The Barbarian's Bride. Alex Ryder

      ‘I don’t mean those funny black robes I saw the women in town wearing,’ she warned. ‘Jeans will do fine.’

      ‘Determined not to go native?’ he asked mockingly. ‘A pity. I think a caftan or haik would suit you.’

      She was about to tell him that the native clothes she’d seen so far were the drabbest she’d ever encountered, when she caught sight of the young girl gliding silently into the room. Slim, with large, dark, liquid eyes, she was dressed in a robe of shimmering turquoise with gold edging. A headscarf of the same material was drawn under her chin and tied on top.

      She smiled shyly at Janene and bowed to Kassim.

      For a while he stood talking to her in some strange, guttural tongue, then she bowed again and drifted out of the room, as silent as a falling leaf.

      ‘Well, Janene, breakfast will be served by the poolside in half an hour.’ he informed her briskly. He pointed to the door. ‘You can shower and freshen up there, meanwhile. Kebira will fetch you something suitable to wear.’

      ‘Kebira?’

      ‘The servant-girl you just saw. From now on she is your personal maid.’

      She looked at him in surprise, then said firmly, ‘I don’t want a personal maid. I’m quite capable of looking after myself.’

      ‘Are you really?’ he asked with cynical amusement. ‘That isn’t the impression you’ve given me up till now. When you’re left to your own devices you seem to get yourself into all kinds of trouble.’ He saw the red spots of anger on her cheeks, and went on in a placating tone, ‘Come, now, Janene. It isn’t much to ask. As my consort, it’s only fitting that you should have a personal maid. Besides, Kebira will feel terribly insulted and depressed if you reject her. In her eyes, it is a great honour to be chosen for such an important position in the household.’

      She rolled her eyes heavenwards, then said scathingly, ‘Kidnapping and emotional blackmail. There’s nothing you’ll stop at to get your way, is there?’

      He shrugged. ‘A talent I inherited from my illustrious ancestors. Now, I suggest that we bathe together and enjoy the pleasure of—’

      ‘I’ll bathe by myself,’ she cut in icily. ‘You can go and cool off in the swimming-pool.’

      He heaved a sigh of disappointment, then gave a philosophical shrug. ‘No matter. I can wait. The greater the hunger, the more satisfying the meal.’ His blue eyes taunted her mercilessly, then they hardened. ‘It would be inadvisable to try my patience too long, however. I’m a man who doesn’t take kindly to being thwarted in his ambitions. That is another trait I inherited from my ancestors.’

      As he strode from the room his threat still rang in her ears, making her skin prickle, and she hurriedly locked herself in the bathroom.

      Everything she’d seen about this house so far spoke of pampered luxury, and the bathroom was no exception. There was a sunken bath in coral-pink marble, large enough to keep a school of dolphins happy, and, unless she was mistaken, the taps were solid gold. The walls and ceiling were covered in dazzling ceramic tiles, as were the two shower-stalls. An adjoining room held a sauna and an exercise area with more equipment than would be found in the average gym. Behind a partition she found dozens of coloured bath-towels and robes. There was even a selection of shower-caps, and, grabbing what she needed, she made her way to one of the showers and began undressing.

      As soon as the water ran hot she stepped under the shower and closed her eyes in relaxation. After a few moments she began lazily soaping herself, and her thoughts turned to Kassim. Disturbing yet exciting thoughts. In her imagination he was here beside her, his dark and lithe body naked and glistening. As they moved over her breasts, her hands became his hands. She threw her head back and her body became taut and receptive to the waves of sensual pleasure sweeping—

      Suddenly her mind snapped into place, and, angry at her weakness and lack of self-control, she turned the shower off. Dammit! She was the one who should have been cooling off in the pool.

      Kebira was waiting patiently in the bedroom with a selection of underwear and clothes spread out on the bed. She immediately smiled and began chattering away excitedly.

      Janene returned the smile and raised a restraining hand. ‘Hold on, Kebira! Can’t you speak English?’

      The large, liquid eyes blinked solemnly.

       ‘Français?’

      Another blink. ‘Oui, madame. Un—un peu.’

      ‘Never mind. I only speak it un peu myself. We’ll get along fine in sign-language.’ She looked at the display on the bed and wondered where all the brand-new underwear had come from. His harem’s wardrobemistress, probably. The underwear was mostly silk, and there were fabulously coloured robes and caftans, blouses and skirts. But not a pair of jeans in sight.

      She eventually settled for black silk trousers and a white silk blouse. The trousers were loose and baggy and tied at the ankles, and the blouse was covered in exotic embroidery.

      When she had completed her dressing, she examined herself critically in front of a large mirror until Kebira dragged her by the hand, made her sit at a dressingtable, then attacked the mass of red hair with a silverbacked hairbrush.