But he said, in his rough French, "It is dangerous for you to be in this part of the city alone. I will walk with you to the taxi, yes?"
"Yes, thank you," she said gravely, and noticed that he didn't offer to carry the suitcase for her this time, but she was grateful for his escort even for the short distance to the taxi waiting outside. Her driver grinned and got out to open the door as they approached.
At the palace gates she had to leave the taxi as the driver wasn't cleared to enter the palace grounds.
Her name was checked off on the list of guests and a hawk-faced guard escorted her to the palace and even stored her suitcase in a small cupboard before taking her to the enormous chamber that had been decorated for the ball.
Though she was early there were already a fair number of people standing about, the women dressed like so many butterflies, and the abundance of jewels made her eyebrows arch. To her delight there were also a number of Muslim guests, and she was certain that not all of the dark men, some wearing their native headdress and some in European clothing, were Sakaryan; probably Rhy could put a name to most of them. And there were a few Muslim women, too, well dressed, quiet, looking about with their huge, liquid dark eyes. She would have loved to talk to them, ask about their lives, but she had the feeling that her nosiness wouldn't be very well received.
Suddenly Sallie felt a tingle along the left side of her face, and she lifted a hand to touch her cheek.
Then she knew, and she turned her head slightly to look straight into Rhy's furious gaze. His eyes were like flint, his jaw carved out of granite. Sallie tilted her chin and gave him back as good as she got as he strode toward her with suppressed savagery in every line of his muscular body.
She stood her ground, and when he reached her he encircled her slim waist with his hard fingers, a grip that didn't hurt but which she knew she couldn't break. A voice gravelly with temper growled, "You need to be shown who's boss, baby, and I'm just the man to do it. Where the hell have you been?"
"At another hotel," she informed him casually. "I told you from the beginning that I didn't want to resume our marriage, and I meant it."
"You agreed to give it a three-day trial," he reminded her grimly.
"So I did. I'd have agreed to rob a bank if it would have kept you from watching me. So what?" She raised her head and looked him straight in the eye. "I lied to you and you lied to me. We're even."
"How did I lie to you?" he snapped, his nostrils flaring in rage that he had to control because they were in public.
"About Coral." She gave him a wintry smile. "You don't seem to realize that I don't mind if you had other women-I really don't care-" that was a lie if she'd ever told one "-but I do object to people lying to me. So you've been a virtual monk, have you? Am I to believe that Coral followed you all the way to Sakarya with tears in her beautiful eyes on the basis of a platonic relationship?"
"I don't know how you found out about Coral-he began impatiently, but she interrupted.
"I followed you. I have a nosy nature. It's part of being a reporter. So, my dear husband, I saw you comfort your mistress and take her to her room, and you didn't leave immediately or you would have caught me leaving!"
"It's your fault that I took her to her room," he snarled, his fingers tightening on her wrist. "I didn't ask her to follow me and I didn't lie to you. She isn't and never has been my mistress. But there she was, and she was crying, and I wondered if you'd been right when you said she was in love with me. I've never thought she was, she went out with other men, and I dated other women, but there was the possibility that you'd seen something I'd missed. I thought I owed her an explanation, so I took her to her room and told her the truth about us. Fifteen minutes later I went back to our room and found only that damned note of yours! I could break your neck, Sallie. I've been half out of my mind worrying about you!"
"I've told you I can take care of myself," she muttered, wondering if she could believe this or not. But she didn't dare believe him! How could she? She knew him too well, knew the strength of his sexual appetite.
Further conversation was prevented at that point by the entrance of the King of Sakarya, His Royal Highness Abu Haroun al Mahdi. Everyone bowed and the women curtsied, including the Americans in the group, and the King looked pleased. He lacked the stature of many Sakaryans, but five hundred years of rule were evident in his proud carriage and straightforward gaze. He greeted his guests first in perfect English, then in French, and finally in the Arabic tongue.
Sallie strained up on her toes for a better look at him, and for a moment her eyes were solidly locked with those of the monarch. After a second's hesitation he gave her a nod and a slow, faintly shy smile which she returned with her own warm, friendly smile; then they were blocked from view by a group of people moving closer to him.
"You've made a hit," Rhy observed with narrowed eyes.
"All I did was smile at him," she defended crossly, for it seemed as if he was accusing her of something. "Your smile is an open invitation, baby," he drawled.
He was going to be impossible; he would make the day as difficult for her as he could. "Isn't it time for the fashion show to begin?" she said, grateful for anything that would relieve her of his undivided attention.
"In half an hour," he replied, drawing her with him to the room where the fashion show would take place. Some of the top designers of the world had put together the show for Marina and already the chairs that had been placed about the runway were half filled. Exquisitely gowned women laughed and chattered while their suave escorts looked on with veiled interest.
A thought struck Sallie and she muttered to Rhy, "I suppose Coral is modeling?"
"Of course," he affirmed, his voice hard.
"Then we might as well find seats," she sniped. "I don't suppose wild horses could drag you away."
His fingers bit painfully into her arm. "Shut up," he snarled. "My God, can't you just shut up?" His head snapped around and before she could protest he was marching her firmly out of the room. He barked a question at a guard who saluted smartly, for some reason, and led them down a passageway to a small room. Rhy bodily pushed her into the room and closed the door behind them.
Hoping to divert him from the black rage she could see in his face Sallie said hastily, "What room is this?" while she looked around the small chamber as if she was vastly interested.
"I don't care," Rhy replied, his voice so rough that the words were barely intelligible, and then he advanced on her with dark purpose evident in his face. Sallie backed away in alann but had taken only a few steps when he caught her.
He didn't say anything else; he simply pulled her to him and covered her mouth with his and kissed her with such devouring hunger that she forgot to struggle. It would have been useless in any case; she was no match for his strength and he held her so closely that their bodies were pressed together from shoulder to knee. Blood began to drum in her ears and she sank against him, held up only by his arms.
Long minutes later he lifted his mouth and surveyed her flushed, love-drugged face. "Don't talk to me about other women," he ordered in a low tone, his uneven breath caressing her lips. "No other woman can excite me like you do, even when you're not trying to, you little witch. I want you now," he finished on a groan, bending his head to brush her lips with his.
"That-that's impossible," she whispered, but her protest was only a token one. 'Me sensual fire that burned in him burned in her, also, and if he had persisted she wouldn't have been capable of resisting.
As it was he retained some sense of their location and put her away from him with shaking hands.
"I know, dammit." He sighed. "I suppose we'd better go back if you want to see the fashion showand not another word about Coral," he warned darkly.
Her fingers trembling, she repaired the damage he'd done to her lipstick and offered him a tissue to wipe the color from his mouth. He did so, smiling a little at the smear of color that came off on the tissue.
"What did you say to the guard?" she finally asked, obeying a need to make nonvital conversation.
"I told him you were feeling faint," he replied. "And you did look pale."
"Do I now?" she wondered aloud, touching her cheeks.
"No. You look kissed," he drawled.
The blood was still rushing through her body in yearning when they took their seats for the fashion show, and the parade of models barely registered on her consciousness. She was too aware of Rhy's tall body beside her, so close that she could feet the warmth of him, smell the unique muskiness of his body. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest. Only Coral made any impression on her, her eyes fastened on Rhy as if drawn to him, the pouty, sensuous smile on her perfect mouth meant for him alone. Glancing sideways at Rhy, Sallie saw that his expression remained closed except for a slight tightening of his jaw that spoke volumes to her, and she looked back at Coral with nausea boiling in her stomach.
The program was full, every minute ordered. After the fashion show there was a thousand-dollar-a-plate dinner, with all of the proceeds going to charity. Then dancing, then entertainment by a top American singer, Sallie lived through the hours feeling as if she was walking underwater. Rhy was with her every minute, but she couldn't forget the fleeting expression on his face when he'd seen Coral.
Why was she allowing him to torment her Re this? She had no illusions about him, and she had already determined her own course of action. When they returned to New York she would leave, it was as simple as that. But for some reason she couldn't shake her deep sense of misery, and as a result she drank more champagne than she meant to, realizing that fact only when the room swirled mistily around her and she clutched at Rhy's arm.
"That's enough," he said gently, taking the glass from her fingers and setting it down. "I think you could stand something to eat, a slice of cake maybe. Come on."
With tender concern he made certain she ate, watching her closely all the while. When she felt better she smiled thankfully at him. "How much longer before the interview?" she murmured.
"Not much longer, honey," he comforted, as if sensing her unhappiness.
But at last it was over with and Sallie and Marina were alone in a private chamber the King had donated for their use. "He's really a dear," Marina explained. "I think he's shy, but he tries so hard to disguise it. And of course he was brought up to disregard women in every way but the physical, and he can't quite become used to meeting them socially despite his English education."
"Did your husband go to the same school?" Sallie asked, thinking that Zain didn't seem to have any problem with women.
"No, and his attitude could bear some improvement, too," Marina said with wry amusement. "Listen, he kept a harem until we were engaged. I made him give them all up before I would agree to marry him!" she explained smugly.
Sallie choked on her laughter and gasped. "A harem? You're kidding! Do they still have those things?"
"Of course, why do you think the royal families have so many princes? Muslim religion permits three wives and as many concubines as a man can support, and Zain most definitely had his selection of concubines to occupy his nights!"
I'What did you say to him to make him give them upT I
"I gave him a choice, he could have me or he could have other women, but I made it plain that I had no intention of sharing him. He didn't like the idea of giving up his harem, but he finally realized that my ignorant American mind just couldn't accept it."
Their eyes met and they went off into gales of laughter, and of course that was the moment when they were interrupted by Rhy and Zain, "I thought this was a serious interview," Rhy commented, strolling forward to drop his long length beside Sallie.
"And I thought it was a private one," she retorted. Zain's strong mouth quirked as he stretched his long frame out close to Marina, "We couldn't resist," he explained. "I introduced Rhy to His Majesty," he said, flexing his broad shoulders as if he was weary, and he chuckled at the memory. "I think I made some diplomats jealous, especially when they had a long chat in voices too low to carry!"
"The State Department will probably try to debrief me," Rhy added.
A memory clicked in Sallie's mind, and she said casually to Zain, "How did you meet Rhy?"
"He saved my life," Zain replied promptly, but no explanation followed and Sallie's eyebrows arched.
"You don't need to know," Rhy teased. "We were both where we weren't supposed to be and we barely got out alive. Let it rest, baby. Tell us how you and Marina met, instead."
"Oh, that's simple enough." Marina shrugged. "We met in college. There's nothing unusual in that.
Now, why don't you two run along? How can Sallie and I talk with witnesses present?"
Both men laughed, but neither made a move to leave, so they had to be included in the conversation.
To be truthful, it was impossible to exclude them. Rhy wasn't there for an interview, but he was still a reporter and gradually he got one anyway. Despite her exasperation Sallie could only admire the way he posed his questions to Zain. Some were blunt, posed point-blank; others he merely hinted at, letting Zain evade the question or answer it as he wished. In response to that consideration Zain was open with his answers, and Sallie knew that she was listening to potential dynamite. He told Rhy things that perhaps even foreign heads of state hadn't been told, and he seemed to have perfect confidence that Rhy would know what he could report and what he should forget.
Slowly Sallie began to understand the razor-sharp brain of the man who handled the finances of a booming economy and was slowly easing his country into the twentieth century. He was an adventurer, but he was also a patriot. Perhaps that was why the King had such great confidence in his young minister of finance, why he was allowing Sakaryan policies to be shaped along Western lines.