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Suddenly she was free. He moved away. Dizzily she stared after him as he collected up the various objects strewn about the sand. He packed them all away into the saddlebags, then returned and lifted her on to the back of her horse.
'Where are we going now?' she asked despairingly. 'I'm too tired to ride any further.'
'We're going back,' he said tersely, mounting. 'We should be there soon after dawn.' She was incredulous. 'Back?'
'To your hotel,' he said grimly, wheeling his mount away and galloping towards the sandy ridge behind the oasis.
Marie stared after him, disbelief freezing her for a moment, then she followed. When she caught up with him she stared sideways at the enigmatic hawk-like profile.
'Why?' she asked very quietly. 'Why have you changed your mind?' Was it because of their lovemaking just now? she wondered. Had he softened towards her? Or was he sorry for her? Why had he changed his mind?
He didn't answer, riding hard, his gaze fixed on the sky. She rode in silence beside him, hardly conscious of the ache of her back, the weariness in every limb.
'I won't tell anyone about this,' she offered meekly a little while later. 'I won't tell the police anything. I'll say I went out riding alone and got lost.'
He glanced at her briefly then, his face unreadable. 'Perhaps we both got lost,' he said ambiguously.
'What do you mean?' she asked, her face doubtful.
He shrugged. 'It doesn't matter.'
They rode on, across the moonlit sand, and then in the growing greyness of dawn they came in sight of the little seaside resort, with its palm trees and outlying mud-walled houses whitewashed by the sun. They passed into the outskirts, skirted a palm grove and were back outside the little stable. The same Arab boy sat sleeping beside the wall. He got up, rubbing his eyes, held the horses while Khalid lifted her down.
Her legs collapsed beneath her, she sagged against him, so cramped and tired that she could not stand.
He lifted her into his arms again, and she cradled her head against his strong chest with a thankful sigh. For a second or two he looked down into her pale face.
'Allah knows why I am giving away the prize of a lifetime,' he said softly. 'You are as beautiful as the sunrise.'
She flushed, touched by the compliment. 'Thank you.'
He carried her down through the palms to the beach, where the small boat lay beached out of the curling waves. Marie lay sleepily watching him as he rowed along to the other end of the bay, marvelling at his ability to look as if he had just got out of a bed after eight hours' sleep whereas in fact he had been physically working all night, riding across the desert.
When they reached the beach below the modern, palm-fringed hotel, she said quickly, 'Leave me now. I can get into my room without being seen, perhaps, and it would be better if you weren't seen.'
He nodded and watched her clamber out, lifting her skirts clear of the water, then walking slowly up on to the sand.
She glanced back, half reluctant to leave him. He had pulled his headdress down around his dark face, and the dark eyes glinted at her from the shelter of the headdress's shadow.
'If you need money, Khalid, I might be able to help,' she said nervously.
The hard mouth straightened and an angry redness came up into his face. He looked at her furiously. 'Goodbye, Miss Brinton,' he spat bitterly. 'When I first saw you I thought you a typical product of a decadent society; idle, vain and silly. It seems I was right.' His hands moved on the oars and the boat began to pull away. Marie watched, hating herself for having made such a tactless and stupid remark. Then she turned and walked into the hotel.
She met no one as she padded softy along her corridor. She slid into her own room and sank down on the bed. Presumably Mrs Brown
had concluded that she had turned in early because of her headache. There was no sign that anyone had missed her. She guessed that if she had been missed the hotel would be swarming with police.
She took off the loose white garment Khalid had given her and laid it carefully over a chair, then slid out of her white evening gown and went into the shower. The warm water fell on her like desert rain, refreshing and reviving her. She put on a brief, transparent lacy nightgown and dropped into bed.
As sleep overcame her she briefly wondered if the events of the night had been a dream. They faded into sleep, a sleep in which she lay once more beside a desert campfire in Khalid's arms and sank into the delirium of his kiss without a second's hesitation, unshackled by the barriers of class or race, moving to claim him with the freedom and certainty a dream confers upon the human mind.
She did not want to wake up.
CHAPTER TWO
IT was raining as they drove away from Heathrow. Cold, grey spears lashed down around the car with a relentless ferocity which made Marie shiver. After the heat of the Arabian sun England seemed unbearably chilly, a colourless land of leaden skies and mournful landscapes. She thought of the oasis at Wadi Aquida; the flame-lit palm trees and glimmering moon-reflecting water, and a curious pain began to ache around her heart.
'Something wrong?' James Brinton asked gently, looking sidelong at her, one hand touching hers as it rested on her lap.
