She fingered the material of the jacket around her shoulders and said drily, ‘That’s hard to believe, Mr Riffik. People who “scrape by” can’t afford Italian silk suits.’
‘Expensive clothes…’ he murmured. ‘My only vice.’
She doubted that very much, but had no intention of probing any deeper. He had the look of a man who was used to walking through the darker alleyways of life and emerging unscathed.
‘Where exactly are these few acres of poor land?’ she asked, determined not to let him hijack the conversation again.
His eyes were fixed appreciatively on her cleavage again, and he shrugged and said dismissively, ‘Morocco. A little country in the north-west corner of Africa. Right next door to Algeria. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?’
‘Yes…’ she murmured with mild sarcasm. ‘I did do geography at school.’ She racked her brains now and wished she’d paid more attention to her lessons. Morocco… Mountains and deserts…Casablanca… ‘Play it again, Sam’… Marrakesh!…the Marrakesh express—wasn’t that a song? And there was Fez! Was that a city or a funny red hat? She knew that a kasbah was a fort and that a souk was a market. And that was about the sum total of her knowledge about Morocco.
‘I always thought that Morocco belonged to France,’ she said, trying to sound intelligent.
His lips stretched in a smile. ‘The French, Portuguese, Spanish—even the Romans. Throughout history many nations have tried to impose their will on us but now at last our country belongs to its rightful owners. The Berbers. Or, as the Romans called us, the barbarians.’
She wasn’t the least bit interested in history or politics, but she managed a fair impression of a student thirsting for knowledge. ‘Barbary!’ she said suddenly. ‘The Barbary Coast! Pirates! I saw a film about it once.’
He laughed mockingly. ‘Praise Allah! You saw a film about it. Ah, where would we be without Hollywood? But you’re quite right, Janene. Corsairs came from Morocco. Your ancestors knew us very well. Our ships roved north as far as England. Women and children would be snatched from their beds at night and taken back to be sold as slaves.’ His hand came up and his long fingers gently caressed her cheek. ‘A woman like you would have fetched a king’s ransom.’
Her mouth was drying up again and a pulse was fluttering in her throat. The mental image she’d had of him as bare-chested with sword in hand hadn’t been far off the mark after all. That was exactly what he reminded her of: a dangerous pirate! With a heavy gold ring in his ear and a pointed beard, he’d look the part perfectly.
‘Of course,’ he went on in a tone of regret, ‘civilisation has caught up with us at last. The authorities won’t tolerate such behaviour in these enlightened times. They’ve taken all the excitement out of life.’
‘Thank God for that!’ she said drily.
‘Hmm…’ His blue eyes gleamed with wicked amusement, then he murmured, ‘I imagine there are more than a few women in this cold land who wouldn’t object too strenuously if someone snatched them from their beds and took them to a warmer clime.’
‘We have tour operators for that kind of thing these days,’ she retorted. ‘Anyway, what’s wrong with the women in Morocco? Aren’t there enough to go round?’
He leaned down slightly, until his lips were only inches from her ear, and she felt the moist warmth of his breath as he whispered, ‘For men who have an insatiable desire for beauty, there never seem to be enough. But with a woman like you to share his life, a man could ask for nothing more.’
Her heart was palpitating and her legs felt weak, but she found the strength to raise her palms and push them hard against his chest. Enough was enough! It was time she began asserting herself and putting this brazen rogue in his place. ‘Now, look here, Mr Riffik…I don’t like the way you’re—’
‘Kassim,’ he whispered seductively in her ear. ‘Mr Riffik sounds far too formal. I would rather have our relationship on a more…intimate level.’
She pushed even harder and gasped, ‘I know you would! You’re making your intentions all too obvious. Now, will you please step back and give me room to breathe?’
He straightened up and gave a mock smile of contrition. ‘Please forgive me, Janene. You find the prattling of my foolish tongue disturbing. But please do not be alarmed. I would sooner be cooked slowly to perfection over a bed of hot charcoal than see any harm come to you. I would rather be cast naked into a pit of scorpions—’
‘All right!’ she said in exasperation. ‘Don’t make a meal of it. If it wasn’t for that look in your eyes I might be tempted to believe you.’
He shrugged and spread his hands in a gesture of supplication. ‘My eyes can only mirror the beauty they behold.’
Her green eyes glittered at him angrily. ‘Dammit! You’re doing it again!’ For a moment she wondered if Damien had put him up to this for some sort of gag, then she instantly rejected the thought. Damien would never dream up such an outrageous idea.
‘Look,’ she said with patient resignation. ‘You’re simply wasting your time with me, Kassim. You’re a very attractive man, I’d be lying if I—if I said I wasn’t pleased that you also find me attractive…’
‘Not just attractive. Positively alluring,’ he said with a grin.
‘But,’ she went on, ignoring the remark, ‘this ring on my finger means a lot to me. There’s only room in my life for one man, so if you’re looking for someone to seduce I suggest you go back inside and find someone more susceptible to your charms.’
He contemplated her in a thoughtful silence which dragged and stretched her nerves. ‘So,’ he said at last. ‘You don’t object to me personally. It’s simply the fact that you’ve promised yourself to Damien?’
‘No,’ she was forced to admit, ruefully. ‘I’ve nothing against you as a person. As I said, you’re quite attractive.’ She paused, then added drily, ‘A fact I’m sure you’re well aware of. On the other hand, you’re rather egotistical, but then, most men are as a rule.’
He stroked her cheek again with a long finger and gave vent to a sigh of desperate longing. ‘Ah…if only you would come with me to Morocco, Janene. I would drive every thought of any other man out of your mind.’
‘Yes,’ she replied tartly, ‘I’m sure you’d try your best, but don’t hold your breath. There’s as much chance of me going to Morocco as to the far side of the moon.’
‘One should never challenge the fates,’ he cautioned with a cynical smile. ‘We may meet again sooner than you think.’
Something in his eyes made her look away quickly and she made a mental note to stick to Damien’s side like glue from now on. If he had to meet clients in private, she was going to lock herself in the loo until it was safe to come out again.
‘I’m going inside now,’ she announced firmly.
His finger had traced its way lightly to the skin below her ear, sending tiny tremors through her nervous system. Reluctantly he straightened up and slid the jacket from around her shoulders. ‘I don’t think Damien realises how lucky he is, Janene,’ he murmured softly. ‘When you and I meet again there will be nowhere to run to. We’ll be alone. And then we’ll see what kind of a woman you really are beneath that shell.’ Taking her gently by the arm, he led her back inside.
‘So what did you think of Kassim, then?’ Damien asked, when he finally turned up to reclaim her a few minutes later.
She clung to Damien’s arm and stared after Kassim as he departed and disappeared into the crowd. ‘I—I don’t know,’ she stammered. ‘He’s a bit overpowering. I’m still trying to get my breath back.’
Damien