your maid said it must have been a burglar. But she said nothing was missing but you. I came on the chance I might find you here. That old rot Buckman almost didn't let me on."
"You!" Juliette said, "But I thought ..:" Then pausing, she composed herself before continuing. "It's nothing to be concerned about, really. Perhaps it was a burglar, but I'm all right. I've decided to leave early and not wait until tomorrow, that's all. I just haven't had time to send word to anyone."
Rodney's blue eyes searched her face. "It's Phillips again, isn't it, Juliette?"
Juliette's gaze veered away. "Rodney, I'm surprised at you. I didn't think you were the jealous type."
"Call me what you want. I won't have that man troubling you. He has already done enough damage."
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