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‘It was a tragedy and nearly broke his heart.’ Pasha frowned. ‘I was but a child then and I cried for a long time after she died…’
He had wept a few bitter tears for Lysette too, but he was a man now and this new grief had settled into a hard anger that lived with him night and day. For weeks he had retired into himself, hardly noticing what happened around him…but a young girl had startled him out of the black mood that had possessed him.
He saw her dancing again, and thought of asking her to be his partner when the next dance began—and then a man walked into the ballroom: a man that aroused distrust and hatred in Pasha’s heart. He turned and left abruptly as the bitterness mounted in his throat like gall—the dance would keep until another time.
Chloe caught glimpses of Philip Armand over the next few days. She had thought he might ask her to dance one evening, but he hadn’t and for some reason they didn’t meet anywhere else. It crossed her mind that he might have been avoiding her, but she didn’t let it bother her. There was so much to do on board that she was always busy, and she found herself dividing her time between taking dictation from Professor Hicks and attending all the various functions with Jane Vermont.
Chloe much preferred the time she spent working for the professor to the hours she was obliged to be with Jane Vermont. He really was a clever man and he knew an awful lot about the history of the region they were going to visit over a period of several weeks.
‘It may even run into a few months,’ the professor told her. ‘We shall disembark at Cetua, Chloe, and make our way to Fez and to Marrakesh, as well as other places of interest I want to visit. I hope you are prepared for a long stay—though, if at any time you want to leave us, I shall make arrangements to get you on a ship going home.’
‘Thank you,’ Chloe said. She was grateful for his kindness, but felt sure it was unnecessary. ‘But I’m really looking forward to this trip. I am confident I shan’t want to leave until you and Amelia are ready to come too, but I know you would look after me if I had to return for any reason.’
Chloe was learning a lot about the nomadic peoples of the Middle East as she took dictation and then transcribed her own notes in a fair hand so that Amelia could type them up into manuscript form on the battered portable typewriter that accompanied her everywhere.
Amelia had recovered her health and her spirits after a couple of days at sea, and seemed friendlier towards Chloe as the cruise progressed. She encouraged her to go on the shore trips at the various ports the ship called during the leisurely voyage, telling her that she ought to make the most of her chances to see a little bit of France and Spain while she could.
‘I’ve been on most of these trips over the years,’ she told Chloe. ‘I was in Egypt with Charles for several years, and we have been all over that whole region. All the regions bordering the Sahara—apart from those to the west. That is why Charles wants to visit Morocco again. He has been there before, of course, but not right to the Western Desert. He is most meticulous, you know, and will collate far more information than he could ever actually put into his books.’ She smiled in a self-congratulatory way. ‘Of course I am the one who does the cutting when the publisher demands at least fifty thousand less words.’
‘You must be of invaluable help to Professor Hicks.’
‘Yes, I believe I am—though what he will do when this last book is finished…if it is his last book, of course.’ Her expression showed that she thought it unlikely.
Chloe listened but offered few comments. She found it all fascinating, including the trips she made ashore to Spanish and Portuguese ports, then to Gibraltar. They were nearing the end of their voyage now, for Cetua was a Spanish port at the edge of Morocco and only just across the water from Gibraltar.
‘Oh, are you leaving us at Cetua?’ Mrs Vermont asked. ‘Jane will be so disappointed. You must keep in touch, Chloe dear, and perhaps come to stay with us when you return to England.’
‘That is very kind of you,’ Chloe said. ‘But I am not sure when we shall be returning. It may not be until next year.’
She had gone up on deck to escape Jane’s chattering on the morning of her last day on board the ship, when she was approached by a man who she knew to be the one Jane believed to be a film director. She had previously only nodded to him in passing—probably because he had seemed to prefer to keep his distance.
‘Good morning, Miss Randall—it is Miss Randall, isn’t it?’
‘Yes…’ Chloe caught the faint twang of an American accent. ‘Someone told me you were Brent Harwood, but somehow we haven’t been introduced.’
He nodded and smiled. ‘You’ve been told I am a Hollywood director and you are wondering if it’s true?’ Chloe nodded herself. ‘Well, I can assure you it is. I do not enjoy being hounded by starstruck young women, Miss Randall—that is why I keep a distance. But I have noticed you. You have a certain poise—a way of holding your head that is most attractive. Have you ever considered becoming an actress?’
Chloe’s heart missed a beat. How many times had she dreamed of something like this? But somehow, now that it was happening, she didn’t quite believe it, and imagined that he was merely flattering her. Though she couldn’t see why he should.
‘Oh, I don’t suppose I could do it,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure I have any talent.’
‘Talent is something that is not always required,’ he said. ‘A star is made on the cutting-room floor, Miss Randall.’ He smiled at her a little wolfishly, and she thought he might be a vain man—but perhaps he was entitled to be if he was good at what he did. He could obviously be charming when he chose, but he had acquired a reputation on board for being off-hand with anyone who approached him. What she’d heard had put Chloe off him, but now she responded to his smile. ‘What I had in mind was in the nature of—’
Chloe wasn’t destined to discover what he was about to say, because Jane came bounding up to them like an eager puppy.
‘Oh, good, I’ve found you at last,’ she cried, fluttering her eyelashes flirtatiously at Brent Harwood. She gave him a coy look. ‘It’s lovely to see you again, Mr Harwood. It’s amazing how we do keep bumping into each other.’
Her giggle made Chloe cringe, especially as she saw the way Brent Harwood reacted. His face took on an expression of extreme annoyance, which was quickly covered by what Chloe realised was a false smile.
‘Yes, isn’t it?’ he agreed and inclined his head to Chloe. ‘Another time, perhaps?’
Chloe sighed as he walked away. She doubted very much that she would get a second chance to talk to him. Whatever he had to say could not have been important or he would have asked her to meet him in private somewhere. Not that it mattered, she supposed. Jane thought him terribly attractive with his dark blond hair and blue eyes, but Chloe wasn’t sure she either liked or trusted him. That smile he had turned on for Jane had been completely false.
‘Isn’t he just too divine?’ Jane asked. ‘You must tell me—what was he saying to you just now?’
‘Oh, he was only passing the time of day,’ Chloe said, refusing to be drawn. ‘Nothing interesting.’
‘We’ve spoken several times,’ Jane said and preened herself. ‘He told me that I should take acting lessons and that he thought I would be perfect as a slave girl in one of his films.’
‘And what did Mrs Vermont think of that?’
‘Oh, I haven’t told her,’ Jane replied and giggled. ‘Daddy would never let me do it anyway. He wants me to get married. There’s an awfully boring man at home who asked me, and I’ve come away to think it over.’ Her face brightened. ‘We’re losing several passengers at Cetua and taking some more on. Who knows what will happen before I get home?’
‘I hope you find someone you like,’ Chloe said.
‘Oh, I suppose I like Henry well enough,’ Jane replied. ‘He just isn’t very exciting—not in the way he is, for instance.’ She touched Chloe’s arm and gestured with excitement at a man who was coming towards them.
Chloe saw that it was Philip Armand. She had noticed before that he seemed to take his stroll at about this time each morning, seldom speaking to the other passengers. He was clearly a man who preferred his own company, and she expected him to walk straight past her, but to her surprise he stopped.
‘It is a pleasant morning, Miss Randall.’
‘Yes, Mr Armand. Very pleasant.’
Jane fluttered her eyelashes at him, but received only a nod as a curt acknowledgement. She blushed and looked uncomfortable, making Chloe annoyed on her behalf. Jane might be tiresome sometimes, but there was no need to be rude to her!
‘Oh, I must speak to Mrs Bond,’ Jane said catching sight of a passenger she knew well. ‘Excuse me…’
Chloe glared at Philip Armand. ‘You’ve frightened her away. Would it have hurt to smile at her?’
‘I have no time for foolish girls, or for false smiles. Besides, had I encouraged her she would have made a nuisance of herself.’
‘Then I wonder you have time to speak to me?’ Chloe tipped her head defiantly.
‘I did not imagine you were foolish, Miss Randall—though you do seem to keep company with some remarkably silly young ladies.’
‘Justine isn’t silly! That was an accident,’ Chloe cried and then realised she had betrayed herself. ‘Yes, I admit that Jane is a little silly at times—but there was no need to hurt her feelings.’
‘You are perfectly right. I was thinking of something else and did not realise I was giving offence.’
‘Well, you did.’ Chloe was determined not to spare him.
‘Then I must make some recompense. Do you both attend the dance this evening?’ Chloe nodded. ‘Then I shall ask both you and Miss Vermont for a dance—will that suffice?’
‘I dare say Jane will think so if you smile at her.’
He laughed, his face easing into softer lines that brought out the charm she had suspected might be there, hidden away behind his frowns.
‘So, I must smile as I go as a lamb to the slaughter? Very well, Miss Randall—I shall obey your command.’
Chloe shook her head, but her annoyance had faded. ‘You should do so because it pleases you.’
‘Ah—but I find little to please me,’ he said. ‘Except when I am in company I enjoy—as now.’
‘You have not chosen to seek my company before this,’ Chloe blurted out and then wished she hadn’t when she saw the gleam in his eyes. Now he was laughing at her again! And she had asked for it, she thought ruefully. He seemed to bring out the worst in her.
‘I was not sure you would wish for it,’ he replied. ‘You seem to make friends easily, Miss Randall. But I learned from Professor Hicks that you are leaving the ship at Cetua, and as I also leave tomorrow I wanted to offer my services. If I can be of any help to you and your companions with travelling arrangements or accommodation, I should be delighted to do so.’
‘You are kind to think of us,’ Chloe said, feeling surprised that he had bothered. ‘The professor is an experienced traveller and I expect he has already decided on his itinerary, but it was good of you to ask.’
Philip Armand inclined his head. ‘I am sure you are right, Miss Randall—but should you need assistance I would be happy to oblige.’ He looked at her oddly. ‘Now, I shall allow you to rejoin your friends—until this evening.’
Chloe watched as he walked away. What an extraordinary man he was—sure of himself, almost arrogant and yet undoubtedly attractive. She found herself torn two ways and was not sure whether she liked or disliked him.
She still could not make up her mind that evening, even though he was completely charming as he danced with both Jane and her aunt. He might have been a different man, Chloe thought, watching him, and wondered at the change.
She had danced with several men that evening, most of them staid, older men, pleasant but a little dull, when he finally approached her.
‘Am I forgiven now?’ he asked as he led her into the throng of dancers. It was a tango, and in Chloe’s opinion one of the most thrilling of the newer dances. And it took skill to execute the exciting steps, especially when the gentleman bent his partner backwards.
‘You should be asking Jane, not me,’ she said and looked at him a little naughtily. ‘Did you know that the Kaiser forbade his troops to dance the tango, because it might affect their moral fibre?’
‘Undoubtedly that was why they lost the war,’ he replied promptly and made her laugh. It was usually only Justine who responded to her humour so swiftly. ‘Ah, so I am forgiven after all…’
‘Only if you can dance this as beautifully as I hope.’ She gave him a bewitching smile. Something flashed in Mr Armand’s eyes and as his hand reached out for hers she felt a tingle rather like an electric shock. For one moment she felt mesmerised as she gazed into his eyes, her lips parting in a little gasp of surprise as she glimpsed the passion beneath the mask he habitually wore. This man was very different from the cool, polite stranger she had encountered from time to time on the ship and she sensed something slightly dangerous. Her heart began to race wildly, and as he placed his hand at her waist she felt close to swooning. Her teasing had somehow roused a tiger!
‘Oh, I shall certainly be on my mettle now,’ he said, and swept her into the dance with a flourish.
Chloe had never danced like this in her life. He was in control, in tune with the melody and with her, guiding her effortlessly through the intricate steps. It felt as if her feet hardly touched the floor, and she was floating with the music and the power and magnetism of her partner. Her whole body seemed to throb with a strange new feeling—a recklessness that she did not recognise but dimly realised might be desire.
What was she thinking? Had she lost her senses completely? It must be the evocative rhythm of the music that was making her feel this way—and yet as his hand slid against the satin softness of her bare arm she knew it was far more to do with the man himself.
‘Oh…’ she breathed as the music finally died and after a brief moment, when his eyes seemed to burn into her soul, he released her. ‘What a pity. I should have liked to go on dancing forever.’
‘Then I shall consider myself forgiven,’ he said. His gaze strayed across the room to where Jane Vermont was talking at Brent Harwood, and the warmth died from his eyes. ‘I see your foolish friend is making up to that American. If I were you I should warn her to be careful. Apart from the fact that he makes ridiculous films, I know that he is not to be trusted.’
Chloe felt the withdrawal in him and was hurt. How could he change so suddenly after that magical dance? For that brief time they had seemed almost indivisible and now he was miles away from her again—but perhaps it had only been her who had felt the magic. She immediately threw up a screen to hide her foolish sensitivity.
‘Why don’t you like his films?’
‘I believe he intends to make something rather similar to the picture that Valentino caused such a stir with three, or perhaps it was four, years back—The Sheikh. I imagine you may have seen it?’
‘Yes—seven times,’ Chloe said, half-defensive, half-angry. ‘I loved it!’
A wry smile touched Philip Armand’s mouth. ‘Valentino is a remarkable actor. He made what was a very foolish plot seem almost believable. Unfortunately, it has provoked a rash of copycat films, which are an insult to the Bedouin way of life. You should know that, Miss Randall. Professor Hicks certainly agrees.’
‘Yes…well, of course I know it isn’t really the way things are. But surely that doesn’t matter? As a film it was romantic and fun…and surely its purpose was to entertain?’
‘As you say.’ He inclined his head as he escorted her to near where her friends were standing. A tiny nerve was flicking in his cheek and she sensed that she must have upset him. But why should it bother him that an American film director was intent on making a copy of the kind of picture that had made Rudolph Valentino famous?
Chloe found that she couldn’t get Philip Armand out of her mind as she prepared for bed that last evening on board ship. He was certainly the kind of man Justine would consider romantic and her foolish heart had been led astray during their dance. For a moment she had thought that there was something special between them, something rare and intense, something that if lost might never be found again…but of course that was ridiculous. They were merely strangers meeting briefly, their lives soon to diverge, never to meet again.
She would be ridiculous to imagine otherwise, of course she would. After all, he had mentioned a fiancée, hadn’t he? Feeling the sharp sting of jealousy at the thought of the unknown fiancée, Chloe tried to dismiss him from her mind. She was being so silly to imagine that he had anything but a passing interest in her. She really must stop letting her imagination run wild. The truth was that she had found him intriguing from the start—but what was it about him that made her think she ought to know more of him than she did?
She was sure that she had seen his picture in the paper, had almost captured the article the other night. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to recall whatever it was that hovered at the back of her mind, then all at once she went cold as she remembered. Of course! He had been with another man…a man wearing the flowing robes and headdress of a Sheikh! Of course…it had been an article about an assassination attempt. She could almost remember it now. There had been an attempt on the life of an important ruler of one of the oil-producing countries on the Arabian Peninsula. And Philip Armand was a cousin or something of the man pictured with him in the paper. Yet she didn’t think he had called himself by that name. It was more like Hassan…or Pasha. Or had that been the ruler’s name?
Chloe couldn’t be certain, and he had looked very different in the picture because he too had been wearing the robes of a Sheikh. Surely she must be mistaken? Yet if she was right, it would explain why he was so annoyed to find himself travelling with an American film director who made films that he clearly believed misrepresented the Bedouin way of life.
Even so, that didn’t quite explain his attitude towards Brent Harwood. There had been real anger in him as he spoke of the man…an underlying menace that she sensed must have a cause. It had seemed almost a personal thing…
Chloe dismissed her thoughts—she shouldn’t worry about something that was of no real concern to her. She wanted a good night’s sleep so as to be ready for the following day.
‘Oh, do please keep in touch,’ Jane begged as she said goodbye the next morning. ‘It has been so nice having you as a friend, Chloe. I wish you were staying for the whole of the cruise. But I suppose you can’t wait to get off to wherever it is you’re going.’
Chloe promised she would write and tell Jane where they went and what they saw.
‘It may be ages before I can post a letter,’ she said. ‘We are going to be travelling to the more remote villages as soon as the professor can arrange transport. We are on a research trip, not a holiday. I have to take dictation and help the professor find what he is looking for—which could mean lots of reading and walking.’
‘You poor thing,’ Jane said, looking at her in horror. She had never worked in her life and hoped she never would. ‘I hope it won’t be too terrible for you. Aunt Vera says that some of these places can be very primitive. Do be careful what you eat, Chloe. My aunt was awfully ill once when she stayed in Morocco.’
‘Miss Ramsbottom carries a lot of emergency kit,’ Chloe assured her. ‘My friends know all about travelling in the region so we should be safe enough.’
‘Well, goodbye—and do keep in touch.’
There were several people leaving the ship that morning. Chloe saw Brent Harwood with the other members of the film crew, all of whom she knew only by sight. None of them had been particularly talkative, though apparently they had taken a few shots of the captain and his crew.
She noticed Philip Armand—or whatever his name really was—being met by a man who saluted him and took the briefcase he was carrying off to what looked like an expensive French car. He glanced back at the ship just before he got into the back seat, inclining his head to her but not smiling. She thought he looked angry again, and wondered what had upset him this time.
What a very odd man he was! He could be so charming and friendly when he chose, and the next withdrawn, as cold as ice. She wondered what made a man like that, and decided that he must have an awful lot on his mind.
‘Well, here we are then,’ Professor Hicks said to her. ‘All your goodbyes finished, Chloe?’
‘Yes, of course.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’m looking forward to our adventure.’
‘Adventure?’ He nodded and looked pleased. ‘Yes, I suppose it is a kind of adventure. Some of my research can seem dull, especially to a young woman like yourself, I dare say—but meeting people and seeing new places is always exciting.’
Chloe and Amelia Ramsbottom sat at the back of the rather crowded bus that was to take them to their hotel. It was quite new and provided by one of the Spanish-built hotels that had begun to appear in the last few years.
‘When we first came here there were no buses and hardly any cars,’ Amelia confided to her as the bus reached its capacity load and lurched off down the bumpy road. ‘I remember we hired a kind of dogcart pulled by one tired old horse—and in Morocco we had to ride on donkeys. Camels when we went into the desert, of course.’
‘How brave you were to accompany the professor on his early trips,’ Chloe said. ‘Of course things have changed a lot since the war, haven’t they?’
‘Oh, yes, a great deal, everyone is beginning to catch on to the idea of foreign travel. I dare say it will be as popular for ordinary people to holiday in places like Spain and Portugal as it has been for the rich on the French Riviera one day.’
‘Do you think we shall travel by camel this time?’
‘I certainly hope not,’ Amelia said. ‘Charles will have a vehicle of some sort. Do you drive at all, Chloe?’
‘Yes, though I haven’t had much experience. I couldn’t afford a car, but Daddy did arrange for me to learn. He thought it might come in useful.’
