by Isobel Chace
When she finally brought herself to go back inside the tent, the women looked at her curiously, but they made no comment at her rather bedraggled appearance. A young woman she had not seen before, a small child at her heels and another one, younger still, on her hip, brought her a plate of boiled eggs, flat, still warm Iranian bread, and yoghourt. Deborah ate everything that was offered to her, finishing her meal with yet more tea because she was afraid to drink the water they offered her in case it upset her stomach. Tea was safer, because at least the water had been boiled.
When she had finished eating the young woman came back for her, gesturing for her to go with her. She was younger than Deborah had first thought and she moved with a swinging walk that carried her easily across the rough ground. Deborah, stumbling along in her wake, felt remarkably unattractive and ungraceful. She ran her fingers through her hair in a defensive gesture and wondered what she was going to do about her blistered feet.
The young woman pointed to one of the tents. ‘Khan,’ she said, and pointed towards herself with a complacent giggle. It was immediately clear that she was the Khan’s wife and that she couldn’t imagine a better life for herself. Deborah glared at the girl’s back, remembering that the Khan had said his wife was less of a child than she was. Was it only because she was absolutely sure of her value in her husband’s eyes, whereas Deborah couldn’t be sure that Roger even liked her? Had the Khan guessed that after Ian’s defection she was less than sure of her powers to attract any man, let alone a man like Roger Derwent?
They reached another tent and the young wife paused outside it, pulling her chador across the lower part of her face. She put out her hand to Deborah, her palm towards her, silently bidding her to stay where she was, and then she disappeared inside, leaving Deborah alone in the darkness outside.
By the time the girl came out again, Deborah was decidedly nervous. She shivered in the light wind, feeling suddenly cold and, when the Khan’s wife gestured for her to enter, she lowered her head and almost ran through the doorway, only to find that the tent was completely empty except for a number of luxurious rugs that were spread over the floor. To one side was a large cotton pad, that could have been meant to be a mattress, and a pile of patterned blankets. Beside it was an aftabe of water and a bowl for washing in. But of other people there were none and the silence was almost tangible after the sheer volume of sound in the tent she had come from.
The Khan’s wife made her a little bow and said something to her which she didn’t understand.
‘Tashakor, thank you,’ she replied, and wondered at the other girl’s knowing smile.
‘Khoda hafez,’ the girl whispered, giggling. ‘Bebak-shhid.’
Deborah wished she could say something in return, but she could only smile and shrug her shoulders, and in the next instant the girl had gone. Deborah ran after her, wincing from the pain in her feet.
‘Reza?’ she asked her, a hint of panic in her voice. ‘Because if this is his tent, I’m not staying there!’
The girl’s giggle was as carefree as the sound of a bell. ‘Reza, kheyr,’ she shook her head, and then more definitely still: ‘Nakheyr.’
Feeling more than a little foolish, Deborah could at least understand no when it was said in such definite tones.
‘Thank God for that,’ she said, and managed a tired smile. ‘Tashakor.’
The girl gave her a cheeky grin. ‘Merci,’ she laughed. She pointed back towards the tent. ‘Reza kheyrl Aga anglisi bale!’ She giggled again and gestured more urgently towards the tent.
But Deborah remained rooted to the spot. Kheyr was no, she knew, and she was certain that bale meant yes, but what had the girl been trying to tell her?
‘Merci,’ she said dispiritedly, realising that they were never going to make the other understand anything without so much as a phrase-book to help them. She wondered how it came about that the Persians used the French word for thank-you as often as they used their own. She grimaced as her foot struck a lump of rock in the uneven ground sending a shooting pain through her foot. She would have to do something about her blisters, she thought. If they went septic on her she would be in serious trouble, because the last person she would allow to treat her would be Reza! When she regained the tent, she took off her shoes and drew closer to the inadequate, smoking lamp in the centre of the tent to look at them. The blisters had rubbed raw and were bleeding in places. She washed them as carefully as she could, wishing she had some plasters, or even some ointment to help them heal. Tomorrow, she decided she would refuse to walk a single step! Not even the Khan could make her move if she had decided that she wouldn’t! Reza wouldn’t even try. How strange it was that she had actually liked that young man, when now she could only think of him with contempt and an acid dislike for being so stupid as to imagine that she had wanted to visit his mother in order to see more of him.
When she had done all she could for her feet, she sat cross-legged on the cotton mattress and tried to compose her thoughts. There had to be some way that she could escape through her own efforts. The Khan, at least, didn’t dislike her. If she appealed to him again—
She heard the sound of footsteps outside her tent and her blood froze. That they were male she had no doubt. The women all walked with that swinging step that moved them almost silently over the ground. This was a weightier step, one that sounded angry and impatient to her listening ears, and the masculine curse that was let loose as he became involved with the flap across the entrance of the tent could only have come from one man.
‘Roger!’ Deborah was off the mattress and across the tent before she had time to think, hurling herself into the arms of the embodiment of the man she had been terrified she would never see again. ‘Oh, Roger, I was so afraid you wouldn’t come!’
‘It’s no thanks to you that I have,’ he retorted grimly. He held her away from him, examining her appearance with such marked distaste that she tried to turn away from his piercing gaze. ‘You took a hell of a lot for granted,’ he went on in the same bitter tones. ‘I’m beginning to see why Ian felt he had to get away from you!’
‘Oh, that isn’t fair!’ she exclaimed.
‘Isn’t it? Then you’d better start explaining exactly what you’ve been up to. You look a mess—’ He glanced down at her feet and the intake of his breath was plainly audible. ‘It didn’t turn out the way you hoped, did it?’ he added more gently.
She shook her head, hoping she wasn’t going to cry again. ‘Mrs. Mahdevi isn’t really an American at all,’ she murmured. ‘She’s an American national, but she’s really as Persian as any of them.’
‘So Toobi told me,’ Roger said, tight-lipped.
Her eyes widened. ‘She did? Then why on earth didn’t you tell me? You could have told me—you could have told me many things and I can’t think why you didn’t! I thought it was all my fault that this happened, but it isn’t! It’s just as much yours!’
He stared back at her. ‘It won’t do, Deborah,’ he said. ‘It makes little difference what she is. I warned you clearly enough that Reza wasn’t thinking about you in the platonic way you imagined. What did you expect when you went off with him completely alone and without telling anyone what you were about—?’
‘Maxine knew!’
‘Maxine is as empty-headed as that fool of a brother of hers! Why didn’t you tell me what you were up to?’
It was impossible to tell him that! Her mouth suddenly had gone dry. ‘Maxine isn’t empty-headed,’ she said.
‘She is at the moment! The only thing she can think about is that painter fellow she’s got staying with her. She couldn’t take her eyes off him when I was trying to find out what she knew about this escapade of yours!’
The contempt in his voice hit Deborah hard, but her curiosity overcame her immediate timidity. ‘What’s he like?’ she asked.
‘He’s no beauty,’ he answered. ‘He looks like a gorilla and is about as well-mannered. But I’ll say one thing for him, he has Maxine back at work—a
t her own work, what’s more, not just fetching and carrying for him. I imagine he finds her hero-worship a bit cloying, but he’s obviously fond of her. He might even marry her if she’ll settle for his terms, instead of the romantic dream she’s been brought up to believe that there’s only one remedy for unfaithfulness and that’s divorce.’
‘There’s another remedy,’ Deborah put in. ‘He could be faithful to her.’
Roger gave her a look that made her blush. ‘My dear girl, David Edgar uses his body as an extension of his eyes and paintbrush. He wouldn’t know what you’re talking about!’
Deborah sank down on the cotton mattress, determined not to let him see that he had embarrassed her. ‘I hope he won’t hurt her. I’ve grown to like Maxine very much. She’s not as confident as she looks.’
‘Nor are you,’ Roger said drily.
‘No,’ she admitted, not looking at him. She lifted her head a little. ‘I’m sorry to have put you to the trouble—’
‘The trouble! If you had taken the trouble to tell me that you were taking off by yourself, I’d have stopped you if I had to bind and gag you to do it. At least I wouldn’t have been put in the ridiculous position of finding I’ve inherited a bride from my younger brother because my family is too poor to repay your dowry!’
‘Oh,’ said Deborah.
He glared at her. ‘Perhaps the Khan misunderstood your story?’ he suggested with crushing sarcasm.
She preferred to ignore that. ‘I don’t see how you could have stopped me from doing as I pleased,’ she said instead. ‘I was very keen to meet Mrs. Mahdevi. I thought she’d help me get Qashgai craft products for the shop. She would have done if Reza hadn’t been so peculiar! I think she was almost as appalled as I was!’
Some of the angry tension left his face. ‘To tell the truth, I find Reza’s reactions a great deal more understandable than yours,’ he said. ‘You have a very kissable look to your mouth.’
Sadly shaken, she stole a glance at him and wondered that he could find anything in the situation to amuse him. ‘Will you take me back to Shiraz now?’ Her lips trembled, and she caught the lower one between her teeth to hold it steady, lifting her chin in the air because she was too proud to let him see how close to tears she was.
‘Not tonight.’
‘But—but we can’t stay here!’
‘Thanks to the fairy-tale you spun the Khan we haven’t any choice. He only half believes that you are promised to me, and Reza doesn’t believe it at all. If I want you, I must take possession of you tonight—’
‘But that’s barbaric!’
‘It was you who invented the situation,’ he reminded her. ‘Would you prefer me to leave you to Reza’s tender mercies?’
She shook her head, effectually silenced. ‘I’m sorry, Roger,’ she said at last. ‘I didn’t intend to embarrass you. You have every right to be as beastly as you like, only I don’t think I can stand very much more.’ Her voice trembled. ‘I was so frightened and it was the only thing I could think of to tell them. When the Khan sent a message to Howard, I didn’t think he’d take it seriously enough to pass it on to you, and I almost went out of my mind worrying about it. Roger, I know you don’t like it, having to involve yourself with me, but I haven’t I been punished enough?’
His eyes glinted at her in the subdued light from the lamp. ‘You were right about Howard,’ he said. ‘It was Toobi who came and told me where you had gone. Like you, she seems to believe that I have some kind of responsibility for you and never doubted for an instant that I would fetch you back so that you can go on plaguing the life out of me! You have quite a way with you, little one. Toobi is your undoubted slave and even the Khan was full of praise because you had told him you weren’t in the least bit afraid of me!’ He came across the tent towards her. ‘Another fairy-story, Deborah?’
If it was, she wasn’t going to admit it. ‘Just because you don’t like me,’ she began, ‘everyone doesn’t have to—’ Her eyes darkened as a new thought struck her. ‘What do you mean that I plague the life out of you? I haven’t seen you often enough—’
‘It doesn’t take much time,’ he said. He dropped down on his knees beside her, putting his hands on her shoulders. Then suddenly he reached forward and kissed her lightly on the nose. ‘Well?’
‘I thought you didn’t like me!’
‘I dislike you just about as much as you dislike me,’ he told her. He smiled against her lips, taking a slow possession of her mouth that took her breath away. She shied away from him, but his hands restrained her, sliding from her shoulders, down her back to her hips. For an instant she resisted the pressure of his mouth on hers, but then her lips parted beneath his and she flung her arms round his neck to draw herself closer still to him.
‘You’re hurting me,’ she whispered at length.
He released her slowly. ‘You’re a fraud, Debbie Day. You’re more afraid of me than you’ll admit!’
‘I’m afraid of myself,’ she said.
She sat up, buttoning up her blouse with hands that trembled, more than a little ashamed of the wanton desire she felt to cast herself into his arms. ‘Please, Roger, couldn’t we go back to Shiraz?’
He touched her cheek with an explorative finger. ‘Not tonight, my love. First thing tomorrow I’ll take you to the hotel at Persepolis where my mother is staying, but tonight the Khan intends that we shall stay right here.’
‘Won’t your mother be surprised to see us?’
His finger reached her ear and he gave a gentle tug to the lobe, pulling her face round towards his.
‘Not as surprised as she was when I took off like a bat out of hell and left her stranded on her own there. ·Toobi couldn’t find me at the university and managed to persuade one of my students to drive her out to Persepolis to see me—a girl student, so you needn’t look like that. Not even for you would Toobi have driven alone with a male of the species!’
Deborah ignored that. ‘I’d like to meet your mother,’ she murmured in a social tone that made him laugh. ‘Well, I would,’ she added, ‘I don’t see that that’s anything to laugh about!’
He leaned up on his elbow. ‘What will you do if she decides you belong to me too?’ he asked her lazily. ‘She won’t have much sympathy for you over losing Ian. She didn’t care for love and marriage for herself, but she has very old-fashioned views when it comes to her son. Only the best is good enough for me!’
Deborah gave a little shrug of her shoulders. ‘I knew we’d come back to your need for perfection sooner or later, but you’ll never find it!’
‘No,’ he agreed, ‘perhaps not. Certainly not in a girl who hasn’t the sense to stay out of trouble for two minutes put together! First the Shah Cheraq Shrine, then Reza, and then, not content with that, you throw yourself at my head by telling the world that you’re expecting me to marry you for your dowry! It would serve you right, young woman, if I did share your bed tonight! The Khan seemed to think that nothing would give you greater pleasure!’
She turned her back on him, unconsciously straightening her shoulders. ‘You’re not very kind. What else was I to tell the Khan? If he believed that I’m in love with you what does it matter?’
In reply, he turned her round to face him, holding her close against his chest, kissing her with a relentless passion that she did her best to resist, finally abandoning herself to his caresses with a response that threatened to get out of hand. When he pulled away, she felt deserted and defenceless. ‘You make me lose my head all too easily!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ll take a couple of the blankets and go and sleep on the other side of the tent.’ He touched her face, pushing her hair back out of her eyes. ‘Goodnight, little one. Sleep well!’
He doused the lamp, leaving her cold and alone in the darkness. She might make him lose his head she thought in despair, but there was no danger of his losing his heart to her.
CHAPTER TEN
With the light grey eyes hidden, Roger looked younger and much more approachable. Deborah wonder
ed whether to wake him or not. It had been a long night and she had slept little. Every muscle in her body ached a protest and the blisters on her feet had smarted badly, sometimes waking her from the dozing sleep that was all she had been able to manage. She tried to tell herself that her restlessness had had nothing to do with Roger, but it had. She had spent much of the night wondering what he had against marriage. If she had been another person, she knew he would have made love to her last night. It might even have been the start of a long, leisurely affair, but why wouldn’t he marry her? Was he afraid of marriage? Or was it because, although she attracted him physically, he didn’t love her in the way he wanted to love the woman he made his wife and the mother of his children?
She leaned down and kissed him lightly on the lips and his eyes opened and looked up at her.
‘Playing with fire?’
She nodded, smiling. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Not if you don’t mind getting burned.’
Her gaze wavered before his. ‘I wish I didn’t mind,’ she said, ‘but I do.’ She moved away from him. ‘I could never be the paragon you want if I tried for a million years. I don’t even like perfection!’
‘You might come close to it, but how long would it last? You wouldn’t be the first woman in my life and how long have any of them lasted? It’s always the woman who loses, Debbie.’
‘But I wouldn’t lose if I were with you!’ she said.
‘I’ve seen it all before,’ he said wearily. ‘When Ian let you down you had the shop to help you through it. With me, you’d have nothing. I have a jealous nature and I’d be damned before I let you go on working with anyone like Ian!’
‘I wouldn’t have to see him. You’re in Persia, he’s in England.’
‘That’s about the only good thing about it as far as you’re concerned. Thank God he did marry someone else, or you might have found yourself subject to his blowing hot and cold—if he ever does blow hot, which, from what I know about you, I very much doubt!’
