Sandstorm (8 page)

When she made no move to sit down beside the tray Karim had provided, Rachid gained her permission to seek respite on the couch she had occupied earlier.

'You must forgive me,' he said, running a weary hand over his temples. 'I feel so stupidly weak, and I am not very good company.'

Abby pressed her lips together, walking back to the couch with reluctant concern. 'You should have phoned,' she said, with an offhand gesture, seating herself on the very edge of the cushions, half turned towards him. 'But don't let it worry you, this is hardly a social occasion, is it?'

Rachid rested his head back against the satin upholstery, viewing her thoughtfully. 'It is in your favour, is it not?' he remarked, his dark eyes heavy-lidded and intense. 'Everything is in your favour, and I have no more weapons with which to fight you.'

Abby took charge of the coffee pot, pouring two cups, and when he shook his head, taking hers into her hands. 'Don't be dramatic, Rachid,' she exclaimed, nervously tasting the scalding liquid. 'It's not a battle we're conducting, or at least it shouldn't be. Why can't we behave calmly and civilly, like adults, not children? Treat one another with courtesy and respect‑'

'Because I do not feel very courteous or respectful!' he retorted harshly, his hand suddenly reaching out and imprisoning her wrist. 'I feel angry, and aggrieved, and not a little insane at the thought of your breaking up our marriage‑' his fingers tightened, '—and maybe sharing the intimacies we have shared with someone‑'

His words broke off at Abby's sudden cry. The unexpectedness of his action had caught her unawares, but it was her own instinctive withdrawal which had caused what happened next. Her jerky attempt to escape him sent the fragile cup tumbling into her lap, spilling its contents over her velvet pants. The hot liquid was quickly absorbed and her thighs stung painfully as the fiery cloth clung to them.

'In the name of Allah!'

As Abby struggled to her feet, Rachid rose also, thrusting her plucking hands aside and reaching purposefully for the buttons that fastened at her waist. With little care for the expensive cut of the pants, he tore the fastening apart and ignoring her frantic attempts to prevent him, he determinedly pushed the offending garment down to her knees.

It was a tremendous relief to feel the air against her burning thighs, but humiliation overcame all other emotions. Even the pain of her scalded flesh was not sufficient compensation for standing there in her underwear, with Rachid's dark eyes running impatiently over her. With a sob of frustration she turned aside, groping for the trousers in total ignominy.

'Do not cover them again,' grated Rachid roughly, grasping her arm and turning her back to face him. His eyes lowered to the revealing welts of scarlet flesh, and he uttered an oath. 'Come—they need to be treated,' he added, indicating the door into his bedroom. 'Karim keeps some medication in the bathroom. I will attend to them myself.'

'No!' Abby pulled her arm away from his grasp, trying desperately to cover herself. 'I—I'll go. I can't stay like this. We—we'll have to arrange another meeting.'

'Do not be a fool!' he snapped, squatting down before her and touching the throbbing flesh with cool, probing fingers. 'I have some cream which will take all the heat out of this. Have the goodness to let me make amends for my carelessness.'

Abby's mouth was dry from her unwilling response to his touch. It was so long since she had felt his fingers against her skin, and the unguarded emotions of the last few minutes had left her dangerously susceptible. 'It—it wasn't your fault,' she got out chokingly, trying to push his hands aside. 'I shouldn't have—have jumped like that. It was a stupid thing to do.'

'So—let me put it right for you,' he said, unzipping her boots before she could prevent him, and straightening once more. 'Take off your trousers and I will have Karim take them to be sponged and pressed. By the time you are ready to leave they will be dry.'

Abby made a helpless gesture. 'Oh, very well. Do you— do you have something I can wear?'

'Well, not trousers, I regret,' he responded shortly, as she fumbled to remove the pants, and then held them protectively in front of her. Then, irritably: 'But why do you act like this? As if I had not seen you this way many times before? As if I did not know your body almost as well as I know my own?'

Abby merely pressed the garment closer to her. 'You said you had something I could wear,' she reminded him tightly, and with an impatient shrug he led the way into the bedroom.

Like the sitting room, it was large and high-ceilinged, with a king-sized double bed, and a soft beige carpet underfoot. There were high tallboys, and lots of fitted cupboards, and plenty of mirrors with which to view oneself from every angle. Abby doubted Rachid was aware of them. Whatever else he was, he was not vain, but they made her acutely aware of her ridiculous appearance, and she longed to hide the pale slender length of her legs.

Rachid extracted a dressing gown from his wardrobe. It was made of dark blue silk and would obviously be too long for her, but at least it would cover her, and Abby took it gratefully.

'There are splashes of coffee on your jacket, too,' Rachid pointed out as he handed the dressing gown to her. 'I would suggest you send the whole outfit for sponging, except that you might misconstrue my motives.'

Abby hesitated a moment, and then turning her back on him she quickly removed the jacket, too. With the folds of the dressing gown securely about her, she felt more able to face him, and with a mildly sardonic grimace he gathered the suit and went out of the room.

Karim was obviously never far away from his master, and it took little time for Rachid to despatch him about his business. Waiting for the servant to depart, Abby was somewhat taken aback when Rachid came back into the bedroom, but meeting her puzzled apprehension, he quickly explained his purpose.

'The cream is in the bathroom,' he declared, crossing to another door. 'If you will expose the burns, I will deal with them.'

Abby" sighed. She was tempted to say there was no need, that since the cloth had been removed so swiftly the damage done had been slight, and was already cooling of its own accord. But Rachid had already disappeared into the bathroom, and loath to increase the intimacy of the situation, she determinedly went back into the sitting room.

She was perched on the sofa when Rachid reappeared, and his eyes narrowed at her obvious efforts to sustain her detachment. She had exposed only one leg to his gaze, and the lower half of that was wrapped around with blue silk.

Shrugging, he knelt before her, unscrewing the cap of the tube of cream in his hands and squeezing a little of the white substance into his palm. Then firmly and deliberately, he applied the cream to the inflamed flesh, moving his palm gently and rhythmically over its sensitised surface.

It was amazing how soothing the cream was, Abby thought, feeling all the heat leaving the lesion. As he continued to massage it into the skin, she could feel the taut flesh softening, and its dryness was replaced with regenerative oils. But it wasn't just the cream that was inducing this feeling of well-being inside her. It was the cool hardness of Rachid's hands that brought a sensuous lethargy, and caused her convulsive hold on the robe to be released, exposing her slender limbs with reckless abandon.

Rachid said nothing, however. He merely transferred his ministrations to her other leg, and presently both injuries had been similarly treated. Then he got to his feet again, recapping the tube and returning it to its place in the bathroom.

She heard the taps running as he washed his hands, and the everyday sound dispelled the feelings of inertia which had gripped her. Hastily she came upright on the sofa, gathering her splayed legs, and wrapping the gown about her once more. She hardly liked to think what Rachid must have thought of her abandoned pose, and her cheeks burned as he came back into the room.

'Er—thank you,' she murmured awkwardly, realising some response was in order, but he merely quirked an eyebrow.

'They feel better now?' he enquired, his eyes probing the tightly draped folds, and she nodded quickly, hoping he would not ask to see. 'Good.'

He dropped down on to the sofa beside her once more, and as he did so, she saw how fatigued he looked. His illness, whatever it was, must be more serious than she had thought, and the prolonged exertion had exhausted him.

'Are you feeling sick?' she asked, as he expelled his breath on a sigh, and slumped against the cushions. 'You look—awful! Ought you to be in bed?'

Rachid shook his head wearily. 'I am all right,' he assured her firmly. 'Just a mild indisposition, as I said. Now, shall we continue our conversation? You were saying something about—being civilised.'

Abby shook her head. 'Rachid, I think you should be in bed. We can talk some other time.' She glanced at him anxiously. 'I can easily wait for Karim, and‑'

'No!' His denial was harsh and determined. 'We will talk now. I want to know what you intend to do. If you refuse to return to Abarein, will you be staying in London?' Abby bent her head. 'Probably.' She moved her shoulders

awkwardly. 'Does it matter? Once we're divorced‑'

'And if I refuse,' he overrode her grimly. 'If I refuse to give you a divorce, what then?'

'You couldn't do that, Rachid,' she said quietly, avoiding his eyes. 'In England it's possible to get a divorce without the consent of both parties‑'

'In Abarein you would still be my wife.'

'That would be foolish, Rachid!' She looked at him now, finding refuge in impatience. 'You know perfectly well your father will welcome this solution. He'll waste no time in finding you another wife‑'

'I do not want another wife,' retorted Rachid roughly. 'I want you!'

'No‑' Abby recoiled from the passion in his eyes. 'Rachid, you're not being reasonable‑'

'I do not feel reasonable!' he grated thickly, his hands clenching on his knees.

His face was very pale now, and there were beads of perspiration standing on his forehead, that gave his skin an unhealthy sheen. Abby guessed that the strain of their altercation was draining his strength, but although compassion urged her to reassure him, the small grip she still had on common sense argued the illogicality of giving in to him, just because he was not well.

'Is there something I can do?' she offered, feeling obliged to say something. 'Is there anything I can get you?'

'You know what I want,' he said savagely, levering himself up from the cushions, but even as he spoke his gaze seemed to falter. One second he was looking at her with smouldering animosity, and the next a curiously glazed expression had taken its place. 'You know what I want,' he repeated, in an odd monotone, and then his eyes closed completely, and his body sagged.

Abby was shocked. Just for a moment —a fleeting moment—she wondered if he might be fooling her, but one touch of his icy flesh assured her that this was not so. He had lost consciousness, and she hadn't the faintest idea what to do.•

Getting to her feet, she looked round desperately for the bell. Karim couldn't be far away, she thought with relief, and then turned back to the couch, when Rachid started to speak again.

'What are you doing?' he protested, his voice returning to its previous tenor. 'Come and sit down again, and stop looking so anxious. You have nothing to fear from me.'

Abby's eyes alighted on the bell, and trying not to make her actions too obvious, she backed away from the sofa.

'You—you passed out,' she said, explaining her dilemma. 'I'M get Karim to come and put you to bed.'

'I am not a child,' he muttered, getting unsteadily to his feet at her words. 'Have the decency not to treat me as one. I am quite capable of putting myself to bed, as and when it is necessary. And if my behaviour frightens you, then calm yourself. Have you never seen anyone with malaria before?'

Abby's lips parted. 'Malaria?'

'A similar disease,' he confirmed, taking a few uncertain steps across the room. 'It is an annoyance, nothing more. By tomorrow I shall be completely recovered.'

Abby watched his uneven progress towards the bedroom door, and then, unable to resist the need to help him, she went and put an arm around his waist, encouraging him to support himself with an arm across her shoulders. For an instant he held back from her, but then, weakened by the effort, he allowed her to help him into the bedroom.

He sat on the end of the bed while she folded back the covers, and then sprawled wearily between the sheets. With his head upon the pillows, he looked up at her with heavy eyes, and it was all she could do not to smooth the dark hair back from his forehead.

'Do you want me to get Karim to undress you?' she asked, viewing his heavy robe with some misgivings, and he stretched out a hand to warm his palm against her cheek.

She flinched away from him then, but his fingers curved around her nape, imprisoning her above him, and his eyes were perfectly lucid as they met her startled gaze.

'Will you help me?' he asked, resisting her efforts to release herself, and her breathing quickened at his unconscious sensuality.

'Rachid, I can't-...' she got out unsteadily, feeling the strength of his magnetic attraction. Relaxed upon the pillows, he had an overwhelming sexuality, and she would not have been human if she had not responded to it. 'Please, let me go, Rachid. You said I had nothing to fear from you.'

'That is so.' His fingers relaxed their hold and his arm fell to the bed. 'I cannot force you to help me. I merely thought that our past relationship might mean something to you. So be it! Ring for Karim. He is not so churlish.'

'Rachid ...'

Abby stared down at him helplessly, and then, with definite reservations, she unfastened the cord of his robe. It fell apart revealing the plain tunic beneath, and with his assistance she removed both garments. It necessitated her kneeling on the bed, and she was sweating by the time he was naked. Ignoring the masculine scent of his body, she tucked the covers around him, and then stood hesitantly beside the bed, waiting for his dismissal.

'Thank you,' he said, turning his face against the pillows. 'I am grateful.'