Master of the Desert(7)

He was on shore, preparing a cooking fire, when she walked out of the  sea and strolled towards him looking like a nubile film-star in her  too-short shorts and ripped top. He steeled himself not to look, but it  was already too late when the image was branded on his mind.

Apparently unaware of the effect she was having on him, she came to  stand within splashing distance, and, twisting her hair to get rid of  the water before flinging it carelessly back, she demanded, 'What are  you cooking?'

He gave her a look. 'What does it look like?'

'Fish?'

'Well done.'

'Not too well done, I hope?' she chipped in cheekily, clearly refreshed  by her swim. 'You don't like anything about me, do you?' she protested  when he slanted an ironic stare in her direction.

She would wait a long time for him to play along with that line. But,  actually, she was growing on him. Apart from her obvious attractions, or  perhaps in spite of them, beneath her adolescent quirkiness there was  real grit and determination. She was uncompromising, he had concluded,  like him, and now he sat back to enjoy the show he was sure was about to  begin. He didn't have to wait long.

Seeing that she had failed to provoke him, she upped the ante. 'I'm just  in the way.' She pulled a broken face. 'You'd far rather be here on  your own.'                       
       
           



       

'Without the cabaret?' He stirred the fire. 'You've got that right.'

While he spoke she was circling him like a young gazelle not quite sure  what she was dealing with, until finally curiosity overcame her and she  came to peer over his shoulder at the food he was preparing. 'It's got  its head on!' she exclaimed as he impaled on a spit the fish he'd just  caught.

'They grow that way in the Gulf.'

'Is that the only choice for supper?'

'Did I forget to give you the menu?'

'Stop teasing me,' she protested.

Without any effort on his part a new sense of ease was developing  between them. She'd made a bad start, but she had worked really hard  since then to make up for it. 'You don't have to eat the fish,' he said,  playing along. 'You don't have to eat at all. Or, if you want something  off the menu, I'm sure there's plenty more bread in the galley that  could do with eating up.'

She scowled at this, but then an uncertain smile lit her face when their glances connected.

They were beginning to get the measure of each other, and both of them  liked what they saw, he concluded. He was more relaxed than usual; this  was luxury for him, eating simply, cooking the fresh fish he'd caught  over an open fire. It gave him a chance to kick back and experience a  very different life.

The fish did smell good. And she was ravenous. 'Can we start over?'  Antonia suggested, knowing there was more at stake than her first proper  meal of the day-her voyage to the mainland, for instance, not to  mention sharing a meal with a frighteningly attractive man she dared to  believe was starting to warm to her.

'That all depends.'

'I've told you that I'd like to help, and I mean it,' she said. 'I can sail-I can help you sail to the mainland.'

'Help me sail?' he murmured, skimming a gaze over her tiny frame.

'Seriously-let me prove it to you. I'm not as useless as I look.'

He stared into the fire to hide his smile.

'If I knew your name, it would be a start,' she persisted. 'Maybe we  could relax around each other more if we knew what to call each other.'

'Wasn't that my question to you?'

Antonia's cheeks blazed. How could she be so careless? Wasn't that the  one question she wouldn't answer? 'I have to call you something,' she  pressed, getting her question in first.

She had almost given up when he answered, 'You can call me Saif.'

'Saif?' she exclaimed, seizing on the word. 'Doesn't that mean sword in  Sinnebalese?' And, without giving him a chance to answer, she rattled  on, 'When I first planned to travel to Sinnebar I studied the language.'

Instead of turning things around as she had hoped, this only provoked  one of his dismissive gestures. 'The name Saif is very popular in  Sinnebar,' he explained, stoking the fire with a very big stick.

'But it isn't your real name?' she said, tearing her gaze away. 'Saif is  just a name you've adopted for while you're here,' she guessed.

Please, please say something, she urged him silently. 'If you don't want to tell me your real name, that's all right by me.'

Nothing.

'We could have a name truce,' she pressed as another idea occurred to her.

'What do you mean by that?'

Her confidence grew; imagination was her speciality. 'Our outside lives can't touch us here-you can be Saif, and I can be-'

'I shall call you Tuesday.'

'Tuesday?' She frowned.

'I take it you've heard of Man Friday?'

'Of course I have, but-'

He shrugged. 'You came on board on a Tuesday.'

They were really communicating, and for the first time since she'd come  aboard his yacht she could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Or at least the lighthouse guarding the entrance to the harbour of Sinnebar.

'Tuesday it is, then,' she agreed eagerly. 'Would you like me to fillet  the fish for you?' She wanted to prove she could be helpful in so many  ways.                       
       
           



       

Saif paused, knife suspended. His expression reflected his doubt in her abilities. 'All right, go ahead,' he said reluctantly.

And make a mess of it if you dare, Antonia silently translated.

She swallowed as Saif drew his knife, and took it gingerly from him with  the thick, beautifully carved pommel facing towards her hand. 'This is  very nice,' she said, struggling to wrap her hand around it. 'Is it an  heirloom?'

'There's nothing special about it,' Saif said as he removed the fish  from the spit he'd made out of twigs and a piece of twine. 'It's a  utility item and nothing more.'

'Well, it's a very nice utility item.'

Nothing special? Apart from the knife's size, and the fact that it could  slice the gizzard out of a shark at a single stroke, it was the most  fearsome weapon she had ever seen. And one she would put to good use.  Her juices ran as Saif waved the fish on the stick to cool it, sending  mouthwatering aromas her way.

It was a relief to discover that all the trips to fabulous restaurants  with her brother Rigo hadn't been wasted. Positioning the fish on the  large, clean leaf that would act as a plate, she removed the head, skin  and bones with a few skilful passes of Saif's razor-sharp blade. 'You  first,' she insisted, passing the succulent white morsels of fish to him  on their bed of lush emerald-green leaf.

She breathed a sigh of relief when Saif's lips pressed down with approval and he murmured, 'Good work.'

'Thank you.'

'This is delicious,' she observed, tucking in with gusto. 'We make a good team, you and I.'

Careless words, Antonia realised when one arrogant ebony eyebrow peaked.  She ate in silence after that, and when they were finished went to  rinse her hands in the sea. Sitting down on the sand a safe distance  from Saif, she leaned back on her hands to stare at the moon. It wasn't  long before she was longing for things she couldn't have-a sexy Arabian  lover with a body made for non-stop sin, for instance.

Saif turned when she sighed, but what could she do? It was such a  romantic evening. There was a smudge of luminous orange at the horizon,  and overhead a candystriped canvas of pink and aquamarine remained  stubbornly in place as the sky darkened into night. 'You don't know how  lucky you are living here,' she murmured. 'Though they say the ruling  Sheikh is-'

'What?' Saif demanded sharply. 'What do they say about the ruling sheikh?'

From the look on his face, she had over-stepped some unseen boundary.  Rolling onto her stomach, she laced her hands beneath her chin, sensing  diplomacy was urgently required. 'Surely you know him better than I do?'

'Maybe,' he admitted.

'Aren't you allowed to be rude about him?'

'I can be as rude as I like-but I don't like,' Saif said pointedly, flashing a warning glance her way.

'I'm sorry; I didn't mean to offend you. I just heard he was fierce, that's all.'

Rolling onto her back, she hoped she'd done enough to placate him. She  really hadn't meant to offend him. 'Shall we have pudding now?' she  suggested, hoping to break the sudden tense silence.

'Pudding?'

She only needed the smallest encouragement. 'Yes-then it will be like a  proper picnic.' She sprang up and ran back to the boat, emerging minutes  later with more blankets under her arm, determinedly swinging the cool  box. Smoothing out rugs well clear of the water's edge, she lifted the  lid on her treasure trove-ice-cold drinks, together with fat green  olives and the sweet dates she'd found in Saif's galley. 'I told you I  could be useful,' she said when he complimented her on the spread.

They ate in silence, but at least it wasn't a hostile silence. It was more of a rebalancing exercise, Antonia concluded.

'What are you doing now?' he demanded as she stared up at the moon.

His voice made her tingle, made her want to stretch out her hands to  feel the cooling surf on her racing pulse. She concluded it was best to  tell him the truth-or at least an edited version of it. 'I was just  thinking I've had quite a day, what with the pirate attack, swimming  through a storm and now you.'