Desert Wedding

Pushing open the door, he gestured for Georgia and Nathan to go ahead, and he followed, dropping his various packages onto the hall floor before going into the main room of the tiny flat. ‘I don’t know quite what to suggest.’ A hand was rasped over a chin much in need of a shave. ‘I’ve been travelling for thirty-six hours and my brain isn’t functioning that well. The main problem is that Angie is due in a day or so. We split up so she could have an extra day with an elderly aunt and—’

‘Look—’ Nathan Trehearn was clearly used to taking control, even, it seemed, where he had no immediate interest ‘—above all you need to grab some sleep. Why don’t you—’ he turned to Georgia ‘—collect your things and take them upstairs while we try to think of a plan? I can ring around one or two people—’

‘But...’ Her whole inclination was to argue, to protest that she had paid four weeks’ fairly high rent for the flat, but the sight of Pete trying to keep his eyes open, trying to stifle his yawns made her understand the futility of doing so. ‘Well... I’m not sure I want to—’

‘No one wants to.’ His tone was impatient, certainly; the glitter in his eyes was saying, I don’t want to be involved in other people’s problems. ‘But it is a situation which presents certain difficulties, don’t you agree? I doubt if you’d like to spend the night here.’ He indicated the four-foot-wide settee. ‘And I’m sure Pete fancies it even less after travelling halfway round the world. So, go on...pack up your things and we’ll work something out.’

She glared. Anyone would think that she was the cause of the misunderstanding rather than its victim, but on the other hand...there was no way her five-foot-ten frame would fit into that sofa. So she had little choice but to go along with his suggestion. It was becoming a habit—one she didn’t like!

‘Oh...very well.’ She knew that she was sounding ungracious, but as she pulled shirts and dresses from hangers, folded them carelessly into cases, she simmered with quiet rage.

Going back and forward to the bathroom to pick up her toiletries, she could catch the murmur of voices, one rather dominant—well, of course—and then, her packing completed, she began to pull the largest case into the hall, only to find that that was taken out of her hands as well. And a moment later, with the sound of Pete’s apologies and the sight of his undisguised relief fresh in her mind, she and Nathan were heading back upstairs.

‘Damn. Damn. Damn.’ Inside the penthouse, Georgia could control her fury no longer, and didn’t even try. ‘That’s right. Get it off your chest. You’ve every right to be angry.’

‘You surprise me. Downstairs it seemed I was the one without rights. He was the one with all the cards though why should I be surprised?’ She was allowing her anger full rein. ‘In a country like this only men have rights. Even the car is solely for the benefit of the male!’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ His mildness was an affront. ‘I did bring you home this afternoon.’

‘No, you didn’t.’ She raked a distracted hand through her hair. ‘You came home, I...’ Her voice wobbled. ‘I just...’

‘Don’t get upset.’ Frowning, he came a step closer. ‘Don’t worry. There’s no great problem. You can stay here as long as you like.’

‘Here?’ Her eyes flew wide; she stared up and backed away. ‘But... I’ve no intention of staying here. You said you would ring round some friends.’

‘You’re right. I did have something else in mind, but on reflection... There’s masses of room; you noticed that for yourself. Why, just behind you is a self-contained suite.’

‘No, I don’t want to. Besides...how can I?’ Humiliation tore at her; twice in as many hours this man had seen her humbled. ‘I would have been better staying down there.’

‘Hardly. As you’ve already worked out for yourself, four of the lower apartments would fit into this one.’

‘I’ll try for a hotel; there must be plenty of places.’

‘Raqat isn’t Riyadh or Amman. There are only a few western-style hotels in the sheikhdom-most of them booked up in advance and very expensive.’

‘Then I’ll fly home!’ An idle threat, for it was the last thing she wanted to do.

‘That would be a pity.’ He smiled, so persuasively that Georgia was diverted and began to revise her earlier idea that Nathan wasn’t particularly good-looking. He had the most entrancing smile! The unusual eyes sparkled mischievously. ‘As well as being difficult. Flights are usually booked well in advance too.’

She spoke through gritted teeth. ‘I’m beginning to wonder what on earth I’m doing here, and if I’ll ever escape!’

‘As far as the first goes, you might remember it was a question I asked you earlier and which made you head for the door.’

‘Really.’ A totally inadequate reply, and, to compensate, her tone was heavy with sarcasm.

‘And secondly,’ Nathan went on, as if she hadn’t interrupted, ‘Stay. Then you might find you’ve no desire to.’ Then, taking pity on her puzzled expression, he added, ‘To escape.’

‘That I very much doubt.’

‘Well, in the meantime, why not take up my earlier proposition?’

‘Proposition?’ Georgia was twitchy, nervous as a faun.

‘I suggested we go out to dinner so you could continue your life story. I’m repeating the suggestion.’

Staring up at him suspiciously, she had to subdue an infantile inclination to giggle. ‘Do I have a choice?’

‘Right now, I’d say not much, but as far as it goes it doesn’t seem an unreasonable suggestion. Look.’ He took a step past her and opened a door which she could see led into another hallway, and she followed him into a spacious bedroom, infinitely more glamorous than the one she had been using downstairs. ‘You can use this—bathroom over there, by the way—for...well, as long as you care to stay.’

‘As long as that, eh? You sound just like the devil: tempting.’

‘No strings.’ Again grinning, he opened his hands.

‘All right. Thank you.’

‘Good’ Then he became businesslike, went out, and returned with her cases, which he slung onto the rack in the hallway. ‘If you want any help, ring this—’ he indicated a bell pull ‘—and Enna, Ismail’s wife will come. In the meantime I’m sure you’d like some tea. I’ll get her to bring some for you.’

‘Thank you.’ All at once she was exhausted, had lost any inclination to struggle against her immediate fate. Her sole concern now was to lie down on one of the beds and to sleep.

‘We’ll leave here about nine if that suits you and...’ his hesitation was momentary ‘...I’ll have a proposal to put to you.’

Nathan was gone before the last words registered. Georgia swung round as the door closed quietly, but lacked the energy to pursue him for clarification. Instead, she looked about the room—at the two double beds covered in pale grey brocade, the marble floors, veined in palest pink, with that same colour hinted at in the diaphanous hangings at the windows, and the mirrored cupboards covering one wall and adding to the impression of space. There were touches of pink in the lamps too, and in the chaise longue covered in silk. She sighed, partly in pleasure, then went forward and sank onto the stool in front of the dressing table.

The day had been endless. Given the fact that she’d woken up still suffering the vague aftermath of that tummy bug—now thankfully gone—followed by the fiasco at the club and then the indignity of losing her accommodation, she would hardly have been surprised to find that she had aged ten years, but, on the contrary, a critical glance in the mirror confirmed that she looked remarkably unchanged.

She laid the back of her hand against her cheek, smoothing the firm skin to which the climate had given a peachy glow. It seemed to enhance her green eyes and bring highlights to the dark blonde hair.

Again she sighed, this time from sheer dejection. To think that she had come all this way to try to get her life back in order and here she was apparently having exchanged one set of problems for another.

Raising her arms, she lifted the amber beads over her head and dropped them onto the dressing table. Another sideways look in the mirror confirmed that her cotton lawn dress still looked fairly fresh, even if it felt a little damp. The softly gathered lines suited her tall, slender figure and...yes, she was still recognisable as the elegant Miss Georgia, who had been assistant designer to the well-known Jordan Severs. And—the unwelcome thought almost brought tears to her eyes-very nearly his lover.

If it hadn’t been for the chance telephone call which had revealed the presence of his wife and family, she would at this very moment have been sharing a bed with him on some romantic hideaway Caribbean island, and...

A tap at the door made her reach for the just-discarded dress and hold it protectively in front of her, then she sighed in relief as she saw the maid skimming across the floor with the tea-tray. She thanked the woman, who returned her smile shyly and left the room while Georgia reached eagerly for the teapot.

Twenty minutes later, freshly showered, she lay drowsing on the oh, so comfortable bed, until a thought flashed disturbingly into her mind—one startling enough to take her into a semi-sitting position, supported on her elbows and staring into the mid-distance. Then, after a moment’s frowning contemplation, she subsided, a faint smile on her mouth.

A proposition to put to her. Was that what Nathan Trehearn had said? Or had it been a proposal? Well, he would soon see that she was expert at deflecting propositions; she had weakened only once, and that experience with Jordan had honed her skill to razor sharpness. So, unless his idea had something in it for her, he would find that he was wasting his time.

She snuggled down, her cheek burrowing into the cool softness of the pillow, and no longer tried to fight the waves of delicious drowsiness washing over her. A ‘proposal’—that had been the word, but she was fairly certain marriage was the last thing he had in mind. She smiled to herself at the very notion. And that was just as well, for she had no interest in any sort of commitment permanent or temporary; Jordan had cured her of any inclination in that direction for a very long time.

That said, the two men could hardly be more different—Jordan, with his shoulder-length mane of almost white hair, and this other, so very crisp and clean and conventional. Nathan’s very difference implied a certain degree of safety, so long as the present situation continued.

Yes, that was a reassuring thought. Georgia wriggled slightly in the supreme comfort of the large bed. Until now, she had always enjoyed the company of the slightly Bohemian type of which Jordan was a striking example. She was certain that his flamboyant temperament had had a deal to do with the immediate attraction she had felt. Much of it, as she had already guessed, was sheer affectation, but it had without doubt added to the aura of glamour with which he surrounded himself.

In fact, now that she was out of it she could assess things so much more dispassionately. His habit of surrounding himself with tall, good-looking young women contributed to the public man, whereas Nat Trehearn.. it was impossible to imagine him descending to such theatrical tricks. She smiled to herself at the very idea.

But it was strange—her eyes flicked open for a moment—she didn’t even know what he did for a living. Strange, strange and passing strange... Here she was, in this house, alone with the man except for a pair of Arab servants—a man whom she had met just a few hours earlier. And the only thing she knew about him was his name.

Slowly, gently, her eyelids drooped, her breathing lengthened and she slept.

CHAPTER TWO

GETTING ready later in the evening, Georgia abandoned reticence, for some inexplicable reason chose to wear one of her more original outfits—the wide trousers which might, until she moved, have been a skirt.

Sheer silk organza, they drifted about her, giving tantalising glimpses of long, slender legs. Their colour—deep sea-green, a shade or two darker than her eyes—was one that she found irresistible, especially when scattered with cream polka dots. The tunic top, in the same silk but without the spots, had tiny puff sleeves with rich cream embroidery outlining the plain round neck.

It was all perfectly modest and restrained, but at the same time, standing in front of the long mirrors, she felt a qualm as she recognised the extremely potent image that she was seeing. It was as if—and this could not have been further from the truth—she were going out on a proper date, with a man she wanted to attract, for heaven’s sake.

Perhaps if she had taken less care with her make-up...only someone who knew nothing about it would imagine that it was casual and understated—that was exactly where the skill lay. Her eyes were emphasised with grey-green shadow, long, carefully curled lashes gave a romantic, luminous look, blusher merely touched the high cheekbones, and lips were barely brushed with a soft sheen.

But possibly it was hair which made the most positive statement, for, after washing it and treating it to an extravagant amount of conditioner, she had decided, after much trial and error, on a plait, which now hung over one shoulder and for some reason looked devastating. Hard to explain why. Was it the contrast between the sophistication of her outfit and the schoolgirl hairdo which gave it such appeal? Perhaps.

Perfume. Of course. She had always loved it. Turning, she picked up the bottle from the dressing table but, as she pressed the atomiser quite suddenly she panicked. This was all wrong; she wasn’t going out on a romantic date, and it was certainly the last message she wanted to send out to a man who had simply taken pity on her.

Perhaps the wisest thing would be a quick change into a simple skirt and blouse—but no... someone was at the bedroom door. Her heart started to hammer, but it was Enna with the message, ‘Master is waiting.’

‘Thank you, Enna.’ So what if she looked good? she thought. She slipped her feet into high-heeled mules, picked up her handbag and did a final check in the glass. She had always—at least, mostly—dressed to please Georgia Maitland, and this was not the moment to change the habits of a lifetime. She smiled rather grimly at her reflection and went to join ‘master’ in the hall.

And there was little doubt that Nathan, handsome or not—she still reserved judgement on that—was the kind of man who would attract attention. It had a great deal to do with his height, plus his width of shoulder. Men of his shape—powerful, slim-hipped—always pleased aesthetically, and there were other aspects that she could also approve. He was wearing dark trousers, white shirt, a tie in maroon with blue stripes and, over his shoulder, hooked on one forefinger, a lightweight dark jacket. Impeccable and...surprisingly attractive.

But was her appreciation of the more conventional style simply a reflection of her anger with Jordan...? A faint whiff of some masculine cologne distracted her and found an echo in his first remark.

‘Ah, you smell nice.’

‘Thank you.’ Not a word about her appearance. Not that she’d looked for any—didn’t want it, for heaven’s sake.

There was no conversation as they dropped to ground lift in the lift, but she was very aware of him—aware in the curious little prickle at the nape of her neck, in the slightly increased beat of her pulse. And there was little conversation in the car as they negotiated busy streets, then turned into a quieter area, through old narrow lanes which criss-crossed the ancient city, driving at last through an elaborate arched gateway, along a drive and into what appeared to have been the garden of a villa which now was a smart restaurant with tables and chairs set out under a canopy of vines and fragrant climbing plants.

‘How wonderful.’ She looked round with appreciation as Nathan held open the car door for her to step outside.

‘I thought you would like it. There’s quite a large garden. Let me show you round before we eat.’

Again his hand was on her elbow, guiding her along the path which meandered through a small shrubbery into a formal walled garden with a large fountain spilling water into a lily pond. Here, when she sat on the edge and trailed her fingers in the cool water, a brilliantly coloured fish came up and nibbled her fingers in its search for titbits.

‘Ouch.’ She smiled. ‘I came here to eat, not to be eaten.’

‘They always live in hope, but feeding the fish is not encouraged; it shortens their lives if they’re overfed. But I can see you’re feeling hungry so...’ They were walking round the side of the large, elegant villa; through open windows they could see diners inside. There was an air of wealth and opulence which Georgia supposed was a reflection of the recently arrived oil riches. ‘This is the main restaurant, as you can see, but if you prefer we can eat outside in the garden...’

‘Oh, outside! Please!’ Her appealing upward glance failed to register his changed expression, missed the way his eyes lingered on her animated features as she looked around. ‘Please,’ she repeated, this time smiling up at him, and was gratified by a slow smile in response.

‘Of course.’ His hand touched her elbow as they followed the waiter. ‘It’s what I prefer myself.’

‘Mmm. Perfect.’ She put her handbag onto the table and took the chair offered by the waiter, while her companion sat opposite. ‘How can anyone bear to be inside on a night like this and in such a setting?’

‘I prefer it to the more westernised places, though there have been lots of those since the oil came. But here you at least get the impression of reaching out to the old Raqat, brushing against the ancient culture.’ Menus appeared and he waited a moment while she opened hers. ‘I hope you’re hungry. Portions tend to be on the generous side.’

‘I’m starving.’ She forgot to be inhibited. ‘It’s the first time since I arrived. I picked up some bug on the flight out and I just haven’t felt like eating.’ Realising what she was saying, she felt embarrassed, coloured up and flicked a glance at him to see if he had noticed, and of course he had. An amused eyebrow was raised.

‘Ah?’ A short sound could speak volumes.

‘It was nothing much really, but I was afraid to risk anything much beyond an omelette.’

‘I’m glad you’re past that stage now. Maybe best to avoid anything too spicy, though. Couscous can be very easy to eat and comforting. A Scotsman I know says it has the same beneficial effects as porridge. And some of the lamb dishes are very good.’

‘Then I shall trust you to choose for me, Mr...’ She paused, feeling foolish that in these informal times she hadn’t got round to using his name directly. ‘Help!’ Best to make a joke of it. ‘I don’t know what I should call you.’

Because he was busy with the waiter he made no immediate reply, but when they were alone again his eyes sparkled. ‘For my part, I’ve no intention of calling you anything but Georgia. And my friends call me Nat.’

‘Nat,’ she repeated reflectively. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever known a Nat before. Well, thank you for bringing me; it’s a magical place.’ She sat back in the chair, turning her face up so that she could see through the trellis to the sky. ‘Why—why is the sky so different here? Millions of stars on a backdrop of black velvet.’

‘That’s why you came, isn’t it? You were curious about the desert.’

‘Yes, of course. At least, one of the reasons...’ her voice faded.

‘And the others?’ Nat looked up to nod at the waiter who had filled their glasses, then looked enquiringly at her when the man had withdrawn.

‘Don’t let us bother about that.’ Adopting her most consciously seductive smile, Georgia leaned her elbows on the table and took the glass to her mouth. ‘Mmm, delicious. I’m sure it would be much more interesting, even intriguing to know what you’re doing here.’

‘That—’ his eyes were intent on hers as he leaned forward, his manner relaxed and amused ‘—I contradict completely. But... I’m quite happy to tell you anything you want to know.’

‘Just what I said.’

‘Ah. Just that?’ His tone implied disappointment. ‘Then, by profession I’m a marine biologist, and by chance, when we were both at Cambridge, I got to know the present Sheikh of Raqat. He’s a very liberal, westernised ruler, in spite of your comments which suggest otherwise.’

‘Women drivers?’ she queried, eyes wide with assumed innocence.

‘Of course, he has to move slowly—religious attitudes are deeply ingrained. And I suggest—merely suggest—that many western men might have some sympathy—’

‘Don’t say it!’

‘All right.’ Now he was grinning. ‘Provided you don’t wave the feminist flag too wildly. It’s neither the time nor the place.’

‘It’s not exactly wild to want to drive yourself in your own car!’ With an effort she damped down her excitement, which was more than likely the effect of the alcohol on her brain... ‘But please carry on.’

‘Thank you.’ Grey eyes glittering with laughter seemed to add to her exhilaration; there was a challenging encouragement in them which she must ignore. ‘As I was saying, a liberal regime operates here, and has done since oil was discovered.

‘You probably know it is a fairly limited field so far; it won’t make the sheikhdom enormously rich, but it will make a difference to the people. You can see the benefits even now. But the Sheikh is desperately anxious that the wildlife, especially the marine life in the Red Sea, should not be harmed. So, he contacted me. I took a two-year break from teaching at Princeton to come out here and draw up a plan, give some guidance on a long-term strategy. As I told you, I’m three-quarters through the project now.’

‘Oh.’ Georgia hadn’t come close to identifying Nathan’s profession, hadn’t once thought of him as an academic. ‘It must be fascinating.’

‘And exciting,’ he added, and she noticed how his manner had changed from slightly laid back to animated. ‘I’ve done a lot of diving but I’ve never seen a reef with such a variety, such an exciting range of life as the one just to the south of the port. Not even the Australian reefs can compare, and it would be a global tragedy if that breathtaking world should be damaged.’ He paused. ‘Have you done any diving?’

‘A little.’ The words were out before she thought to monitor them. She had no wish to let him know that she had belonged to a college subaqua team—mainly due to the presence of the man she had been dating then. ‘But, it was a long time ago, and I’ve lost—’

‘You can’t lose the ability; it’s like riding a bike. Besides, it can’t be that long ago.’ By now the food had arrived, and she began to fork up the grainy couscous. ‘You’re not old enough.’

‘Quite old enough.’ Georgia had always mistrusted insincere compliments and it was time to change the subject. ‘Mmm, this is delicious.’

‘I’ve always liked it. Some of the food is not for the faint-hearted but you can graduate to that in due course. Now you can tell me your real reason for coming to Raqat. The bit about the desert and stars won’t wash.’

What point was there in being coy? she thought. Besides, it might not hurt to talk about it. ‘The reason, which I’m sure you’ve guessed, is that I made a complete fool of myself over a man.’

Nat’s hand came out, covered hers fleetingly, not giving her time to shrug him off, but it would have been mere pretence to deny the comfort that she found in his gesture. ‘That, Georgia, I find hard to believe. Unless he—’

‘True, nevertheless,’ she cut in before he could say more, then she applied herself to her food.

‘I think there must be much more to it, but I shan’t probe further.’

‘There isn’t a lot to say about it, simply that I realised in time what was happening and got out as quickly as I could, but...’ With her fork she traced some spirals on the couscous while she struggled with the painful memories.

‘But?’ he prompted, cutting through her musings, giving her the strength to shrug and smile. She even felt and enjoyed the movement of her silk tunic against her skin as she did so—such an...arousing experience...