Penny Jordan Tribute Collection

‘Miss Gordon!’ There was exasperation as well as tightly controlled anger in the two words, and Felicia found herself stammering weakly, searching for some means to dispel his wrath:

‘I was waiting for Zahra.’

‘Having told Ali to leave you, completely alone, in the middle of a strange city—Yes, I know,’ he agreed grimly. ‘Fortunately Ali had the good sense to come and tell me.’ His eyes slid over her body; the fragile hip bones revealed by her clinging skirt; the slender curve of her waist below the unexpected fullness of her breasts. Aware of his regard, Felicia went hot and cold all over, suppressing the instinctive desire to conceal herself from him.

‘In this country, Miss Gordon,’ he told her, ‘a woman of good family does not walk the streets alone, with her body on display for the delectation of all and sundry, to be gossiped over and speculated about, as those boys were discussing you. I tell you this—Faisal would not be pleased were he to learn of this escapade.’

Shocked into silence by the censorious words, Felicia bit hard on her lip.

‘I just wanted to get some money,’ she choked, nearly in tears, humiliated by the thought that Raschid was witnessing her distress.

‘You could have applied to me,’ Raschid’s cold voice continued inexorably. ‘Or does that much-flaunted liberation you European women are so fond of mean that you are unwilling even to do that!’

He made her sound so petty and childish that she could have wept. She had simply never thought of asking him to change her few travellers’ cheques for her, but a corner of her mind acknowledged that he had some basis for his accusation, although stubbornly she resisted it.

‘I’m sure it isn’t a crime to walk alone—other women were doing so, and in European dress,’ Felicia said defiantly.

Raschid snapped long fingers, ignoring the challenge in her eyes.

‘Foreigners!’ he announced contemptuously. ‘Women whose families do not have a care for their reputation.’

‘My reputation is my own,’ Felicia snapped crossly. ‘And I’m perfectly capable of taking care of it myself. After all, I’ve been living alone in London for the past five years.’

‘In Kuwait, Miss Gordon, a woman’s reputation is the concern of all her family, and a slur upon that reputation reflects upon all members of that family. Faisal may or may not have told you that Zahra is betrothed to a young man of exceptionally rigid family. The betrothal has only been settled after a good deal of very delicate negotiation. These are sensitive times where the Moslem religion is concerned. The information that a young woman attached to our family—in however nebulous a fashion—is disporting herself as you have been today could have very serious repercussions indeed where Zahra’s future is concerned.’

If he expected her to be cowed and chastened then he had another think coming, Felicia fumed.

‘An arranged marriage? How typical of you!’ she stormed. ‘If you had your way you would ruin Faisal’s life in the same way, and then your life wouldn’t be disturbed by an unwanted English girl whose morals and antecedents you so obviously suspect! I’m sorry to disappoint you, Sheikh Raschid, but I will marry Faisal, and there’s nothing you can do to stop us, even if we do have to wait three years.’

She wondered if it was anger or disgust that made his mouth tighten so forbiddingly. No doubt he thought that girls of good family did not state their intentions so openly, but waited with dutifully downcast eyes for their fathers and brothers to tell them whom they would marry. Poor Zahra! How did she feel about her arranged marriage?

The cruel fingers were still holding her prisoner, while relentless grey eyes swept her from head to foot and back again, so that she was reduced to trembling fury.

‘Let me go!’ she muttered. ‘People are staring at us!’

‘And that offends you?’ His mouth thinned cruelly and for the first time she was aware of its full lower curve, indicating a passion she would have thought foreign to his nature.

‘Do you realise that were you married to Faisal you would have just given him cause to divorce you twice over; firstly by disporting yourself as you did in the street for all to see, and secondly for allowing me to address you so intimately and in full view of anyone who cares to see? Faisal would not like that, Miss Gordon.’

She knew that it was true. There was a certain inflection in the younger man’s voice whenever he mentioned his uncle that hinted at the beginnings of a jealousy which could easily be fanned from a small spark to a blazing conflagration.

‘And I don’t like being stared at as though I were on sale in the market-place!’ Felicia replied tartly, tearing her gaze away from the hypnotic effect of his cool stare.

‘You surprise me. In one respect at least I cannot fault Faisal’s judgment. You are an extremely beautiful woman, but it takes more than a desirable body and a pretty face to make a good wife.’

‘Although they are admirable traits in a mistress? Is that what you mean?’

Raschid’s eyebrows rose quellingly, adding to his formidable air of hauteur.

‘I did not say so,’ he replied positively. ‘Was that your intention when you agreed to come out here? To sell yourself to the highest bidder, knowing that a wealthy Arab would pay well for that lissom white body you conceal so inadequately?’

She would have struck him there and then in the middle of the crowded thoroughfare if he had not transferred his grip from her arm to her wrist, pain stabbing through her tender flesh like a shock from red-hot wires at the ferocity of the fingers clamped round her frail bones.

‘Why do you ask?’ she cried bitterly. ‘Are you thinking of putting in an offer yourself?’

She knew instantly that she had gone too far. His mouth tightened ominously, his eyes condemning as they swept her with thinly veiled contempt.

‘No way,’ he said cruelly, shaking his head. ‘I don’t buy soiled merchandise, Miss Gordon, desirable though it may be superficially. A chipped jade figurine, a flawed carpet, a second-hand woman, they are all worthless!’

His words left her gasping with mingled shock and rage. She tried to pull herself free and suffered the added indignity of being jerked against the hard length of his body, shock driving the breath out of her lungs as she bunched her muscles against the impact. The contact lasted only a second, but as she pulled away and stalked across the pavement to the car, where Zahra was staring curiously from the window, she felt as though the imprint of Raschid’s flesh was burned against her own, and she, who had been held far closer to Faisal, wondered why she should have found that momentary contact with Raschid so intensely disturbing. Long strides brought the object of her tumultuous thoughts alongside her, lean fingers descending over hers, clinical eyes studying the way she flinched away as he grasped the car door, holding it open for her.

The entire episode could have lasted no longer than the space of a few minutes, but Felicia felt for some reason as though it were one that she would never forget. Tense and defensive, she tried to calm her jangled nerves as Raschid closed the door and walked round to the front passenger seat.

Just for a second she had glimpsed the emotions Raschid concealed behind his cool façade, and what she had seen had frightened her. He was as different from Faisal as chalk from cheese, she reflected shakily. He had none of Faisal’s gentle compassion; none of his boyish charm, so why should he linger in her thoughts when she badly needed to cling to the memory of Faisal’s love?

CHAPTER FOUR

THERE was no opportunity for conversation on the return journey to the villa, although once or twice Felicia caught Zahra’s sympathetic eyes on her in a way that made a mockery of her own hopes that the latter had not noticed her uncle’s anger.

When the car stopped in the outer courtyard, she whispered gently to Felicia,

‘Don’t be too upset, I always hate it when Raschid is annoyed with me. That dreadful cold anger of his is far worse than if he actually lost his temper.’

Felicia was feeling far too ruffled to be soothed by the placatory words and only exclaimed shortly,

‘Your uncle may take it upon himself to order your life, Zahra, but he will never order mine. If I want to walk the streets of Kuwait alone, then I shall do so!’

With that she stalked into the house, head held high, Zahra following hurriedly behind.

‘He has made you very angry, hasn’t he?’ she sympathised.

‘Angry?’ Felicia almost choked in her indignation. ‘He practically humiliated me! Treating me like…’ She broke off. There was no point in trying to make Zahra understand her feelings. ‘Oh, what’s the use?’ she said wearily. ‘I’m only glad that once we’re married, Faisal and I can go our own way. I would hate to live here under your uncle’s roof!’

She sounded so bitter that Zahra frowned unhappily, touching her arm.

‘Perhaps it is that Raschid does not understand, Felicia. If I were to tell him that you were upset…. Faisal would not have approved either, you know,’ she added gently. ‘I shall speak with Raschid…!’

‘No! No, Zahra, don’t do that.’ In her mind Felicia was thinking how badly she was failing in the mission Faisal had set her, but Zahra misinterpreted her words, and her face broke into a relieved smile.

‘You are beginning to forgive Raschid already,’ she breathed. ‘I know he didn’t mean to upset you, Felicia. He forgets sometimes how formidable he is!’

Like a falcon forgets its prey, Felicia thought bitterly. Zahra saw her relative through rose-tinted glasses. Forgive him indeed! That was something she would never do! When she remembered what he had said about her, and the look in his eyes….

HER MOTHER normally rested during the afternoon, Zahra explained to Felicia as they went inside. It was a practice she herself would probably want to adopt as the days grew hotter, she added, and because of this it was the custom that the family did not gather for their meal until early evening.

After she had showered and slipped into a refreshingly cool dress, Felicia inspected her reflection in the mirror. Was her appearance ‘chaste’ enough to pass Raschid’s rigid specifications? she asked herself wryly. Her dress had a gently rounded neckline and small puffed sleeves, the neck and hem piped in crisp white scalloping in contrast to the lemon-gold cotton. She had washed her hair and it curled attractively on to her shoulders, more red than gold in the fading light. A thin gold necklace drew attention to the slender column of her throat, a matching bracelet round one delicate wrist, high-heeled, strappy sandals completing her outfit.

For dinner they were served with roast lamb, deliciously flavoured with herbs, pastries stuffed with exotic vegetables, and spicy rice dishes, and Felicia groaned a little to think of the effect of all this rich food on her figure.