Dark Enemy Read online

  Nicola didn’t quite know whether she liked that word ‘desire’. It implied a more intimate relationship, and one which she did not wish to foster. She must be careful. Her brain was clear enough to register this.

  ‘A moment,’ said the Sheikh, now, as she would have turned to Jason to say something—anything! He thrust his hand into the folds of his robe and withdrew a small box which he placed firmly in her hand. ‘Open it,’ he commanded gently. ‘I insist.’ And Nicola felt sure he would have done so had she not immediately complied.

  Inside, on a bed of white satin, lay a pendant on a slender gold chain. It was an emerald, iridescent and magnificent, and the size of a huge teardrop.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, in astonishment. ‘Oh, it’s beautiful!’

  ‘You like it?’ The Sheikh’s eyes probed hers.

  ‘Well—well, of course. Anyone would.’ Nicola bit her lip.

  ‘It is the colour of your eyes, mademoiselle. Emerald—purest emerald. Take it. It’s yours!’

  Nicola felt as though she was gaping at him, and controlled herself instantly, but the thought that he might offer her a present like this had not occurred to her. She thrust it back into his hand. ‘No,’ she gasped firmly. ‘No, really, I appreciate the compliment you’ve paid me—but no, I couldn’t possibly accept such a gift.’

  The Sheikh refused to accept the box, however, and she sat there feeling lost and unable to express her position. She looked desperately at Jason, and succeeded in drawing his attention to herself. She looked expressively at the jewel case, but he merely lifted his shoulders ever so slightly, as much as to say ‘I told you so’.

  She began to panic, stammering excuses out uncomfortably, that in England a girl did not accept expensive gifts of this kind, that it would not be right, that he would place her in a dreadful position. The Sheikh listened calmly, a strange expression playing round his finely chiselled lips, an expression which made Nicola wonder whether he had planned all this just to embarrass her. If so, then Jason was doing absolutely nothing to extricate her, and the anger against herself that she was feeling increased to encompass him too. She began to blame him for the whole thing, and silently and bitterly berated him. Finally, when she was running out of anything to say, Jason intervened.

  ‘What Miss King is trying not very successfully to explain is that the acceptance of such a gift could be misconstrued, Mohammed,’ he said. ‘Now, we are men of the world, and I am sure your reasons for offering such a gift were entirely without motive, but there are others who might place an entirely different construction on such a situation.’

  The Sheikh’s eyes narrowed. ‘What misconstruction could be placed upon my offering a gift to a young woman who I admire immensely?’ he murmured. ‘I was not aware that I had to provide you with my motives for doing such a thing, Monsieur Wilde!’ A menacing note had crept into his voice now, and Nicola felt a shiver run up her spine.

  Jason gave her a cold, quelling glance, and then resumed his conversation with their host. ‘You are prepared to say that you have a motive?’ he asked bleakly.

  The Sheikh moved his head consideringly. ‘Miss King appeals to me as no European woman has ever done,’ he replied smoothly. ‘Is it so inconceivable that she might find me a little appealing also?’ He spread his hands. ‘After all, did she not express a wish to dine with me here?’

  Nicola’s eyes were wide and disturbed. Whatever could Jason say to that? She sensed his anger, but was helpless to come to her own aid. Leaning forward, she placed the case containing the pendant on the low table, and then sat back, clasping her hands tightly together. She was aware that Victor was eyeing her strangely now, and she wondered whether he was used to his father discussing the merits of the women with whom he dined.

  Jason rose abruptly to his feet. ‘I am afraid there has been a misunderstanding, Mohammed,’ he said slowly. ‘Yesterday, when you encountered—Miss King, and myself, it appeared that we were—what shall I say?—antagonists. Of course, this is not so. What you witnessed was in effect—a lovers’ quarrel!’

  Nicola’s eyes were huge and she stared at Jason incredulously.

  He went on: ‘We have not advertised it—or made it generally known among the men—but Miss King is in fact—my fiancée.’ He ignored the sceptical stare of the Sheikh and continued: ‘Naturally, the reason Miss King came out here was a legitimate one—that of helping me with my reports and so on. But Sir Harold Mannering is aware of the real relationship between us, is this not so, Nicola?’

  Nicola sat up straight. ‘Oh—oh, yes, indeed,’ she hastened into speech. ‘But—but I thought we agreed it was to be—our secret!’

  Jason’s eyes were glittering angrily, but his lashes veiled them from the Sheikh’s piercing gaze. ‘I am sure we can trust Sheikh Mohammed,’ he said insinuatingly. ‘He is an understanding man. And admiring you as he does, I am sure he must—envy me.’

  Sheikh Mohammed got to his feet too, standing legs apart, staring at Jason as though endeavouring to force him into admitting he had made the whole story up. Then he turned and stared at Nicola’s bent head. She did not trust her own ability to confront his dark eyes. She scrambled to her feet, and Jason glanced pointedly at his watch.

  ‘It is getting late, Sheikh Mohammed,’ he said politely. ‘I think it is time we took our leave of you. We have a long drive back to Castanya.’

  The Sheikh considered him broodingly for a few minutes longer, and then said: ‘So be it.’ He turned to Nicola, and before she could withdraw raised her hand to his lips. ‘I will not say good-bye, Miss King, but merely au revoir. I am sure we will meet again.’

  Nicola swallowed hard and managed an embarrassed nod, then she moved swiftly to Jason’s side. In keeping with their newly acquired position he looked gently down at her and took her hand in one of his. The firm pressure of his fingers on hers was reassuring, although she had the feeling that she had not heard the last of this. She supposed she ought to be delighted at the subterfuge he had adopted. He seemed to have played right into her hands. Why was it then that she felt such a terrible feeling of helplessness?

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE night air had never seemed more refreshing or invigorating, and Nicola breathed deeply as they climbed into the Land-Rover, mentally gathering all her small store of defences. She could sense Jason’s hostility and there was more than a twinge of apprehension in the glances she cast in his direction. But Jason did not look at her or speak to her, starting the vehicle’s engine silently and driving out of the courtyard, swinging smoothly on to the road to Castanya. Soon the crumbling mass that was Abyrra was left far behind, and they were ascending the pass between the mountains that earlier they had descended. The breeze that blew through the open windows was cool and there was not the dust tonight to invade their throats with its choking embrace.

  Finally, Nicola broke the silence by saying: ‘For heaven’s sake, let’s get it over with,’ in a taut, nervous voice.

  Jason barely glanced at her. ‘What is there to get over?’ he questioned coldly. ‘It surely isn’t necessary for me to labour the point any further. Tonight, for the first time, I think, you’ve realized the danger in irresponsible actions.’

  ‘How was I to know the Sheikh would—well, behave as he did?’ she asked exasperatedly. ‘Heavens, this is the twentieth century!’

  ‘Not out here. The twentieth century barely touches their lives. I explained that to you on our way to Abyrra. Didn’t it register at all?’

  Nicola sighed. ‘Oh, I suppose it did. But not to the extent of including my own position. Besides, I have the feeling that the Sheikh’s behaviour was deliberate. I don’t think he really desired my company. I think it was a calculated attempt to create an impossible situation.’

  Jason gave a short mirthless laugh. ‘Good, I suppose I ought to be thankful for small mercies. At least your common sense asserted itself sufficiently to make you see that Mohammed is not the simple-minded individual he would have you believe. Of course his
behaviour was deliberate, of course his desire for your company was tempered by self-interest, and of course he intended to create an impossible situation! But what you don’t seem to have gathered is that whether this position was artificially or naturally created, it is equally untenable.’

  Nicola digested this. ‘Our—our engagement, you mean,’ she said at last.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But—but I thought he didn’t really believe you.’

  ‘I don’t suppose he did. Nevertheless, so long as you are in Abrahm, you’ll be unable to deny it.’

  Nicola compressed her lips thoughtfully. Of course, Jason was right. She was beginning to become aware of the precariousness of their position in Abrahm with Sheikh Abi Ben Abdul Mohammed in command, and it would not do to attempt to fool him. And if their ‘engagement’ should suddenly terminate, he might choose to intimidate the company still further. What she ought to do was take the next plane back to London, and thus avoid this terrible uncertainty, but if she did her chance of getting even with Jason Wilde would terminate too. She would never again have such an ideal opportunity, and surely this whole situation should be to her advantage. By adopting her as his fiancée he had given her a wonderful chance of humiliating him. After all, once the men on the camp knew of their assumed relationship there would be bound to be talk and speculation, and Jason stood to lose so much more than she did. Of course, if he had had any idea of the real reasons for her coming to Castanya he would never have granted her his patronage. But he didn’t know and now, instead of feeling sorry for herself, she should be making the most of her advantage. Sir Harold would be delighted at this turn of events. No matter how Jason might phrase it, his chairman would think that Nicola had achieved what she set out to achieve. Besides, he wanted Jason married. He wanted his business intelligence on the board of Inter-Anglia, and so long as Jason remained a bachelor, his chances of settling down remained nebulous.

  So with these thoughts in her mind, she said: ‘Why should I want to deny it?’ in a provocative tone.

  Jason stifled an epithet that sprang to his lips, and instead said: ‘You won’t have time to do so anyway. I intend that you should return to London at the earliest possible opportunity.’

  Nicola’s eyes widened. This wasn’t at all what she wanted.

  ‘You can’t make me go back,’ she said hotly. ‘Sir Harold Mannering sent me out here. He will recall me.’

  Jason swung the Land-Rover across a stretch of rocky terrain, and brought it abruptly to a halt beside the gleam of water Nicola had noticed on their way to Abyrra, the guelta. Even in the light of the headlights, and the moon that sailed serenely overhead, Nicola could see that it was a strange place. Surrounded by rugged rocks, the water seemed to have a life of its own, and there seemed no possible reason for its conception. Without waiting for more remonstrances which she was sure were to come from Jason, Nicola slid out of the car and walked to the rocks at the water’s edge, looking down into seemingly bottomless depths. It would have been nice to swim, but surprisingly the desert night was cold, and she rubbed her elbows with the palms of her hands, warming herself. Her hair had fallen forward hiding her face, and yet she was conscious of Jason’s presence beside her and she shivered slightly. Holding back her hair with one hand, she looked up at him, seeing his face clearly in the moonlight.

  ‘Am I such a nuisance to you?’ she murmured softly. ‘Are you so keen to get rid of me?’

  Jason’s eyes darkened. ‘Don’t try anything, Nicola,’ he muttered.

  The palms of her hands were suddenly moist, and her whole being felt warm. But Jason was still so cold. ‘Don’t you like me at all, Jason?’ she asked appealingly.

  Jason’s expression was derisive now. ‘What is this?’ he asked abruptly. ‘Are you wanting to compare notes with Louise when you get back?’

  Nicola’s self-control snapped, and forgetting what he had said that other time she had performed such an action she slapped him hard across his handsome face, standing staring at him in fascinated apprehension as red marks appeared on his cheek. Then, as though realizing what she had done, she turned to run back to the comparative security of the Land-Rover, but Jason caught her upper arms from behind, his grip cruelly bruising her soft flesh so that she cried out in pain, struggling violently. But she knew, without being told, that there was no one to come to her rescue here. Without thought for her clothes he swung her round, pressing her back against a rough, damp outcrop of rock, holding her there helplessly with the weight of his body, while his hands held her face roughly as he bent his head and fastened his mouth to hers.

  She had imagined that he might kiss her one day, but in her imaginings it had been a gentle thing, a growing awareness of her that she could use to her own advantage. But there was nothing gentle about him now, and the kisses he was forcing on her parted lips were hard and passionate and demanding, destroying her feeble defences, commanding a response. She pressed her hands against his chest, trying to push him away, but it was an impossible task. Jason was a powerful man, and as he continued to kiss her expertly the desire to escape was rapidly leaving her. She began to weaken, becoming aware of other sensations. She liked the feel of those hard brown hands against her skin, and there was a vague male scent about him of tobacco and shaving cream and warmth.

  But something, some inner strength asserted itself, and with a superhuman effort she managed to roll sideways against the rock and free herself. She knew he had let her go, and that she alone had not been responsible for her escape, but that did not prevent her from still feeling shocked and frightened, as much by her own weakness as Jason’s expertise.

  She glanced back at him, relaxing lazily against the rocks, studying her pale face and tumbled hair. ‘Well?’ he said mockingly. ‘Was it worth the trouble?’

  Nicola swallowed hard, incapable at this moment of subterfuge. ‘I—I think you’re—you’re terrible!’ she said shakily.

  He straightened. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mocked. ‘I’ll try to do better next time.’

  Nicola gave an involuntary gasp. ‘That—that wasn’t what I meant, and you know it,’ she cried. ‘You—you hurt me!’

  Jason shrugged his shoulders, and ran a careless hand through his hair, walking indolently towards the Land-Rover. ‘That slap you gave me didn’t exactly improve my health,’ he remarked lazily. ‘Come on. I haven’t the patience to discuss this any further tonight. Get in the car! I’m tired!’

  Nicola did as he asked with ill grace, casting angry glances in his direction to which he seemed completely impervious. She was tired herself, too tired to assimilate what had happened in perspective and to decide what she intended to do next.

  * * *

  The next morning she was awake at an early hour, a feeling of foreboding depriving her of any more rest. Even so, she was loath to leave her bed and considered pretending to be ill to avoid the imminent conflict. But she was not by nature a defeatist, so instead she slid out of bed and went to take her shower. Once dressed in the usual levis and cotton shirt she felt slightly better and more capable of facing whatever was to come.

  However when she reached the canteen another surprise awaited her. For some reason she had become the cynosure of all eyes and as she made her way to her table the reason became evident. Lying on the table was a sheaf of cream roses, beautiful things whose perfume scented the atmosphere deliciously. For a heart-stopping moment she thought Jason must have sent them in an attempt to prove his actions of the night before had not been irresponsible, but sanity was instantly restored when she read Sheikh Abi Ben Abdul Mohammed’s signature at the end of the message which was written on a white card accompanying the flowers. It read: To the woman who has succeeded in lighting a fire in the heart of Jason Wilde.

  Nicola glanced round at the groups of men who were watching her, gauging her reactions, and felt embarrassment envelop her. She should have known that Sheikh Abi Ben Abdul Mohammed would not let such an opportunity go to waste. Had Jason seen these flowers
? Did he already know about the message?

  She swallowed hard, trying to still her racing pulses, when a voice beside her said: ‘Sit down, Nicola. It’s not the end of the world.’

  She swung round to face Paul Mannering. ‘Paul!’ she exclaimed, something very much like relief in her voice. ‘Oh, Paul, have you seen this?’

  ‘Sure. I should think everyone on the camp knows about it by now. Sit down. Sit down. I want to talk to you.’

  Nicola subsided weakly into a chair and Paul seated himself opposite her. A pointed glance around the room from him succeeded in stemming some of the speculative glances, and most of the men began to get on with their meal, and talk became general again.

  ‘Heavens above,’ said Nicola cupping her face in both her hands, resting her elbows on the table. ‘Does Jason know about these?’

  ‘I guess so. But, Nicola, what is all this? I mean—is it true? Are you and Jason—well—’ His voice trailed away.

  Nicola sighed. She couldn’t tell him the truth, but on the other hand she couldn’t pretend a situation which he would know was faked. Deciding her best solution was to use the story she had used on his father, she said:

  ‘Well, if I tell you, will you promise to keep it to yourself?’

  Paul shrugged. ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Well, you see—Jason and I knew one another—back in England about a year ago. I didn’t work for Inter-Anglia then. I worked for an advertising agency, but I got to know Jason and—fell in love with him.’

  Paul frowned. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Jason was and still is, I suppose, very keen on his work, and I resented it. We quarrelled and he left for another overseas assignment. I knew I needed to see him again—to have a chance to show him I was sorry for what I’d said. When a vacancy was advertised for secretarial work with Inter-Anglia, I applied.’ She lifted her shoulders expressively. ‘I suppose it sounds silly to you, but I thought if I worked for the same company I might be able to understand everything so much better, as well as providing opportunities for seeing Jason again. But of course, he was moved to this assignment and as the months passed I became convinced he would find someone else—before I had the chance to show I really cared. So as your father, Sir Harold, was a reasonable man I suggested I should be allowed to come out here with you. Your problems came at a very opportune moment for me. Besides, you must know that your father would like to see Jason married and settled in England.’