back—’
‘You mustn’t worry about me, Aunt,’ Petra interrupted her. ‘I am perfectly capable of entertaining myself. As a matter of fact…’ Petra paused, wondering how much she ought to say.
But her aunt obviously wasn’t listening properly because she cut across what Petra was saying, telling her, ‘There are several escorted trips from the resort that you might enjoy taking, Petra, whilst you wait for Rashid to return. The gold souq, for one. Oh, I must go. I can hear your grandfather calling for me.’
There was barely time for Petra to wish her goodbye before her aunt had rung off.
As she turned towards the mirror to apply her lipstick Petra discovered that her hand was shaking slightly.
Because she was angry, she told herself—not because she was nervous at all at the thought of spending the evening with Blaize. She was angry because she knew instinctively that her aunt was not being entirely honest with her.
Mentally she tried to picture her grandfather, using the vivid verbal images her mother had drawn for her, and those she had gained herself from studying the robed men she had seen moving with imperious arrogance through the hotel. He would be bearded, of course, his profile hawk-like and his expression harsh, perhaps even vengeful as he confronted her, the child of the marriage he had fought against so bitterly and so unsuccessfully.
It was impossible for Petra to get her head round the mindset of a father who had turned from being protective and loving to one who refused so much as to hear his once beloved daughter’s name spoken, simply because she had chosen to marry the man she loved.
In the mirror her own reflection confronted her. At home in England she was often conscious of looking out of place, her colouring and the delicacy of her fine-boned body giving her an almost exotic beauty, but here in her mother’s country, conversely, she felt very Celtic.
Her mother! What would she think of the course of action Petra was taking? What would she think of Blaize?
Snatching up her purse, Petra refused to allow herself to pursue such potentially unsettling thoughts.
The lobby of the hotel was the busiest Petra had seen it since her arrival. A large group of designer-clad women and their male escorts were standing by the entrance to the piano lounge and Petra’s eyes widened as she saw the jewellery the women were wearing.
Her own outfit was provoking a few assessing and appreciative female glances, as well as some much more openly male admiring ones, but Petra was unaware of them as she looked round anxiously for Blaize.
‘There you are. I was just about to come up and collect you.’
Whirling round, Petra rounded her eyes as she stared at Blaize. He was dressed formally in clothes she immediately recognised as being the very best in Italian tailoring, and which she knew must have cost a small fortune. No wonder more than one of the diamond-decked women were studying him with such open sexual interest!
On the wages he must earn there was no way he could possibly afford such clothes, Petra decided, which must mean…
She didn’t like the unpleasant cold feeling invading her stomach, or the lowering realisation that she was probably far from being the first woman to pay Blaize for his ‘services’—although of course the services she was paying him for were no doubt very different from those normally expected by his benefactresses.
‘What’s wrong? You look as though you’ve just swallowed something extremely unpleasant.’
His intuitiveness triggered a sharp spiral of warning.
‘I was just wondering what’s going to be on the menu tonight,’ she replied smoothly.
He might have caught her off guard this afternoon, but tonight was going to be different. This time she was going to make it plain to him that she was the one in charge of events and not him!
‘These days Zuran is renowned for the variety and standard of its restaurants, as you are about to discover.’
As he spoke he was guiding her across the foyer, one hand protectively beneath her elbow. Petra would have liked to pull away, to put some distance between them, but the crush of people in the lobby made it impossible, and besides, she firmly reminded herself, the whole point of being with him was that she was seen to be with him!
However, instead of heading for the exit, as she had expected him to do, Petra discovered that he was guiding her in the direction of the large glass doors that opened out into one of the formal garden courtyards, beyond which lay the largest of the network of canals which criss-crossed the complex.
‘I thought we were going out to dinner,’ she said, hanging back a little as two uniformed men held open the doors for them.
‘We are,’ Blaize told her, giving her a quizzical look as he ushered her outside. ‘What’s wrong?’ he teased her. ‘Did you think I was taking you out into the courtyard so that I could indulge in a little private tuition before we faced our public?’
He laughed softly, the hand which had been beneath her elbow suddenly grasping her upper arm and holding her so close to his own body that she could feel the laughter vibrating as they walked out into the heavy satin warmth of the indigo-dark night.
‘In a garden? Where anyone might see us. Oh, no… If that was my intention I would have taken you somewhere far, far more private…’
‘Like your official accommodation, you mean?’ Petra challenged him bitingly, determined not to let him think that she was in the least bit affected by what he was saying.
‘You remind me of a little cat, all sharp claws and defensive temper. Take care that you don’t tempt me to teach you how to purr with pleasure and use those claws only in the heat of passion…’
‘We aren’t in public, yet,’ was all Petra could think of to say in retaliation and she mentally blessed the darkness for concealing her hectically flushed face. ‘So you can save the practised seduction scenario until we are!’
They had almost crossed the garden now, and the canal lay in front of them. As they reached it Blaize raised his hand to summon one of the gondoliers waiting several yards away.
‘This isn’t the quickest way to reach the restaurant, but I think it is certainly the most… relaxing,’ he informed her in a soft murmur as the gondola was brought to a halt in front of them.
As Blaize helped her into the gondola Petra wondered helplessly if anything could possibly be more romantic—or more hackneyed!
Clever lighting had transformed the daytime appearance of the resort into a place of magic and mystery, designed to appeal to the senses. Strawberry-scented vapour floated over their heads in a pale pink cloud, and in the distance Petra could see and hear fireworks. As they passed the souq, a fire-eater performed for a watching group of teenagers whilst a ‘merchant’ loaded his wares onto a waiting camel train, causing Petra’s heart to give a small unsteady thump.
The one thing she wanted to do whilst she was in Zuran was take a trip into the desert. Her aunt might speak enthusiastically about shopping malls and the fabulous gold and diamond souq, but it was the desert that called most strongly to Petra in a siren song that whispered to her that to know it was her heritage.
Deep
