Darker Side Of Desire

‘I suspect she was a plant who had been paid to leave him unattended. He is normally guarded at all times, but Raoul tells me that the girl insisted that I had said he was to eat in the dining-room. This is not true, and if it had not been for your quick actions…’

‘I thought we were both going to die,’ Claire admitted, shuddering herself.

‘And yet thinking that, you did not abandon Saud,’ the Sheikh commented watching her. ‘Raoul tells me that but for your quick thinking Saud would be dead.’

‘Were you… were you expecting something to happen?’ Claire asked, remembering the guns which had appeared as though by magic in the hands of the men in the dining-room.

The Sheikh shrugged fatalistically. ‘Not so much expecting as suspecting. There is a faction in our country that does not approve of our ties with the West. It is not always easy to know friend from foe and one must always be on one’s guard. Saud’s nursemaid is an example of how easy it is to be deceived. I myself am widowed and have no female relatives close enough to trust with the child.’ He suddenly looked tired and careworn. ‘But I must not burden you with our problems. I should like to reward you for…’

‘No…’ Claire spoke quickly and automatically, reiterating, ‘no… please, I would rather you did not. I simply acted instinctively.’ She looked down at the child now sleeping on her lap. ‘Is there someone who ‘can change and feed him?’ It seemed incredible to her that this child, who was apparently so important, should have no one to care properly for him.

‘I had hoped to find a nanny for him while we are here, but Raoul is opposed to it. He believes Saud would be better looked after by one of our own race.’ He smiled. ‘Perhaps because of his own dual blood, Raoul is more opposed to Saud having a foreign nanny than might otherwise be the case. He feels very deeply the differences which set him aside from his peers.’

What relationship did Raoul have with the baby on her lap, Claire wondered, but it was a question she could not ask, she had no desire to pry into the personal life of the man who had looked at her so coldly with those too-seeing green eyes. Had they registered her minute, betraying reaction to his proximity? The momentary weakness which had had nothing at all to do with her shock and had instead sprung from an entirely voluntary response to him as an intensely male man? It was humiliating to think that they might, especially when she had on more than one occasion seen the derisive dismissal of her as a woman in his eyes.

‘Er…’ She paused, seeing hesitation and embarrassment on the Sheikh’s face, intrigued because she sensed it wasn’t a habitual expression for him.

‘Saud’s room is through there.’ He indicated a communicating door. ‘Would it be trespassing too much to ask you to…?’

‘You want me to change and feed him?’ Claire supplemented, hiding a small smile.

‘We did not bring a large entourage; the boy’s nursemaid was to have been sufficient. I feared to leave him behind unprotected, but now… I think what happened this morning will prove to Raoul that we cannot entrust his care to anyone lightly. The girl who had charge of him came extremely highly-recommended, and yet it is plain that she was part of the plot to kill him.’

Remembering how the girl had lost her temper with the child, and looked so pointedly at her watch before she left the dining-room, Claire suspected that he was right.

The Sheikh was charming and as she allowed herself to be manoeuvred into taking Saud into his own bedroom to attend to his needs, she repressed a small smile. This was most definitely not what her godmother had had in mind for her stay in London.

The baby was supplied with every luxury imaginable, from toys to silk and satin clothes, but there seemed to be scant love in his young life, Claire thought pityingly as she first fed and then bathed him. He was not a difficult baby really, responding affectionately to her when she cuddled and held him. She was just towelling him dry, laughing as he lay gurgling on her lap, when the door opened. She tensed automatically, unable to blot out the mental image of men carrying guns and the high-pitched whine of bullets.

Cool green eyes surveyed her speculatively. ‘A very domesticated picture. What a shame that it is me and not Ahmed who is witnessing it. What are you hoping for with this touching display of maternalism, Miss Miles? More than a diamond bracelet, obviously.’

Claire winced, recognising that he had overheard her conversation with her godmother the previous night, and then anger replaced embarrassment as she recognised the calculated insult behind his words. He was implying that she was motivated by materialism. Her full pink lips tightened ominously, and for a moment she considered thrusting the still damp baby into his arms and letting him finish the task for himself. That would soon destroy his sardonic dignity. A small giggle bubbled up inside her as she pictured his immaculately suited figure dealing with the squirming baby.

‘Sheikh Ahmed asked if I would help, and I agreed,’ she said calmly, ‘but only because Saud was both wet and hungry, and too small yet to fend for himself. Sheikh Ahmed tells me that you are against his employing a European nanny for Saud.’

‘You have been exchanging confidences, haven’t you? What else did he tell you?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Liar. I’m sure knowing my uncle as I do that he also told you of my mixed blood, and now, no doubt, you are on fire with curiosity to know more.’

His arrogance provoked her into an instinctive anger. ‘On the contrary,’ she told him coldly, ‘I have no desire to know the slightest thing about you. Why should I?’ She finished buttoning Saud into clean rompers and got up, thrusting the baby towards him, a little surprised by how deftly he held the child, then swept out of the room before he could stop her, seething with fury, because he was right—she had been curious about him. Of course, he must be used to women finding him fascinating. That blend of East and West was a potent one, and he knew it, damn him!

She had always loathed arrogant, self-assured men, Claire reminded herself as she let the door slam behind her and hurried towards the lift, and if she had responded momentarily to the sheer male power of his body against her, it had been a reaction intensified by weakness and relief. After all, she would be a fool to think for one moment that those green eyes might burn with tenderness and passion for her, or that that hard, faintly cruel mouth might touch hers in need and hunger. A complete fool.

CHAPTER TWO

THERE was no reason for her to feel so dissatisfied. Her day had passed pleasantly enough, Claire told herself. She had visited the Tate to admire many old favourites, and then there had been a pleasant walk through the park. Now she was on her way back to the Dorchester to indulge herself with afternoon tea in the promenade room, so why should she feel this tiny feathering of restlessness that kept disturbing her? Perhaps it was because she was alone. She would write to Teddy, send him a postcard of the hotel. Thinking of Teddy reminded her of her ever-present worries about finding his school fees. Generous though her salary was, it couldn’t cover them. She would have to find a part-time job. By her reckoning, she could just about manage two more terms with what savings they had left, and the present term’s were paid.

‘Afternoon tea, madam?’ The waiter’s voice broke into her reverie, and when she nodded he showed her to a comfortable padded chair, the small table in front of her set for two.

It was just gone five o’clock, obviously a popular time for tea, because most of the tables were taken, and Claire amused herself as she waited for hers to be brought by studying her surroundings. The room itself was long and rectangular with several sets of doors leading off it which she knew led to the restaurants. Decorated in soft buttercup-yellow with the frieze picked out in gold, the decor was an attractive one. Marble columns soared up to the ceiling, and underfoot was a soft patterned carpet rather like an Aubusson. Voices rose and fell mingling with the chink of china cups and the clatter of cutlery against plates.

Nibbling her dainty sandwiches, Claire continued her scrutiny. Expensively and elegantly dressed men and women sat at the small tables, couples in the main, although there were some family groups. All at once she felt very alone, the food she was eating turning to sawdust in her mouth. Pushing away her plate, Claire got up unsteadily, the events of the morning catching up with her. The Head Porter handed her her key when she asked for it, and also an envelope bearing her name. Unable to recognise the handwriting, Claire frowned as she headed for the lift, the small mystery solved when she opened the envelope and realised that the letter was from Sheikh Ahmed.

The lift came. She was the sole passenger and started to read her letter as she was borne upwards. Barely able to take in its contents before the lift stopped, she hurried to her room, unlocking the door with nervous fingers, sinking down into the comfortable chair by the window before unfolding the heavy, expensive paper and reading through the note again.

The Sheikh wanted to see her to discuss something with her. But what? The note was almost deliberately evasive, full of gratitude for what she had done and yet really telling her nothing of the Sheikh’s purpose in writing to her. He would send someone to escort her to his suite, his note informed her. Obviously she wasn’t going to be allowed to refuse.

Repressing a sigh, Claire found the card she had bought for Teddy and started to write to him. The summer holidays were coming up and she already knew that Teddy had been invited to join a schoolfriend on his father’s yacht. She had been worrying about how she was going to pay for the clothes that he would need, but her godmother’s generous cheque had solved that problem. It would also enable her to give Teddy some money of his own to spend while he was away and she was just writing to him to this effect when she heard the sharp rap on her door. Guessing in advance that it would be one of Sheikh Ahmed’s armed men, she went to the door and opened it, suppressing a small stunned gasp of dismay when she realised he had sent Raoul.

‘I’ll just get my bag and my key,’ she told him, surprised to find that he was following her into her room. Her key and bag were on the far bed and as she picked them up she was astounded to discover that Raoul was openly reading the card she had been writing to Teddy.

‘Your lover?’ he questioned, without a hint of embarrassment at being discovered.

‘My relationship with Teddy is private,’ Claire responded furiously. From the first moment she had set eyes on him something about this man had antagonised her, and it was plain that he shared her antipathy. He was looking at her with something that bordered on acute dislike.

‘That will be something my uncle hasn’t bargained for,’ he murmured under his breath as he straightened up, but before Claire could question him further he was heading for the door, the small courtesy of opening it for her and then standing back so that she could precede him, drawing a thin, sardonic smile from his lips. ‘My mother used to say that the thing that made her fall in love with my father was his good manners. My countrymen…’

‘Believe in treating their women like possessions,’ Claire said unwisely. ‘No wonder your mother chose to marry a European.’

‘You prefer European males to Eastern?’ The dark eyebrows shot up. ‘Why is that, I wonder? Because you know it is easier to dominate them? Are you then a modern, liberated woman, Miss Miles, who believes herself equal or indeed superior to my sex? A woman who chooses her lovers as her grandmother might have done a new gown and discards them just as easily…’

Trying to hold on to her temper, Claire responded briefly, ‘And you? Am I to infer from what you have said that you prefer your women to be of a more biddable disposition; Muslim women, in fact, taught from the cradle to revere and worship the dominant male? How fortunate we both are that we can indulge our separate tastes without opposition.’

She had meant the words as a taunt, but had been totally unprepared for the look of dark, almost brooding anger that tightened every feature, his eyes almost black as they bored into puzzled grey ones.

‘You might be able to indulge your preferences, Miss Miles,’ he said at last, ‘I am less fortunate. Muslim fathers are careful where they bestow their daughters, and like any child of a dual-race marriage, I am totally accepted by neither. Indeed, if it were not for the good offices of my uncle Sheikh Ahmed, I doubt I would even have a country to call my own.’ He saw her expression and his face hardened further. ‘You might find the thought of a marriage between East and West a romantic concept, Miss Miles,’ he told her, correctly reading her thoughts, ‘but my mother soon discovered to her cost that my father had no intention of keeping the promises he made when they became man and wife. In the East at least a woman has the comfort of her family if she should be deserted or ill-treated by her husband, in the West… My father married my mother purely for her wealth. Once they were married and I was conceived, he devoted all his spare time to other women and gambling. My mother died shortly after I was born. The shame of her husband’s desertion was something she could no longer endure, and once my father discovered that he was not going to benefit from his marriage, he gave my uncle the option of either bringing me up himself or placing me in an orphanage.’

Why was he telling her this? Only this morning he had savaged her with the knife thrust of his contempt for merely betraying a brief curiosity, but now he was telling her the intimate details of his life, and in such a taut, bitter way that she guessed every word was a sharp thorn piercing an old wound. She couldn’t understand it.

They were borne upwards in the lift towards the Sheikh’s private suite. As before, the Sheikh was alone, his smile welcoming and she was sure sincere, as he waved her into a chair.

‘Please, sit down, Miss Miles,’ he glanced at his nephew as Claire obediently sank into a plush chair. ‘Has Raoul said anything to you of my purpose in asking you to join us?’

‘I have told her nothing. You know my views.’

‘But if she is agreeable you will…’

‘I will do whatever is needed to protect the child, you know that.’

Alarmed by the harsh tone of his voice and the undercurrents she could sense seething between the two men, Claire glanced from Raoul’s set, dark face to the Sheikh’s kinder, but no less resolute one.

‘You are alarming our guest, Raoul,’ he berated mildly ‘My dear, there is no need to be afraid. Indeed we are the ones to suffer that emotion lest you should…’ He broke off while Claire stared up at him in mystification. Neither of them struck her as men who would fear anything, especially Raoul. By his actions this morning he had proved that when it came to physical danger… She shuddered, suddenly over-taken by a vivid memory of the gunmen and the rapid sound of gunfire, the fear that had been pushed aside by the adrenalin-induced need to act now emerging to surge sickeningly through her veins. Only the knowledge that Raoul was watching her and would no doubt relish her weakness gave her the strength to suppress her feelings, her nerves as taut as fine wire as she waited for the Sheikh to continue.

‘I have a proposition to put to you, Miss Miles,’ he began quietly, and beneath the calm dignity of his manner Claire sensed a deep inner disquietude. ‘Indeed, it is only because I sense within you a warm and sympathetic personality that I am able to speak of this matter to you at all.’ He gave her a charming smile. ‘You might say that I am taking an unfair advantage of your good nature, and I’m afraid that is true. This morning you risked your own life to save that of my nephew…’

‘I acted entirely instinctively,’ Claire told him, a faint warm colour staining her cheekbones. If the Sheikh had brought her here to offer her another reward, she was going to refuse it. But surely a reward would not necessitate Raoul’s presence or be the cause of the uncertainty and agitation she sensed in the older man?

‘Perhaps, but nevertheless, your first instinct was to protect Saud, and I myself have observed your care of the child. You like children, Miss Miles?’

‘Yes, but…’ Her voice trailed off as her muddled thoughts clarified. Could the Sheikh be going to ask her to act as Saud’s nanny? ‘I could not look after him full-time if that is what you are about to suggest. I have a job already, and then…’ Then there was Teddy, but some inner caution made her say haltingly, ‘I have certain commitments…’

‘To your lover?’ Raoul suggested sardonically. ‘His should be the commitment to you, Miss Miles.’

‘There is a man already in your life?’ The Sheikh looked disturbed.

‘Yes…’

‘But you are not betrothed or married to him. There is no truly firm commitment?’

Her mouth had gone dry. Why hadn’t she simply explained that Teddy was her brother right from the start? How on earth was she going to extricate herself from her own half-truths now? Anger came to her rescue. What business was it of either of these men what her relationship with Teddy was?

‘Miss Miles and her lover are conducting a long-distance affair,’ Raoul supplemented cynically. ‘She was writing to him when I went to collect her.’

‘So… Then it is possible that you would be free to return with us to Omarah?’

‘As Saud’s nanny? I cannot. I am not trained… I…’

‘It is not as Saud’s nanny that my uncle requires your services, Miss Miles,’ Raoul cut in in a hatefully mocking voice, ‘but as his mother.’

‘His mother?’ The room seemed to whirl dizzily in front of her eyes, ‘but… but that is impossible.’

‘Biologically yes, but…’

‘What my nephew is trying to say, Miss Miles, is that in order to protect Saud it might be as well if we allowed those who instigated this morning’s attack to believe it succeeded. No… please hear me out,’ he begged when Claire would have interrupted. ‘No one apart from ourselves and my guards, whose loyalty I know I can depend on, know the truth. Those sent to kill my nephew have themselves been killed, but if we return to Omarah with Saud there will be other attempts on his life, attempts which could easily prove to be successful, and then I fear my country will turn its eyes and heart to Russia. You know already of the divisions in my country.’ He drew a sharp sigh. ‘Had Raoul been the son of my brother rather than the son of my sister, I could have appointed him as my heir…’

‘And that, I believe, is the only thing I can thank my father for,’ Raoul interrupted grimly.

‘I know you have no wish to step into my shoes, Raoul. Raoul is the head of our petrochemical industries,’ the Sheikh told Claire, and something in the look on the former’s face told her that this was no sinecure post, and that Raoul was completely genuine when he said that he had no wish to take his uncle’s place.

‘And thanks to the insistence of my father I am also a Christian,’ Raoul added grittily. He saw Claire’s look of surprise and said cuttingly, ‘Does it surprise you to know that those of my uncle’s faith are so tolerant towards others? The Prophet himself decreed that it must be so.’

Why, when he obviously felt so bitter about his father, and had chosen to ally himself to the Arab blood he carried, had he not changed his religion, Claire wondered, trying to shrug her curiosity aside as the Sheikh shook his head warningly.

‘We digress Raoul. We have not appraised Miss Miles of our… plan. Obviously, if we do allow it to be known that Saud did not survive this morning’s attack, it would be difficult for us to take the child back with us to Omarah. I did think at one time of leaving him in your country where he could be brought up in secret and, I hope, in safety, but…’

‘But if you do that he will grow up a stranger to his own country and its customs. The people would never accept him in your place. He would be more European than Arab.’

‘This is true,’ the Sheikh agreed gravely, ‘which is why, my dear, we are seeking your help. You see, the only way we can take Saud back with us in safety is if we take him as someone else’s child. You can see, I am sure, the dangers attendant on such a course. How could we be sure that the couple we might choose would be trustworthy? And Saud must be brought up as befits his station.’

‘I am honoured that you should have thought of me as a candidate,’ Claire responded truthfully, ‘but surely, even if I agreed, people would think it strange that you should take into your family an unmarried European girl with a child. Surely they would suspect…’

The two men exchanged a look that made her blood turn to ice in her veins, a feeling that she had suddenly strayed on to very unsteady ground sending alarm signals rushing to her brain.

‘I have not entirely explained, Saud would not just be your child, but… but Raoul’s as well. It would be announced that you were married during our visit to your country, and…’

‘Oh, but that couldn’t possibly work,’ Claire expostulated, refusing to dwell for the moment on the multitude of sensations assailing her and clinging only to the bare facts. Later, when she was alone, she would allow herself to think more deeply on the strange sensation stirring in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Raoul as her husband… her lover.

The look he gave her was bitterly sardonic. ‘Well, it won’t,’ she said sharply. ‘Everyone will know that we haven’t been married long enough to have a child, and… and with a European woman… Surely…’

Finding no reassurance in Raoul’s hard, cynical features, she looked wildly at the Sheikh, her heart sinking at what she saw in his calm, dark eyes.

‘We have been into this, and if you are in agreement, our story will be that Saud was the result of an affair between you and Raoul. He spends a considerable amount of time abroad, so that aspect need not cause us any concern. Your child will have been born illegitimately, and I will have coerced Raoul into marriage with you, for the child’s sake.’

The picture he was painting wasn’t a very attractive one and Claire found herself grimacing in distaste. ‘I suspect Miss Miles is thinking the proposition would sound more attractive had I been the one to do the coercing, Uncle,’ Raoul interceded mockingly, ‘but you are not thinking clearly, Miss Miles. No one knowing me would believe that I had willingly married a European woman…’

‘But they will believe that one bore your child?’ Their argument had personal undertones that bewildered Claire. Calm and even-tempered, she had never allowed herself to be so provoked and disturbed by any man. In fact, she had come to think of herself as someone who could not be affected physically by men, and yet this man with merely a look—a word—had inflamed her temper to the point where she could feel her self-control slipping dangerously away.

‘I am a man who spends a considerable amount of time away from my own people,’ Raoul acknowledged, shrugging as though dismissing her accusation as juvenile gaucheness. ‘Naturally, it would not be expected that I should live as a monk. It is also well-known in our country that European women take lovers.’

‘I cannot do it,’ she said positively. ‘I’m sorry, but I…’ She broke off as the door opened and a young girl walked in carrying Saud. She was dressed in the uniform of the hotel staff, the little boy was still flushed and fretful. But he seemed to recognise Claire, perhaps because of her fair hair, which was probably unusual to him, Claire thought, unable to check her own response and he wriggled impatiently in the girl’s hold, stretching out his arms to her.

The girl came over and handed Saud to her, saying something in Arabic that Claire couldn’t understand, before leaving the room.

‘She thinks you are Saud’s mother,’ the Sheikh pointed out quietly. ‘I know it is a great deal to ask of you, but I beg you to reconsider. Saud’s life is at stake… We cannot protect him for every second of it. Another year and we shall have overcome our problems. Then you will be free to go. A year, that is all we ask.’