wish to speak with you, Ashley, to offer you my help.’
‘Your help?’ Ashley spun round to face him then, tilting back her head so that she could look into his eyes. He had always been taller than she was, even though she was not a small girl, but barefoot as she was his advantage was greater. She gazed into those enigmatic blue eyes, so startlingly unusual in such an alien countenance, and her lips parted in disbelief. ‘You want to help me?’ she whispered, moving her head from side to side, and his long silky lashes drooped to narrow the pupils.
‘Yes,’ he said curtly. ‘That was my only intention. But you do not make good intentions easy.’
‘You? With good intentions?’ Ashley’s lips quivered. ‘I don’t believe it.’
Alain’s jaw hardened. ‘Have a care, Ashley. You have tried my patience once this afternoon. Do not push your luck. I may not be so lenient the second time around.’
Ashley held up her head. ‘Then go! I didn’t ask you to come here. I—I want nothing from the Gauthiers. Nothing!’
‘Nothing?’
‘Except perhaps—my son,’ she conceded almost inaudibly, and then winced when his hands closed on her shoulders, biting into the soft flesh, bruising the bone.
‘Do not say that again,’ he commanded harshly. ‘I told you this morning. Hussein is not your son. He has never been your son. He has been brought up to believe he is an orphan, that his mother died along with his father—–’
‘No,’ Ashley caught her breath, but Alain was merciless.
‘Yes,’ he declared grimly. ‘So far as Hussein is concerned, you do not exist. And you must not exist, is that understood?’
Ashley tried to pull away from him, but he would not let her go, and her fury erupted into passion. ‘Why are you doing this, Alain?’ she cried, balling her fists and attempting to strike him. ‘Why are you telling me these things? Haven’t I suffered enough, is that it? Don’t you have any pity, any compassion? How do you think I felt, seeing my own son, knowing he didn’t recognise me? What more do you want of me, you bastard!’
‘You have a viper’s tongue, Ashley,’ he drawled, but she could tell her insults had annoyed him. ‘However, I am prepared to believe that seeing the boy has temporarily unhinged your brain, and therefore I will not retaliate in kind.’
‘How good of you!’ Ashley threw back her head as the heavy weight of her hair fell across her forehead. ‘Well, let me tell you, I was never more sane in my life, and I don’t need your tolerance or your offer of help!’
Alain’s expression was grim. ‘Nevertheless, you will listen to me.’
‘Will I? Will I?’ Ashley deliberately taunted him, knowing she was nearing the end of her nervous reserves, desperate for him to go before she broke down completely. ‘And how will you make me? By—by fair means—or foul?’
Alain shook her, violently, so that her head rocked alarmingly back and forth, the swinging curtain of her hair seeming to make it almost too heavy for her slender neck to support. ‘I came to the school to withdraw Hussein’s name from the register,’ he grated savagely. ‘I do not know why I brought him with me, except perhaps that he wanted to come. I did not expect to see you. The school is not due to open for two days. How was I to know that one of its teachers—–’
Ashley’s head lolled back. ‘You mean—you knew!’
‘That you were employed there, yes. Since I brought Hussein to London, I found out.’
Ashley blinked. ‘And—and that was why you wanted to withdraw his name?’
‘Of course.’ Alain looked down at his fingers digging into the fine cotton of her smock, and allowed them to slacken slightly. ‘You do not suppose I would permit otherwise?’
Ashley tried to think, but coherent thought was difficult. ‘A-and?’
‘Your Mr Henley explained that you had resigned,’ he replied flatly. ‘For the same reason, one would suppose.’
‘One would suppose correctly,’ said Ashley tautly. ‘So?’
‘So—Hussein’s name remains on the register. At least, until this matter is settled.’
‘What matter?’
‘The matter of your employment,’ said Alain, releasing her abruptly to thrust his hands into the pockets of his dark trousers. And as she gazed at him nonplussed: ‘I have a proposition to put to you.’
Ashley’s tongue came to circle her lips. ‘A proposition?’ she echoed, even as her brain refused to take it in. She was still stunned by the knowledge that he had known of her involvement with Brede School before their encounter that morning, and she knew him too well to trust any proposal he might make.
‘Won’t you sit down now?’ he suggested briefly, indicating the couch behind him, but Ashley shook her head.
‘Thank you, I prefer to stand,’ she retorted coldly, and had the satisfaction of seeing that she had annoyed him once again.
‘Very well,’ he said at last, moving away from her, and she had a momentary premonition that he was not as controlled as he appeared. Just for a second, when he looked at her, she had glimpsed a curious expression in his eyes, but then the mask fell into place and he was once more his father’s eldest son.
‘There is a post,’ he said, standing before the screened fireplace with his back to her. ‘In Cairo. A friend of mine requires a governess for his two daughters. It will be a well-paid position, with every amenity available to someone of your—–’
‘No!’ The word burst from Ashley in incensed denial. ‘No, I don’t want your rotten post! My work is here, in England. If I choose to take a private position, it will be of my choosing, not yours!’
‘Do you not wish to work in Egypt, is that it? You would prefer some other place?’ Alain still did not turn. ‘Perhaps I could make other arrangements—–’
‘No!’ Ashley’s response was the same, and now he did turn, slowly, to face her.
‘You will not change your mind?’ he enquired, his face grim, and she shook her head. ‘Very well, then. I will withdraw Hussein from the school.’
‘Why? Ashley took an involuntary step towards him, her bewilderment plain. ‘Why? I’ve resigned—Malcolm told you that. What more do you want?’
‘Malcolm?’ Alain’s dark brows arched interrogatively. ‘Who is—Malcolm?’
‘Malcolm Henley,’ exclaimed Ashley impatiently. ‘Mr Henley, the headmaster.’
Alain’s mouth tightened. ‘It would appear you know him better than I thought,’ he said accusingly. ‘He is your—friend, perhaps. Your—lover?’
Ashley’s face flamed. ‘No! That is—Malcolm is a friend, yes.’ And then, realising she was stammering like a schoolgirl, she added fiercely: ‘It’s no business of yours what our relationship is.’
Alain
