Hotel Mirador (3 page)

“Oh, yes. Mr. Ryland said you’re a family man.”

“Tony is twenty-six.” He waved towards the formal gardens at the back of the hotel. “You will like to walk here in the daylight. There is a pool full of tropical fish, also some fine gardens seats, a number of rare trees. And there is the lawn where our guests sunbathe and sit under umbrellas, drinking whisky and American soft drinks,” he ended with a touch of wry humor. “Shall we now go to dinner? I will advise you what to eat.”

The dining room of the Hotel Mirador was on a par with everything else in the place—spacious, pillared, heavy white linen on the table, which were set with immaculate glass and silver. And numerous dark-skinned waiters under the eye of a shrewd French
maître
d’hotel.
Pierre de Chalain seated Sally at a table for three near the wall and ordered a light wine from the hovering steward. Then, from the menu, he chose
Crème
Maroc, Sole Brunot and Steak Charpentier. Brunot and Charpentier, he informed her, were military men who had to be honored whenever they brought a party to the hotel for dinner. If mademoiselle would look down the dining room to the right, she would see two large tables decorated with orchids; they were prepared for this evening’s military party.

“Do you often give functions for celebrities?” she asked. “I arrived during a garden party held by someone called the Caid.”

He nodded. “The Moors like to hold their festivities either in a vast empty room or in the garden.” He spread his hands and smiled. “As you see, we could not' be more prosperous. And it is all due to Mr. Ryland.”

She gestured youthfully. “It’s not so difficult to have material success when you give everything to it. Maybe he never thinks of anything else but making money.”

“No,” Pierre said gently. “Money does not mean a great deal to Dane. He likes success, to have the reins of several businesses in his hands and to be responsible for all the people involved. In the matter of the Mirador he set himself a goal, and achieved it. It was the same with the phosphate mine, and I am hoping it will be the same with a date plantation which I am half inclined to purchase.” He smiled. “You will not be interested in such things. Tell me what you think of the
Crème
Maroc.”

The soup was excellent, and she told him so. They went through the courses, Sally inquisitively attempting a small portion of each. When dessert was placed on the table, she said she would prefer to have coffee upstairs in her room.

“I’d like to take my time over it and read a book.”

“So you read!”

“Well, naturally.” Sally liked the man, but she couldn’t quite make him out. He seemed anxious to keep her here, yet several times he had been approached by a waiter with a message. “If you’re needed in your office, monsieur, I’m quite ready to leave.”

“But there is no hurry.” He glanced over his shoulder towards the wide entrance to the dining room, got' out cigarettes. “You smoke, mademoiselle?”

“I do, but not now, thank you.”

“Then, perhaps
...”

He had again cast a hasty look towards the entrance, and this time his expression cleared and he half rose. A slender young man of infinite grace was coming towards them. He was black haired, beautifully tanned and incredibly handsome in the Latin style, but his eyes were so light in color that Sally instantly labelled them golden. He was smiling, showing good teeth, and looking as if he found most things highly amusing.

“So you come at last,” said Monsieur de Chalain severely. Then, in the next breath, he melted. “You can explain later what has kept you. Mademoiselle,” to Sally, “I present my son, Antoine. Tony, this young lady is Miss Sally Yorke; she comes to give treatment to Dane’s cousin.”

Tony de Chalain lifted a black eyebrow. “Well, well, a girl from England. I’m honored to make your acquaintance, Miss Yorke.”

“Sit down, Tony,” said his father with a touch of irritation. “Drink a little wine, and then you must escort mademoiselle to her suite.”

“Before I eat?”

“Certainly before you eat. We have dined already. You may dine later.” Pierre had remained standing. He bowed to Sally. “I feel I can no longer leave my duties. Many thanks for your company at dinner, Miss Yorke. Goodnight.”

She answered him, and as the man moved away she looked at his son, who was seating himself opposite her at the table. She felt laughter in her throat, for he was grinning and a wicked gleam danced in his eyes.

“The old chap’s transparent, isn’t he?” Tony said calmly. “He’s never before hung on at the table for me. While I’m in Shiran I come and go here just as I please. Do you mind having me thrust at' you?”

“Is that what’s happening?” she asked vaguely. “I don’t get it.”

“Never mind—it’s extremely pleasant. Are you sure you can’t eat a second dinner?”

“Very sure. What exactly is your father trying to do?” He gave her a smile which was as gentle as Pierre’s but more knowledgeable. “You’ll find out'. I must say he knows how to pick ’em. You’re quite a looker—in a frighteningly natural fashion. May I call you Sally?”

“If you like. Why does naturalness frighten you?”

He groaned. “Don’t take me up on things I say, there’s a sweet. I’ve a French father and dark looks, but I haven’t the Frenchman’s turn of phrase. I was educated in England.”

“Where do you live now?”

“I’ve been staying forty miles away, at El Riza. My father drove down to see me a couple of days ago and we came here together late this afternoon. The poor old chap takes life heavily.”

“That’s no way to speak of your father!”

Her tone surprised him; he widened his eyes at her. “He said you were different, and you are. Oh, yes,” as it was her turn to look astonishment, “he’s already told me about you. Met you in Dane’s office, apparently, and was instantly floored. Yet I shouldn’t call you a dish for a Frenchman. It’s that scrubbed, honest look about you that must have nailed him.”

“You’re a very odd person, Monsieur de Chalain!”

He laughed. “Just Tony. Tony, who never sticks to anything for more than a few weeks, who needs a wife who is steady and strong in spirit, but young and tender enough to rouse his protective instincts and be a good companion as well as a firm guide. Recognize yourself?” Sally sat back, appalled. “Oh, really, you’re going rather far. I’m quite certain your father thought nothing of the kind!”

“You don’t know my father. You don’t know me, either.” Tony drank some wine, rested both hands in front of him on the table and leant towards her, confidingly. “It’s only fair that you should understand the set-up. I’ve been living with a family in El Riza—the son is my friend. They have vineyards and olive groves, and for some time I’ve been helping out—much to my father’s disgust. He’s been trying to persuade me to work here in Shiran, but I’m not interested in commerce. I haven’t been here for some weeks, because each tim
e
I show
e
d up it was a signal for the old man to press home the necessity for a career. Well, in the end he came to me—and several things merged. I want a business of my own—a date plantation.”

“He mentioned something about it,” she said. “Mr. Ryland is to be consulted, isn’t he?”

Tony nodded, sceptically. “But he won’t touch it. Dane can pick up a lame proposition and make it tick in no time, but I can’t see Mm doin
g it for me. After all, philosophi
cally, “I’ve never given him reason to believe I’m worth it—so you couldn’t blame him for turning me down, could you?”

“Have you already found a plantation?”

“Yes. It’s gone wild and the dates have deteriorated, but there’s no doubt that with cash it could be made into a first-class proposition. My father is willing to use most of
his capital
to purchase the property, but the administration and improvements would have to be covered by as much again. If Dane backed it and floated a company, the thing would succeed.”

“Like this hotel?”

“That’s right. You should have seen this place five years ago!”

“Yes, I’ve heard about it.” Sally smiled and gave a small shrug. “Well, I hope you’ll get your plantation, some way or other. I must go now.”

“Not yet. You haven’t told me anything about yourself!
”

“
There’s nothing to tell. I’m not like you. I already have a career and I love my family. In fact, I’m far too normal to be interesting.”

“But don’t you realize that the normal is ou
t
l
andish here in Shiran?” he said engagingly. “I’m beginning to wonder whether my father isn’t rather a good judge of English women.”

“Now you’re being silly. Your father is much too sensible to jump to conclusions about someone he doesn’t know.”

He reached over and took hold of her fingers, gripped when she made to withdraw. “It’s all right—the French do this kind of t
hi
ng, so it won’t matter if we’re seen. I’m only clutching at you to make sure you don’t get up. Look here, Sally, you and I ought to get together. If you’re staying for some time you’ll be deuced lonely without an escort, and I’ll promise to be no more than friendly. We’ll find heaps to talk about.”

“I’m here to do all I can for Michael Ritc
hi
e,” she said flatly. “I want no complications of any kind.”

“Mike,” he said.
“
Yes, of course. Met him yet?”

“No. I’m going to see him tomorrow.”

“Mike and I used to be buddies, but he’s gone peculiar.”
He reverted to the earlier topic. “I don’t want any complications either, but apart from Dane and Mike I’m probably the nearest thing to an Englishman you’ll get in these parts. You’ll expire from boredom if you don’t have someone to show you round. Besides, I think we’ll amuse each other, don’t you?”

“We might,” she admitted. “Let’s wait and see, shall we? I must go now.”

But Tony was slow in releasing her hand, too slow. Someone paused beside their table, looking down at them with cool, sea-green eyes.

“Good evening, Tony,” Dane Ryland said. “No, don’t get up. Order your dinner. I’ll take Miss Yorke to her room.”

But Tony stood swiftly, his smile faintly embarrassed. “Hallo, Dane,” he said. “I tried to get in to see you, but you were busy.”

“Make it ten o’clock tonight at my rooms. Ready, Miss Yorke?”

Without looking at him, Sally got to her feet. She nodded goodnight to Tony, and preceded Dane from the dining room, her head held high. Small spots of color had sprung in her cheeks and a vexed brightness shone in her eyes, but she went straight to the lift and did not demur when Dane followed her into the compartment. The door slid across, the attendant pressed a button and they ascended silkily to the first floor. Again she preceded Dane, walked along the corridor and stopped at the door of Suite Seven.

She turned to him abruptly. “What do you propose to do—lock me in?”

His smile was bland. “Come now, Miss Yorke. You’ve had a long day. I thought it was understood that you’d dine in your sitting room.”

“You thought wrong; I didn’t say I would. I’m accustomed to taking plenty of exercise, and even after a few hours I did need a change from the suite.”

“You soon found a friend. Have you discovered that Pierre de Chalain has plans for Tony—plans which include the steadying influence of a wife?”

From him, too? It was unbelievable! Sally stared at
him
‘Tony de Chalain said as much, but I decided he was a little mad. I arrived in Shiran only this afternoon, intent
only on my job and
...
well, that’s all. Monsieur de Chalain and his son are strangers to me. How can you possibly have such wild ideas?”

“They’re not so wild. Pierre would give an eye to see Tony settle down to business and take a sensible wife, but his trouble was to find the right type of girl. This afternoon,” he observed with irony, “you stepped right into his path, and he feels you may be the answer.”

“Did he tell you that?” she demanded, aghast.

“He didn’t have to. I knew he’d gone to El Riza to see Tony and that he’d come back full of worry—he’s done it before. If you remember,” he added dryly, “I was there when you met Pierre, and when he told me that Tony had agreed to leave his friends at El Riza and come to Shiran until his future is settled, I knew the way his thought's had flown. He’s going to make an all-out bid to get Tony established.”

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s fantastic. I want no part in it!”

“Good for you, Sally,” he said negligently. “It’s best to be clear about things from the beginning. In any case, a girl like you couldn’t settle in Morocco. You’d be pining all the time for cool green hills and woolly sheep.”

Sally curbed the rising flames. “You don’t have to be contemptuous of humdrum people like me, Mr. Ryland. We’ve a good many things that you haven’t, and most of us prefer to stay the way we are. I’m not responsible for the ridiculous notions of your partner and I certainly don’t want to know anything more about them. If you think
...”
But his hand closed so tightly over her arm that she winced and stopped speaking. Three people were coming along the corridor, a bald and prosperous American, his enamelled wife and an incredibly svelte daughter. Dane bowed to them, charm in every line.

“Good evening, madame
...
monsieur
...
mademoiselle. I trust you will enjoy your dinner.”

“We’ve never stayed in a finer hotel, Mr. Ryland,” cooed the middle-aged siren as they passed. The blonde daughter slanted Dane a come-hither look but was silent.

When they were out of earshot, he looked down at Sally. “You were saying?”