uous existence when there were never enough hours in the day? Had it upset her equilibrium to such an extent that she had practically given herself to the first man who came along? Her cheeks flamed and she rested her head on his shoulder so that he should not see.
His other hand came up to stroke her hair and Amber felt a sudden ridiculous urge to fling her arms about his neck. Instead she tried to push him away. At close quarters like this she was defenceless-and he knew it—and the thought was agonising. She felt cheapened, immoral almost. It did not seem right that she should enjoy being in the arms of this foreigner—this tall, devastatingly handsome man who was beginning to take over her life.
When he said, 'Amber, will you come to Tunis with me tomorrow?' she found herself agreeing. Again it was that other alien being who had taken over. It was not the Amber she knew who had acquiesced so easily. That could never be.
For the rest of the evening they danced and drank, talking little, Hamed now quietly content, Amber somewhat apprehensive, wondering exactly what she had let herself in for.
When at half past ten he suggested she might like to go to bed because of the necessity for an early start the next morning, she agreed readily. Outside the lounge doors they parted company; he did not kiss her again, he did not even touch her. She should have been grateful; instead she felt disappointed.
He had not said what time he would meet her, but
when Amber came out of the dining room the next
morning, having breakfasted early, he was waiting. Still more than a little ashamed about her reaction to his kiss, Amber greeted him coolly. He was not perturbed, almost as though he did not notice she was anything other than pleased to see him. `I'm glad you're ready,' he said. 'I had visions of coming up to your room to fetch you.'
'I said I would come,' she said in a tight little voice. 'I never go back on my word.'
'I must remember that,' he replied gravely.
His sleek grey Mercedes was low and comfortable, but Amber herself felt far from easy. She had lain awake for most of the night worrying about today. She knew so little about Hamed. How did she know he could be trusted?
Almost as though he guessed something of her inner torment he said, 'Relax, Amber. You have no need to fear me. You are perfectly safe.'
She looked at him scornfully. 'You flatter yourself Why should I feel afraid? I wouldn't be here if I were.'
`Little liar. You are as easy to read as a book. But I don't want you to feel this way. I want you to be happy and relaxed in my company.'
If only that were possible, but Hamed was a stranger, an unknown quantity, how could she feel secure? In England it would have been different, but here in this strange place with its totally different way of life she felt afraid. This man had pursued her for reasons known only to himself. How could she be sure they were trustworthy? `I'm doing my best,' she replied stiffly, trying to still her twisting fingers. 'It's only natural that I should feel a little—apprehensive.'
`Natural be damned!' he retorted explosively, looking swiftly across at her, his eyes darkened with anger. 'You're being deliberately awkward. What is it, have you made up your mind to make this day as big a disaster as you can? Is it your way of trying to prove that we are incompatible? Only children play stupid games like that. I credit you with more sense.'
Inwardly seething, Amber tried to make her voice pleasant. 'If you could see things from my point of view you might understand. You've told me nothing about yourself, yet I'm supposed to—to trust you. How can that be? How do I know that you're not going to carry me off somewhere and molest me?'
'Now you are being melodramatic.' Hamed's voice gave away none of his feelings. He drove smoothly and effortlessly along the wide straight road, sounding his horn at frequent intervals at cyclists and hippo-mobiles, or men on laden donkeys that looked too small to carry the load expected of them. 'If you had really thought that you would not have come.'
'I'm beginning to wish I hadn't,' she snapped, `if we're going to argue all day. Besides, you blackmailed me into agreeing.'
'Then perhaps it's more blackmail we need now. He slid the big car to a halt. 'I am never averse to kissing a pretty woman and you, my little passion flower, are very desirable. Did you not know that?'
Amber shrank into the corner of her seat trying to resist as he pulled her relentlessly towards him, but once his mouth found hers it was all over. The now familiar warmth sprang every nerve-end into life, her whole body became vibrantly alive. She tried to suppress these feelings, to remain unresponsive in his arms.
For a few seconds she succeeded until, weakened by his touch, she succumbed. A heady excitement coursed through her as she responded to his kiss, her lips parted willingly, her hands creeping round his back and holding him tight.
'Very, very desirable,' he continued thickly as he gently released her. 'Was that sufficient to persuade you that you are going to enjoy your day out?'
Amber nodded, her eyes starry. For the moment she was unable to shake off the languor-induced by his kisses. All she wanted was to sit back in her seat with her eyes closed and remember the feel of his lips against hers. Involuntarily her fingers fluttered to her mouth and there flashed before her mind's eye a picture of the first time he had kissed her and she had washed every trace of it away. Now she wanted to cherish the memory even though at the same time she knew she should be angry with herself for responding. No doubt that would come later. Now she was living in a new world—a world where the slightest touch of this man sent her senses reeling.
The car moved slowly forward and it was a few minutes later before Amber opened her eyes. The self-satisfied smile on Hamed's face shook her and she sat suddenly upright. What had been to her a moving experience had meant no more to him than a successful experiment.' He had used her again, used his undoubted masculine charm to get his own way.
She was about to tell him exactly what she thought of him when his hand came out and touched her own —and even that was enough to excite her emotions, to bring a weakness to her limbs. While despising her reaction Amber allowed her hand to remain in his, even
going so far as to stroke it, noticing idly the scattering of fine dark hairs and the immaculately manicured nails. They were strong hands, hands capable of many things. She coloured at the line her thoughts were taking and released him abruptly, ignoring his swift questioning glance and staring out at the road ahead.
They bypassed Sousse with its memories of that first meeting and were soon heading along the main highway towards the capital. Eucalyptus trees stood like sentinels on each side of the road. Hamed told her that the Arabs tied bunches of eucalyptus to their houses to help keep away the flies.
They passed through villages where low whitewashed houses huddled together, where scores of children played, or sat on the roadside watching the traffic go by. 'Why aren't they at school?' asked Amber, curious as to why so many of them seemed to have nothing to do.
He said, 'There are not enough schools or teachers for all the children, so half of them go in the morning and the other half in the afternoon,' continuing proudly, 'We are a young and growing country. I expect you've noticed that the older people are in a minority. Over half of the population are aged under twenty.'
Amber found this information fascinating, indeed the whole country was casting a spell over her and she looked about her, anxious to miss nothing.
'This is the Sahel region,' announced Hamed a few miles further on. To their right and left stretched olive groves for as far as the eye could see. 'Next month the olives will be gathered—it is one of our biggest industries—and everyone, men, women and children,
helps pick the fruit. For some it is the only season they can get work, so they are always very keen.'
The silvery trees shivered in the light breeze. There were miles and miles of them and Amber could imagine they would need all the help they could get to harvest the fruit.
Once out of the Sahel the countryside became barren with only
the occasional village to break it up. There was always plenty of activity, though, whether it was a dark-skinned Arab tilling his tiny patch of earth or herding a handful of skinny-looking sheep along the roadside, or the women in their white sifsaris carrying enormous loads of shopping. Outside the butchers' shops, which often were no more than a shack on the roadside, were impaled cows' heads. This made Amber shudder, but she conveyed none of her thoughts to the man at her side. He seemed content to drive in silence, only occasionally drawing her attention to something he thought might interest her.
At last they reached the outskirts of Tunis, driving beside the lake, El-Bahira, which he told her meant, 'Little Sea', where a flock of flamingos made a cheerful splash of colour against the grey water, and into the city itself.
Hamed parked his car and they walked along the main Avenue Habib Bourguiba, so called after the President, with its double row of palms down the middle and abundant with cafés, cinemas and travel agencies. Hamed stopped at the Centre de l'Artisanat, a large shop which carried a vast range of Tunisian handicrafts. 'There is no bargaining here,' he said with a smile, as they looked round with interest at the carpets and shawls, kaftans and the charming blue and
white birdcages so popular in Tunisia.
Amber had so far remained silent, still unsure of her relationship with Hamed, but now, looking at a rail of colourful kaftans, she exclaimed, 'Oh, isn't this beautiful! ' The deep sea green was decorated with rich golden embroidery and she knew instinctively that the colour would suit her.
Almost before she knew it Hamed had bought the gown and handed the parcel to her with a mocking bow. 'For my passion flower. A present from Tunis to make her feel at home.'
Scarlet flamed her cheeks. No man had ever bought her a present before—and for it to be this stranger! She hoped he had not thought she was hinting.
'You shouldn't,' she exclaimed hotly. 'I never meant you to—I didn't realise— Oh, please, take it back!'
He placed a gentle finger on her lips, smiling in an oddly persuasive manner. 'It is my pleasure and I shall be most hurt if you do not accept.' His fingers closed on her bare arm and he led her forcibly from the shop. Even outside he did not relax his grip and Amber thought it would be ungrateful if she shrugged herself loose. But the close contact caused her pulses to race once again. His hand was warm on her arm, warm and slightly possessive. She wondered whether he was attempting to buy himself into her favour, wishing she had been more adamant in refusing the dress. He certainly seemed more possessive, while she herself—how did she feel? Confused and slightly breathless, yet not altogether unhappy. A strange state of affairs. It was this alien side to her nature which was letting her down—a side which was becoming more predominant with each passing hour.
Next door to the Artisanat was the Municipal Theatre, a lovely white building with steps leading down to it upon which many people sat and rested. Directly opposite was a colourful flower market and further along still the American Cultural Center where a fountain played in a shady courtyard.
Hamed pointed out the neo-gothic Cathedral of St Vincent de Paul where many tourists stood taking photographs of its gold mosaic-studded facade. There was a mural of Christ surrounded by angels and above that two domed towers, a familiar part of the Tunis skyline.
They stopped at a café and had a long cooling drink before carrying on to the entrance of the medina, through the ancient gate, Bab el Bahar. 'It means sea-gate,' explained Hamed. 'In mediaeval times the salt waters of El-Bahira came right up to here. There is a story that a certain Baroness Fasciotti who lived on the lakeside used to pay the dustmen to dump their rubbish in the shallows. This continued over the centuries until now it is all built up between here and the lake, which, I believe, is still receding.'
'It's difficult to imagine,' said Amber, 'that this all used to be water.' She turned and looked back along the avenue. 'It's all so—so solid—so very much a part of Tunis.' And then she looked again at the `sea-gate' with its iron ladder up one side and tattered posters on its crumbling masonry, 'and the medina, I suppose, was the original city?'
Hamed nodded. 'Do you want to look around the souks? I promise to keep close by your side. I won't let any ardent young man run away with you.'
Although he teased Amber did not mind. She was
learning to relax in Hamed's presence, sometimes forgetting that she knew nothing about him. His English was so perfect and his colouring only a little darker than her own so that she could even forget he was of Arabian blood. She nodded and together they walked along the main street of the medina.
'This is different from Sousse,' he said. 'There are many lanes and it is easy to get lost.'
'Then I'll stick close by your side,' smiled Amber, glad now of his protective arm. They stopped and watched an engraver hammering out tourists' names on brass ashtrays which were already decorated but had room left at the bottom. The engraver had-a flower tucked behind one ear and wore the traditional red chechia on his head. He was a cheerful man and Amber was delighted when Hamed bought her an ashtray with her name in Arabic. It was a beautiful flowing writing and although she could never begin to understand it she knew she would always treasure this souvenir of her holiday in Tunisia.
But even more beautiful still was the sand rose he gave her. 'It's called a desert rose,' he said. 'They are created from small pieces of rock by the desert winds cutting away the soft sand and leaving only a hard core with these petals that look so much like roses.'
Amber was entranced. She had never seen anything quite so lovely, and the fact that it was created by nature herself made it all the more appealing.
Constant bargaining went on on either side of them, fathers taught their sons their trade, brasses gleamed, coloured rugs and carpets added colour, perfumes filled the air with, their haunting 'fragrance and the
smell of spice tempted them. With Hamed at her side Amber felt safe. She could laugh now at her experience in the souks in Sousse, but it had been her first encounter with Tunisian markets and she felt she could be excused. The Arabs meant no harm—it was just their way of conducting business. Even so she kept close to Hamed's side, aware that many eyes were drawn her way and that it was not always an accident when a brown hand brushed her body.
They ate lunch at the Hotel Africa and afterwards drove to Belvedere Park, a wooded hill overlooking the city. They left the car and walked through the grounds where flowering shrubs made brilliant splashes of colour. Hamed picked a crimson flower and tucked it behind her ear, saying softly, 'The hibiscus, it means a sign of great love.'
Amber had felt flattered, but now she tore it away and flung it to the ground. 'I hardly think that applies to us!'
But he only laughed and they continued walking. They explored the Kouba, a blue and white pavilion with ceilings and arches of delicately carved stucco, and marble pillars decorated with scrolls and crescents. Marble seats linked the arches and here they sat for a while.
'It will soon be time for us to return,' said Hamed. 'Have you had a pleasant day? Did it hold any of the terrors you anticipated?'
Amber shook her head, smiling wryly, forgetting the incident of the flower. 'I'm sorry, I misjudged you. I've really, enjoyed myself. I wouldn't have missed it for anything.'
'Then you will come out with me again?' He watched her face intently as if her answer was important to him.
'You're rushing me,' countered Amber. 'I'll have to think about it.' She would have liked to agree, but once again uncertainty took over.
'With only one more week of your holiday left it is necessary for me to work quickly if I want to see anything of you,' argued Hamed. 'Please, Amber, don't deny me the pleasure of your company.'
He knew so much about her, but once again doubts filled Amber's mind. give you your answer when we get back to the Sahara Beach,' she said positively. Meantime she would question him and endeavour to find out something about this determined man.
They sat in silence for a few moments before Hamed
sprang suddenly to his feet, his eyes cool and his lips thinned. He held out his hand. 'Come, let us get back to the car.'
It seemed he was offended by her indecision. Either that or he was impatient for her answer and wanted to get back as quickly as possible. Amber gave a mental shrug and ignoring his outstretched arm gathered up her parcels and rose to stand at his side. He could please himself. If he was going to be funny with her she would definitely refuse to go out with him again. He had been excellent company all day and she had really thought she was beginning to like him. Now, with those dark eyes regarding her coldly, she had her doubts.
He drove fast, braking so violently at times that had it not been for her seat belt she would have found herself thrust forward against the windscreen. 'What's the
matter?' she asked at last, unable to stand the oppressive silence any longer. 'Are you so eager for my decision that you can't wait to get back?'
'It has nothing to do with it.' He spoke tonelessly, all his attention on the grey ribbon of road ahead, cursing harshly in Arabic when he was compelled to let a young boy, a dog and three sheep cross the road.
'Then why the bad mood?' persisted Amber.
It is your inability to give me a direct answer that angers me. Why do you always prevaricate when you know you will say yes in the end?' He allowed his eyes to leave the road for one moment to rest darkly on her. They were blacker than she had ever known, hooded by heavy lids and thick beetling brows. It was impossible to read his expression, though his mouth was firm and that tell-tale pulse beat high in his jaw.
'You sound very sure of yourself.' A spurt of anger hardened her voice. 'Too damned sure for my liking.' It was very rarely she swore, but today was an exception. She was suddenly so angry she did not care what she said. 'Well, you can have your answer now, and it's no. I don't care to keep company with a man who gets into evil black moods for no reason at all.' Her heart was racing as erratically as when he had kissed her—but her passion now was violated by fury, not excitement.
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