The Widow And The Sheikh. Marguerite Kaye

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ one,’ Julia said, laughing. She leaned back to gaze up at the night sky. ‘We had a telescope at our—my father’s—home in Marazion Bay, but the stars in the desert sky feel so close one almost doesn’t need one. I have tried to paint it, but it’s impossible to replicate such beauty.’

      ‘You do not confine your art to botanical specimens, then?’

      ‘I’ve had little time to paint anything else but—no, not wholly. When all this is over, I can paint what I like. And perhaps also what other people like too, since I’ll have to find some way of earning my living.’

      Azhar frowned. ‘Your husband did not make provision for you?’

      ‘What little we had will be consumed by this trip and the production of his book. Daniel assumed I would return to live with my father.’

      ‘But you have other ideas?’

      ‘I love Papa, but I do not intend to substitute one master for another,’ Julia said wryly. ‘I do not mean to imply that he is unkind or uncaring. My father is, as Daniel was, a sort of—oh, a sort of benevolent autocrat. Kind, and caring, but utterly selfish. Papa and Daniel both assumed my time theirs, their wishes mine. It never occurred to either of them that I might have wishes of my own. You see, a benevolent autocrat.’

      ‘You have a peculiarly apt way of describing things.’

      ‘But you understand? Your own father...’

      ‘Is dead.’

      Once again, his expression was blank. He hadn’t moved, but she felt as if he had physically detached himself. It was an extremely effective method of closing down a subject, though it sent her curiosity soaring. Julia reminded herself of the need to keep him on her side. Silence stretched and became uncomfortable. She had to think of something to say. Anything.

      ‘Are you familiar with the botanical gardens in Cairo, Azhar?’

      A blank look was her answer.

      ‘They were first established during Napoleon’s occupation. A Monsieur Delile was the director then, a correspondent of my husband’s. Monsieur Delile wrote the botanical chapters of Travel in Lower and Upper Egypt, you know.’

      ‘No, I did not.’

      ‘And you do not care to know,’ she said, deflated. ‘You would rather be alone.’

      ‘No!’ Not only Julia, but the Saluki hound flinched at this harsh exclamation. Azhar grimaced. ‘Forgive me. This journey has been—I have been—’ He broke off, shaking his head. ‘Please. Stay a while. Tell me—tell me a little more of your own journey. Did you stop in Cairo on your way to Damascus? It is a city I know well. One of my residences is on the outskirts.’

      Julia eyed him warily. She was far more interested in what it was, precisely, about this journey that made him so—so edgy, yes that was it. But already, she knew him well enough not to pursue the subject. ‘You have more than one residence, then? I assume that trade—whatever you trade in—is lucrative?’

      ‘Silks and spices, mostly. I work hard but yes, it is lucrative. Though I travel a good deal, and have other residences in Damascus and Naples, I spend several months of the year in Egypt. I am well acquainted with Colonel Missett, your Consul-General, though apparently he is shortly to be replaced by a new man, Salt.’

      ‘I didn’t know that. Do you by any chance mean a Mr Henry Salt? It is such an unusual name, I wonder if it might be the same person.’

      Azhar raised his brow. ‘You know him?’

      ‘A little. I have read his Voyage to Abyssinia, naturally.’

      ‘Naturally?’

      Julia grimaced. ‘Naturally, because Mr Salt is—was—another of my husband’s correspondents.’

      ‘In fact, I too have read Mr Salt’s account of his voyage to Abyssinia. It is a country with which I trade. I found his insights—interesting.’

      ‘You mean they were in opposition to your own?’

      ‘Our experiences of the country were very different.’

      ‘You mean because your interest in the country is primarily commercial? From what I understand, a large part of Mr Salt’s mission there was to promote trade too. Will you be cultivating his acquaintance in Cairo? Though I believe it is the Pasha who holds the real power there. Are you...?’

      Azhar laughed. ‘Yes, I am very well acquainted with him also. In my line of business it pays to be as well connected as possible. Permit me to tell you, madam—Julia—that you are a most singular female.’

      ‘I don’t know whether that is a compliment or an insult.’

      ‘A compliment,’ Azhar said, ‘most assuredly, a compliment.’

      In the firelight, his eyes seemed like molten gold. She knew she must be imagining the flicker of desire in them, it was the firelight reflected, but for a moment she allowed him to hold her gaze, to imagine what it would be like if he leaned over, closed the distance between them, touched his mouth to hers. Her stomach knotted, making her shiver.

      Then reality intervened. Recalling the way he’d snatched his hand away from her earlier, Julia scrabbled to her feet, breaking the spell which could only have been one-sided. ‘It is late, and I am very tired.’

      Azhar too got to his feet, with a feline grace she could never hope to emulate. ‘We will set out at dawn.’

      ‘What about my things—the tent, my clothes...?’

      He waved his hand dismissively. ‘My mules can carry your personal effects. I will send someone for the remainder.’

      Send someone! So he had family in this city they were visiting. Julia added this snippet to the very small list of things she knew of him. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For coming to my rescue today. For promising to help me when you have business of your own to attend to, and I’m sure the last thing you wish is to be encumbered with an inconvenient Englishwoman.’

      ‘Cornish,’ Azhar said softly. ‘Goodnight, Julia.’

      ‘You have not set up your tent.’

      ‘Goodnight, Julia,’ he said, firmly this time.

      He meant to stand guard. And he wanted to be alone. And he didn’t want her commenting on it either. She was getting rather good at understanding his silent communication method. ‘Goodnight, Azhar.’

      * * *

      It had been a very long day. Clinging to the camel’s hideously uncomfortable box seat behind Azhar, her bottom quite numb, Julia tried to ignore the increasing queasiness that assailed her as they swayed alarmingly atop the beast. The well-named ship of the desert was making her seasick. She would have given much to have been able to travel on one of the pack mules as had become her custom, but with her few remaining personal possessions to add to their existing burden, it had not been possible.

      The initial excitement of sitting so intimately close to Azhar, their bodies perforce pressed together, had quite worn off. She was СКАЧАТЬ