The Sheikh's Bride. Sophie Weston
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‘Just what you need,’ she said briskly, ceasing to droop. ‘An evening with a seriously sexy article like that. Should have happened years ago. Now what are you going to wear?’
Leo knew when she was beaten. She stood aside to let her mother come in.
‘There’s not a lot of choice,’ she said drily. ‘My work suit. Or the sun flower job you’ve just talked me into.’
Deborah flung open the wardrobe door and considered the ensemble with a professional eye. ‘That will do. It’s versatile enough. How smart do you think it will be?’
Leo sighed in exasperation. ‘I haven’t the slightest idea. I only met the man once before you thrust me into this evening’s fiasco.’
If she thought that the information would make Deborah apologise, she mistook her mother. Deborah was intrigued.
‘Determined, isn’t he? Very flattering.’
‘Oh please,’ said Leo in disgust.
Deborah ignored that. ‘We should have bought you some shoes,’ she said in a dissatisfied voice.
Leo picked up her low-heeled black pumps and held them to her protectively. ‘They’re comfortable.’
Deborah sighed. ‘Oh well, they’ll have to do. At least, there’s stuff in the bathroom to polish them up a bit. Now what about make-up?’
Leo gave up. In her element, Deborah took charge. She shook her head over the ragged ends of Leo’s newly washed hair and took her nails scissors to it. After that, she gave her a brief but professional make-up which emphasised Leo’s long silky lashes and made her eyes look enormous. She ended by pressing onto her a magnificent pair of topaz drop earrings.
‘I’m not used to all this,’ protested Leo, surrendering her neat pearl studs with misgiving. ‘I’m going to make a terrible fool of myself.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ said Deborah.
But she did not pretend to misunderstand Leo’s doubts.
‘Darling, you’re so capable. You can handle anything, not like me. How have you got this hang up about men?’
‘It’s not a hang up,’ said Leo drily. ‘It’s the sure and certain knowledge that any man who goes out with me has been turned down by everyone else in the netball team. Unless he thinks he’s dating my father.’
Deborah shook her head. ‘I don’t understand you.’
‘I do,’ muttered Leo.
‘So explain it to me.’
‘Big feet and too much bosom,’ said Leo baldly. ‘Plus a tendency to break things.’
Deborah was shocked. ‘Leo! You have a wonderful figure. Think of all those girls out there having to buy padded bras. Men just love curves like yours.’
‘Oh sure. A demolition expert with feet like flippers is pretty irresistible, too.’
Deborah sighed but she was a realist. ‘Look, darling, men can be very unkind but they’re not difficult to deal with if you know how. Tonight, just listen to the man as if he’s an oracle. And try not to bump into the furniture.’
Leo’s laugh was hollow.
CHAPTER THREE
THERE was no furniture to bump into.
First, Amer arrived in designer jeans and a loose jacket that was the last word in careless chic and made Leo feel seriously overdressed. Then, he announced that they were going out of Cairo. To Leo’s increasing trepidation, this involved a short trip in a private helicopter.
‘Where are we?’ she said, when the helicopter set down and its ailerons stopped turning.
The airstrip was abnormally deserted. In her experience Egyptian airports heaved like anthills.
But her horribly hip companion just smiled.
The briefest ride in an open Jeep took them to a dark landing stage. The stars, like a watchmaker’s store of diamond chips, blinked at the water. Silent as a snake, the river gleamed back. There was a warm breeze off the water, like the breath of a huge, sleepy animal.
Leo was not cold; but she shivered.
‘Where are we?’
‘Seventy miles up river from Cairo,’ Amer told her coolly.
‘Seventy—’ Leo broke off, in shock. ‘Why?’
‘I wanted to give you a picnic by moonlight,’ Amer said in soulful tones. He added, more practically, ‘You can’t do proper moonlight in the middle of a city.’
Leo looked at him in the deepest suspicion. Standing as they were in the headlights of the Jeep it was difficult to tell but she was almost certain he was laughing at her.
The dark harem pants wafted in the breeze. Her gold jacket felt garish under the stars and ridiculously out of place. She felt as clumsily conspicuous as she used to do at agonizing teenage parties.
‘Why would you want to take me on a moonlit picnic?’ she muttered resentfully. ‘You know I thought I was signing up for dinner in a restaurant. Look at me.’
Amer was supervising the removal of a large picnic basket from the jeep. He turned his head at that. He looked her up and down. In the jeep’s headlights, Leo somehow felt as if she were on display. She huddled the jacket round her in pure instinct.
‘Do you want to go back?’ he asked.
It should have been a courteous enquiry. It was not. It was a challenge. On the point of demanding just that, Leo stopped, disconcerted.
After a day of shocks, was this one so terrible, after all? At least it promised a new experience. Who knows, she might actually enjoy it. And she did not have to bother about an early night, for once. She did not have to get up in the small hours to meet an incoming flight. She would never have to again.
‘I suppose, now we’re here…’ she said at last.
Amer raised his eyebrows. It was hardly enthusiastic.
‘Shall we call it an experiment then? For both of us.’ He sounded rueful.
The driver took the picnic basket down the slope to a wooden jetty. Amer held out a hand to help Leo. The bank was steep. He went first.
She took his hand and scrambled down the dusty path unsteadily. His arm felt like rock, as she swayed and stumbled. It also felt electric, as if just by holding on to him, Leo plugged herself in to some powerhouse of energy. She held her breath and did her best to ignore the tingle that his touch sent through her.
Amer seemed unaware of it. Leo did not know whether that was more of a relief or an irritant. How could the man have this effect on her and not know it? But if he did know it what would he do about it?
‘Blast,’ she said, exasperated.
He looked back at her. ‘What was that?’
Hurriedly she disguised it. ‘I turned my ankle over.’
She began limping heavily. Amer came back a couple of steps and put a supporting arm round her, hoisting her with her own petard. It felt like fire.
‘Thank you,’ said Leo between her teeth.
On the jetty Leo stopped dead.
‘It’s a dhow,’ she exclaimed, half delighted, half alarmed.
The little boat did not look stable. She swayed gently against her mooring rope. There was an oil lamp on the prow; no other light but the stars.
Leo edged forward gingerly. And mother warned me not to bump into the furniture, she thought. With my luck I could have the whole boat over.
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