Castles of Sand Page 17

  Ashley made a helpless gesture. Of course, Melina had been present the evening she dined with Princess Izmay. The evening Tariq had devoted his attentions to her.

  ‘So?’ Hussein arched his dark brows. ‘You see, we have no secrets in the palace.’

  Ashley hid a grimace at the irony of this, but Hussein’s next words were more disturbing. ‘I told Uncle Alain,’ he declared, chewing on his pencil, and now he had his mother’s undivided attention.

  ‘What—what did you tell—Uncle Alain?’ she ventured apprehensively, and Hussein took the pencil out of his mouth to view her with more intensity.

  ‘You look—odd, mademoiselle,’ he remarked, his forehead furrowing anxiously, but Ashley only dismissed his concern, and urged him to continue.

  ‘Your uncle,’ she prompted, trying to remain calm. ‘What did you tell your uncle about—about me?’

  ‘Oh,’ Hussein shrugged indifferently, ‘I told him what Aunt Melina had said. That Uncle Tariq seemed to like you a lot. That he comes to the schoolroom to see you.’

  ‘Hussein!’ Ashley gasped. She could imagine how that would sound to Alain. Then, with sudden comprehension: ‘When? When did you tell him this, Hussein? Please—I want to know.’

  Hussein was beginning to look sulky now. ‘Why? What does it matter?’

  ‘Hussein!’

  ‘Well, if you must know, it was yesterday. When we went riding. I told him then.’

  Ashley gazed at him. ‘But why? Why should you tell him that, Hussein?’ She was appalled.

  The boy hung his head. ‘Why should I not tell him?’ he demanded. ‘It is true. I know Uncle Tariq likes you. Everybody likes you, even Muhammed!’

  Ashley caught her breath. ‘But you had no reason—’

  ‘I had. I had!’ Hussein looked up at her resentfully. ‘It was awful yesterday, after you had your accident. Uncle Alain was so silent—so angry! He seemed to blame me for what had happened, and it was not my fault.’ He sniffed. ‘He was so concerned about you. He did not really want to continue with our ride at all.’ He sighed. ‘So I told him not to worry, that Uncle Tariq was at the palace to look after you.’

  ‘Hussein!’ Ashley could only articulate his name, and the boy stared at her in troubled defiance.

  ‘Well!’ he said, by way of justification. ‘It was not your place to come with us. And falling off—you spoiled it all!’

  * * *

  Ashley forced herself to eat some lunch, simply because she knew if she didn’t, she might not have the physical strength to do what she had to do. Hussein’s words seemed to have sounded the death-knell for any hopes she had nurtured, and she had no doubt now that Alain’s actions the night before had been prompted by what the boy had told him. Perhaps he saw her relationship with Tariq as a mirror reflection of her association with Hassan, and despite his contempt for her, he had needed to prove to himself that he could still have her if he wanted. It was an ugly conclusion, but one which seemed to fit the circumstances, and Ashley knew a bitter disillusionment for having admitted it at last. They had defeated her. The Gauthier family had defeated her once again; and this time they had had her son’s assistance.

  When Nuzab came to take away her dirty dishes, Ashley asked how she might arrange an interview with Alain’s father.

  ‘You wish to see Prince Ahmed?’ the Arab girl exclaimed in some surprise. ‘But, mademoiselle, you cannot ask to see the Prince, he must ask to see you.’

  Ashley sighed. ‘Find Muhammed,’ she said. ‘Ask him. Tell him I must see Prince Ahmed today, and that it can’t wait until tomorrow.’

  Nuzab was forced to obey, but she looked somewhat anxious at the presumption of her mission. Somehow she identified herself with the wishes of her mistress, and making such a request was alien to her nature.

  Nevertheless, when she returned some time later, it was with the news that Prince Ahmed had agreed to see Ashley at six o’clock. ‘I spoke with Muhammed, as you said, lady,’ she declared, still looking somewhat uneasy, and Ashley realised, with resignation, that Alain would no doubt hear of her request from him. But at least the interview was arranged, and Prince Ahmed could only approve of her decision.

  Hussein—well, Hussein would only miss her momentarily. One thing she had proved by coming here, and that was that her son was quite content without her. Maybe if he had been brought up in England, the gulf between them would not have been so great. As it was, Alain was the real fulcrum of his world. He was his father’s son. And in this country where man was always the master, he would take his place without any difficulty because of that.

  Ashley spent the rest of the afternoon in a state of mild panic, convinced that when Alain learned what she had arranged, as he surely would from Muhammed, he would come to find out what was going on. But the dusty heat of the day gave way to the cooler shadows of early evening, and no one disturbed her solitude. She would even have welcomed Nuzab’s inconsequential chatter by the time the Arab girl appeared to escort her to Prince Ahmed’s apartments, but for once the girl was silent and subdued, evidently still afraid her mistress’s actions might recoil on her.

  This time, when Ashley was shown into her father-in-law’s rooms, he was alone. Neither Alain nor Muhammed were present, and even the two guards were bidden to wait beyond the heavy embossed doors.

  As before, Prince Ahmed was seated at her entrance, but when he bade Ashley join him, she said she preferred to stand. It was not much of an advantage, but it was the only one she had, and besides, this wouldn’t take long.

  ‘So,’ prompted her old enemy pointedly, ‘to what purpose do you ask to see me, Miss Gilbert? Are your apartments not to your liking, perhaps? Or is my grandson not responding to the effeminate softness of your teaching?’

  ‘Neither one of those things,’ retorted Ashley tautly, refusing to abase herself by addressing him as Prince. ‘My rooms are more than adequate for an English governess, and Hussein is an intelligent child, and progresses accordingly.’

  ‘Then what possible reason can you have for wishing to speak with me?’ demanded Prince Ahmed coldly. ‘Mademoiselle, I have guests at the palace—my old friend Prince Khalil and his daughter. I do not really have the time to waste over matters of minor importance, and I suggest you speak to Muhammed if all you require is conversation.’

  Ashley’s lips tightened, but she did not give in to the impulse to slap his cold arrogant face. Such behaviour might well land her in the palace’s dungeons, she thought without humour, and quickly hastened into the reasons for this interview.

  ‘I wish to leave, monsieur,’ she declared through lips that persistently quivered, and for once Alain’s father was too shocked to object to the familiarity.

  ‘You wish to leave?’ he echoed, and she knew a moment’s triumph at her petty victory. ‘But—but you cannot!’ He gathered his composure with difficulty. ‘No one—no one asks to leave the palace!’

  ‘I am,’ said Ashley flatly. ‘I’d like to leave tomorrow, if that’s possible. You don’t have to worry about my salary—I’ll waive that in lieu of notice. I just want to be on tomorrow’s plane for London, and I’d like you to arrange it.’

  Prince Ahmed got to his feet then, and Ashley saw without surprise that he was as tall as Alain. But whereas Alain’s body was lean and muscular, his father’s was thin and flabby, and somehow pathetic too as he sought to retain his dignity.

  ‘Might one ask why you have come to this decision?’ he asked, standing before her, and Ashley realised it was the first time he had spoken to her without an edge of contempt to his voice.

  ‘I realised you were right,’ she said after a moment. ‘Alain was right—Hussein doesn’t need me. He never did. And I was a fool to think I could be happy with anything less than the truth.’

  Prince Ahmed’s dark brows arched. ‘The truth, mademoiselle?’

  ‘Yes, the truth,’ Ashley nodded. ‘I’ve realised if I stay here, I’ll lose what little self-respect I have. I thought I could do it, but I can
’t. So—I’m giving in. You’ve won.’

  Prince Ahmed expelled his breath on a heavy sigh. ‘I see.’

  Ashley moistened. her lips. ‘I thought you would be pleased.’

  ‘I am, of course.’ The old man frowned. ‘But I am sorry Alain was wrong about you. When you came here, he thought you had spirit.’

  Ashley gasped. ‘Spirit?’

  ‘Yes.’ He inclined his head. ‘I could almost admire that. Despite the fact that your intrusion into our lives was not of my choosing.’

  Ashley shrugged. ‘It seemed a good idea. Now I know it’s no use.’

  ‘So you are leaving?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have you told Alain?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’ Prince Ahmed hesitated. ‘I should have thought you would have had plenty of time last night.’

  ‘Last night?’

  Ashley’s face burned, and Prince Ahmed’s features resumed their forbidding aspect. ‘Please, do not attempt to lie to me, Miss Gilbert,’ he said harshly. ‘Do you think such a thing could happen in the palace without my becoming aware of it? I guessed where my son was the minute it was discovered he was absent from his apartments.’ He paused. ‘And I think it is that, and not my grandson, which threatens your self-respect!’

  Ashley flinched. ‘And you—condone your son’s behaviour, monsieur?’

  ‘So long as it does not interfere with my plans for Alain, why should I object if he chooses to make use of you, Miss Gilbert?’ And at her gasp of horror he added: ‘I trust him not to make the same mistakes a second time, mademoiselle. And I have usually found that that which is forbidden generally tastes sweetest. Why else do you think I permitted the marriage between you and Hassan?’

  Ashley was trembling so much she could hardly keep her feet. ‘You know so much, monsieur,’ she exclaimed bitterly. ‘So why didn’t you know your younger son was impotent?’

  ‘I did know.’

  Ashley sought the support of a couch close by. Prince Ahmed’s words had fallen like stones into a silent pool, the ripples deepening and widening with ever-increasing strength. She could hear her own heart beating, like a hammer against her temples, and a wave a senseless blackness advanced and retreated.

  Perhaps Prince Ahmed noticed how pale she had suddenly become. Perhaps he knew a moment’s compunction for the callousness of his statement. Whatever the truth of his feelings, he seemed to realise he had gone too far, and with abound of impatience he hastened to retrieve the situation.

  ‘I think I have been—a little indiscreet, mademoiselle,’ he declared stiffly. ‘Naturally, as Hassan’s father I was aware of—some difficulty in that quarter—’

  ‘Some difficulty!’ Ashley could scarcely articulate the words. ‘Monsieur, you must know Hussein can’t be Hassan’s son!’

  ‘I know no such thing,’ retorted the old man harshly. ‘You were married to Hassan, mademoiselle. Naturally, Hussein is the son of that marriage—’

  ‘That’s crazy!’ Ashley stared at him incensed. ‘Oh, this is inhuman! You must know Hassan could never father a child! Why do you think he drove his car into a tree, monsieur? Because he knew he could never be any good to any woman!’

  ‘No!’

  Yes.’ Ashley was adamant. The feeling of faintness had receded and in its place was a tearful determination, but without this man’s help she had no more hope of convincing Alain now than she had ever had. ‘Please—can’t you see what you’re doing? You’re denying your grandson his birthright! Hussein is Alain’s son! You know that’s true!’

  ‘I know only that your influence divided this family, mademoiselle, and ultimately destroyed it!’ Prince Ahmed stated grimly. ‘Why do you think I sent Hassan to London? Because—’

  ‘You sent Hassan to London?’ Ashley interrupted blankly, and the old man nodded impatiently.

  ‘Of course. Alain had spoken with his mother on the telephone. He told her of you, of your relationship. It was not a relationship I could ever condone.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Alain is my eldest son,’ declared her father-in-law proudly. ‘I would not permit my eldest son to marry with an Englishwoman!’

  ‘But you married a Frenchwoman.’

  ‘Only when my first wife seemed incapable of producing a son.’ His harsh features twisted. ‘Alain is different. Alain is a Christian, thanks to his mother’s influence. In consequence, he will take only one wife, and that wife could not be you, mademoiselle.’

  Ashley swallowed convulsively. ‘And—and Hassan was a Moslem.’

  ‘That is correct.’

  Ashley felt sick. ‘So you—sent Hassan to London—’

  ‘—to break up your relationship with Alain, yes. It was easier than I imagined. Hassan was foolish enough to fall in love with you.’

  Ashley turned away. ‘Does Alain know any of this?’

  ‘As much as I deemed it necessary for him to know.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘He guessed Hassan’s appearance in London was my doing. What he could not have anticipated was that you would find Hassan so attractive.’

  ‘That’s not true.’ Ashley caught her breath. ‘Hassan pursued me! Whenever Alain was out of the room, he—he tried to kiss me. He even tricked me into going to the apartment when Alain was not there.’

  ‘But Alain turned up, did he not?’ asked Prince Ahmed contemptuously. ‘And found you in bed with Hassan!’

  ‘No! No, it wasn’t like that. I—Hassan put something in my drink. I was dizzy and I had to lie down. He carried me into the bedroom—’

  ‘Please, do not go on.’ The old man’s features showed distaste now. ‘I have no wish to hear such sordid details. It is enough that Alain realised the kind of girl you were before he made an irretrievable mistake.’

  Ashley shook her head. ‘But you know Hassan never touched me. You know he couldn’t have fathered my child.’

  ‘How else could I gain control of my grandson, except by acknowledging him as Hassan’s son?’ asked Prince Ahmed, with chilling rationality, and Ashley realised at last why he would never acknowledge Hussein as Alain’s son. To do so would prove that Ashley was innocent, and remove the obstacles that stood between them.

  Breathing deeply, to restore her shattered confidence, Ashley made one final plea. ‘What if I go to Alain?’ she cried. ‘What if I tell him what you’ve just told me?’

  ‘You are welcome to try, of course.’ Prince Ahmed was supremely confident. ‘But why should he believe you? He did not believe you before, did he?’ He smiled, but it was not a friendly salutation. ‘I shall deny everything, naturally.’

  Ashley’s shoulders sagged. ‘So—you tricked me—’

  ‘—into giving up your son?’ Prince Ahmed snorted. ‘What could you have done for him?’

  ‘You pretended I had been paid off.’

  ‘The money was there. If you chose not to take it…’

  ‘I wanted nothing from you, nothing!’ Ashley was vehement.

  ‘And now?’

  Ashley expelled her breath wearily. ‘I just want to leave here. I never want to see any of you ever again.’

  ‘Including your son?’

  ‘He’s not my son any more,’ said Ashley heavily. ‘You’ve seen to that. You—and Alain.’

  ‘He is happy,’ retorted her father-in-law indifferently. ‘You cannot deny that.’

  ‘No.’ Ashley conceded defeat. ‘No, I cannot deny that.’

  ‘Eh bien,’ he shrugged. ‘I will make the necessary arrangements. A car will be made available to take you to the airport at six o’clock tomorrow evening. You will board the seven-thirty flight to London.’

  The words ‘Thank you’ stuck in Ashley’s throat. How could she thank him when he had successfully cheated her of the only man she had ever loved? If only she had not played his game! If only she had not married Hassan out of spite, to gain a father for her unborn son. If only Alain had had more faith in her, and less loyalty towards hi
s brother…

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ASHLEY tossed and turned until the early hours, alternately longing for or dreading the day ahead. She wanted to leave the palace, that much was certain, but the finality of what she was doing filled her with despair. Once she set foot on the plane to London she would never see Alain or her son again, and while her brain told her it was the only solution, her emotional responses answered differently. Wasn’t she just playing into Prince Ahmed’s hands once again? she asked herself. Wasn’t she surrendering to his emotional blackmail? But how could she stay here, knowing he knew the truth, and compound it by living a lie?

  The silken sheets on the huge bed had been changed, but Ashley could still sense Alain’s occupancy. The scent of his body was still strong in her nostrils, the taste of his skin still sweet on her lips. Oh God, she thought bitterly, burying her face in the pillow, how was she going to exist without his love?

  Nuzab packed Ashley’s belongings the following morning with evident reluctance. It was obvious she did not approve of her mistress’s hasty flight, and after wrapping some tissue paper round a pair of shoes, she turned to Ashley with troubled insistence.

  ‘Lady not angry with Nuzab for what she saw yesterday?’ she ventured, holding the tissue-swathed parcel against her like a shield. ‘Nuzab say Prince Ahmed wish for Prince Alain to marry Princess Ramira, but not that Prince Alain wish it, too.’

  Ashley sighed, taking pity on the girl. ‘Don’t worry, Nazab,’ she said. ‘It’s not your fault. It’s better that I go, honestly. It—it was a mistake to come here.’

  ‘A mistake, lady?’ Nuzab looked confused and Ashley realised how difficult it was for the Arab girl to understand her point of view, particularly when she didn’t know the facts.

  ‘I—I thought I’d like working in a foreign country,’ she explained carefully, ‘but I don’t. I miss London. I’m sorry, Nuzab, you’ve been very kind to me, but I can’t stay here.’

  The Arab girl pursed her lips. ‘It is Prince Alain, is it not?’ she exclaimed suddenly. ‘He has—how do you say it?—spoiled things—’