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 won’t be necessary!’ snapped Nicola, even as she knew she would not be able to distinguish which bungalow was hers. But her temper had got the better of her, and she could not restrain her retort.
Jason half-smiled, rather unpleasantly. ‘Is that so?’ he drawled. ‘Okay. Good night, Miss King. Sleep well.’
Nicola stared at him. She ought to have known he would take every opportunity to humiliate her. Collecting her handbag, she walked to the door, but before she could pass through it, Jason said:
‘Wait! I’ll walk with you.’
Nicola stared at him, unwillingly aware that in other circumstances she would have found him very attractive. There was something about the huskiness of his voice and the lazy, panther-like way he moved that made her intensely conscious of him.
‘Thank you,’ was all she said now, and preceded him out of the door and down the steps to the packed sandy earth of the track.
They walked in silence, and when they reached her bungalow, he merely said ‘Good night,’ before walking silently away. Nicola watched him go, his hands thrust into the pockets of the close-fitting cream pants he was wearing, his dark head bent as he seemed deep in thought, and then she hastily ran up the steps and into the bungalow.
She shook off the feeling of apprehension that had suddenly engulfed her. This task she had set herself seemed suddenly frightening, and she realized it was a combination of the isolation, and the night, and the man himself that was responsible for her sudden indecision.
Her clothes were still in the two suitcases she had brought with her, but apart from drawing out a pair of nylon pyjamas, she didn’t bother to unpack them, and after undressing merely cleaned her teeth before climbing wearily into the hard narrow bed. Actually, though, after a time, she realized the bed was quite comfortable, and the heat which had abated had left her glad of the warmth of the blankets. She snuggled her chin beneath the covers, and closed her eyes. But sleep was elusive. So many things had happened, and her mind buzzed with ideas and speculations, most of them centring on the man she had come out here to find, Jason Wilde.
Thinking of him brought thoughts of her sister Louise, and she wondered rather anxiously how she was getting along in the flat without her. Still, she had little Jane, and Tony, and the part-time job that Nicola had found for her. It was strange how Louise, six years her senior, should always arouse this feeling of responsibility inside her. Maybe it was because Louise always seemed so helpless, so totally incapable of fending for herself. That was why Nicola felt such anger towards Jason Wilde. He must have known how helpless, how defenceless, Louise was, and yet he had used every trick in the book to make her infatuated with him. Why couldn’t he have chosen a woman more fitted to his personality? Someone who when discarded would not have fallen apart so completely.
Nicola rolled on to her stomach. Oh, yes, Jason Wilde had a lot to answer for, not least being the destruction of her own happiness. She punched her pillow. She would not think of it. She would not think of him. She had spent too many nights lying awake thinking of this affair.
An unearthly roar broke the stillness, and she sat up, sweating, staring into the darkness. What on earth had it been? Then she relaxed as realization came to her. Jason had said the Arabs were camped just outside the limits of the oil company’s colony. Doubtless they would have camels. She had heard the noise camels could make in the streets of Gitana.
She lay back again, forcing her mind to be blank. But it was no good. Too many thoughts came to plague her. She wondered how long she would be forced to stay out here, how long she would be allowed to stay. Sir Harold had said he himself would come out later, to see how Paul was progressing, and to visit the local sheikh. This would be the man Jason Wilde had spoken of. Nicola wondered what manner of man he was. Might it be possible to use him in her efforts to discredit Jason Wilde?
It was much too early to tell. She would have to wait and see. A good tactician never acted without being completely in possession of the facts of the situation. For the present she would do the job she had been employed to do and then …. She sighed. Anything might happen. And as a kind of bonus there was the undeniable excitement of life in this desert outpost. How could anyone sleep with so many possibilities before them?
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