Egyptian Honeymoon (9 page)

'If I were free… what then?'

'I would take you away into the desert and make love to you as you should be loved.'

The idea of the romantic Arab sheik is long outdated, but Noelle felt a very faint stir of excitement at the passion in his voice.

'I… I've always found deserts fascinating,' she began, when the sound of voices caused her to pull away her hand, as Marcia and Steve burst into the lounge. She was scolding him vigorously and he was grinning like a naughty unrepentant schoolboy. His hair was wet and he was wrapped in a towelling robe.

'Such a crazy thing to do; Owen said he'd been very rude, so he deserved a ducking, and his mates could have got him out. But you…' She stopped abruptly as she caught sight of Noelle. 'Good morning, Mrs Prescott,' she said stiffly. 'Pity you weren't up on deck to stop Steve making a fool of himself.'

She had been sunbathing and wore a minute bikini, only a couple of straps, while dark glasses concealed her eyes. Steve's face froze, the boyish grin vanishing as he perceived who Noelle was with. No whit discomfited, Omar sprang to his feet.

'Coffee?' he suggested. 'You must need something after your… er… swim. This little lady feared you'd been eaten by crocodiles.'

'No, thanks, I've had a whisky,' Steve said shortly, with his eyes fixed on Noelle's face. 'Sorry to disappoint you, my love, but the crocs found me too tough. You'd have been a very rich widow.'

Noelle went red and then white. 'If that's meant to be a joke, it's in very poor taste,' she forced herself to say lightly, though the barb and gone home. Since she had told him she did not love him, he must have guessed her real motive. 'And Omar says there aren't any crocs now.'

Deliberately she used the Arab's first name, and saw Steve raise his brows.

'No one is formal on a ship,' she added, and glanced pointedly at Marcia's near-nakedness. Steve seemed to become aware of it.

'Hadn't you better put something on?' he said to her.

Marcia smiled lazily. 'Don't you like me like this?'

'In the right place,' Steve retorted, 'which isn't here. You'll give the old tabbies a fit.'

Noelle saw to her dismay that the Bates had come in. Mrs Bates uttered a small disapproving sound, but the Colonel put his eyeglass in his eye.

'I'm giving their husbands a treat,' Marcia announced shamelessly. She caught Omar's glance, which was more distasteful than admiring. 'Oh well, I'd better dress, I suppose, and you, darling,' she turned towards Steve, 'had better have a shower. I don't believe the Nile water is very healthy.'

Noelle caught her breath, recalling several unpleasant diseases that could be contracted in tropical waters.

'You shouldn't run such risks,' she said anxiously.

'No risk at all, and I was glad of a dip, since there's -no pool on this ship. Get some clothes on, Marcia, British prestige abroad has sunk low enough without you bringing it down further.'

Marcia looked startled, and pouted, but she went out of the lounge, and after hesitating for a moment, Steve followed her.

Omar said softly: 'I understood the British practised monogamy.'

The colour ran up under Noelle's fair skin as she caught the implication. She began to stammer— Marcia was an old friend… it was coincidence that she had come on this tour… her friends had let her down… so naturally being old pals… Her voice died away. Her excuses were weak and would not deceive him any more than she believed in them herself. Only loyalty to Steve had made her utter them.

'That woman isn't fit to lick your sandals,' Omar muttered.

Noelle felt she couldn't agree more, but she said nothing. Marcia was expert at seduction and experienced in the ways of love; she could not compete with her even if she tried to do so.

The Bates had gone back on deck and Noelle absently sat down again beside Omar. He leaned towards her, saying thickly:

'Oh, moon of my delight, why do you waste your sweetness on such arid soil?'

His flowery phrase did not register, but she could not mistake the lust in his eyes. He went on: 'Come to me and you shall have anything and everything for which you yearn. I am rich…'

'Oh, stop, please!' Noelle put her hands over her ears, shrinking from his unconcealed passion. He was avid to possess her cool northern beauty, but Steve had given her all she could wish for in the way of material gifts, including diamonds as well as the pearls, but only Hugh had given her what was to her infinitely more valuable—undemanding love. When she had decided to marry Steve she had destroyed Hugh's photographs out of a sense of loyalty to her new mate, but she had believed his image was fixed in her memory for all time, only to discover it had become blurred. When she tried to recall his well loved features, another face interposed, hard aquiline profile, cynical smile and cold grey eyes; that of the man who had bought her and had now lost interest in her.

'I made a bargain with my husband and I must keep it,' she told Omar.

'Very dutiful,' he sneered, 'but you will come to me in the end.' For this spoilt princeling could not conceive that he would not obtain what he wanted eventually.

Noelle stood up. 'Thank you for the coffee,' she said formally. 'Please excuse me now, I must write some postcards.'

'Certainly.' Omar rose and bowed. He stood watching her graceful figure disappear with a confident smile on his full lips.

Noelle had no postcards, she had had no opportunity to buy some, but she remembered seeing a rack of them outside the office amidships. She wanted to send cards to Simon and her parents. There were plenty to choose from and stamps were procurable. There were pictures of the Pyramids, the Sphinx, and various temples, also desert scenes which recalled Omar. The man was not without attraction and she thought he would look splendid in native dress, the one-time popular sheik of romance. As she went towards her cabin she wove a fantasy in which she rode with him over sandy wastes towards an opulent tent set in an oasis surrounded by palms. He would be a fiery lover and perhaps could teach her how to respond to Steve. Then she shook herself and laughed at her folly. In any case she judged Omar was too sophisticated for such a simple setting. Though he had spoken of the desert, Paris or Nice would be more his mark, and he might become a nuisance if he became too importunate, though she could not believe he was really serious. Boredom and their exotic surroundings had much to answer for, but all would be changed when they reached Luxor and embarked upon the numerous excursions provided for them. It might happen that Marcia really did have friends coming to meet her there, and she, Noelle, would have the privilege of her husband's escort again. That would scotch Mr Omar ben Ahmed's encroachments, she thought with amusement. Steve would soon get rid of him. Meanwhile his attentions were flattering, and boosted her ego. She wondered what his real title was… Emir… Sheik… Khan? 'Mr' seemed incongruous.

Splashing, audible through the thin partition, indicated that Steve was in his own cabin taking the suggested shower. Instantly Omar was banished from her mind and her thoughts reverted to the incident of the early morning. Omar had mocked and Marcia had scolded, but it was probable that Steve's prompt action had saved the man's life, who, panic-stricken, might not have been able to grasp the lifebelt. Noelle felt an urge to go to him and express her admiration for his courage and resource, but would he admit her? The door between them was locked in more senses than one.

An excuse occurred to her. The unfiltered Nile water presented a hazard, one that he was still risking. Taking a bottle of disinfectant from her case, she knocked upon the communicating door.

'Yes, what do you want?'

'I… I've something for you. Something you need.'

Silence, and she feared Steve was not going to let her in. Then the key turned in the lock and he threw the door open. He was naked except for a towel wrapped around his middle, his bronzed body still dripping from the shower. It was that of a young man, flat stomach, long muscular thighs, the skin smooth over his powerful neck and shoulders. Only that touch of silver at his temples betrayed that he was no longer a boy, but a man in the prime of his health and strength. Noelle blinked, aware of a stirring of her senses. It was the first time she had seen him without his clothes in the full light of day, and she thought Michelangelo's David had nothing on him. He gave her a quizzical glance, as if he guessed her thoughts, and she held out the bottle.

'I thought you should use some of this.'

He took it from her and held it up to the light.

'To decontaminate me from the Nile water or Marcia's embraces?'

'Steve!' Noelle flinched. Had he no shame at all? The thought of Marcia in those strong arms gave her an acute stab of jealousy. 'Did you spend the night with her?' she asked bluntly.

He looked at her with a sneer.

'That's what you believe, isn't it?'

'All the evidence points to it.'

He scowled at the bottle. 'You judge me by the standards of that degenerate lot you worked with in the, rag trade. Circumstantial evidence is never conclusive.'

Instantly Noelle took fire at this slur upon her former associates. How dared he pass judgment on them!

'If you're suggesting that Hugh…'

He dropped the bottle with an oath.

'Mention that name again and I'll strangle you!'

Noelle was delighted.

'Surely you can't be jealous of a dead man?'

'No,' he returned squashing her newborn hope. 'The trouble is he made you into a dead woman. Was his lovemaking so wonderful that you can't bear any other?'

About to tell him that Hugh had never made love to her in the sense he meant, Noelle checked herself. Marcia was still rankling. Why should she give him such an assurance when he continued to insult her by his connection with that woman? If she had not been there… but she was, and her red hair and green eyes would pursue them all the way up the Nile.

'Hugh,' she began, ignoring his threatening gesture as she spoke the name, 'was gentle and considerate, and I was the only woman in his life.'

Steve reached for his trousers, the towel slipping dangerously. Noelle modestly averted her head, but with a swift movement he concealed himself. Her action did not pass unnoticed.

'Such a modest little violet,' he jeered. 'One would think you were a virgin.'

Again Noelle was about to speak, but checked herself. Possibly a confession of her innocence would put him off. He had not the patience to initiate her, he preferred his women to be experienced.

'So the dress designer told you you were the only woman in his life,' Steve went on, his eyes glinting maliciously. 'And you believed him?'

'Of course. Hugh would never lie to me.'

Steve's thin lips curled satirically. 'My love, there are some subjects about which every man will lie to a woman.'

Out of his own mouth he was condemned.

'I'll remember that,' she returned.

Steve seemed to lose patience with her; he turned on her with a snarl.

'Get out of my room, unless…' He paused and a gleam came into his eyes. 'Unless you want to share my bed.'

'After what you've just confessed? Certainly not!'