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‘And now,’ he said, his voice low and thick, ‘relax awhile. The women will help you. I have business to discuss with the men and then we will dine together.’
Women? She looked around to see two women near the bed unpacking her bag. Unfamiliar blue fabric shot with gold floated over one woman’s hands. Sapphy frowned.
‘That’s not my bag,’ she said, stepping towards the partition. ‘It can’t be.’
‘You will find it is,’ Khaled responded.
‘But none of this…’ The women moved aside while she checked the bag—it looked like hers, yet nothing inside was familiar. She dug her hands through the gossamer fabrics, the golden tassels and belts, the heavier cloaks. She didn’t own these things. Yet, underneath everything else, there was her toiletry bag. It didn’t make sense.
And yet all of a sudden it did.
Icy realisation filled her veins. This was just the sort of thing she should have expected from someone who had frustrated her at every move. She turned, barely able to restrain the mounting hostility within.
‘What have you done with my clothes?’
CHAPTER NINE
KHALED dismissed the women with a flick of his hand.
‘You don’t like your new garments?’
‘These things aren’t mine. What have you done with the clothes I packed?’
‘I promised you a gift—the garments made by Hebra’s best seamstresses. Do you agree they are quite beautiful?’
‘I want my clothes.’
‘Your clothes were not appropriate for the desert. This isn’t Milan or Sydney or even Hebra. Aren’t you going to try these on? See how well they fit? See how well they become you?’
‘Why the hell should I?’
‘Because,’ he said, his dark eyes shiny with victory, ‘you have no choice. You have nothing else to wear.’
‘Then I’ll wear what I’ve already got on.’
His nostrils flared. ‘It is entirely up to you if you wish to offend our hosts. For while we value the camel for transport, it is not a beast we would choose to eat with.’
She spun away from him, determined that he wouldn’t see that she knew he was right. From the moment they’d arrived at the encampment she’d looked forward to the prospect of washing off the baggage of a long, dusty trip and changing into clean clothes. But her idea of clean clothes had more to do with a linen skirt and fresh blouse than the silky nothingness of the fabrics now contained in her suitcase.
‘You need not be concerned,’ he said, almost as if he could read her thoughts. ‘It makes no difference what you had planned to wear as no one would see it anyway. The women will provide you with an abaya and hijab, a cloak and scarf to cover your garments and head, and a burka to hide your face, as is the custom here in the tribes. All anyone will see of you is your eyes. So you see, you really have nothing to get upset about.’
‘In that case,’ she said at last, ‘it would appear that I don’t have much of a choice.’
‘No,’ he said, ‘you don’t.’
And then he was gone, leaving her and her resentment simmering in his wake.
All night long the blue eyes had captivated him. All night he’d wished for a halt to the seemingly endless cups of coffee, the conversation that lingered interminably, when all he wanted to do was be alone with her.
Even covered from head to toe she stood out. There was simply no way Sapphire would blend in by dressing her in the local garb. There was no way she would not be noticed.
All anyone could see was her blue eyes, clear and warm, shining from behind her cotton burka. Yet he could see the way they lit up when she laughed, the way they creased at the corners with delight, the way they reacted when others told their tales of desert wanderings or their children, the way they would fill with compassion when the story was sad.
Most of all he liked the way they stilled when his gaze locked on hers, smoke suddenly swirling in their depths before they dropped or turned away.
All he could see was her blue eyes and even they were enough to hold him transfixed. Yet the promise, too, of what was under the dark abaya intervened in his thoughts. He wanted to strip away the cloak, to find the woman under the dull garb, to explore her feminine shape and hidden curves.
And now, when their hosts had finally called an end to the evening, now he finally had his chance.
She clutched the sides of the abaya, avoiding looking at him directly as Khaled walked her to her tent, the soft maa-ing of the goats carrying gently across the crisp night air. It was cooler now although feeling warm didn’t seem to be a problem for her. Not given the way Khaled had made her feel through dinner.
