Shadow of Love (20 page)

‘
I was hoping that since you guys were dating and all at some point, maybe you could keep him busy for the time being, Em?’ She must have mistaken her horrified silence for encouragement because she rushed on, her voice more confident now.

‘
He liked you, we both know it. So I hoped if it wasn’t too much trouble, you could try seducing him again. It worked once, didn’t it?’

She was insane, that was all Emily could think. How otherwise could she expect her to run after a man who left her? Of all people, Sophie was the last one to have any right to even mention Peter in her presence.

‘
Just maybe hint you would be interested in hooking up, sis?’ Totally unaware how inappropriate she sounded, Sophie plowed on. ‘That should work to keep him away from me for a bit, I think.’

‘
I don’t think it’s such a great idea, Sophie,’ she managed to answer without screaming at her sister what she thought of her heartless request. ‘He wants you, not me. I guess you will have to deal with him yourself. After all, this is what you wanted, right?’

Sophie’s stunned face was the last thing she saw in her rear view mirror as she drove off, the tires of her car screeching. She had never done anything similar before, she thought, exhilarated to think that she had stood up to her sister. Sophie certainly hadn’t expected her to react like that. Her shocked blue eyes followed the car as she hit the gas, a sense of satisfaction making her smile at the tiny silhouette standing in the driveway.

‘
You will just have to sort it out yourself, sis. For once in our lives, I am out of the picture. Enjoy.’

It felt like a dream, she thought only forty-eight hours later, her eyes going from the landscape outside the window to the man driving the Land Rover. They were on the Desert Road, the main highway connecting Cairo and Alexandria. Upon their arrival at the Cairo International Airport, James surprised her yet again, his confident stride taking them to the private parking lot. She had expected him to have a chauffeur, his status as the only heir to the Al A. dynasty justifying such extravagance in a country that still catered to the rich and powerful as it had in ancient times. James must have read her thoughts, because he smiled quietly before explaining that he preferred travelling alone, the sense of freedom on the modern, four lane highway something he came to cherish before visiting his family. She could relate, she thought, her eyes going over the exotic landscape, the sun-burned ground a perfect balance to the almost unrealistically blue sky.

The five-hour flight should have prepared her for the trip, she thought as she looked at the mosaic of green and yellow fields. Large billboards with western ads for jewelry and sports equipment added familiarity to the exotic terrain, the clean and frequent rest stops they were passing feeling almost out of place. Or was it her crazy romantic motions about the land of pharaohs?

She declined James’s offer to stop and have a snack at one of those stops, if only because her nerves were eating her up already. The heat outside their air-conditioned car had nothing to do with the wave of heat that threatened to make her self-combust at any moment. She was there alone with James McMaster, who had magically transformed into someone fit to wear a pure white flowing robe and dark scarf similar to ones she had seen on the men at the airport. He blended in, she thought realizing she had most likely overestimated her control of what could and couldn’t happen. Tall, dark and mysterious, he seemed to have shed the remnants of his western civility in favor of his side that belonged to the land of the Nile and the desert.

She listened to his perfect Arabic as he shook off the persistent taxi drivers trying to crowd them at the airport. She remembered him saying he learned it after reconnecting with his family. One look of his dark, imperial eyes, and they seemed to shrink back, realizing that treating him like a western tourist was a mistake. He was polite, calm and confident, ushering her to their vehicle and chatting with her pleasantly for the first few minutes. She had to think that he understood how utterly alone and out of place she suddenly felt, his casual explanation about the places they passed meant to help her overcome her anxiety. Or maybe she had imagined it all, afraid to believe that he might actually care enough to attempt to make her comfortable.

Their conversation slowed to a trickle after twenty minutes or so, both of them preoccupied with their private thoughts. James had filled her in on where they were going, a town on the outskirts of Alexandria, twenty or so miles away from the city. Named King Mariout, the small town was perched on the North Coast, its souks, ancient ruins, and lush vegetation appealing to many Egyptians long before foreign tourists discovered its sleepy charm.

James told her about his trips to the Western Desert, land dotted with sparse vegetation that soon made room for a never-ending sea of dunes stimulating her imagination. He used Bedouin guides, adding that his paternal grandmother came from the elusive, highly private tribe that still roamed the lonely sands of Sahara. She could tell he didn’t like talking about it, and she suspected that his loyalty to his mother and English roots conflicted with the desire to be nearer his Arabic family.

She didn’t press him, instead asking about the usual tourist wonders, delighted to find out he knew much about the pyramids, the Pharos lighthouse, and, of course, the famous library. Too shy to ask more, she listened to his brief descriptions, making mental notes to see as much as possible in her tight schedule. She knew he would be away for most of the time, attending to his business in Alexandria. He said as much when they were departing from Heathrow, his lips tightening just a fraction after her panic-filled voice asked how much time they would have to spend together. Not much, apparently.

She would take a tour of his hotel and the restaurant, for one. Apart from that, he painted a rather tempting picture of the beaches near his family’s hometown, the Aida beach and Paradise beach in Agami popular spots with both locals and tourists. If she wanted, he could show her around the Royal Gardens in downtown Alexandria, and they could dine in one of the excellent local restaurants, he added. He was obviously leaving the choice to her, nothing in his smooth olive face suggesting that he cared either way for her decision.

She was torn between her pride to reject any offers of having fun—if only to make a point of the sheer madness of her being here with him—and the fact that she was dying to see more than his family’s home, as exciting as it promised to be. In the end, she succumbed to her human weakness, tentatively agreeing to their outing, once he was done with his negotiations.

She couldn’t resist pointing out that if she were to stay in one of Alexandria’s many hotels, things would be much easier for both of them. Even staying at his hotel seemed better than the compulsory immersion into his family’s life. But he rejected the idea instantly, explaining to her that safety was a major concern in his plans for their stay. Even though Alexandria was definitely modern and welcoming to tourists from the western world, recent events and the fact that she was a single female made it precarious for her to be alone for an extended time period. She could be harassed, as had happened to a few other western women, he pointed out. Plus, kidnapping for ransom was yet another byproduct of unstable times, the fact that she was here with him making her a desirable target for anyone wishing to become rich. At his family’s home she would be safe at all times, he added, the guards and servants making sure that no harm came to any member of his family.

It felt like losing her independence, Emily mulled, rebelling against relying on James and his unknown relatives of his to shelter her like some weak, breakable figurine that needed to be wrapped in paper and stored in a box. But he was right, the stories of female reporters being harassed during the uprising coming back to her and silencing her from insisting on doing things her way. She would just have to play along, she decided, the four days ahead of them short enough time to accept things the way they were.

‘
We’re almost there.’ His voice woke her from her daydreaming, and she blinked, focusing on his hand pointing to something outside the window.

‘
See, there’s the coast,’ he said, his white teeth even whiter in the shady interior of the car. ‘There’s a long belt of beaches along the Lower Egypt coastline, although if you ask me it’s seriously underdeveloped. Maybe now, following the Arab Spring, they will finally manage to capitalize on the fact they own some of the most picturesque views of the Mediterranean.’

‘
I hope it won’t turn into one of those horrid, tourist-trampled hotspots like I’ve seen in Spain and Portugal,’ she answered honestly, shuddering at the thought. ‘I mean, this is the cradle of civilization, isn’t it?’

‘
Ancient civilization won’t feed hungry people,’ he disagreed, his dark eyes hooded pensively. ‘It’s easy to see it all romantic and remote when you come for a vacation, but for the people living here, progress and ways to make money and move forward matter more.’

‘
Then, I hope they’ll find a way to incorporate the old into their drive forward.’ She couldn’t reject his point, not knowing how difficult it might be to make a living in one of the dusty, sun-baked little towns where donkeys and carts still were very much a part of the landscape.

‘
Our chain of hotels is working with the local architects and historians alike,’ he said, the barely veiled excitement in his voice telling her that he cared for his project more than he wished to share. ‘The plan is to build resorts that not only fit into the landscape and surrounding nature, but also make the best of the remnants of ancient cultures that are pretty much everywhere. We considered adding Greek, Roman, and Nubian elements to bring together all the cultures that shaped Egypt over the centuries.’

‘
Is that what you’re doing?’ While he seemed to have extensive knowledge of her family and everything they had done for the past ten years, she was in the dark as far as he was concerned. True, she knew he was wealthy and studied in the States. Plus, she knew he had inherited his father’s money and businesses scattered all over the Mediterranean and Middle East. But that was all, the exact business still shrouded in a veil of mystery.

‘
I am officially the head of Luxor, Inc.’ He waited for her to answer, her blank face bringing a smile to his lips. ‘Well, since that doesn’t tell you anything, let’s just say this company is one of the key players in the leisure business around here. I can’t say that I am particularly glad to have inherited my father’s legacy, but I have definitely come around to see that things aren’t as bad as I thought. My uncles, in particular, are doing an excellent job at running the business.’

‘
I can imagine that it’s somewhat exciting to find yourself an heir of something so big.’

‘
No, I don’t really care for that part.’ Shaking his dark head, James looked away from the road to meet her eyes, the brief contact disturbingly intimate. ‘I just realized that I can do a lot with the money and the position it brings. I mean, I don’t think I deserve it or need it in any way. It should belong to my father’s children if he’d had any, or my relatives here, as I was trying to tell them. They wouldn’t hear of such a thing, especially my grandmother who seems to be left behind in the Stone Age when it comes to the issue of inheritance. Otherwise, she’s very much twenty-first century.’ He laughed, finding her surprised expression funny. ‘This visit will be yet another attempt to convince everyone I’m serious about giving up most of my position. I have no illusions that they will object, but we will see what can be done about the rest.’

She noticed how he distanced himself from his family and Egyptian roots, using the word
they
all the time. He didn’t want to be one of them, she thought, the fact that he looked perfectly fitted for the land of sun and sand most probably annoying him more than not.

She was distracted from these thoughts as they left the highway, following a large green and white sign in Arabic that she assumed must have marked one of the exits leading to King Mariout. The road narrowed, the two lanes cutting through surprisingly lush land with groves of palms and water standing in small oval pools on both sides. She spotted scattered houses in the distance, the whiteness of the walls sparkling against the blue sky and lush green grass.

‘
It’s so green here,’ she said. He explained that the belt of rich, fertile land received enough rainfall to sustain thick, luxuriant vegetation that was absent in most of North Africa.

He was still talking as they stopped at a large, imposing gate, whatever it was protecting hidden from prying eyes by a thick, white wall. Tall, gnarled trees that she couldn’t name offered some shade to the small building beside it, the blue window shutters and door closed to block out the afternoon heat. It looked almost surreal, and she expected it to be abandoned, the thought of someone staying there for the unlikely purpose of allowing travelers to pass bizarre one. Obviously it wasn’t the case here, where labor and efficiency still had meaning. As James pulled closer to the gate, his fingers pressed the button that rolled down the driver’s window, and the shutters opened. The cheerful, dark face that appeared in it with a smile and a waterfall of Arabic was very real.

The gate swung open, the wings moving noiselessly enough to make it obvious that the gate was used on a daily basis. James said something to the gatekeeper, a burst of laugher and a quick response bringing a smile to his face in return. She wished she spoke at least some Arabic. She had always hated going places and being at the absolute mercy of the locals, vulnerable and ignorant. She had made sure she had a pretty firm grip on French and Spanish, her ambition being to master German and Italian in the future.