Dark Enemy. Anne Mather
sure he was well aware of her emptiness, and had deliberately eaten early to force her into waiting until their interview was over when she would have to go to the eating place where all the men would be gathered.
However, she was an adept at concealing her feelings, and she replied, quite coolly: ‘That’s perfectly all right, Mr. Wilde. I can wait until later. Perhaps Mr. Wilson would be so kind as to bring a tray to my bungalow?’
Graham was about to accept this proposition when Jason got broodingly to his feet. ‘My men are not waiters,’ he said harshly. ‘You can go, Graham. I can handle this.’
‘Yes. Yes, sir!’ Graham turned and left them, with a slightly regretful glance in Nicola’s direction.
Nicola managed to retain her calm expression, while inwardly she seethed. Obviously the task she had set herself was going to be far more difficult than even she had imagined. Back in London, planning this situation, she had vaguely imagined that after his initial annoyance Jason Wilde might conceivably come to appreciate her presence, but apparently she had underestimated him. He was far more calculating than she had thought. Hard all through, like steel. And then she remembered Louise, and her own determination hardened to match his.
Even so, it was impossible not to appreciate the man himself. She could easily see why Louise had been so impossibly infatuated with him. He was so much different from George, or Michael either, for that matter. Not that she, personally, found his raw masculinity appealing. There was something primitive about him that stirred the basest emotions inside her, and she realized she would have to work hard to achieve any kind of victory with him. His height immediately put her at a disadvantage, and the width of his shoulders owed nothing to artifice. But it was the hard, uncompromising features, and the thick hair that grew low on his neck and was repeated in the brown muscularity of his arms and chest that gave one the impression of leashed virility, and brutal strength. She shivered suddenly, hoping this task she had set herself would never get out of hand. Somehow she had the feeling that if it did she would be unable to control it.
Then she chided herself. Was she such a coward? Was she to give up simply because the task was proving more complex? She must think of David and Goliath; or Samson and Delilah, her subconscious taunted her mockingly. A smile curved her mouth unwillingly, and then she saw his eyes darken angrily.
‘What is amusing you, Miss King?’ he asked, in a hard tone. ‘I shouldn’t have thought the prospect of several weeks under conditions intolerable to most women would appeal to a butterfly like yourself!’
‘A butterfly?’ she exclaimed, in annoyance. ‘I’m no butterfly. I have to work for my living.’
‘Indeed?’ Jason’s expression was derisive. ‘And how well do you know Sir Harold Mannering?’
Nicola stiffened. ‘As well as any secretary knows her boss,’ she replied.
‘Is that so? Then how come you were able to persuade him to let you come out here? I mean – that’s no mean achievement.’
‘I don’t like your insinuations, Mr. Wilde.’
‘Don’t you? How terrible!’ he mocked her. ‘But then a woman in your position hasn’t much chance of retaliation, has she?’
Nicola’s fingers stung across his cheek almost before she could prevent them, and Jason caught her wrist in a vice-like grip. ‘Don’t you ever dare to do that again!’ he muttered savagely, ‘or I may forget that whatever your designation I am a gentleman, and respond in kind!’
Nicola was trembling, and she wrenched her wrist away shakily. ‘Then – then don’t say things like that!’ she snapped angrily. ‘You’ve absolutely no evidence on which to base remarks of that sort!’
‘Haven’t I? Well, I have the evidence of my own eyes, and you’re simply not the kind of woman to come out here for no reason.’
‘I – I have a reason. I’m to help you – and keep an eye on Paul.’
‘Very neat.’ Jason turned away, walking to the drinks cabinet and selecting a bottle. After a stiff whisky, he said: ‘Okay, we won’t argue about your relationship with Harold. Quite frankly, I’m too tired to attempt to sort it all out. But I have my opinions. You wouldn’t deny me them?’
Nicola did not reply, but merely shook her head. As her temper subsided she felt annoyed with herself. She rubbed her wrist that pained a little. This would never do. She couldn’t have Jason Wilde imagining she was some kind of easy woman. That wasn’t at all the image she wanted to create. And somehow no matter what his own morals might be she could not see him finding a woman like that attractive. No, somehow she had to assume a much less aggressive personality. But how? How?
She considered reverting to woman’s oldest weapon, tears, but then decided against it. Somehow she didn’t think they would wash with Jason Wilde either.
Now he said: ‘Can I offer you a drink? It’s the least I can do.’
Nicola bit her lip. ‘Just a fruit juice, please,’ she said quietly, and suffered the look of scorn that crossed his face before he turned and supplied her with an iced lime and lemon. Just then Ali appeared in the doorway, his huge dark eyes widening when he saw Nicola.
‘Is there anything you want, sir?’ he asked importantly, but Jason merely shook his head. However, Ali was not one to waste his opportunities, and he looked questioningly at Nicola as he said: ‘Perhaps the lady would like something to eat, sir? Or has she already eaten?’
Jason’s eyes darkened, and then, before he could reply, Nicola said: ‘Why, how charming of your – er – houseboy, Mr. Wilde. And how thoughtful, too. Particularly as you were so disappointed that I arrived late for dinner.’
Ali grinned. ‘I will get the lady some curry and some fruit, yes?’ he asked, looking at Jason. ‘And perhaps some good coffee!’
Jason gave an exclamation, and then shrugged. ‘Oh, do what you like,’ he muttered broodingly, and Nicola hid a smile. She seemed to have scored at last.
‘May I sit down?’ she asked, subsiding on to a chair without waiting for his agreement. ‘These are quite comfortable bungalows, aren’t they? I mean – air-conditioning and so on. Not exactly what you’d expect to find in the middle of the desert.’
Jason leaned against the drinks cabinet, surveying her intently. ‘Just what did you expect to find, Miss King?’ he asked lazily.
Nicola sighed, and lay back in her chair. ‘I thought we’d agreed to stop this baiting,’ she said quietly. ‘Have you travelled much, Mr. Wilde?’
‘I imagine you would think so,’ he returned broodingly. ‘Have you?’
‘Since coming to work for Sir Harold, yes,’ she answered. ‘We went to South America in March, and Trinidad in August. This is my first visit to the Middle East.’
‘And what do you think of it?’
She shrugged. ‘Primitive – but with definite possibilities.’
Jason shook his head. ‘How old are you, Miss King?’
‘I’m twenty-four, Mr. Wilde. How old are you?’
Jason was taken aback. ‘Thirty-seven,’ he replied shortly.
‘And you’ve never got married?’
She saw a strange look cross his face. ‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘How about you?’
Nicola sighed. ‘I was engaged once. It was broken off a year ago.’
‘Is that so? About the time you came to work for Sir Harold, in fact.’
‘Sir Harold had nothing to do with my broken engagement,’ she replied, rather shortly, and realized he didn’t believe her.
However, Ali returned just then with a faultlessly laid tray containing a delicious-smelling dish of chicken curry, and another containing an assortment