Penny Jordan Tribute Collection

Raschid hadn’t spoken during this interchange, but at this he raised his head, regarding Felicia with a sardonic smile.

‘I doubt if Miss Gordon would be quite as impressed with the hubara’s cunning if she had to rely on its meat to survive.’

‘I am not the fool you would have everyone believe me, Sheikh Raschid,’ Felicia said quietly, with dignity, ‘but I thought the purpose of this outing was to enjoy ourselves, not catch our dinner.’

‘Touché, Miss Gordon. I doubt if Raschid has ever eaten hubara meat in his life, have you, my friend?’ Achmed asked gaily.

‘Then you would be wrong,’ Raschid replied, without elaborating.

If only those letters had remained in Kuwait! How long would it be before he opened them? After lunch?

The falcons started to screech, sensing freedom, and the subject of hubara meat and its desirability was dropped. Accepting a cup of fresh lime juice from Zahra, Felicia sat down next to her, letting her aching limbs relax. She lay back and closed her eyes, letting her body absorb the sensations of her surroundings—the coarseness of the sand under her fingers, the heat of the sun, the faint smell of petrol, the soft murmur of Arab voices.

‘What do you think of the desert, Miss Gordon?’

Raschid’s voice startled her and her eyes flew anxiously to his.

There was no sign of Faisal’s letter. She started to tremble, wondering if he had devised some subtle form of torture, whereby he was going to say nothing until she herself raised the subject. Very well, two could play at that game!

‘It’s magnificent,’ she said coolly, glancing round.

‘Whenever I’m here I wonder how I can endure to shut myself in an office, like an animal in a cage, but even the freest among us is chained by something; the greater our responsibilities, the greater the chains that bind us. A woman who shares the life of a man such as I has to learn to share his love for places such as these.’

‘Like your grandmother, you mean?’

‘She was an exception,’ Raschid said curtly. ‘There can be few women who would give up so much merely for the love of a man. In those days my family had no wealth as we know it today, and life was hard. I cannot see you, with your pale skin and pampered existence, forsaking life’s luxuries to cleave to one man, and one alone.’

‘Because you don’t want to see it,’ Felicia said quietly. ‘You see in me only what you want to see.’

‘I would to God that were possible,’ Raschid said harshly, his eyes suddenly intent. ‘Now you are angry,’ he told her softly, ‘and your eyes glint green fire as though they would consume me in their depths.’ His own glittered like jet between the fringe of his lashes. ‘And yet when I kissed you the other day, they were pools of mysterious jade.’

‘Raschid, Felicia, are you ready to eat?’

Felicia didn’t know whether to bless Nadia or to curse her. ‘Ready!’ she called, jumping to her feet.

They had a snack lunch prepared by the servants at the villa, and as soon as it was over the men moved over to the falcons.

‘This is where we become unwanted appendages,’ Nadia warned her. ‘Once the birds are put up, the Land Rovers will follow. If you take my advice you will get in the front and be prepared to hold on tight. It can be a pretty hair-raising experience. It is a matter of pride not to lose a falcon, and the men don’t make any allowances for female passengers.’

Felicia was glad that Zahra had warned her.

As she climbed into the Land Rover her eyes went automatically to where Raschid had placed the letters. They were gone. Her heart started to thump heavily. He must have read Faisal’s letter. It could only be a matter of time before he confronted her, unless of course he was deliberately prolonging her agony, playing a game of cat and mouse, enjoying her mental torture. If only she had had the courage to tell him before. If only she had not let her foolish heart sway her judgment. She felt the jeep rock as Raschid climbed in. He slammed the door and switched on the engine, and then she was hanging on for grim death as the vehicle bounced and swayed over the sandhills, lurching from left to right as they followed the falcon, soaring above them, a tiny speck in the deep blue sky.

Sand clung to her eyelashes and hair. Every time she inhaled she tasted it in her mouth, the fine particles getting everywhere as the wheels threw up cloud after cloud behind them.

They crossed deep gullies and sharp inclines, at frightening speeds, the engine racing as it battled to obey Raschid’s commands. At times they doubled back on themselves, and Felicia felt bruised all over as she was flung against the door and dashboard.

Selim shouted something in excitement and Felicia felt the Land Rover buck like a temperamental horse. The tiny speck disappeared. Raschid cursed, his hands tensing on the wheel as he swung the Land Rover hard over. Felicia held her breath, her fingers clinging to the dashboard. The whole world seemed to turn upside down, sand and sky rushing past the window. She was flung against the door with a jolt that drove the breath from her body, and then they were speeding across a flat plateau, sand spraying across the windscreen.

‘You all right?’ Raschid asked tersely.

She could only nod her head. Painful, nerve-tensing—the chase was nevertheless exhilarating, and she wouldn’t have missed it for the world, she realised to her surprise.

Even when the falcon hovered motionless against the cobalt sky, dropping to earth with the swiftness of a desert night, she could feel no revulsion, only relief that the end was mercifully quick, the unfortunate hubara despatched with one efficient twist of the falcon’s talons.

The saggar whistled tunelessly and within seconds the Land Rovers were halting, the saggars climbing out to wait for the falcons’ return.

Exhausted but thrilled, Felicia waited while the whole business began again. She had been told that the falcons could kill up to eight or nine times in one day, but as Nadia explained, Raschid thought it unfair to take so much game when they were merely hunting for pleasure, so he normally restricted his bag to two or three hubara per falcon.

She had been relieved to discover that they would not be expected to eat the results of their expedition. Although the hubara were not particularly lovable creatures, her tender heart would have found it difficult to contemplate eating their flesh, no matter how delicious it might be.

The dying sun was casting long shadows across the sand when Raschid finally called a halt. Weary but exalted, Felicia tried to relax as the Land Rover plunged through the brief Eastern dusk to a small oasis where they were going to make camp.

Raschid had suggested that they would make the return journey that night, but Nadia had demurred, and from the looks she was casting Achmed, Felicia suspected that the velvet darkness of the desert night held special memories for them that both were eager to renew.

Nadia confirmed this later when they made camp at the oasis, informing Felicia that they had spent their honeymoon in the desert, just the two of them with a tent and a Land Rover, full of equipment. ‘And very romantic it was too,’ Nadia confided reminiscently, rummaging for the sleeping bags. ‘I’d better give these to Selim. Make the most of this trip,’ she advised Felicia. ‘It’s the only time you will see the men making themselves useful.’

It was true. Even Raschid was pitching in, helping Ali to unload boxes of food and the camping stove. It was all vaguely reminiscent of her Girl Guide days, Felicia thought, only on a far more sophisticated level.

Someone had got a fire going, feeding it with material brought from the villa, and in its flickering flames Felicia saw Raschid’s face, his expression for once unguarded as he smiled down at Zahra. Her heart caught in her throat, and unbearable pain swept her because he had never looked at her like that.

As though suddenly aware of her intense scrutiny he lifted his head, his eyes blazing into hers, and she trembled on a convulsive shudder. Maybe it was as well that her self-inflicted torture would soon be brought to an end. She was beginning to appreciate the meaning of the phrase ‘living on one’s nerves’.

‘Will the Sitt have some rice?’

It was Selim, soft-footed as a cat as he padded up to her. Felicia shook her head. Despite the fresh air and Faisal’s letter. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ali filling Raschid’s plate. Here in the desert formality went by the board. Selim and Ali moving among them, silent and hawk-eyed, filling plates and coffee cups with no regard for the normal rule of male precedence, and Felicia even saw Achmed draw Nadia within the curve of his arm, feeding her tidbits from his own plate, his eyes tender as he looked down into her laughing face.

There was a huge lump in her throat.

‘They are fortunate, those two,’ Zahra whispered at her side. ‘Tonight they will share each other’s bed under the stars, at one with the universe and each other. It makes me long for my Saud.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I should not say that, I know. Poor Mother would be shocked if she heard me.

‘Do you ache for the one you love, Felicia?’

Silently she nodded her head, her eyes lifting instinctively to Raschid’s broad shoulders. He was sitting barely a yard away, talking to Selim, obviously deep in conversation.

‘Yes,’ she admitted painfully, ‘I do, Zahra.’

SHE AND ZAHRA were to share one of the tents, while Achmed and Nadia had the other. Raschid and the servants were sleeping out in the open and after a quick dip in the oasis, Felicia was glad to crawl into her fleecy bag.

She had heard about the intense cold of the desert night, but this was the first time she had experienced it first-hand. Sleep evaded her; Raschid’s face kept coming between her and the oblivion she desired. Next to her the sound of Zahra’s quick, even breathing filled the tent. Outside was all the glory of the Eastern night—the stark beauty of the desert, palm trees whispering their indolent message to the night breeze; above, the dark blue velvet canopy of the sky studded with stars brighter by far than any diamonds. No wonder the wandering Badu called no man master, counting themselves more endowed with riches than any city-dwelling king.

She rolled on to her side, punching her pillow and trying to blot out the image of Raschid. Half an hour later she crawled wearily out of her sleeping bag. Her body was tired, but her mind refused to let her sleep. A short walk might help ease her tension, might help her to prepare some sort of defence against the accusations the morning was bound to bring.

Outside it was bitterly cold and she was glad of the thick sweater she had put on top of her blouse. Disregarding the boots Nadia had loaned her, she padded across the sand, breathing in the pure crystal air, and filling her lungs with its sharp freshness.

‘Miss Gordon!’

She spun round. Raschid was standing by one of the Land Rovers watching her. Her heart sank. If only she had stayed in the tent! What better time than now, when they were alone, for him to confront her with her duplicity? What possible excuses could she offer for abusing their hospitality by remaining with them when she knew that Faisal no longer wanted her? Could she plead Zahra’s birthday, or would he see through the protective sham and pluck the truth from her heart?