Dark Enemy. Anne Mather

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ an iced lime and lemon. Just then Ali appeared in the doorway, his huge dark eyes widening when he saw Nicola.

      ‘Is there anything you want, sir?’ he asked importantly, but Jason merely shook his head. However, Ali was not one to waste his opportunities, and he looked questioningly at Nicola as he said: ‘Perhaps the lady would like something to eat, sir? Or has she already eaten?’

      Jason’s eyes darkened, and then, before he could reply, Nicola said: ‘Why, how charming of your – er – houseboy, Mr. Wilde. And how thoughtful, too. Particularly as you were so disappointed that I arrived late for dinner.’

      Ali grinned. ‘I will get the lady some curry and some fruit, yes?’ he asked, looking at Jason. ‘And perhaps some good coffee!’

      Jason gave an exclamation, and then shrugged. ‘Oh, do what you like,’ he muttered broodingly, and Nicola hid a smile. She seemed to have scored at last.

      ‘May I sit down?’ she asked, subsiding on to a chair without waiting for his agreement. ‘These are quite comfortable bungalows, aren’t they? I mean – air-conditioning and so on. Not exactly what you’d expect to find in the middle of the desert.’

      Jason leaned against the drinks cabinet, surveying her intently. ‘Just what did you expect to find, Miss King?’ he asked lazily.

      Nicola sighed, and lay back in her chair. ‘I thought we’d agreed to stop this baiting,’ she said quietly. ‘Have you travelled much, Mr. Wilde?’

      ‘I imagine you would think so,’ he returned broodingly. ‘Have you?’

      ‘Since coming to work for Sir Harold, yes,’ she answered. ‘We went to South America in March, and Trinidad in August. This is my first visit to the Middle East.’

      ‘And what do you think of it?’

      She shrugged. ‘Primitive – but with definite possibilities.’

      Jason shook his head. ‘How old are you, Miss King?’

      ‘I’m twenty-four, Mr. Wilde. How old are you?’

      Jason was taken aback. ‘Thirty-seven,’ he replied shortly.

      ‘And you’ve never got married?’

      She saw a strange look cross his face. ‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘How about you?’

      Nicola sighed. ‘I was engaged once. It was broken off a year ago.’

      ‘Is that so? About the time you came to work for Sir Harold, in fact.’

      ‘Sir Harold had nothing to do with my broken engagement,’ she replied, rather shortly, and realized he didn’t believe her.

      However, Ali returned just then with a faultlessly laid tray containing a delicious-smelling dish of chicken curry, and another containing an assortment of citrus fruit. A jug of coffee completed the meal, and Nicola smiled at him gratefully.

      She glanced at Jason. ‘What is your man’s name? I’d like to thank him.’

      But Jason didn’t have to answer. Ali was perfectly capable of doing that for himself. ‘I am Ali, miss,’ he said, bowing low. ‘And it was my pleasure to prepare a meal for so beautiful a lady as yourself!’

      Nicola smiled, offered her thanks, and then endeavouring to ignore Jason applied herself to the food. The curry was very hot, and Jason remarked, rather mockingly:

      ‘Ali makes the food so hot that the climate seems cool by comparison.’

      Nicola nodded, taking several gulps of the lime and lemon to cool her mouth. However, it was very enjoyable, once she was used to the spiciness of it all, and she cleared her plate, and ate some grapes and an orange to finish. As she drank her coffee, Jason Wilde offered her a cigarette which she gratefully accepted.

      ‘What are you going to give Paul to do?’ she asked then.

      Jason shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. Something energetic, I think. To take a little of that pugnaciousness out of him!’

      ‘You don’t like him – why?’

      ‘I neither like nor dislike him. He’s merely an example of the futile waste of youth.’

      Nicola lifted her shoulders. ‘Were you never young?’

      ‘Not as young as him, no!’ Jason flung himself into a chair. ‘As you’re here, Harold says I have to use your – er – secretarial talents.’

      ‘I know. I don’t mind. I like working.’

      ‘You amaze me. Who did you work for before you joined Inter-Anglia?’

      ‘A small advertising company. I was the secretary there.’

      Jason bent his head, digesting this information. Then he said: ‘Anyway, as you are here, I think I ought to warn you that this is not England, and the customs of this country have, to a certain extent, to be adhered to.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ Nicola frowned.

      ‘I mean that there are a number of Arabs working on the site. Their encampment is beyond the camp. You’ll see it in the morning. They live there with their wives and children. It’s their normal life. They’re naturally nomads. But their women are protected to a far greater degree than are ours. And you being here might cause a positive furore when the Sheikh gets to know.’

      Nicola smiled. She couldn’t take him seriously. ‘The Sheikh,’ she echoed softly. ‘How romantic!’

      Jason stared at her angrily. ‘For heaven’s sake, don’t get any ideas in that direction! Sheikhs are not romantic figures of the mid-twenties movie screen. They are men, like other men, and most of them consider European women self-seeking and virtueless!’

      Nicola’s eyes widened. ‘You certainly paint a very depressing picture, Mr. Wilde,’ she remarked dryly. ‘However, I can take care of myself, so I shouldn’t worry unduly.’

      ‘I don’t,’ muttered Jason vehemently. ‘Believe me, my only anxieties concern the rig and the pipeline, not your person! What you do, and the outcome of your actions only concerns me in so far as they affect my schedule here.’

      Nicola felt anger overtaking all other emotions. She had never met a man who was so infuriatingly indifferent to her.

      ‘If you don’t mind,’ she said, getting to her feet, ‘I should like to go to bed now!’

      Jason rose too, regarding her with eyes that held a tinge of sardonic amusement. ‘I should,’ he replied, nodding. ‘Tomorrow will be a long day. We rise here about five-thirty, and work starts at six-thirty. Think you can make it?’

      His tone was derisive, and she stiffened. ‘Oh, yes, Mr. Wilde,’ she replied tautly, ‘I can make it.’

      ‘Good. I’ll have Ali escort you back to Caxton’s bungalow. At least I can’t have Sir Harold accusing me of allowing you to wander unescorted about the camp!’

      ‘That СКАЧАТЬ