It was a soft shade of turquoise, and designed to be worn—the salesgirl had helpfully explained without so much as batting an elegantly kohled eyelid—over a matching pair of harem trousers. Their cuffs and waistband had been embroidered to match the kaftan itself. It was quite plainly an outfit designed only to be worn in private and for the delectation of one man. The sheerness of the fabric would leave one’s breasts totally revealed—and Mariella had not missed the strategically embroidered rosettes, which she doubted would do anything more than merely make a teasing pretence of covering the wearer’s nipples—and as for the fact that the harem pants incorporated an embroidered and beaded v-shaped section at the front, which she had an unnerving suspicion would draw attention to rather than protect, any wearer’s sex…
‘And then, of course, there is this,’ the salesgirl told her, showing Mariella a jewelled piece of fabric, which she helpfully explained was self-adhesive so that the wearer could easily fix it to her navel.
Mariella gulped. Her normal sleeping attire when she wore any tended to be sturdily sensible cotton pyjamas.
‘Er… No… I don’t think… it’s quite me,’ she heard herself croaking, her courage deserting her. Seducing Xavier was going to be hard enough without giving herself the kind of self-conscious hang-up wearing that kind of outfit would undoubtedly give her!
‘I…I was thinking of something more… more European,’ she explained ruefully to the salesgirl.
‘Ah, yes, of course. There is a shop in the shopping centre run by my cousin which specialises in French underwear. I shall tell you how to find it.’
Mariella sensed that the girl was amused by her self-consciousness, but there was no way she intended to pay a sheikh’s ransom for an outfit that would take more courage to wear than going completely naked!
The souk was busy, and she paused on her way back through it to admire the wares on some of the other stalls, especially the rugs.
There was far more to seduction than merely wearing a harem outfit, she tried to comfort herself as she headed for the modern shopping centre. Far, far more. Sight was just one of man’s senses, after all.
By the time she finally returned to the villa Mariella felt totally exhausted. She was now the proud owner of a perfume blended especially for her, and a body lotion guaranteed to turn her skin into the softest silk; she had also given in to the temptation to buy herself some new underwear, from the harem outfit seller’s cousin, in the shopping mall. French and delicately feminine without making her feel in any way uncomfortable. Low-cut French knickers might not be as openly provocative as beaded harem trousers but they did have the advantage of being perfect to wear underneath her jeans!
It didn’t take her very long to pack. All she said to Hera when she summoned her was that she wanted her to hand the note she was giving her to Madame Flavel when she woke up from her afternoon nap.
By that time she should have safely reached the oasis, and her note was simply to calm the older lady’s fears and told her only that Mariella had driven out to the oasis because there was something she wanted to discuss with Xavier.
She took a taxi to the four-wheel drive rental office, where the car she had organised earlier by telephone was waiting for her.
This time she made sure she had the radio tuned in to the local weather station, but thankfully no sandstorms were forecast.
Taking a deep breath, she started the car’s engine.
With a small oath, Xavier pushed the laptop away and stood up. He had come to the oasis to put a safe distance between himself and Mariella but all his absence from her was doing was making him think about her all the more.
Think about her! He wasn’t just thinking about her, was he?
The tribe were currently camped less than thirty miles away and on a sudden impulse he decided to drive over and see them. The solitude of his own company was not proving to be its usual solace. Everywhere he looked around the oasis he could see Mariella. There might be a cultural gap between them, but, like him, she had a very strong sense of responsibility, and like him she would not give either her heart or herself easily. Like him, too, once she was committed, that commitment would be for ever. And did she also ache for what they had so nearly had and lie away at night wanting… needing, afraid to admit that those feelings went way, way beyond the merely physical? And if she did, then… Could she love him enough to accept his duty to the tribe, and with it his commitment to his role in life… to accept it and to share it? Dared he lay before her the intensity of his feelings for her? His love? Could he live with himself if his secret fears proved to be correct and his love for her overwhelmed his sense of duty?
Switching off the laptop, he reached for his Jeep keys.
She couldn’t ever remember a time when she had felt more nervous, Mariella acknowledged as she urged the four-wheel drive along the familiar boulder-strewn track. Up ahead of her she could see the pavilion and her heart lurched, slamming into her ribs. What if Xavier simply refused to be seduced and rejected her? What if…?
For a moment she was tempted to turn the four-wheel drive round and scuttle back to the city. Quickly she reminded herself of sexual tension stretching between them in the garden of the villa. He had wanted her then, and had admitted as much to her!
She had half expected to see him emerging from the pavilion as he heard her drive up, but there was no sign of him.
Well, at least he wouldn’t be able to demand that she turn round and drive straight back, she comforted herself as she parked her vehicle and climbed out, going to the back to remove her things, and then standing nervously staring at the pavilion.
Perhaps if she had timed things so that she had arrived in the dark… Some seductress she was turning out to be, she derided herself as she took a deep breath and walked determinedly towards the chosen fate.
Five minutes later she was standing facing the oasis, unwilling to accept what was patently obvious. Xavier was not here! No Xavier, no four-wheel drive, no seduction, no baby!
A crushing sense of disappointment engulfed her. Where was he? Could he have changed his mind and returned to the city despite informing his great-aunt that he intended to stay on at the oasis? How ironic it would be if by rushing out here so impulsively she had actually denied herself the opportunity of achieving what she wanted!
But then she remembered that his laptop was still inside the pavilion, and surely he would not have left that behind if he had been returning home? So where was he?
The sun was already a dying red ball lying on the horizon. Soon it would be dark. There was no way she was going to risk driving all the way back without the benefit of daylight!
So what exactly was she going to do? Spend yet another evening enduring her rebellious body’s clamouring urgency for the fulfilment of its driving need? It had simply never occurred to her that he wouldn’t be here!
The pavilion was so intimately a part of him. Dreamily, she trailed her fingertips along the chair he used when working at the laptop. The air actually seemed to hold an echo of his scent, a haunting resonance of his voice, and she felt that, if she closed her eyes and concentrated hard enough, she could almost imagine that he was there… She could certainly picture him behind her tightly closed eyelids. But it wasn’t his mental image she wanted so desperately, was it?
She knew she ought to eat, but she simply wasn’t hungry. She was thirsty, though.
She went into the kitchen and opened a bottle of water. Fine grains of sand clung to her skin, making it feel gritty. Hardly appropriate for a would-be siren! The long drive in the brilliant glare of the desert sun had left her eyes feeling tired and heavy. Like her body, which felt tired and heavy and empty. A sense of dejection and failure percolated through her.
Slowly, she walked out of the kitchen intending to return to the living area, but instead found