On the seventh day, Tareq had casually announced he was taking her shopping for clothes.
Defiance had leapt off her tongue. “No!” The thought of parading a range of outfits for Tareq’s approval, having his eyes measuring their effectiveness, how well each garment fitted her figure…her stomach had cramped. She couldn’t bear it.
Tareq had frowned at her vehemence. “I thought you would enjoy it.” His frown had deepened. “There is also the matter of feeling at ease when we start mixing with others, Sarah.” A quiet, gentle reasoning. “Inevitably, you will suffer considerable scrutiny as my companion. Critical scrutiny.”
Resentment at her enforced position had spilled out. “And you’d prefer me not to look the little brown mouse at your side.”
His eyes had sparked with amusement. “You’re more a lioness than a mouse. Protecting your cubs.”
His reminder of the children made this even more a cat and mouse game to Sarah. Except Tareq wasn’t a mere cat. He was a dangerous, dark, and very sleek panther, prowling around her, waiting to pounce, keeping her in almost intolerable suspense.
“It is irrelevant to me how you are dressed, Sarah,” he’d declared. “My main concern was to protect you from the bitchiness of other women. However, if you feel armoured enough against their barbs…”
She wasn’t. She knew she’d hate being looked down upon, hate looking like a fish out of water. “I do need some new clothes,” she’d admitted grudgingly, then in a proud show of independence, had added, “It’s just that I want to go shopping by myself, choose them myself, and pay for them myself.”
To her intense relief he had let her do precisely that…after the embarrassment of having to accept the thirty thousand dollars he put in her credit account, a three months’ advance on the salary he’d arbitrarily decided upon.
“But I don’t do anything!” she’d protested.
“That’s for me to judge,” he’d answered.
Recognising the futility of arguing, Sarah, nonetheless, had no intention of frittering away anything like that amount on clothes. Sam Bates had driven her to Naples, a shoppers’ paradise with its many fashion boutiques, and she’d managed to find quite a few bargains amongst end of season stock that had been marked down.
Temporarily freed from the turmoil Tareq stirred, Sarah had enjoyed acquiring a range of clothes she felt really good in, assuring herself she didn’t have to be competitive. As long as she was confident in her appearance, she’d be fine. Though she did wonder if Tareq was as uncaring about it as he said.
“Pleased with what you’ve bought?” he’d asked on her return to the house, eyeing the shopping bags with interest.
“Do you want to be shown?” she’d challenged.
He’d laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll see soon enough.”
But there’d been something—a cynical glint in his eyes?—that had made Sarah suddenly feel there’d been a purpose in letting her go shopping alone, a test in giving her so much spending power. The sense of being weighed on everything she did had her swinging from fierce belligerence—why should she care what he thought of her?—to sick panic, because she did care.
It was crazy to crave his good opinion, crazy to crave what could only be a self-destructive liaison with him. There might be physical satisfaction—even intense pleasure—in experiencing his sexual expertise, but there’d be humiliation, too, knowing she was letting down the ideals she’d clung to for so long. All the same, she hadn’t known how strong carnal desire could be…its raging demands, its dreadful distraction, its power to pervert any normal thinking.
Sarah closed her eyes to the brilliant light of this new day, wishing she could shut Tareq out as easily. Maybe it would be easier with the company of other people around them, drawing his attention away from her. Looking at the horses he wanted to see had to be a diversion, too. The trip to Silver Springs might be less of an ordeal than she’d initially thought.
After all, she didn’t know the people she’d be meeting. What they thought about her didn’t really matter. Here today, gone tomorrow. Tareq was the unavoidable constant. Somehow she had to learn to live with the way he affected her.
A knock on the door. “Sarah?” His voice calling out.
Her eyes flew open. Her heart catapulted around her chest. She had to work some moisture into her mouth before answering. “Yes?” It came out high-pitched and quivery. He hadn’t entered her suite all the time they were here. Was that about to change?
“There’s a letter from Jessie. Do you want to come and read it?”
So much for her fevered imagination! On a wave of sheer delight, Sarah leapt out of bed, thrust her arms into her light silk wraparound to cover up her satin slip nightie, and raced to the door. She’d bought and sent postcards to Jessie and the twins but they couldn’t have received them yet. It was a lovely surprise to get a letter so soon.
Her face was lit with happy anticipation as she opened the door, her smile spontaneous as she held out her hand for the expected envelope. Tareq grinned at her, his eyes taking in her dishabille and obviously savouring the lack of restraint apparent in her appearance. In sharp contrast, he was immaculately groomed and freshly clothed in body-hugging blue jeans and a white and navy Lacoste sports shirt.
Fighting a prickling sense of vulnerability, Sarah stared pointedly at his empty hands. “You said…”
“Tousled hair becomes you.”
Was he checking how she looked first thing in the morning? Her teeth clenched. It was a non-effective action in stopping the rush of heat to her face. “Tareq…” she bit out.
“The letter came in on E-mail. You’ll have to read it off the monitor screen in my study.”
“E-mail?”
“Much quicker than the postal service.”
Incredulity billowed over her confusion. “Jessie’s using E-mail?”
“It’s not difficult once you’ve learnt how. Follow me and I’ll show you.”
He set off, taking it for granted she would do as he dictated. Sarah hesitated, torn between having her curiosity immediately satisfied and wanting to bolt back into her bedroom and get properly dressed so she wouldn’t feel at such a disadvantage. the drawcard of modern technology won over fears that seemed silly with Tareq’s back already turned to her. Tying her belt firmly to prevent her gown flying apart, she trailed after him to the study which was furnished with every form of communication.
Tareq waved her to the swivel chair at his desk. The monitor screen above a computer keyboard glowed invitingly. Sarah could hardly believe her eyes as she sat down and began reading the printed script.
Dear Sarah,
I bet this surprises you. I’m writing this on my very own computer. It came the day after you left and a tutor has been showing me how to use it. I can do drawings on it, too, and colour them any way I want. If I don’t like one colour, I can use my mouse to change it to another colour. Isn’t that marvellous? And so quick. Tareq said it would be a lot of fun and it is. It’s the best present. Please thank him for me…
Her mind spun in shock. Her gaze jerked up to the man standing beside her. “You bought Jessie a computer? And lessons?”
He nodded. “Children take to computers very quickly. Here she is, up and running already,” he said, clearly pleased with her progress.
“But why?” The extravagance of the gesture stunned her, even as she recalled the conspiratorial smiles he and Jessie had swapped, and his insistence that he kept the promises he made.
“I