Penny Jordan Tribute Collection. PENNY JORDANЧитать онлайн книгу.
mean you believe they are! If you were to leave Zuran now, what would you do… where would you go?’
Petra glared at him. Why was he suddenly trying to play the devil’s advocate? For amusement?
‘I would go home… to the UK. I’m twenty-three, and although I have a good degree I would like to get my Master’s. There’s so much social inequality in the world that needs addressing—working in the field for the aid agency showed me that. I would like to do something to help other people.’
‘As a rich man’s wife you could do far more than as a mere fieldworker.’
‘I’ve already told you—I could never marry a man I did not love and respect. And from what Saud has told me it sounds as though I would be expected to treat Rashid as though he’s a minor god! Saud hero-worships him, and can’t wait for me to marry him so that he can officially claim Rashid as a relative. And of course he isn’t the only one! From the sound of it, my whole family are delirious with joy at the prospect of this marriage. All I seem to hear is “Rashid this” and “Rashid that”…’
‘Your cousin seems to be a positive wealth of information about the man.’
There was a certain dryness in Blaize’s voice that made Petra frown a little. ‘Saud is young and impressionable. Like I said, he obviously hero-worships Rashid, and thinks he can do no wrong.’
‘A young person sometimes benefits from a role model and mentor.’
‘Oh, I agree. But if a man who quite plainly divides women into two separate groups—good and bad, moral and immoral—whilst no doubt maintaining for himself the right to live exactly as he chooses, is not, in my opinion, a good role model—’
‘If you look to your left now, you might just catch a glimpse of the royal horses being exercised,’ Blaize interrupted her calmly.
Stopped in mid-tirade, Petra was tempted to continue with her diatribe—but then she saw the horses and their jockeys, and the sheer thrill of seeing so much power and beauty kept her silent as she inwardly paid homage to the spectacle they created.
‘You are still totally opposed to this marriage, then, I take it?’ Blaize asked her several minutes later.
‘Of course. How could I not be? I can’t marry a man I don’t love.’
‘You might find you could come to love him after the marriage.’
Petra gave him a scornful look.
‘Never,’ she denied vehemently. ‘And anyway even if I did, I somehow doubt that the Sheikh is likely to return my feelings. No, all our marriage would mean to him would be the successful conclusion to a diplomatic arrangement. I’ve got to make him change his mind and refuse to even countenance the idea.’
‘Have you thought that he may feel the same way about this situation as you do yourself? Have you thought of contacting him and perhaps discussing things with him?’
Petra gave him a withering look.
‘Unlike me, he has had the chance to refuse to become involved! After all, without his tacit acceptance the whole situation could simply not exist. Anyway, why are you suddenly so keen to promote him? Don’t you want to earn five thousand pounds any more?’ she demanded.
Or was it perhaps that he wanted her out of his life because he had sensed how she felt about him? A man like him would quite definitely not want the complications of having a woman fall in love with him!
Fall in love? But she hadn’t done that, had she? Petra closed her eyes in helpless self-anger. Hadn’t she got enough unwanted emotional pain to carry through life as excess baggage already, without deliberately inviting more?
‘Hang on tight. We’ll be leaving the highway soon and going into true desert terrain,’ Blaize warned her, without taking his eyes off the road.
Petra gasped and clung to her seat as they veered off the road and crested the first of a series of sand dunes, following what to her was a barely discernible track—although Blaize did not seem to be having any trouble in finding and following it.
Within minutes it seemed to Petra the road had vanished and the landscape had become a vast expanse of sand dunes, stretching from horizon to horizon. A little anxiously she swivelled round in her seat, craning her neck to look in the direction they had just come.
‘How… how do you know the way?’ she asked Blaize a little uncertainly.
‘I can tell the direction we are travelling by the position of the sun,’ he said with a small dismissive shrug, and then added derisively, ‘And besides, these all-terrain vehicles are equipped with navigation systems and a compass. Essential in this type of country. A bad sandstorm can not only reduce visibility to nought, it can also wipe out existing trails. See that over there?’ he commanded, pointing in the direction of where a bird was hovering motionless, a mere dot in the hot blue emptiness of the sky.
‘What is it?’ Petra asked him.
‘A hunting falcon,’ he told her, reaching into the compartment between them. As he did so his fingertips inadvertently brushed against her knee and immediately her body reacted, pouring a lava hot molten tide of sharp longing through her. Petra could feel her whole body tightening in wanton hunger for him. If she turned to him now, covered his hand with her own, his mouth with her own; if she reached out and touched him as she wanted him to touch her… But it was too late. He had already moved away and was producing a pair of binoculars, which he offered to her. Binoculars! When what she wanted him to offer her was… was himself!
‘Take a closer look,’ he instructed her. ‘It will probably be a trained bird. A number of Zuran’s richest inhabitants maintain their own falconries, where birds are reared and trained. It’s an ancient craft which is still practised here.’
As Petra watched the bird suddenly turned and wheeled and was quickly out of sight, as though responding to some unseen summons.
‘They often have displays of falconry at the desert village where we’ll be spending the night,’ Blaize informed her. ‘Most people find the birds too fearsome to approach, but in actual fact the camels are probably more dangerous.’
‘So my mother told me,’ Petra replied.
She was finding it a little disconcerting that Blaize, the beach bum, should so suddenly and unexpectedly prove to be so knowledgeable about the local culture and history. Not wanting to be outdone, she was quick to remind him that she was, after all, a part of that culture, even if this was the first time she was experiencing it firsthand.
There was quite definitely a stirring awesomeness about the desert, but Petra was finding it difficult to give her exclusive attention to her surroundings because of the effect that Blaize himself was having on her.
But that did not mean that she had fallen in love with him, she reassured herself fiercely. Just because her heart was beating with an unfamiliar speed, and she dared not look properly at him because when she did she wanted to keep on looking… and do much, much more than just merely look, she admitted breathlessly. But that did not mean… anything. In fact it meant nothing—nothing at all other than that she was physically aware of him.
Aware of him and responsive to him… And surely, if she was truly honest with herself, not just physically…
‘You look flushed,’ she heard Blaize telling her brusquely. ‘You must make sure that you drink plenty of water. The desert is the last place to get dehydrated.’
Perhaps she ought to be glad that he believed her heightened colour was caused by the sun’s heat rather than guessing that it was caused by the unwanted sensuality of her own desire for him, Petra reflected inwardly.
She had believed that her mother’s reminiscences of her own childhood trips into the desert had prepared her for what she might expect, but Petra still found that she was holding her breath and then expelling it in a sharp sound of excitement as they