The Desert Castle (31 page)

Marion opened her eyes very wide.
‘
I don
’
t want her money—or her friends,
’
she asserted.

‘
My sister Felicity wouldn
’
t be able to do enough for you if you were a friend of the Dains.
’
The cynical twist to his mouth dismayed Marion almost as much as his words.

‘
Why should that matter to me?
’
she demanded.

‘
Did you know Judith is Denise
’
s cousin?
’
he murmured.
‘
Their mothers are sisters, and they all have shares in the
family
business, under Papa Dain
’
s direction, of course. His is the star to which they
’
ve all hitched their wagons
!
’

‘
Including you?
’

He moved restively.
‘
I have a certain amount of family feeling. I play along with them. Up to now it hasn
’
t cost me anything to keep the old man sweet. It wasn
’
t likely that anyone would get hurt. My family is not noted for holding their hands when it comes to using other people. Moral outrage is not a feeling that comes their way often, especially not when it comes to their own actions. We haven
’
t got your integrity, little Marion.
’

She digested this in silence, testing the truth of what he had told her. She could well believe that the Hartleys were everything he said they
were, but Gregory
himself?
That she could not believe. She thought of the books of his she had read so eagerly in London and she knew why she didn
’
t believe it. His books had a lot of
himself
in them. She had discovered that bit by bit, living under the same roof with him.

‘
Does your sister owe the Dains a great deal of money?
’
sh
e asked finally.

‘
A great deal,
’
he concurred.
‘
The kind of life she and my brother-in-law enjoy is very expensive to support. They are actually his paid employees, but they like to think they are important to him in their own right
.
They don
’
t like to think he is using them in
their turn, yet when he cracks the whip they both jump to it, and when he ignores them for months together the debts mount up and they find themselves bound to
him
more closely than ever.
’

‘
But he doesn
’
t own you,
’
Marion stated, knowing it for a fact.
‘
He never will. Nor will Denise, will she?
’
She was certain of that. Denise
’
s brand of ruthlessness came in a very pretty package, gift wrapped by her father.

‘
Are you telling me that you trust me after all?
’
he drawled. His perceptive eyes were hidden by his lashes, but she had no doubt that they were taking in every change of expression on her mobile face.

‘
Yes, I trust you,
’
she said. She schooled herself to sound as though it was a matter of indifference to her whether he sold out to the Dains or not.
‘
I
’
ve read your books,
’
she added.

‘
Not very conclusive evidence,
’
he commented.

Yet she had begun to fall in love with him then, she
thought. She hadn
’
t known it; she would have breathed scorn on any such idea; but he had lived in her mind ever since, as much a part of her as the spirit that formed her being.

‘
I think you know all about moral outrage,
’
she went on.
‘
I’
ve never doubted your integrity. I
’
d trust you anywhere!
’

‘
This is a new departure,
’
he said wryly.
‘
I was beginning to
think
you didn
’
t trust me as far as you could see me.
’

She shook her head.
‘
I wanted to be friends,
’
she reminded him.
‘
It was you who didn
’
t want that. You wouldn
’
t be my friend. I knew you didn
’
t like me and I was afraid of—of imposing on you, but that didn
’
t mean I don
’
t trust you.
’

‘
Then you
’
ll trust me to do the right thing in the next few days?
’
he challenged her.

She nodded.
‘
Yes,
’
she said. She didn
’
t doubt that
he would do what he
thought
was right. If he wanted
Denise, he would take her, and she would have to learn to live with the knowledge that he was beyond her reach for ever. Other people had eked out their existence without the man of their choice—and they had survived. And so would she if she had to. What other choice did
sh
e have? If it had been anyone else but Denise! She would have to buckle down if Gregory made her his wife, but Marion didn
’
t believe that she would love
him
as he deserved. There was something essentially hard about Denise Dain.

‘
And you won
’
t say another word about going back to England?
’

She hesitated.
‘
I may have to go,
’
she said.

He gave her an intent look.
‘
I’ll
keep you here if I have to lock you up to do it,
’
he said with a fierceness that made her breathless.
‘
Whoever has to pay for my family
’
s extravagances, it isn
’
t going to be you
!
’

She stared at him blankly, wishing that she understood him better, but she didn
’
t like to ask the questions that were forming in her mind. Others, less sensitive
than
herself, would have demanded an explanation without a second thought, but Marion
’
s shyness was apt to tie her tongue in knots, and being in love with Gregory didn
’
t make it any easier for her to gatecrash his privacy.

‘
Do you want more tea to finish up with?
’
he asked her.

‘
I
’
d rather get home,
’
she answered.

His face softened dramatically.
‘
Is the castle home to you, Marion?
’

‘
Sometimes,
’
sh
e admitted.
‘
Sometimes I feel I
’
ve known it all my life.
’

‘
You know what they say,
’
he said, though he didn
’
t specify who said it
,
‘
that if you make an image of someone you steal a part of their soul. Your image has been in the castle for many, many years.
’

‘
Will I ever get my soul back?
’
she wondered. It was only a silly superstition, but the sight of her own
face looking back at her from the fresco in her room always disturbed her.

‘
No, your soul is forfeit to the
man
who claims you,
’
he said.
‘
There are rules about these things, even in Paradise.
’

‘
Perhaps no man will claim me,
’
she murmured, avoiding his glance.
‘
What will I do then?
’

‘
Every
houri
is created for some man,
’
he answered.
‘
Even the shy ones
!
’

She managed a laugh, but
s
he was sad inside too. He might flirt with her—a little—but it didn
’
t mean anything to him.
I
t wasn
’
t the sun, the moon, and the stars,
as
it was to a fool like her.

Moving from the restaurant back to the car was enough to remind her of the damp discomfort of her clothes. She huddled herself into the
corner
of the seat, thankful that she was no longer actually dripping, tried to turn the heating up, only to find that it was already to a
maximum.

‘
Are you very tired?
’
she asked him tentatively.
‘
I can drive quite well, if you want me to?
’

But he refused her offer,
smiling
as he did so.
‘
I’ll
get you home. There will be time enough to sleep then, my dear.
’

She wasn
’
t sorry not to take the wheel. The wet roads were dangerously slippery and the Mercedes was a much more powerful car than she was accustomed to driving. When they passed an overturned lorry, there was oil to contend with as well, and she could only admire
t
he way Gregory handled the big car, bringing the slipping wheels firmly back under control with the minimum of effort.

Amman looked
unfamiliar in
the rain. The steep streets were less crowded than usual, though the horns were as vociferous as ever. The Hussein Mosque, which always looked to Marion as though it had strayed out of a pantomime, it contrasted so sharply with the
small,
dark shops surrounded it, was closed and locked. Water
dripped down the minarets and there were puddles in the courtyard where the faithful normally washed themselves and prepared for prayer. Outside the streets were flooded in places and, in some places, were breaking up under the force of the storm.

‘
We were lucky to get through the Syq when we did,
’
Marion mused.
‘
Do you suppose Lucasta and Gaston are far behind us?
’

‘
Still wishing you were with them?
’
he asked her.

S
he shook her head.
‘
I
bet Gaston doesn
’
t stop for lunch,
’
she said.
‘
I
’
m getting very greedy, but I do like the food here.
’

His grey eyes laughed at her.
‘
I believe that in spite of the cold and the wet you
’
re enjoying yourself, Marion Shirley!
’
he accused her.

But then she always did with him.

They arrived at the Qasr el Biyara not much more than an hour later. Marion shook herself out of the pleasant state of lethargy she had fallen into and got stiffly out of the car.

‘
Run!
’
Gregory ordered her.
‘
Run inside and get straight into a hot bath.
I’ll
bring your luggage along later.
’

She didn
’
t wait to be told twice. She fled into the castle
and
went straight down the corridor towards her room. Zein came pattering after her, giggling with
th
e excitement of their sudden arrival. She helped Marion to peel off her wet clothes, running the bath for her and offering to wash her hair for her. When Marion had
finally
chased her out
o
f the bathroom and had soaked in the hot water for long enough to feel warm
again,
she chided her in lilting tones for being such a long time and handed her a clean nightdress round the door, followed by a kaftan that doubled as Marion
’
s dressing-gown and something that, at a pinch, she could wear in the evenings as well
.