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Then I heard the giggles. They came from all around us - nasty, female giggles that made it clear what they all thought of me. I gathered all my strength and, finding that it was just about enough, wrenched my m
outh away from that of Rikkard Ambrose. Slowly opening eyes that had slid shut during the kiss, I stared into his perfect face, only an inch away.
‘Just relax,’ he murmured against my lips. ‘Remember, we’re in love. People who are in love kiss each other all the time.’
‘I don’t want to kiss you!’ I lied, my teeth gritted. ‘I don’t love you! I hate you!’
Something flashed in his dark eyes. ‘Then I’d suggest you start pretending better!’
*~*~**~*~*
They didn’t have solid chocolate in Egypt! Why? Probably because it melted too easily, or because that ingenious invention hadn’t yet reached this distant corner of the earth. Sullenly, I slumped down on one of the chairs beside the refreshment tables and picked up a date from one of the plates. My gaze turned to the dance floor, where Mr Ambrose was waltzing away with the daughter of the French ambassador, who stayed here as part of an excursion up the Nile Delta. Pointing out to me that my way of dancing with him was likely to break his toes sooner or later, Mr Ambrose had suggested I sit down for a dance or two. So, now I was sitting and staring at the dancing pair, morosely.
‘Blast!’ I murmured. ‘Why do the French have to have an ambassador in Egypt, anyway? It’s not as though they import frogs or snails from here!’
Viciously, I bit down on the date, and winced. Not exactly my taste. What I needed to give me comfort right now was chocolate, massive amounts of chocolate, dark and sweet. But there was none to be had. I grabbed another date.
The music ended, and on the dance floor Mr Ambrose and the French girl parted. She smiled. He bowed to kiss her hand. She smiled more widely.
‘Oh, sure,’ I grumbled, stuffing another date into my mouth. ‘You go ahead and leer at him! He’s only married to me, so no problem. No, actually he isn’t even married to me! But you don’t know that, you little vixen, do you?’
Even from this distance I could see that the girl was very pretty. A small, delicate nose, dimples in her cheeks, the kind of eyelashes that seemed to have nothing to do but to flutter all day and a waist so slender Mr Ambrose could probably have reached around it with one hand.
Not that he had tried so far.
Good for him! So far, I had only been watching in silence, but that could change at a moment’s notice.
Stepping away from the ambassador’s daughter, he sat down at a distant table and ordered a glass of water - the only drink on the menu that didn’t cost a single penny. His drink arrived. He took a sip. Then, as if sensing my gaze, he slowly raised his head to look over at me. Our eyes met. The meeting was quite a long one - at least long enough to sit down and have a nice discussion about recent politics and the weather. However, neither his or my eyes seemed seemed to be focused on such tame subjects.
‘Ah! Bon Dieu, young amour is such a wonderful thing!’
My head snapped around. Sitting beside me was the Comtesse Somethingorother, a French noblewoman who was also staying at the hotel and to whom I had been briefly introduced the night before.
‘I… I beg your pardon?’ I stammered. My knowledge of French was a little shaky - all right, maybe ‘non-existent’ would be the better word - but still, I thought even I knew what that particular word meant. ‘Amour?’
The comtesse gave me a smile as warm as a pot full of cooked snails, and considerably more appealing.
‘Certainement, ma chérie. How do you say again en anglaise…? “Love”, is it not? Yes, that it is! Young love!’
I stared at her in perplexed amazement. ‘Um… love?’
‘But yes, ma chérie! It is blindingly obvious how much you are in love with your young man.’
As you all know, my cheeks weren’t given to blushing. There was not much on this planet that could embarrass me, and two weeks in Egypt had given me an even healthier tan than usual. But right then, my cheeks ignored all commands of character and colouring and flushed a deep, burning red.
I, in love? And more than that, in love with Rikkard Ambrose? She had to be joking! It was all acting, and so far, I appeared to have made a miserable job of it!
‘And he with you,’ The comtesse added with a wink.
My jaw dropped.
That did it! I was decided - the old lady was off her rocker! The French government should really pay more attention to its foreign policy! First they allow their ambassadors to have daughters that are too pretty by half, and then they let crazy comtesses loose all across the world! That was simply irresponsible!
Mr Ambrose, in love with me? Yes, of course, he was madly in love with me! That was why he treated me with such kindness and respect! Ha! I might just as well believe that an iceberg could fall in love with a volcano.
Really? whispered a little voice in my head. Cast your mind back a little to the tender feeling of his lips on yours, to the way he held you while you were dancing in the candlelight, and you weren’t busy treading on his toes. Remember how he looked at you.
He was acting! Of course he was acting!
