Tawny Sands

by Violet Winspear

  She put out the lamp and slid down between the bedcovers. What would it feel like to be no more a stranger to love? And who would be the stranger who would love her?

  CHAPTER SIX

  JANNA'S first impression of Benikesh was one of excitement, colour and noise. The big car that met them at the station had to twine itself around narrow streets and avoid laden donkeys, robed men walking in the road itself, and children who darted back and forth with all the fearless agility of young animals. They grinned when the driver of the car pressed loudly on the horn, leapt on the running board and pressed urchin noses against the glass to they might get a

  closer look at the girl inside.

  She had to laugh. They were so amusing with their tuft of hair, which Allah used to handle if he wished to pluck any of them into heaven. And from the way they ran the streets and dodged among the traffic it was a wonder they didn't get run over.

  The car came to a halt in the main square, alive with street vendors, and dominated by a mosque with a vivid green dome and a cluster of slender, latticed towers. The house they were to enter had a courtyard in which trees were hung with golden fruit.

  `Bitter-orange trees,' said Don Raul, and she blinked in the hot sunlight as she glanced up at him. He wore a crisp white suit, and here in this vital desert city he seemed to take on a look that was more of the East and less cosmopolitan. Janna's heart missed a beat. He stood so tall, with the sun glinting on his hair that had the sheen of a raven's wing. He was tawny-skinned, and the faint slant to his dark eyes was intensified. He looked every inch the grandson of a Moorish princess, and people were hurrying out of the carved doors of the family mansion in Benikesh to do his bidding.

  The luggage was lifted from the boot, a light was extended for his cigarette, and Janna understood not a word of the language that rattled around her in bursts of excitement.

  `We will have something to eat,' Don Raul spoke to her in English, 'and then we will take a walk in the souk. As dusk begins to fall and they light the street lamps, there is a mysterious air about the place. The musicians start to play, and the snake-charmers work their magic. The Street of Spices is not to be missed in the fall of evening.'

  It sounds exciting,' she said, and was led by him through the cool mosaic hall of the house, with the sun slanting in patterns through the intricate screenwork of arched windows. They stepped out into a fountain court, and Janna caught her breath at the sudden peace and beauty after the bustle of the square.

  Coffee was served to them, and they strolled about under the oleander trees and yellow melon flowers while they awaited the arrival of their meal. There were lush geraniums of a pure violet colour, and the twitter of birds among the Persian lilac. It was an Arabian Nights garden, and Janna felt as if she were dreaming. But it was real enough when she caught her heel in a the of the court and might have fallen if lean hands had not steadied her.

  T-thank you.' She flushed a little as she met his eyes. `I'm so used to casuals that I feel strange in high heels.'

  `You feel strange altogether, eh? Unsure of the man who has whisked you here on a magic carpet.'

  `I—I thought we would be going to another hotel, senor:

  `Why should we, when this perfectly good house is used so infrequently now the Princess prefers to spend most of her time at El Amara? Are you worrying about the lack of a chaperone for the night? And you a girl from England, where such things are considered as out of mode as the Victorian stuffed furniture.'

  `I'm not being stuffy.' She pulled away from him and sat down on the tiled rim of the fountain. 'You just seem full of surprises. I keep wondering what next you will spring on me.'

  `That is the essence of the Spanish character, chica. You must also remember that I am part of this land of mystery.'

  She dabbled her fingers in the water of the fountain, and was unaware that the sun lit to silver the fair tendrils of hair at her temples and the nape of her neck, and made her seem innocently young and rare in this garden where long ago the favourites of a Moorish prince had sauntered about. The tortoise that drowsed beneath a tree might have been the pet of one of those sloe-eyed girls in silk and anklets.

  `I have only to look at you, Don Raul, to see you are not a beach lizard but a desert hawk.'

  `Does it alarm you?' He took her hand, cool from the water, and held it to her pale skin contrasted with the bronze of his own hand. 'Snow and sun . . . they are not elements

  that mix. One of them can't help but lose itself in the other.'

  She was compelled to look at him. 'Are you saying that I—I must melt to all your wishes, Don Raul? Now you do alarm me. I agreed to come out to your desert, but only on condition that I kept most of my independence. I hope you are not going to break your word now I am here.'

  `What do you mean by independence?' he asked. 'The freedom to go and come as if you were in England? You must remember that now you are here, you are regarded as my grandmother's ward, and the girl most likely to marry me. Don't swallow me with your eyes! We know the true position, but other people don't. I may insist that you wear a light veil when we visit the souk.'

  `You can't be serious?' But his eyes were. 'Don Raul, if you think I'm going out like an Arabian slave girl, then you're very much mistaken!' As she spoke she attempted to jerk her hand from his, and at once it was as if his fingers had turned to steel about her wrist. She stared at him, and read in his eyes his determination to have his own way.

  `You will do as I say and not be childish about it.' He took in her sunlit hair, moulded about her head in soft pale curls. He studied each feature, and his eyes lingered on her sensitive lips. 'You are unusual to eyes accustomed to dark hair and olive skin, and I won't have it bandied about the medina that I allow the Princess Yamila's ward to be stared at as if she were an ordinary tourist.'

  `You talk as if I were really your grandmother's ward. I—I'm only pretending, and not liking it too much.'

  `All the same, from the moment you entered this house with me, the news was on the wing that I had with me the girl everyone thinks I have been waiting for. Most men in this part of the world marry as soon as they can, and it will now be assumed that I mean to marry you. The game has started, chica, and you play it to my rules.'

  `Meaning I wear a veil in public?'

  `Yes. A chiffon mask edged with beads.' He slowly smiled. `Most attractive, as it happens, and many women of the

  East cling to the veil because of its enticement.'

  `I shall feel like a slave girl ! '

  `And is that such a terrible feeling?' he mocked. 'Come, Hussein is bringing our food to the table. I'm sure you are hungry after our journey.'

  They ate in the shade of a wall, hung with a great cluster of scented mauve flowers. She recognised them as morning-glories, but even their familiarity could not dispel her feeling of strangeness; her lingering alarm that Don Raul was going to make her obey his wishes, and that her life would not be her own while she masqueraded as his grandmother's ward.

  But it couldn't be denied that the food was delectable. Halved pink melon, crisping against her teeth with a sweet cool taste. Cobs of corn with butter melting on them. Rice in which chicken had been baked with raisins, onions, and chopped eggplant. A caramel custard that melted her, made it impossible for her not to smile at the man who had ordered the meal . . . who was used to giving orders and having them promptly obeyed.

  `What lies behind your smile, I wonder?' He sank his teeth into a downy fig, but for once she wasn't going to tell him her thoughts. Those at least he could not command.

  `How Mildred would have revelled in your Moorish garden, senor. What a setting for a novel all this would make !'

  `A setting for romance, do you mean?'

  She answered him with a cool look, refusing to be drawn into a subject which held elements of danger. Not for the first time had she glimpsed in his eyes a certain disturbing look, as if he were intrigued by a girl who had never had a romantic affair with a man, and would lik
e to test her reaction to an assault on her emotions.

  `That was a delicious meal, Don Raul.'

  `I noticed how you enjoyed the food, Miss Smith.' His eyes flicked over her. 'And yet from the look of you a man might suppose that you lived on wild honey. Did you really get enough to eat when you were a child?'

  A ripple of laughter escaped her. 'I suppose I must seem a

  hank of hair and bone to you, senor. I believe Spanish men like women to be pigeon-plump and raven-haired.'

  `There are exceptions to every rule,' he drawled. 'With regard to Joyosa several of my Moorish friends suggested that I feed her on sweets and cream cakes, as they do in the harems when a girl is not as plump as would be wished.' With a wicked glint in his eye he pushed towards Janna the date and nut fondants which had been brought with their mocha coffee. 'Will you have a sweet, chica?'

  `Are you more a desert man than a Latin one?' She took a sweet and nibbled it. 'I begin to think so.'

  `Are you more a woman than a little saint? I begin to wonder.'

  `I am the typist you hired to be an actress, and I'm sure it doesn't worry you how wicked I begin to feel now I am here and have to behave as if I've always been pampered and waited upon.' She watched an orange butterfly preening itself against a melon flower. She was a scared young girl, not a woman who knew how to handle a spirited male. She was quivering inside, as vulnerable as that butterfly that hung by a wing to a petal.

  `Is there not a little fun in pretending to be a man's pet?' he asked quizzically. 'Come, it must give you something of a thrill to be indulged and spoiled for a change.'

  `I might grow too used to being spoiled, Don Raul.'

  `Then I must keep my eye open for a rich and indulgent husband for you, to save you from falling into the clutches of another Mildred when we part.'

  `Really?' She laughed, but it hurt for some odd reason. `Do you regard riches as the main requirement for marriage, Don Raul? I may have other ideas.'

  `Such as?'

  He was goading her to the obvious reply, but she wasn't falling into his trap. 'I may wish to open a tea-shop, or take training as a beautician. It was all rather fascinating at the salon the other day.'

  He smiled at her reply and leaned back in his cane chair,

  the swarm of mauve flowers all about his dark head and his broad, white-clad shoulders. 'You may surprise yourself and fall in love, chica. It is the most basic of drives, and has been known to attack the most guarded of hearts. What will happen to your tea-shop if you fall head over heels in love with someone?'

  `I shall have to think about that event if and when it occurs,' she said lightly. 'Mildred always said I was a born spinster, and lots of shy people do become married to a career rather than a person.'

  `Are you very shy?'

  She avoided his eyes, so bold and amused by her. This, she thought desperately, was turning into one of those dangerous talks she had hoped to avoid. It was unfair of him to start it, as if he were tempted to uncover her young, formless, secret dreams.

  Was Joyosa shy?' she fenced. 'If she wasn't, then your grandmother is going to wonder about the change when she meets me.'

  The Princess met Joyosa only twice before, and that was when the girl was a child. Does it seem appalling to you that so young a girl should be chosen for a man like me?'

  `I—I don't know how to answer such a question, senor.'

  `I am sure you do, senorita.' He closed his lean fingers around a mauve flower and slowly crushed the petals, and all the time he looked at Janna in her simple dress. She had removed the jacket and her arms were bared but for her wrist-chain, with its lucky fish. 'Did you not say that you could understand a girl being afraid of me? Afraid of what, I wonder? My temper . . . or my passion?'

  `I think you could be cruel . . . impatient towards some women,' she said bravely.

  `Do you include yourself in that category?'

  She watched his ravishment of the flowers, the falling petals, the look he had of always bending others to his will. Only with the Princess would he use the velvet glove Janna herself had already felt the steel in his grip.

  `Yes,' she said, 'I think I do.'

  `Then how daring of you to put yourself in my hands.'

  `I shall probably live to regret being so impulsive.'

  `The cosy tea-shop in a small resort on the English coast should compensate for any alarm I cause you, in the course of our pretence relationship,' he drawled. 'I can't promise to be predictable, but I think you will enjoy living on the edge of the desert. It will be for you an experience never dreamed of, to wander in a palm garden, to see a tawny moon rising over the sands, to hear the dawn wind whispering to you to rise and ride . . . perhaps with me.'

  But I can't ride,' she gasped

  `Then I will teach you,' he said calmly

  `There must be several things which I can't do ... things people will expect of Joyosa. I can't speak Spanish—'

  `Don't get in a panic.' Swiftly he was on his feet and striding round the table to her. He jerked her to her feet and held her in the hands which had crushed the flowers. To be so close to the dark strength of him, to the passion and the danger, was enough to alarm anyone, and Janna had not forgotten the feel of his warm, hard lips on hers. He was unpredictable, and she was unprotected. An explosive combination.

  `As I told you, Joyosa had an English mother so she speaks good English. Other matters can be dealt with quite easily. You will learn to ride early in the mornings, when I shall also teach you a little Spanish. Remember, it will not take a year and a day for us to show the Princess that you are not madly in love with me. As soon as she realises that I would have a snowdrop for a future wife, you may melt out of my life, chica.'

  Melt was the word . . . she felt in danger of it right now, for consciously or not he was holding her so that her slim body was pressed to him, her wrists gripped at the back of her, his darkly handsome face so near that her quick breath must have touched his skin.

  `Joyosa never had such large and speaking eyes,' he mur-

  mured, making no attempt to release her from such a defenceless attitude. 'Look at me like that in front of my grandmother and she will soon be convinced of your dislike of my touch.'

  `I—I don't like to be gripped like some tame rabbit. Don Raul, you're hurting me—'

  `Little liar!' His eyes laughed down into hers. 'You dislike me for being an arrogant devil, and when I touch you, Niña, you are unsure of what my next move will be. You are afraid I might lower my head a little more and so bring my lips nearer to yours. Don't you like to be kissed?'

  `Not by you,' she gasped. 'It's just a game to you. A cat and mouse game. All your life you've done more or less as you please, while I'm someone who has been restricted. You're curious to see how I react now you've let me out of the mousetrap. Perhaps you think I should show my gratitude by letting you ... make love to me?'

  `Are you that grateful?' he asked wickedly.

  `I'd sooner wash dishes!' she retorted, and at once his grip tightened on her hands and she was drawn even closer to him. A bruising kiss seemed imminent . . . and then to her unspeakable relief Hussein came out from the cool shadows of the house, a white-clad, deferential figure, eyes veiled as he made himself noticed by Don Raul.

  They spoke in Arabic, and then Hussein bowed his head and withdrew. Don Raul held Janna's rebellious gaze with his. 'This time you get away with a remark I'd like very much to punish. I have a business caller, so would you like to remain here in the garden, or shall Hussein, show you to your room, where you can take a siesta while I am detained?'

  `I'd like to stay here,' she said, rubbing her wrist as he let her go.

  Did I really hurt you?' He smiled heartlessly at the action. 'Or is it the touch of my hands you are trying to erase?'

  She watched him stride away from her into the house, a

  tall, supple figure, etched a moment beneath the sculptured archway, and then gone from sight. The fountain court seemed to fall curiou
sly silent, and yet it wasn't really so for the water still tinkled in the stone basin, the birds still twittered in the bird-pepper trees hung with scarlet fruits, and the bees hummed in the oleanders. Lush pink oleanders, with dark roots in which ran a sap which could cause pain and suffering.

  Janna shivered in the sunlight and wandered away from the table she had shared with Raul Cesar Bey. She continued to rub her wrist-bone, the one into which her gold chain had pressed, leaving a small pink mark. She came to an archway leading into yet another section of this Moorish garden, and wandered along a path shaded by myrtles. A pool glimmered, a breeze whispered, petals drifted from a tangle of roses. She gave a start as a frog jumped in the lily pool, a shiny green splay of legs on a pad of leaves.

  He looked like a little dragon crouching there, and she smiled to herself, remembering the fable of the prince who was turned into one; who could only be released from the enchantment by a girl who saw him with loving eyes.

  It was this garden, a secret place of sunlight and shadow, that made her think of fables . . . and of love. She imagined that if a girl loved a man, he became in her eyes a person of extra dimension. He might be a devil, but to the girl in love with him he would seem a god.

  The breeze sighed, or was it herself? She wanted someone to be devastatingly kind to her, without motive, without anything but the desire to please her. How lovely. Nicer than the nicest gift. Warmer than the warmest fire. To see just once in her life a pair of eyes kindling for her alone.

  All at once she became aware of sounds beyond the high wall enclosing the garden. She listened, and saw a small door half concealed behind a mass of flowering vines. She pushed aside the living curtain and tried the door. It opened, and there was the city square, the towering mosque, and the narrow alleys that meandered around it, forming

  the souk that was already lit here and there by a yellow flame in a brass lamp. The stalls were packed close together and their mat coverings formed a winding arcade. Articles glittered and gleamed in the shadow of the awning, and robed figures moved back and forth like figures in a medieval painting.