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‘Well—’ he smiled ‘—you mustn’t mind them. Living in such a restricted community means that the most minor drama turns them all into theatre critics. I imagine most of them had to sit on their hands as you delivered your last line.’
‘Oh, dear.’ There was a rueful side to her laughter. ‘I wish I hadn’t. But I was, in fact, about to add something worse. I did so want to let her know that poor Grev, married or single, was safe as houses. But before I could I caught sight of his face, saw how crushed, how utterly humiliated he looked and decided to call it a day. Poor man,’ she said.
‘Yes, poor man. He has the reputation of being totally under her thumb. Whether or not she has any reason to suspect him I don’t know, but seeing her in full flow... Could anyone blame him?’
‘In fact I found it decidedly unpleasant.’ She refused to be persuaded that it had been amusing.
‘I’m sure you did. But not, I hope, to the extent that you’re wholly disillusioned by men in general, which is what you implied. Surely it wasn’t “poor Grev” who had such a profoundly adverse effect?’
‘Not him at all,’ Georgia agreed sweetly. ‘And I don’t know that I would agree that the effect was adverse.’ And, having no intention of pursuing the conversation as it was currently directed, she got to her feet, placing her crumpled napkin on her plate. ‘But now I really must go. Thank you for the help and sustenance; it was exactly what I needed.’
‘Oh, must you? What a pity—just when the conversation was set to become interesting...’ Nathan was teasing, she knew that, but she was feeling bruised and touchy.
‘I’m sorry if I bored you earlier.’
‘Did I say that?’ He was still amused.
‘You implied—’
‘Perhaps I should have used the word intriguing. It would have been much more apposite. But your conversation was interesting from the first—so interesting that I want to hear more and wonder if you could be persuaded to come out to dinner with me tonight?’
‘Oh, no.’ She replied almost before he had finished speaking, with a force that caused him to raise an eyebrow. ‘I’m sorry.’ While determined to remain firm she grew more amenable. ‘But thank you for asking me.’ There was no way she was ready for another involvement, however innocuous.
‘Perhaps some other time.’
If he were disappointed it certainly didn’t show—amused rather, she decided with a touch of pique, which might have been why she refused to reply.
But he walked with her to the door, saw her into the lift, stepped in after her and pressed the button.
‘Really, there’s no need for you to come down with me.’ There was momentary panic as Georgia tried to understand his motive.
‘I’m not. I’ve left something in the car, I’m going down to pick it up.’ Nathan’s tone was so very dry that she had little doubt he was into mind-reading, which must be highly amusing for him.
‘Oh...’ Already the lift was stopping at her floor, so she could make her escape without further explanation, ‘Thank you again.’
But the words died on her lips as she looked across the hallway to the man, youngish and struggling with suitcases, who was trying to gain entry to her flat. ‘What on earth...?’ She strode forward. ‘Do you mind telling me exactly what you think—?’
But from just a step behind she heard Nathan Trehearn. ‘Hello, Pete.’
‘Nat.’ The stranger removed an envelope from between his teeth and grinned. ‘Good to see you again. How are things?’ But as he spoke his eyes moved curiously to Georgia, obviously wondering where she fitted in.
‘Much as usual, but...’ Nathan Trehearn. seemed at a loss—curious in a man of such confidence. ‘But I don’t know that you’re expected back so soon.’ He sent a glance to Georgia, who was trying to deny the suspicion beginning to nudge at her. ‘This...is Pete Taylor.’
Still her brain was unwilling to accept the truth. ‘You...you aren’t Lew Taylor’s nephew?’
‘Yes. But—’
‘But you aren’t due back.’ It was a clear accusation—anything to force aside the reality which she refused to admit. ‘Not for at least two more weeks.’
‘My goodness!’
He struck his forehead with the heel of his palm. ‘Don’t tell me...’ He took the envelope from the pocket where he had pushed it and glanced at the handwriting. ‘For heaven’s sake... Yes, this is from Lew and...it’s ten to one they got the dates mixed up and...’
Hastily he ripped open the envelope, frowned over the single sheet of paper, then groaned deeply as he stabbed a finger at the date at the top of the page. ‘Typical. This must have arrived just after we left for Canada. I’m so sorry.’
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.’
