Rhy caught her arm and leaned down to whisper, "There's the Deputy Secretary of State to your right.
And the French foreign minister beside him."
"I know," Sallie said smugly, having already spotted the two men. "But I haven't seen a representative of a Communist nation, so I suppose Zain's influence is making itself felt."
Just then a tall, thin, distinguished gentleman with gray hair and kindly blue eyes approached them and extended his hand. "Mr. Baines," he greeted Rhy cordially in a clipped British public school accent.
"Nice to see you again."
"It's a pleasure to meet you again, Mr. Ambassador," Rhy replied, taking the other man's hand. "Sallie, I'd like to introduce you to Sir Alexander WilsonHume, Great Britain's ambassador to Sakarya. Mr.
Ambassador, my wife, Sallie."
The pale blue eyes lit as the ambassador took Sallie's hand and gently lifted it to his lips with oldworld courtesy. "My pleasure entirely." He smiled as Sallie murmured a conventional greeting. "Have you been married long, Mrs. Baines?"
An impish smile curved her lips. "Eight years, Mr. Ambassador."
"My word! Eight years!" He gave her a startled glance and abruptly she wondered if he'd had reason to assume that Rhy wasn't married when he'd known him before. But if that was the case the ambassador covered his confusion with perfect poise and carried on without a hitch. "You hardly look old enough to have been married a year."
"That's true," Rhy agreed smoothly. "She's aged well."
The ambassador gave him a rather startled glance, but Sallie merely smiled at Rhy's impudence despite the hollow ache that had bloomed inside her at the thought of Rhy's blatant infidelities. She'd just have to get over that, she told herself firmly. Only a naive fool would expect a man like Rhy to be faithful; he was far too physical, and far too attractive!
It was several hours later, when they were at last in a taxi returning to their own hotel, that Sallie commented evenly, "Poor man, the ambassador covered up for you well, didn't he? But now he considers you a philanderer."
"I'd hoped you wouldn't notice," Rhy replied wryly, "but you don't miss much, do you? But don't paint me blacker than I am, Sallie. You said you never thought I'd live like a monk, but I very nearly did.
I've had a lot of social dates that ended when I took the lady home, nothing more."
"You're lying," she stated without expression. "I suppose you expect me to believe that Coral Williams is just a friend?"
"She's not my enemy," he said, his mouth twitching in amusement. She didn't believe him when he continued. "I wanted to make you think she was my mistress to make you jealous, but I guess it didn't work."
She began to laugh in disbelief. She'd never heard such a ridiculous tale before in her life. Rhy was a sensual animal, his passions never far from the surface, and easily aroused. She'd have to be a fool to believe he'd been faithful to her during the seven years they'd been separated. She didn't even believe he'd been faithful to her while they'd been together! "Sorry." She laughed. "Try a tale that's more plausible. Besides, it doesn't matter."
He drew in his breath in a hiss, and glancing at him she saw the flare of anger in his eyes. "I'll make it matter," he promised her grimly. Or was it a threat?
She knew that he intended to make love to her as soon as they were in their hotel room in an attempt to tear down her convictions, and she eyed him warily. She'd agreed to spend the three days with him and she'd known that they would be sleeping together, but she intended to limit their lovemaking to the nights. After all, his desire was familiar to her, even after all these years. What she wanted to do was talk to him, learn about him, get to know him in the way she'd never known him before. He was her husband, but he was still a stranger to her. Sadly she realized that even though she planned on leaving when they returned to New York she was still searching for some way to believe that they could be happy together even when she knew the search was futile.
They had just entered the hotel room, and Rhy was shrugging out of his formal jacket when the phone rang. With an impatient curse he snatched it up and barked, "Yes?"
Sallie watched him as he listened, saw the frown that darkened his brow. "I'll be right down," he said, and hung up, then pulled his jacket back on.
"Who was that?" she asked.
"The desk. There's a message for me. I'll be right back."
After he'd gone she undressed and hung away her gown, then put on a lightweight white blouson dress, all the while mulling over what he'd said. A message for him? Why hadn't they given it to him over the phone or, better yet, when they'd walked through the lobby not five minutes before? It didn't sound plausible, and without hesitation she left the room and made for the elevators. She made her living by being curious, after all.
But she was more than curious, she was cautious. She left the elevator at the second floor and walked down the stairs the rest of the way. Her cautiousness was rewarded. She opened the door at the bottom of the stairs and looked out to see her husband standing with his arm around Coral Williams, who was staring up at him with tearstained eyes. Sallie couldn't hear what they were saying, but Rhy went with Coral to the elevators and the doors slid shut behind them.
Her lips pressed firmly together, Sallie returned to their hotel room and swiftly gathered her clothing.
So much for his tale of being faithful! It had to be more than a casual relationship for Coral to follow him to Sakarya. And she wasn't going to wait for him to listen to any more of his lies!
She had to act swiftly; she had no way of knowing how long he would stay with Coral. She scribbled a note, not paying attention to what she was writing, but it was something to the effect of sorry, she just wasn't interested. Then she picked up her suitcase and purse and left, once again taking the stairs.
Finding a taxi was easy, a fleet of them was waiting outside the hotel; her problem now was finding a place to stay. She was aware that hotels were few and far between in Khalidia. In French she explained to the driver that she wished to go to another hotel but not one that was well-known. He obliged, and when Sallie saw it she understood why it wasn't wellknown; it looked as if the French Foreign Legion should come swarming over the walls. It was small and old and simple, and the fiercely mustachioed man who seemed to be in charge looked her over thoroughly before saying something in his own language to the taxi driver.
"He says there is a room, if you wish it, but it is not of the finest," the driver translated. "Also you must pay in advance and you must stay in your room as you are not veiled and your man is not with you."
"That seems fair," Sallie replied. To stay in the room was just what the doctor ordered; it would insure that Rhy couldn't find her. "But what shall I do for food?"
The Sakaryan's dark eyes slid over her, and then he revealed that he spoke some French by informing her rustily that his wife would bring food to her,
Delighted that she'd be able to communicate Sallie thanked him and beamed at him, her big eyes sparkling. When the driver had left Sallie lifted her suitcase and waited expectantly for her host to lead her way to her room. Instead he glared down at her fiercely for a moment, then leaned down and took the suitcase from her hand. "You are too small," he growled. "My wife will feed you."
Then he took her up the narrow stairs to her room and left her there, and Sallie examined what was to be her sleeping quarters for the next two nights. The room was spotless but contained only a single bed and a washstand on which stood a blue urn of water and a washbasin. But the bed was covered with an exotic spread and was strewn with cushions, and the mattress was comfortable, so she was satisfied.
The proprietor's wife brought up a tray loaded with cheese, bread, orange juice and coffee. She looked Sallie over from head to toe, her expression shocked at the sight of Sallie's slim legs, but she gave a timid smile in response to Sallie's grin.
After eating, Sallie took off her dress and shoes; if she was to be confined in this small room for fortyeight hours she might as well be comfortable. Digging in her suitcase she produced the long T-shirt that she
had packed and pulled it on; wearing only that and her panties she was as cool as she could get and still have any clothes on. Then she unpacked her clothing and hung everything up to air.
With nothing else to do she lay down on the bed and tried to lose herself in one of the paperback books she'd brought, but the heat was becoming oppressive and she thought with longing of the air-conditioned comfort of the Hotel Khalidia. Flopping onto her back she raised the book to fan herself, and only then did she notice the old-fashioned paddle fan on the ceiling. "Shades of Casablanca!" she cried in delight, jumping up and looking about for the switch. She wouldn't even have sworn that the hotel was wired for electricity, but there was a switch on the wall, and when she flipped it the fan creaked into motion. The gentle movement of air against her skin relieved the sensation of smothering, and she fell back on the bed.
She tried again to read her book, but thoughts of Rhy kept breaking into her concentration, and suddenly a raw sob burst from her throat. Amazed at her tears and yet helpless to stop them, she bowed her head onto the bed and wept until her chest hurt and her eyes were swollen. Crying for Rhy? She'd sworn seven years ago that he'd never make her cry again, and she had thought she was over all her illusions about him, but seeing him with his arm around Coral had hit her like a sledgehammer. Was she always going to be a fool over the man? What was the old saying? "I have cried for these things once already," or something to that effect, yet here she was crying for them again. And it was a waste of time.
She should be glad that she'd seen Coral before she'd allowed Rhy to make a complete fool of her. It was her stupid weakness for him that allowed her, even knowing that she was stupid, still to respond to his lovemaking--crave his lovernaking, if she was honest with herself. And subconsciously she'd been hoping that somehow things would work out between them. She might as well face the truth once and for all: the reasons Rhy wanted her back were not emotional ones; they were all physical. Sex between them was good. It was more than good. They were a matched pair with their needs, their instincts and responses, each knowing just how to drive the other wild. And it wasn't anything they thought about; it was inborn in both of them, whatever it was that made each of them so physically attractive to the other.
Having known his lovemaking, hadn't she refused all other men because she'd known that they couldn't compare with what she'd had with Rhy? She couldn't see Rhy refusing women like that; his sexual appetites were too urgent and strong, but there was no doubt that he had a weakness for her. But sex just wasn't enough for her! She loved him and she wanted that love to be returned. They couldn't spend their lives together in bed; there had to be something else.
With fierce determination she dried her tears and looked about for something to do. Reading couldn't help and she wished that she had brought her manuscript with her. But even if it wasn't here she could write in longhand, couldn't she, and type it up when she returned home? She knew that she could lose herself in writing, push the pain inside her away.
She never went anywhere without several pads tucked into her bag so she dug one out and sat down on the bed with it balanced on her knee, as there was nothing to use for a desk. Grimly she made herself recall where she'd left off, and after a few minutes the writing became easier, So what if Rhy had let her down again? She still had herself, her newly discovered talent and her integrity. She had learned how to live without Rhy, and she'd been a fool to have stayed with the magazine once she had learned he'd bought it. She was vulnerable to him, she always had been, but she knew that she didn't dare let him resume the prominent position that he'd once held in her life. It had nearly destroyed her, that mad need for his touch, his smile, his presence.
But what if she had a baby? The thought came out of nowhere and she dropped her pen, her hand straying over her flat stomach, and she wondered. Thinking back, counting, she realized that it was possible, even likely. But there was a difference now: she wouldn't be terrified at being on her own.
She would gladly welcome a chance to have her child all to herself. Part of her longed for a baby, ached to hold a small wriggling body in her arms. She'd never been able to hold her son; they had taken him away immediately and she'd had only a glimpse of his blue little face. Another baby ...
another son. Suddenly she hoped it was so with a fierce, wild yearning. Perhaps she couldn't have Rhy, but she could have his baby, and she could give to her child the love that Rhy didn't want.
On the morning of the charity ball Sallie was a mass of nerves, partly a result of being shut up in that tiny room for two days and partly because she so dreaded facing Rhy again. She knew as well as she knew the color of her eyes that he hadn't left the city; he was waiting for her to surface at the ball. He would be furious, and that was an understatement.
But she dressed in the lavender silk dress that she'd chosen for the ball and noticed that it darkened her eyes to violet. A touch of mauve eyeshadow made her eyes pools of mystery and she underlined the air of sophistication by pulling her hair back from her face in a severe coil that was secured by three tiny amethyst butterflies.
It was almost time for her taxi, so she picked up her suitcase, since she would not be coming back there after the ball, and carefully made her way down the narrow stairs, not wanting to turn her ankles in her high heels. The Sakaryan proprietor was seated just to the right of the stairs, and he got to his feet as she descended. His gaze went over her thoroughly, and she sensed the tension of his powerful muscles.
She had the uncomfortable feeling that this Sakaryan would like to start a harem, with her as his first concubine!