by Anne Mather
'Martini, sherry? Or something stronger?' he queried, waiting for her decision, and she deliberately chose Scotch. She needed something to combat the feelings of inadequacy he aroused inside her, and it gave her a sense of reassurance to have a glass in her hand.
He poured the whisky without comment, dropping in several cubes of ice at her instigation, and then carried the glass back to her. Abby took it cautiously, taking care not to touch his fingers, and he watched her sip its contents with a strangely enigmatic smile.
'Aren't you having anything?' she enquired, self conscious in spite of her assumed arrogance, and with a shrug Rachid returned to the tray resting on a cabinet near the long windows. He poured himself a small glass of orange juice, and raised it in a silent toast before swallowing the sun-kissed liquid, and Abby's nerves tightened anew at this deliberate exhibition of abstemiousness.
'Will you not sit down?'
He indicated a low sofa, and although Abby would have preferred a chair, she refused to let him think she was afraid of him. She subsided on to the striped cushions, albeit rather stiffly, and crossing her legs rested her arm holding the glass across her knees.
Rachid studied her for a moment, then he went to summon Karim once more. 'We will eat now,' he advised shordy, giving his instructions, and Karim withdrew with his usual gesture of obeisance.
'I understand you have resumed your position as Daley's secretary,' Rachid commented, as they waited for the food, and Abby nodded. 'How convenient that he needed a secretary at just this time.'
Abby glanced quickly up at him. 'It wasn't arranged, if that's what you think. Brad had had a series of girls since I left, none of them satisfactory. He dismissed the last one the week before I returned to London.'
Rachid's lips curled. 'Is that what he told you?'
'It's true.'
'It is true that Daley had had several different girls working for him, but I find the latter part of your statement hard to believe. I think he dismissed his last secretary because he knew you were returning to London. He knew that working for him you would feel more loyalty than for some strange employer, who has not had time to win your, confidence.'
'What do you mean?'
Rachid flexed Iris shoulder muscles wearily. 'I mean that your estimable boss knew I was- looking for you, and was determined to put as many obstacles in my way as possible.'
Abby gasped. 'That's ridiculous! What could it achieve?'
'It could make the difference between your staying in London, or returning to Abarein.'
'No!'
'Yes.' He was inflexible. 'By restoring the—what do you say? Status quo?—Daley knew you would think twice before making a decision in my favour. Whereas,' he made an eloquent gesture, 'in a strange job, with a strange employer, and perhaps not entirely happy ...' he spread his hands, 'you might have weighed the consequences more— wisely.'
Abby drew a short breath. 'If you're implying that having a good job has anything to do with my decision, you couldn't be more wrong. I—I wouldn't go back with you whatever the circumstances.'
. K a rim's arrival with the food forestalled any further discussion at that point, and he wheeled the trolley into the room, laden down with an assortment of dishes. The sides of the trolley opened out to provide a comfortably sized table for two, and after laying out the cutlery and uncorking the wine, Rachid dismissed him.
'We will serve ourselves,' he told the man curtly, in Arabic, and Abby was amazed at how easily she followed their exchange. Languages were like that, she thought, once learned, never forgotten.
Karim had placed two of the upright chairs at either side of the improvised table, and Abby took the one Rachid offered with polite acquiescence. Her husband seated himself opposite, and then asked her what she would like of the various foods provided.
Abby looked at the table rather perplexedly. There was a bewildering choice of dishes, and in her present state of nervousness she found all of them a little overpowering. Egyptian caviare was rich and salty, luscious pink prawns nestled on a bed of tossed salad, a thick yoghurt was coiled creamily in a chilled dish, and a steaming bisque simmered over a tiny flame.
And they were only appetizers, she thought unhappily. To follow there was a choice of Middle Eastern dishes like kebabs, and a thick soup served with vegetables called moulukhiya, and more traditionally Western foods like steak, and lamb chops, and tiny whole ducklings, served with orange sauce. Obviously Karim had been instructed to provide a variety of choice, and Abby was overwhelmed by it.
'What will you have?'
Rachid was looking enquiringly at her now, and Abby made a helpless gesture. 'I'm not sure. There's so many things. It—it's hard to decide.'
'Then have a little of each,' suggested Rachid dryly, indicating the caviare. 'I can recommend this, although perhaps you Would prefer something sweeter.'
'I—no. The caviare would be fine,' murmured Abby uncomfortably, reaching for a cracker, and while Rachid served her, she gazed with wonder at the enormous bowl of strawberries just visible on a lower shelf, and the juicy figs beside a tray of cheeses.
Despite her misgivings, the food was so excellent that Abby made a good meal, following the caviare with kebabs, and finishing with strawberries and cream. Rachid, she noticed, ate next to nothing, and as the meal progressed, she wondered if she had not been a little insensitive about his illness. It was obvious the food had no interest for him, and she felt slightly ashamed when he had gone to so much trouble to offer her so many delicious things.
'That was—marvellous,' she said at last, finishing the wine in her glass, and refusing his offer of more. 'I didn't realise I was so hungry. I'm sorry you couldn't enjoy it with me.'
Rachid pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. 'I am glad you are pleased,' he remarked, summoning Karim once more. 'We will have coffee now, I think. Then we can talk.'
Abby nodded, leaving the table herself as the swarthy manservant appeared, wandering restlessly about the room as he wheeled the trolley away, examining the pictures on the walls. Rachid's words about talking had reminded her of her reasons for being here, and while she had not forgotten the outcome of this meeting, she was not looking forward to their proposed discussion.
Karim had the coffee prepared and waiting for them, and after it was served Rachid asked that he should not disturb them again. 'I will ring if there is anything else I need,' he instructed in their own language, and Karim retired with a gesture of understanding.
Alone with Rachid, Abby could feel her nerves tightening, as much from an awareness of her own weakness as from any fear of their isolation. Her husband was still a most disturbingly attractive man, and she was woman enough to respond to his vulnerability. His pallor now was not contrived, and although she despised his treatment of her in the past, she could not help the feelings of sympathy he aroused inside her. But they were feelings which had to be controlled, she acknowledged, half afraid they might arouse a physical response that would be wholly self-destructive.
When she made no move to sit down beside the tray Karim had provided, Rachid gained her permission to seek respite on the couch she had occupied earlier.
'You must forgive me,' he said, running a weary hand over his temples. 'I feel so stupidly weak, and I am not very good company.'
Abby pressed her lips together, walking back to the couch with reluctant concern. 'You should have phoned,' she said, with an offhand gesture, seating herself on the very edge of the cushions, half turned towards him. 'But don't let it worry you, this is hardly a social occasion, is it?'
Rachid rested his head back against the satin upholstery, viewing her thoughtfully. 'It is in your favour, is it not?' he remarked, his dark eyes heavy-lidded and intense. 'Everything is in your favour, and I have no more weapons with which to fight you.'
Abby took charge of the coffee pot, pouring two cups, and when he shook his head, taking hers into her hands. 'Don't be dramatic, Rachid,' she exclaimed, nervously tasting the scalding
liquid. 'It's not a battle we're conducting, or at least it shouldn't be. Why can't we behave calmly and civilly, like adults, not children? Treat one another with courtesy and respect‑'
'Because I do not feel very courteous or respectful!' he retorted harshly, his hand suddenly reaching out and imprisoning her wrist. 'I feel angry, and aggrieved, and not a little insane at the thought of your breaking up our marriage‑' his fingers tightened, '—and maybe sharing the intimacies we have shared with someone‑'
His words broke off at Abby's sudden cry. The unexpectedness of his action had caught her unawares, but it was her own instinctive withdrawal which had caused what happened next. Her jerky attempt to escape him sent the fragile cup tumbling into her lap, spilling its contents over her velvet pants. The hot liquid was quickly absorbed and her thighs stung painfully as the fiery cloth clung to them.
'In the name of Allah!'
As Abby struggled to her feet, Rachid rose also, thrusting her plucking hands aside and reaching purposefully for the buttons that fastened at her waist. With little care for the expensive cut of the pants, he tore the fastening apart and ignoring her frantic attempts to prevent him, he determinedly pushed the offending garment down to her knees.
It was a tremendous relief to feel the air against her burning thighs, but humiliation overcame all other emotions. Even the pain of her scalded flesh was not sufficient compensation for standing there in her underwear, with Rachid's dark eyes running impatiently over her. With a sob of frustration she turned aside, groping for the trousers in total ignominy.
'Do not cover them again,' grated Rachid roughly, grasping her arm and turning her back to face him. His eyes lowered to the revealing welts of scarlet flesh, and he uttered an oath. 'Come—they need to be treated,' he added, indicating the door into his bedroom. 'Karim keeps some medication in the bathroom. I will attend to them myself.'
'No!' Abby pulled her arm away from his grasp, trying desperately to cover herself. 'I—I'll go. I can't stay like this. We—we'll have to arrange another meeting.'
'Do not be a fool!' he snapped, squatting down before her and touching the throbbing flesh with cool, probing fingers. 'I have some cream which will take all the heat out of this. Have the goodness to let me make amends for my carelessness.'
Abby's mouth was dry from her unwilling response to his touch. It was so long since she had felt his fingers against her skin, and the unguarded emotions of the last few minutes had left her dangerously susceptible. 'It—it wasn't your fault,' she got out chokingly, trying to push his hands aside. 'I shouldn't have—have jumped like that. It was a stupid thing to do.'
'So—let me put it right for you,' he said, unzipping her boots before she could prevent him, and straightening once more. 'Take off your trousers and I will have Karim take them to be sponged and pressed. By the time you are ready to leave they will be dry.'
Abby made a helpless gesture. 'Oh, very well. Do you— do you have something I can wear?'
'Well, not trousers, I regret,' he responded shortly, as she fumbled to remove the pants, and then held them protectively in front of her. Then, irritably: 'But why do you act like this? As if I had not seen you this way many times before? As if I did not know your body almost as well as I know my own?'
Abby merely pressed the garment closer to her. 'You said you had something I could wear,' she reminded him tightly, and with an impatient shrug he led the way into the bedroom.
Like the sitting room, it was large and high-ceilinged, with a king-sized double bed, and a soft beige carpet underfoot. There were high tallboys, and lots of fitted cupboards, and plenty of mirrors with which to view oneself from every angle. Abby doubted Rachid was aware of them. Whatever else he was, he was not vain, but they made her acutely aware of her ridiculous appearance, and she longed to hide the pale slender length of her legs.
Rachid extracted a dressing gown from his wardrobe. It was made of dark blue silk and would obviously be too long for her, but at least it would cover her, and Abby took it gratefully.
'There are splashes of coffee on your jacket, too,' Rachid pointed out as he handed the dressing gown to her. 'I would suggest you send the whole outfit for sponging, except that you might misconstrue my motives.'
Abby hesitated a moment, and then turning her back on him she quickly removed the jacket, too. With the folds of the dressing gown securely about her, she felt more able to face him, and with a mildly sardonic grimace he gathered the suit and went out of the room.
Karim was obviously never far away from his master, and it took little time for Rachid to despatch him about his business. Waiting for the servant to depart, Abby was somewhat taken aback when Rachid came back into the bedroom, but meeting her puzzled apprehension, he quickly explained his purpose.
'The cream is in the bathroom,' he declared, crossing to another door. 'If you will expose the burns, I will deal with them.'
Abby" sighed. She was tempted to say there was no need, that since the cloth had been removed so swiftly the damage done had been slight, and was already cooling of its own accord. But Rachid had already disappeared into the bathroom, and loath to increase the intimacy of the situation, she determinedly went back into the sitting room.
She was perched on the sofa when Rachid reappeared, and his eyes narrowed at her obvious efforts to sustain her detachment. She had exposed only one leg to his gaze, and the lower half of that was wrapped around with blue silk.
Shrugging, he knelt before her, unscrewing the cap of the tube of cream in his hands and squeezing a little of the white substance into his palm. Then firmly and deliberately, he applied the cream to the inflamed flesh, moving his palm gently and rhythmically over its sensitised surface.
It was amazing how soothing the cream was, Abby thought, feeling all the heat leaving the lesion. As he continued to massage it into the skin, she could feel the taut flesh softening, and its dryness was replaced with regenerative oils. But it wasn't just the cream that was inducing this feeling of well-being inside her. It was the cool hardness of Rachid's hands that brought a sensuous lethargy, and caused her convulsive hold on the robe to be released, exposing her slender limbs with reckless abandon.
Rachid said nothing, however. He merely transferred his ministrations to her other leg, and presently both injuries had been similarly treated. Then he got to his feet again, recapping the tube and returning it to its place in the bathroom.
She heard the taps running as he washed his hands, and the everyday sound dispelled the feelings of inertia which had gripped her. Hastily she came upright on the sofa, gathering her splayed legs, and wrapping the gown about her once more. She hardly liked to think what Rachid must have thought of her abandoned pose, and her cheeks burned as he came back into the room.
'Er—thank you,' she murmured awkwardly, realising some response was in order, but he merely quirked an eyebrow.
'They feel better now?' he enquired, his eyes probing the tightly draped folds, and she nodded quickly, hoping he would not ask to see. 'Good.'
He dropped down on to the sofa beside her once more, and as he did so, she saw how fatigued he looked. His illness, whatever it was, must be more serious than she had thought, and the prolonged exertion had exhausted him.
'Are you feeling sick?' she asked, as he expelled his breath on a sigh, and slumped against the cushions. 'You look—awful! Ought you to be in bed?'
Rachid shook his head wearily. 'I am all right,' he assured her firmly. 'Just a mild indisposition, as I said. Now, shall we continue our conversation? You were saying something about—being civilised.'
Abby shook her head. 'Rachid, I think you should be in bed. We can talk some other time.' She glanced at him anxiously. 'I can easily wait for Karim, and‑'
'No!' His denial was harsh and determined. 'We will talk now. I want to know what you intend to do. If you refuse to return to Abarein, will you be staying in London?' Abby bent her head. 'Probably.' She moved her shoulders
awkwardly. 'Does it matter? Once
we're divorced‑'
'And if I refuse,' he overrode her grimly. 'If I refuse to give you a divorce, what then?'
'You couldn't do that, Rachid,' she said quietly, avoiding his eyes. 'In England it's possible to get a divorce without the consent of both parties‑'
'In Abarein you would still be my wife.'
'That would be foolish, Rachid!' She looked at him now, finding refuge in impatience. 'You know perfectly well your father will welcome this solution. He'll waste no time in finding you another wife‑'
'I do not want another wife,' retorted Rachid roughly. 'I want you!'
'No‑' Abby recoiled from the passion in his eyes. 'Rachid, you're not being reasonable‑'
'I do not feel reasonable!' he grated thickly, his hands clenching on his knees.
His face was very pale now, and there were beads of perspiration standing on his forehead, that gave his skin an unhealthy sheen. Abby guessed that the strain of their altercation was draining his strength, but although compassion urged her to reassure him, the small grip she still had on common sense argued the illogicality of giving in to him, just because he was not well.
'Is there something I can do?' she offered, feeling obliged to say something. 'Is there anything I can get you?'
'You know what I want,' he said savagely, levering himself up from the cushions, but even as he spoke his gaze seemed to falter. One second he was looking at her with smouldering animosity, and the next a curiously glazed expression had taken its place. 'You know what I want,' he repeated, in an odd monotone, and then his eyes closed completely, and his body sagged.
Abby was shocked. Just for a moment —a fleeting moment—she wondered if he might be fooling her, but one touch of his icy flesh assured her that this was not so. He had lost consciousness, and she hadn't the faintest idea what to do.•
Getting to her feet, she looked round desperately for the bell. Karim couldn't be far away, she thought with relief, and then turned back to the couch, when Rachid started to speak again.
