Castles Of Sand. Anne Mather

as he appeared. Just for a second, when he looked at her, she had glimpsed a curious expression in his eyes, but then the mask fell into place and he was once more his father’s eldest son.

      ‘There is a post,’ he said, standing before the screened fireplace with his back to her. ‘In Cairo. A friend of mine requires a governess for his two daughters. It will be a well-paid position, with every amenity available to someone of your—–’

      ‘No!’ The word burst from Ashley in incensed denial. ‘No, I don’t want your rotten post! My work is here, in England. If I choose to take a private position, it will be of my choosing, not yours!’

      ‘Do you not wish to work in Egypt, is that it? You would prefer some other place?’ Alain still did not turn. ‘Perhaps I could make other arrangements—–’

      ‘No!’ Ashley’s response was the same, and now he did turn, slowly, to face her.

      ‘You will not change your mind?’ he enquired, his face grim, and she shook her head. ‘Very well, then. I will withdraw Hussein from the school.’

      ‘Why? Ashley took an involuntary step towards him, her bewilderment plain. ‘Why? I’ve resigned—Malcolm told you that. What more do you want?’

      ‘Malcolm?’ Alain’s dark brows arched interrogatively. ‘Who is—Malcolm?’

      ‘Malcolm Henley,’ exclaimed Ashley impatiently. ‘Mr Henley, the headmaster.’

      Alain’s mouth tightened. ‘It would appear you know him better than I thought,’ he said accusingly. ‘He is your—friend, perhaps. Your—lover?’

      Ashley’s face flamed. ‘No! That is—Malcolm is a friend, yes.’ And then, realising she was stammering like a schoolgirl, she added fiercely: ‘It’s no business of yours what our relationship is.’

      Alain stiffened. ‘Then he is your lover. And this is why you do not wish to leave London.’

      ‘No!’ Ashley didn’t know why she felt the need to defend herself, but she did. ‘I simply don’t want to leave my home, this apartment; and—and all my friends.’

      Alain breathed deeply. ‘Then I have no choice.’

      ‘Why not?’ Ashley linked her fingers together as an idea occurred to her. ‘Are you afraid I’ll try to see—to see him? To identify myself to him?’

      Alain bent his head. ‘The situation is hypothetical. I will not leave him here.’

      ‘Don’t you trust me, Alain?’ she exclaimed, and he lifted his head to look at her.

      ‘Is there any reason why I should?’ he retorted bleakly, and a small gasp of pain escaped her.

      ‘Yes,’ she retorted fiercely. ‘Yes. I—I’ve never lied to you—–’

      ‘We will not go into that,’ he interrupted her harshly. ‘Lies, deceptions, call it what you will, I have no time to concern myself with such things. They are over, in the past, and the past is dead.’

      ‘No. No, it’s not.’ Ashley was indignant. ‘You can’t say these things to me and expect no retaliation. And why shouldn’t I see my son? Even divorced women have such rights.’

      ‘Not in my country,’ retorted Alain shortly, raising one hand to massage the back of his neck, as if he was tense too. ‘Ashley, why can you not be reasonable? You need another post. I am offering you one. According to your—friend Henley, you will not find it easy to take up another appointment at this time.’

      Ashley faltered. ‘What did you say to him? What did you tell him?’

      Alain shrugged. ‘Only that I was withdrawing Hussein from the school.’

      ‘Nothing else?’

      His expression grew remote. ‘You think I would discuss my private affairs with a stranger?’

      Ashley shook her head. ‘Then how did you find out I was leaving?’

      Alain frowned. ‘It was Henley. He made the point that perhaps I was unhappy that Hussein’s form tutor was to be a woman, and went on to explain that you had handed in your resignation. Naturally, I agreed to give the matter further consideration.’

      ‘I see.’ Ashley nodded, but now Alain looked wary.

      ‘Why?’ he pressed her. Then, with a darkening anger: ‘Does Henley know of this matter? You cannot have told him that Hussein is your son!’

      He was incensed, and she felt a bitter sense of satisfaction. ‘Why not?’ she taunted. ‘I told you, Malcolm is a friend, as well as my superior.’

      ‘Diable!’ Alain crossed the floor towards her in two savage strides. ‘You are telling me this man is familiar with our private affairs? That you have confided our most personal relationships to him?’

      Ashley quivered. ‘He only knows that—that Andrew is my son—–’

      ‘Only!’ Alain swore angrily. ‘Nom de Dieu! The situation gets worse. You had no right to betray such information.’

      ‘Betray?’ Ashley gazed up at him, noticing almost inconsequently the erratic flutter of the pulse that marked his jawline. ‘Alain, you can’t deny me the right to acknowledge my son. Besides,’ she moistened her lips, ‘how else could I have resigned at the beginning of term? What excuse could I give? Malcolm would have suspected—–’

      ‘Malcolm! Malcolm! I begin to grow tired of this man’s name,’ declared Alain violently, his blue eyes searching her face with angry intensity. ‘So—it is over. It is finished. I will take Hussein back to Khadesh!’

      ‘No—–’

      Ashley’s involuntary plea was accompanied by her hand on his arm, gripping the taut muscle she could feel through the expensive cloth of his sleeve. It was more than seven years since she had touched Alain, more than seven years since he had arrived at the hospital in Paddington and taken away the only tangible proof of her brief, but brutal, association with the Gauthier family. But she was appealing to him now, raising herself on her toes to bring her face nearer to his, unconsciously by her actions drawing his attention to the agitated swell of her breasts, outlined against the thin material of her smock.

      ‘Ashley!’ he grated, and when he spoke, his voice was deepened by some savage emotion he was trying hard to contain. ‘In the name of all the saints, Ashley, get away from me, before I am compelled to deliver the punishment I should have administered years ago!’

      ‘What punishment?’ Ashley’s lips parted, but she did not move away from him. It was a curious anomaly, but suddenly she sensed that for all his anger and his threats of violence, he was not as indifferent to her as he would like her to believe. Was it possible? she asked herself incredulously. After all these years, was it conceivable that he had some regrets for the pain and misunderstandings of the past? But no! That was not like Alain. He had always been so controlled, so positive, so remote from the weaknesses of the flesh. Except when he had been in her arms, a small voice reminded her wickedly, and an insane desire to find out if she was right gripped her. With a fast-beating heart she allowed her other hand to rest against his chest, in the hollow of the vee where the fastening of his waistcoat began, and deliberately spread her fingers against the fine silk of his shirt.

      ‘Ashley!’ His free hand caught her tormenting fingers, crushing them within the strength of his as he impaled her with an impassioned glare. ‘Do not try your feminine wiles on me! That was over long ago, and you would do well to remember that you are my brother’s widow!’

      ‘I haven’t forgotten it,’ she protested huskily, aware of the convulsive shudder that had passed through him before he captured her fingers in his. ‘Perhaps—perhaps it is yourself you have to convince!’

      ‘No!’ His jaws were clamped together, and he spoke through his teeth, but Ashley had aroused him, and she was not