The Sheik Retold(5)

"I am very sorry to have hurt you," I said more gently. "You've been a splendid pal, but that softer side does not exist for me. I do not possess a romantic nature. Sentimentality and affection have never been a part of my life. I don't know what they mean, nor do I want to know. A man to me is just a companion with whom I ride or shoot or fish; a pal, a comrade, and that's just all there is to it. God made me a woman. Only He knows why, for I have no interest in ever being any man's wife. I am very content with my life as it is."

I was piqued that he had put me in this awkward position. He should have known me well enough to realize what my answer would be.

"Forgive me, Diana," he murmured. "Perhaps it was my fear for your safety that prompted me." His eyes searched mine in the dim light of the hanging lanterns. "If I take my medicine like a man, may I still be your pal?"

"Gladly." I extended my hand. "I have hosts of acquaintances, but very few friends. With our constant globe-trotting, Aubrey and I never seem to have time to make any. Even in England they call us bad neighbors because we are so seldom there. We're home for three months of winter hunting and then we wander abroad the rest of the year. Biskra has been a rarity for us. Seldom have we sojourned in one place so long."

Taking him at his word and treating him as the pal he had asked to be, I remained sitting beside him. My thoughts, however, were once more far away, wandering in the desert—until a man's low voice rose in the stillness of the night. It was English, with an almost imperceptible slurring from note to note that was strangely un—English.

Full of vain longings and regrets, he sang in a passionate, vibrating baritone, "Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar. Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell?"

The song seemed to emanate from the dark shadows at the end of the garden. Enraptured, I leaned forward to listen more intently. The singer's voice caressed each word until the last verse died softly away, fading into silence. The stillness deepened, broken only by the sound of my own heartbeat. I sank back with a little sigh.

"The Kashmiri Love Song. It makes me think of India. I heard a man sing it once but never like that. What a melodious voice! I wonder who it is."

Jim eyed me curiously. His voice quivered with emotion. "You claim to possess no emotion in your nature, yet this song stirs you so deeply. How do you reconcile that?"

"Is appreciation of beauty emotion?" I asked. "Surely not! Music, art, nature, everything beautiful appeals to me. But there is nothing emotional in that. It is only natural to prefer beautiful things to ugly ones. Just like pretty clothes to rags," I added, laughing.

"You contradict yourself. Is not that a concession to the womanly feelings you profess to despise?"

"Not at all. To take an interest in one's clothes is not an exclusively feminine vice. I like pretty dresses, but I assure you that my modiste has a much easier life than Aubrey's tailor."

I fell silent, wishing once more to hear the singer, but the only performer at present was a chirping cicada. "Jolly little chap!" I said. "They are the first things I listen for when I get to Port Said. They mean the East to me."

"Maddening little beasts!" Jim mumbled.

"They are going to be very familiar little beasts to me during the next four weeks," I remarked. "You don't know what this trip means to me. I like wild places. The happiest times of my life have been spent camping in America and India, but I have always wanted the desert more than either of them. It is going to be a month of pure joy."

I rose, reanimated with intense pleasure. Arbuthnot followed suit reluctantly, standing silent for a few moments. "Diana, I wish you'd let me kiss you. Just once."

"No. That's not in the compact." I vehemently shook my head. "I have never enjoyed kissing in my entire life, nor have I any desire to try it again. It is one of the things I do not understand." We halted on the veranda. I hoped I had not forfeited his friendship with the rejection. "Shall I see you in the morning?"

"Yes," he replied after a protracted silence. "I will ride the first few miles with you to give you a proper send-off."

"Capital! Until tomorrow then." I smiled, happy that we were still pals and nothing more would be said of the rest.

***

When the dance was over I retired to a room that was nearly empty. My maid had refused the desert trek to go on ahead of me to Paris. My two remaining suitcases stood open, already packed, waiting only for the last few necessaries. Beside them sat the steamer trunk that Aubrey would take charge of and leave in Paris as he passed through. The camel caravan with the camp equipment was due to leave Biskra a few hours ahead of our party. Everything was en train; the final arrangements having all been concluded some days before.

On a chaise longue was my riding kit—the smart-cut breeches and high brown boots I favored— ready for the morning. I'd spent most of my life in such clothes and was far more at home in them than in the pretty dresses I had laughed about.

I undressed slowly, but with every garment removed, I only felt more wide-awake with anticipation. I stretched my arms out with a happy little laugh and then crossed over to the dressing table. It was with no thought of beauty that I examined the face staring back at me. I wondered that my looks alone should have driven Jim Arbuthnot to such a passionate profession of love, for surely I had given him no encouragement.