Castles Of Sand

‘No!’ Ashley’s response was the same, and now he did turn, slowly, to face her.

‘You will not change your mind?’ he enquired, his face grim, and she shook her head. ‘Very well, then. I will withdraw Hussein from the school.’

‘Why? Ashley took an involuntary step towards him, her bewilderment plain. ‘Why? I’ve resigned—Malcolm told you that. What more do you want?’

‘Malcolm?’ Alain’s dark brows arched interrogatively. ‘Who is—Malcolm?’

‘Malcolm Henley,’ exclaimed Ashley impatiently. ‘Mr Henley, the headmaster.’

Alain’s mouth tightened. ‘It would appear you know him better than I thought,’ he said accusingly. ‘He is your—friend, perhaps. Your—lover?’

Ashley’s face flamed. ‘No! That is—Malcolm is a friend, yes.’ And then, realising she was stammering like a schoolgirl, she added fiercely: ‘It’s no business of yours what our relationship is.’

Alain stiffened. ‘Then he is your lover. And this is why you do not wish to leave London.’

‘No!’ Ashley didn’t know why she felt the need to defend herself, but she did. ‘I simply don’t want to leave my home, this apartment; and—and all my friends.’

Alain breathed deeply. ‘Then I have no choice.’

‘Why not?’ Ashley linked her fingers together as an idea occurred to her. ‘Are you afraid I’ll try to see—to see him? To identify myself to him?’

Alain bent his head. ‘The situation is hypothetical. I will not leave him here.’

‘Don’t you trust me, Alain?’ she exclaimed, and he lifted his head to look at her.

‘Is there any reason why I should?’ he retorted bleakly, and a small gasp of pain escaped her.

‘Yes,’ she retorted fiercely. ‘Yes. I—I’ve never lied to you—–’

‘We will not go into that,’ he interrupted her harshly. ‘Lies, deceptions, call it what you will, I have no time to concern myself with such things. They are over, in the past, and the past is dead.’

‘No. No, it’s not.’ Ashley was indignant. ‘You can’t say these things to me and expect no retaliation. And why shouldn’t I see my son? Even divorced women have such rights.’

‘Not in my country,’ retorted Alain shortly, raising one hand to massage the back of his neck, as if he was tense too. ‘Ashley, why can you not be reasonable? You need another post. I am offering you one. According to your—friend Henley, you will not find it easy to take up another appointment at this time.’

Ashley faltered. ‘What did you say to him? What did you tell him?’

Alain shrugged. ‘Only that I was withdrawing Hussein from the school.’

‘Nothing else?’

His expression grew remote. ‘You think I would discuss my private affairs with a stranger?’

Ashley shook her head. ‘Then how did you find out I was leaving?’

Alain frowned. ‘It was Henley. He made the point that perhaps I was unhappy that Hussein’s form tutor was to be a woman, and went on to explain that you had handed in your resignation. Naturally, I agreed to give the matter further consideration.’

‘I see.’ Ashley nodded, but now Alain looked wary.

‘Why?’ he pressed her. Then, with a darkening anger: ‘Does Henley know of this matter? You cannot have told him that Hussein is your son!’

He was incensed, and she felt a bitter sense of satisfaction. ‘Why not?’ she taunted. ‘I told you, Malcolm is a friend, as well as my superior.’

‘Diable!’ Alain crossed the floor towards her in two savage strides. ‘You are telling me this man is familiar with our private affairs? That you have confided our most personal relationships to him?’

Ashley quivered. ‘He only knows that—that Andrew is my son—–’

‘Only!’ Alain swore angrily. ‘Nom de Dieu! The situation gets worse. You had no right to betray such information.’

‘Betray?’ Ashley gazed up at him, noticing almost inconsequently the erratic flutter of the pulse that marked his jawline. ‘Alain, you can’t deny me the right to acknowledge my son. Besides,’ she moistened her lips, ‘how else could I have resigned at the beginning of term? What excuse could I give? Malcolm would have suspected—–’

‘Malcolm! Malcolm! I begin to grow tired of this man’s name,’ declared Alain violently, his blue eyes searching her face with angry intensity. ‘So—it is over. It is finished. I will take Hussein back to Khadesh!’

‘No—–’

Ashley’s involuntary plea was accompanied by her hand on his arm, gripping the taut muscle she could feel through the expensive cloth of his sleeve. It was more than seven years since she had touched Alain, more than seven years since he had arrived at the hospital in Paddington and taken away the only tangible proof of her brief, but brutal, association with the Gauthier family. But she was appealing to him now, raising herself on her toes to bring her face nearer to his, unconsciously by her actions drawing his attention to the agitated swell of her breasts, outlined against the thin material of her smock.

‘Ashley!’ he grated, and when he spoke, his voice was deepened by some savage emotion he was trying hard to contain. ‘In the name of all the saints, Ashley, get away from me, before I am compelled to deliver the punishment I should have administered years ago!’

‘What punishment?’ Ashley’s lips parted, but she did not move away from him. It was a curious anomaly, but suddenly she sensed that for all his anger and his threats of violence, he was not as indifferent to her as he would like her to believe. Was it possible? she asked herself incredulously. After all these years, was it conceivable that he had some regrets for the pain and misunderstandings of the past? But no! That was not like Alain. He had always been so controlled, so positive, so remote from the weaknesses of the flesh. Except when he had been in her arms, a small voice reminded her wickedly, and an insane desire to find out if she was right gripped her. With a fast-beating heart she allowed her other hand to rest against his chest, in the hollow of the vee where the fastening of his waistcoat began, and deliberately spread her fingers against the fine silk of his shirt.

‘Ashley!’ His free hand caught her tormenting fingers, crushing them within the strength of his as he impaled her with an impassioned glare. ‘Do not try your feminine wiles on me! That was over long ago, and you would do well to remember that you are my brother’s widow!’

‘I haven’t forgotten it,’ she protested huskily, aware of the convulsive shudder that had passed through him before he captured her fingers in his. ‘Perhaps—perhaps it is yourself you have to convince!’

‘No!’ His jaws were clamped together, and he spoke through his teeth, but Ashley had aroused him, and she was not prepared to lose her advantage.

‘He’s my son, Alain,’ she breathed, moving closer to him, so that the pointed tips of her breasts actually brushed against the hand imprisoning hers. ‘Don’t take him away again—please! I promise I won’t tell him who I am. I only want to see him again, to look at him, maybe speak with him—–’

‘It is not possible!’

The words were torn from him, and looking up into his dark face, Ashley knew a moment’s fear for what she was provoking. She had loved this man, she remembered painfully, she had cared for him with every fibre of her being. Even after all that had happened, could she be sure she could control her feelings, and use them to defeat him?

Her breath fanned his chin, warm and sweet, mingling with the scent of her body. Her agitation had brought a film of perspiration over her skin, and its odour was musky and sensual. The smock was loose and revealing, something casual, to be worn around the flat, and the baggy pants hinted at the swell of her hips and the long slender length of her legs. She knew Alain was looking at her, absorbing her body’s freedom, and after the enveloping garments worn by the women in his own country she must seem the epitome of liberated womanhood.

‘This has got to stop!’ he ordered vehemently, but his intention to push her away from him was foiled by Ashley slipping her arms around his neck. It brought her close against him, her forehead on a level with his lips, and she looked up at him through her lashes, her green eyes soft and appealing.

‘Alain,’ she breathed, and his control snapped. His hands at her waist were hard and ungentle, jerking her against him with urgent compulsion. His mouth too was hot and aggressive, searing her lips with a brutal tempestuous possession that had nothing of love in it.

‘Is this what you want, Ashley?’ he demanded, against her mouth, almost suffocating her with the burning heat of his breath. ‘Do you want to be treated the way my father’s ancestors treated their women? Without honour or respect?’ Yet, in spite of his anger, she sensed the desperation in his voice and the hungry passion beneath his cruel strength.

‘Is that what you want, Alain?’ she asked, turning his words back on him, as his teeth fastened on the tender lobe of her ear, and he bit it viciously. She winced, but she did not draw away, as she added unevenly: ‘Do you enjoy inflicting pain?’

‘Yes,’ he told her, in a raw anguished tone, and then again: ‘No! Damn you, no!’ as her hands turned his face to hers, and she put her mouth next to his. His lips parted almost involuntarily, and her mouth opened to accommodate his. She welcomed his intimate invasion, the sensuous brush of passion, that was so much more devastating than brute force. With a little moan of pleasure, that was by no means contrived, she moulded herself against him, and his hands probed beneath the smock to find the smooth skin of her back.

It was strange how time rolled back under the hungry pressure of his lips. Without her being aware of it, her response changed from the controlled reaction to a planned set of circumstances, to an eager and willing consummation of his possession. She pressed herself against him, uncaring when her fingernails raked the hair at the nape of his neck.

‘Ashley!’ Alain’s strangled voice came to her as if from a distance, and at first she didn’t want to pay any attention to it. But when he dragged his mouth from hers and lifted his head, she was forced to acknowledge that the situation was rapidly slipping from her grasp. With a little shiver she lowered her toes to the floor, and forced herself to look up at him questioningly as he strove for his own sanity. ‘Ashley—for God’s sake—–’

‘You wanted to touch me,’ she said simply, and his hands dropped abruptly to his sides.

‘You are a madness—and a temptation,’ he retorted, in a shaken tone. ‘Are you wearing anything under—under that outfit?’

‘Not much,’ she conceded huskily, realising she had little time left to make any headway. ‘Do you want to see?’

‘No!’ Alain turned aside from her, combing somewhat unsteady fingers through his thick dark hair. ‘I have to go. There—are things I have to do.’

‘Will I see you again?’ she enquired softly, and he gave her a brooding stare.

‘It is unlikely. I intend to return to Khadesh at the end of the week.’ He paused. ‘I shall be taking Hussein with me.’

It was a bitter blow, but not unexpected. Nevertheless, she still had one more card to play, a card which had only just occurred to her.

‘And—his education?’ she asked. ‘What about that?’

‘I will make other arrangements,’ declared Alain curtly, rapidly recovering his composure. ‘That need not concern you—–’

‘Oh, but it does,’ she contradicted him softly. ‘You see, I think he might benefit from private tuition.’

‘Private tuition?’ Alain frowned. ‘Well—perhaps.’

‘And I can supply it,’ inserted Ashley quietly.

‘What!’ Alain was incredulous at first, and then he gave a harsh laugh. ‘You are not serious!’

‘Oh, but I am.’ Ashley held up her head. ‘And unless you want me to create a great deal of unpleasantness, you should agree with me.’

Alain stared at her. ‘Are you threatening me, Ashley?’

Ashley’s skin prickled at the sudden malevolence of his gaze. Only rarely did Alain assume the arrogant hawklike countenance of his father’s forebears, those wild and lawless Arab tribesmen who for centuries had lived like lords in their desert kingdom. But right now he possessed all their savage ruthlessness and hauteur, and she faltered for a moment on the brink of submission.

But then the realisation of what she was fighting for strengthened her will, and facing him bravely she said: ‘And if I am?’

Alain speared her with his scorching glare. ‘And how do you propose to create this unpleasantness?’

Ashley’s lips parted. ‘I—I—–’ she faltered again, and then, as his lips curled contemptuously, she burst out: ‘The—the authorities. I could go to the authorities. I could tell them how you intimidated me, how you made me hand my baby over to you—–’

‘You would not do such a thing!’ Alain menaced her, but she held her ground.

‘I would. Yes, I would.’ She fought free of his mesmerising stare. ‘And they’d listen to me, too—you know they would. You could face court proceedings, particularly if I said you threatened me—–’

‘Be silent!’ Alain was furious. ‘You must be crazy if you imagine I’ll let you blackmail me!’

Ashley backed away from him. ‘Not crazy, just desperate,’ she spat at him resentfully. ‘And don’t think that’s all. There are other ways.’

‘I am sure there are.’ Alain’s eyes were dark and brooding now, their blueness overlaid by a film of frustration. ‘Nevertheless, you are insane if you think I will permit you to teach the boy. If that were so, what point would there be in my taking him away from the school?’

‘Private tutoring is different,’ Ashley declared, touching her bruised lips with a nervous finger. ‘And—and you would be there to—to watch your—investment.’

Alain shook his head. ‘And for this—privilege, you will promise—what?’

‘Not to tell him who I am.’

‘And why should I believe you?’

‘Because I don’t tell lies,’ retorted Ashley forcefully. ‘I don’t. I never have—–’

‘Enough of that!’ Alain paced the floor in evident impatience. ‘And how can I be sure that once you have achieved this objective, you will not demand others?’

‘What others?’

‘Do not be naïve,’ he snapped. ‘You think to insinuate your way into his life by one means or another.’

Ashley licked her lips. ‘And are you going to let me?’

‘My father would never permit you to enter the palace.’

‘Your father need not know who I am. He’s never seen me.’ She paused. ‘Only you—and—and Hassan ever—–’

‘Enough!’ rasped Alain again, stopping his pacing to stare at her once more. ‘And if I still refuse?’

Ashley shrugged. ‘I—I’ll get to Andrew, somehow. And I’ll tell him everything. Everything!’

‘Knowing he would never forgive you for it?’ mocked Alain coldly.

‘What have I to lose?’ she retorted. Then: ‘Well? Will you do it?’

Alain’s mouth was a thin line. ‘I will have to think about it.’

‘For how long?’

‘I don’t know.’ He turned away abruptly. ‘Give me—time. I need time. Twenty-four hours at least.’

‘Very well.’ Ashley pulled open the door behind her. ‘You know where to find me.’

‘Oh, yes,’ he said bleakly, ‘I do indeed.’

And without another word he walked out the door.

CHAPTER THREE

ASHLEY’S elation lasted only so long as it took for Alain to get in the car that was waiting for him, and drive away. As the long black limousine bearing the coat of arms of Prince Ahmed of Khadesh disappeared round a bend in the road, she realised she had no idea where Alain was staying. He had gone, albeit promising to contact her again in twenty-four hours, but if he did not, if he chose to ignore her demands and leave the country, she had no way of stopping him.

Frustration engulfed her, and she sank down on to the couch with a little sound of helplessness. She had been a fool, a stupid fool, and even now Alain was probably exulting over the simple way he had thwarted her. But she had been so excited at the prospect of seeing her son again, of getting to know him, and of having him get to know her, she had not considered the inevitable flaws in her reasoning. She should have known she could not succeed so easily. She should have suspected something was wrong when Alain did not waste time arguing with her.

Getting up from the couch again, she walked restlessly across the room. What should she do? What could she do? And if Alain chose to walk out on her, how was she ever to see Andrew again? Apart from anything else, she was still employed by the governors of the school, and it would be foolish to resign her position there if she had no other employment.

She pushed her fingers into her hair, holding them there as she acknowledged the hopelessness of her position. If only she had not gone into school that morning, she thought despairingly. If Alain had withdrawn Andrew’s name, she might never have known anything about it, and her life would not now be suffering the turmoil she was presently experiencing.

A tap at her door brought her round with a start, and almost tripping over herself she rushed to open it. A small, dumpy little woman, wrapped in a dressing gown and wearing carpet slippers, her hair coiled around a series of rollers, stood on the threshold, and Ashley expelled her breath unsteadily as her neighbour began to speak.

‘Did you want me, love?’ the little woman asked anxiously. ‘I was in the bath, but I thought I heard you shouting, and I came round as quickly as I could.’

‘Oh, Mrs Forrest.’ Ashley caught her lower lip between her teeth, feeling ashamed that she had disturbed her. ‘Er—no. No, I wasn’t trying to attract your attention. I—I had a visitor. What you heard was—was probably him going.’ She crossed her fingers.

‘Ah!’ Mrs Forrest nodded. ‘That would be it, I suppose.’ She smiled, patting her rollered head. ‘I must look quite a state.’ She chuckled. ‘And there was me thinking you’d been attacked!’

Ashley coloured. ‘I’m very grateful,’ she said, almost glad of the diversion. ‘Thank you.’

Mrs Forrest had turned away, but she glanced back now over her shoulder. ‘For what, dear?’

Ashley shrugged, a little awkwardly. ‘Well—for being there.’ She hunched her shoulders, pushing her hands into the pockets of her pants. ‘Thanks, anyway.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Mrs Forrest disappeared back into her flat with a wave of her hand, and with a sigh Ashley closed her door again, leaning back against it with a feeling of intense disillusionment. It had all gone wrong, hopelessly wrong, and her only consolation was the realisation that she had provoked Alain. He had not been able to deny his desire for her body, and although this was small comfort when he had been capable of walking away from her, given the same circumstances, she might be able to repeat her success. She squashed the uneasy recollection that she had been as. aroused by his lovemaking as he was. It was a sexual response, nothing more. Any woman, kissed by a man as virile and attractive as Alain Gauthier, would find it extremely difficult to keep a cool head in such circumstances, and in her case, the memories of the past kept intruding. Once she had succeeded in exorcising those painful images she would be able to control her own destiny again. She had loved him in those days. She did not love him now. But she would use him, in any way she could, if it meant she could be near her son.

Shaking her head, she moved away from the door. Was she really so determined about this? she asked herself with sudden uncertainty. Why, after all these years, was she even considering such a course of action? The answer was simple. It was as she had always known it would be. So long as her son was unknown to her, so long as she had no image of him in her mind, she could pretend he didn’t exist. But now she had seen him, he had smiled at her; and she would move heaven and earth to be near him again.

She was still trying to formulate some plan of action when the telephone rang. Picking up the receiver, she wondered if Alain was ringing to taunt her with her helplessness, but it was Malcolm Henley at the other end of the line.

‘Ashley? My dear, I just thought I’d tell you, your resignation will not be necessary.’

Ashley moistened her lips. ‘It won’t?’

‘No.’ Malcolm sounded pleased. ‘I’ve just had a telephone call from Gauthier—you know, your brother-in-law?’

‘Yes?’ Ashley’s hand trembled.

‘Yes.’ Malcolm paused, as if timing his announcement. ‘He’s asked me to withdraw Hussein’s name from the register. He’s changed his mind, apparently. He’s going to have the boy educated in Murad.’

Ashley drew an unsteady breath. ‘I see.’

‘Isn’t that good news?’ Malcolm was obviously disappointed at her response. ‘You don’t know this, but he actually came to see me this morning, bringing the boy with him. He’d read your name on the—–’

‘I know.’ Ashley was too disturbed to allow him to go through the whole rigmarole of telling her something she already knew.

‘You know?’ Malcolm sounded bewildered. ‘But how?’

‘Alain’s been here, too,’ she replied unwillingly. ‘He—well, I encountered them in school this morning, and he came here to offer me a private position, with some family in Egypt.’

‘I see.’ Malcolm was perturbed. ‘So you met the boy. How unfortun—–’ He broke off abruptly, then added crisply: ‘You told Gauthier you couldn’t take the job, didn’t you?’

Ashley opened her mouth to say yes, then closed it again. She had no intention of discussing her plans with Malcolm, and it might actually be simpler if he thought she was considering a post with some unknown Egyptian family. It would give her a breathing space.

‘I—I haven’t made up my mind yet,’ she said now, and heard Malcolm’s impatient intake of breath.

‘But if Gauthier is withdrawing—well, there’s no need for you to consider another job,’ he exclaimed. ‘I don’t know why he’s changed his mind, but he has. I did tell him that you’d resigned, and I thought he seemed satisfied, but now—this!’ He hesitated. ‘You—well, you didn’t say anything which might have influenced him, did you?’

Ashley was indignant. ‘Malcolm!’

‘It was only a thought. I’m sorry.’ He was apologetic. ‘But you must admit, it’s strange that he should back out—now.’

Ashley moved her shoulders. ‘Perhaps he’s decided to—employ a private tutor,’ she ventured, hardly daring to hope, but Malcolm’s diagnosis was not encouraging.

‘I think he’s decided there are too many temptations for a young boy growing up in this country,’ he remarked sourly. ‘You should know how strictly they cling to the old traditions. I’m more inclined to believe he’ll be sent to one of those military establishments when he’s older, where the discipline is more severe.’

Ashley could not prevent the involuntary cry of protest that escaped her then, and as if just realising he was speaking to the boy’s mother, Malcolm cursed his reckless tongue. ‘Of course, I don’t mean that the boy will suffer in any way from it,’ he declared hastily. ‘I may be entirely wrong.’ He sighed. ‘In any event, I’m sure his uncle will keep a careful eye upon him.’

‘I’m sure he will.’ Ashley’s tone was taut with suppressed emotion.

‘So—I’ll see you tomorrow, shall I?’ Malcolm suggested uncomfortably. ‘Nine o’clock, as usual.’

‘I don’t know.’ Ashley was confused, and Malcolm made a sound of impatience.

‘Oh, come along, Ashley! It’s not the end of the world, you know. I realise seeing the boy must have been a traumatic experience for you, but it’s over now. He’s going back to Murad, and there’s no earthly reason why you shouldn’t continue in your position here.’

Ashley could feel the tears pricking at her eyes again, and sniffed them back. ‘I—I don’t know what I shall do, Malcolm,’ she said, which was the truth. ‘Right now, I—I’m not feeling very well. I—I may take tomorrow off. It’s not necessary for me to be there, is it? School doesn’t really begin until the next day.’

‘No. No, but you know how hectic everything is at the start of the new year. Boys arriving from all over the place, beds to make and allocate, timetables to be explained—–’