Hidden Rapture Read online

  The flight was uneventful. It wasn’t until they were touching down at Bouhalf Souahel airport that Vivienne’s insides froze and a reluctance to set foot on Moroccan soil was almost too powerful to overcome.

  She entered into the bustle and scurry of this gateway to Africa as remote from the shabby, sweating porters, the dark-skinned travellers in tribal costumes, the bowing, scraping Arab luggage touts, the bored Customs officials as if she were crossing a lonely meadow close to Betchfields. The cobalt blue sky, the distant minarets, rose-gold in the afternoon sun, pierced the heavy drapes of her memory with the keenness of a sword thrust. She moved on, blind to the scene. She didn’t want to remember. She wouldn’t!

  A slim girl, alone, in a leaf-green suit and neat white blouse, she was the inevitable prey of the shuffling street guides, the hotel canvassers, the transport vendors. And though she paid little attention to these brown-skinned men in dirty robes and woollen skullcaps, to their whines and cries to be allowed to assist, their presence was becoming slightly suffocating, when a sharp order snapped out there in the air terminal and the tiresome, clawing figures fell away from her like yapping dogs called smartly to heel by their owners.

  Through the scattering melee a stern-faced man approached. ‘Miss Blyth? Miss Vivienne Blyth?’ Though the tones were rich and deep a sceptical blue gaze flickered over her as though sizing her up with the photograph Lucy had sent.

  ‘That’s right,’ she nodded just as coolly.

  ‘I’m Trent Colby, Robert’s brother.’ And making a sign to the tall hawk-faced manservant accompanying him, ‘Abdul will take your luggage. The car’s waiting outside.’ With a hand on her elbow he ushered her past the robed hangers-on, leaving them scraping by the wayside by his very air of icy detachment.

  Out in the fading sunlight the early evening scents of mimosa and lemon blossom stirred the pain in her as she was brought to a stop beside a long black limousine. Abdul, in cool grey djellaba and red fez, was there to open the door for them. Mechanically Vivienne slid into the luxuriously upholstered rear compartment. She paid little attention to the man who climbed in after her, knowing only that his bulk in faultless tropical suit seemed considerable on the seat beside her.

  When, a few seconds later, they were cruising away from the airport she tried not to look at the countryside, always so stunningly green, when one recalled that this was Africa, but the view, still indelibly printed on her heart, of date palms and tamarisks and houses of reddish mud, reawakened all the old ache there. In all these four years it was no better. She could never forget.

  She realised after some moments that she was being watched, and it came to her with a jolt that she had a part to play. She pulled herself together and sat straight in her seat. For Lucy’s sake she must make an effort to see this thing through.

  ‘Rob talks about you all the time,’ Trent Colby was appraising her with his cold blue gleam. ‘You two have been writing to each other fairly regularly, I believe?’

  ‘Every week,’ Vivienne mouthed Lucy’s words. ‘Since we first got to know each other around Christmas.’

  She saw that sceptical pull of his mouth. ‘An odd approach to a love affair, isn’t it? Pen and paper and sealed with a loving kiss and all that. Especially when the two of you have never met.’

  ‘Kindred spirits need no physical contact, Mr Colby,’ she replied tardy. ‘Robert and I knew we were meant for each other almost from the start. But you don’t have to believe it.’

  ‘That’s right, I don’t,’ he said in clipped tones. And nailing her with his gaze, ‘You’re here because Rob’s asking for you and I’m relying on you to give him the happiness he deserves. Any time you feel like backing out, like calling it a day because you think you’ve made a mistake, forget it. I won’t have Rob hurt, you understand?’

  Face to face with the man it was impossible to ignore the underlying force of his personality. He had reached that stage of maturity where he emanated an incisive, masculine air, not just in his sweeping dismissal of the dark-skinned mob which she had witnessed at the air terminal, but in the way his shoulders filled his suit jacket, in the hard lines of his sun-browned face, the. lean flexibility of his wrists. His light blue eyes were keen and searching and only faintly veiled as a man will hide his grief.

  Vivienne watched him light up a cigarette. She spoke coldly. ‘You don’t like the idea of my coming here, do you?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’ve no faith in sentiments delivered from afar. When I was Rob’s age, the idea was to take a girl in your arms, not make love by proxy.’

  ‘It obviously didn’t do much to soften you,’ she remarked spiritedly.

  The suggestion of a grim smile tugged at his mouth. ‘I might say the same for you.’ He eyed her closely. ‘Why this attachment for Robert?

  You don’t look the type to me who’d be satisfied with a pen and paper romance. You’ve got the look, of a girl who knows what life is all about.’

  Despite her resolve to keep at a cool distance Vivienne was stirred sufficiently to reply, ‘I don’t suppose Robert, before his illness, lived exactly the life of a hermit?’

  ‘My kid brother is just twenty-four years old,’ came the tightly smiling statement. ‘A mere babe when it comes to dealing with the capricious moods of women.’

  ‘But you’ve taught him all you know.’ She wished she could stop sparring with this contemptible man. Not that it did her any good. He sat there with his detestable, male-like impregnability calmly giving her orders. ‘If he’d listened to me you wouldn’t be here now. But since you are, you’ll go through with what you started with Rob and like it.’

  She thought of Lucy and of her tears last night and was fired into retorting, ‘Hasn’t it occurred to you that you could be terribly wrong about your opinion of … me? Women do fall wholeheartedly in love through correspondence, you know—and men too.’

  ‘That, Miss Blyth—or had we better make it Vivienne since you’re going to be part of the family -‘ a sneer mingled with the scepticism in his tones, ‘I’m banking on, from your side at any rate.’

  Vivienne flung her gaze out of the window, hardly noticing that they were coming into the city. It was obvious that she and Trent Colby were not going to hit it off. Heavily protective towards his ailing brother, he was suspicious and watchful to the point of open dislike for her motives. Well, the feeling was more than mutual, she smiled thinly to herself. She had plenty of bitterness to spare.

  From the outside her gaze roamed over the lush interior of the car.

  Through the blue glass partition Abdul steered with meticulous care through the traffic. On their side there were carpets underfoot and padded arms on the seats for reclining. Trent Colby’s suit was of expensive fabric, a fine powder blue. At the wrists paler shirt cuffs were held immaculately in place by gold cuff-links and partly visible was a precision made gold watch. All this she noted with distaste.

  She had heard how he made a living, and a man who battened on to the rich for his existence she could do without.

  The limousine swerved and she saw that they were leaving behind the wide boulevards with their evening shoppers, so like those in any other city, and making for the green outskirts. She caught glimpses of the ochre walls of the Casbah and the old town as they climbed, of the grand mosque and sundry minarets and domes. Views that she had tried to shut out of her mind for so long were now here to taunt her anew.

  At her lowered gaze Trent Colby said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, ‘I’d advise you to make the most of the scenery. You won’t have much time for sightseeing. Rob’s confined to the house and he’ll expect you to stay near him.’ What he meant was that he would expect her to stay near his brother.

  Aloof now from his overbearing attitude, she hesitated, feeling that something should be said here on Lucy’s behalf. ‘I haven’t had an opportunity to express my sympathy over Robert’s condition … this sudden fatal illness ..her condolences sounded banal and insincere.

  ‘Naturall
y, when I heard I was -‘

  ‘Rob knows he has only a short time to live,’ her ramblings were cut short testily, perhaps because there was pain here, ‘but he’s not maudlin about it. He’s always been cheerful about his illness and I want things to stay that way. It will be up to you to give him the companionship he needs, bearing in mind that we never talk about his infirmity.’

  They were entering the gates of an estate above the city. On raised ground ahead was a Moorish-styled house, opulent with its sparkling white walls and red rooftops, its tiered archways and winding stairways. ‘We call it “Koudia”,’ Trent Colby told her in his abrupt fashion. ‘It means The Hill.’ After this sparse bit of information they drove up through plum orchards and orange groves and on to a drive shaded by cedar trees.

  Abdul brought the car to a purring standstill on a terrace fronting the house. Marble steps led up to the lower line of archways through which was the main doorway. Inside where the subdued lighting was reflected in the rich dark parquet floor her host informed her with his unfriendly smile, ‘Rob goes to bed at six, so you’ll have to wait until.

  tomorrow to make his acquaintance. We’ll take dinner in an hour.’ He watched her as she turned to follow Abdul and her belongings up the curving staircase and added as an afterthought, ‘This is strictly a man’s household. I could, if you wish, hire a girl maid to help you with your things.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she shrugged off his offer. ‘I can look after myself.’

  ‘Just as you like.’ Once again the sarcasm was faintly detectable in his tones and with a slight inclination of his head in farewell he strode away towards one of the downstairs doorways.

  Vivienne’s composure was unimpaired as she climbed the stairs. She had already assessed the interior of the house from the glimpses of rich Aubusson carpets and expensive antique furnishings, and what she saw only served to heighten her distaste for its owner.

  Along a tiled corridor she was shown into a spacious room which lacked none of the qualities of the downstairs decor. The bed was draped with damask, Moroccan style, the carpet was red, deep-piled and endless. The manservant switched on the light in a russet-tiled bathroom drew the drapes and asked with French intonation, ‘Would Mademoiselle care for any further assistance?’

  ‘No, thank you, Abdul. I can manage now.’ Despite his forbidding appearance he had a kindly warmth in his dark eyes and the suggestion of a smile on his thin lips, and she smiled back at him as he went out.

  The hour passed quickly. By the time she had unpacked, washed off the dust of travel and changed into a pink linen dress it was time to go down to dinner. She had a mild attack of nerves while she was applying a fresh dusting of make-up. Through the mirror she looked into the brown depths of her eyes, only a shade lighter than her dark brown hair, afraid that there might be some tell-tale signs there. But they stared back at her calm and unrevealing, and re-capping the amber lipstick she dropped it into her handbag and went out.

  Downstairs it might have been a problem finding her way but for the fact that across from the staircase a rose-lit interior showed a table set with crystal goblets and winking silver. She moved into the room, the lights catching her hair, the paleness of her bare arms. Trent Colby in white dinner jacket was waiting for her. ‘Good evening, Vivienne.’

  He spoke as though they were old acquaintances, though she didn’t miss the slight curl to his smile. ‘I hope you found everything to your liking in your room?’

  ‘I’d be exceptionally hard to please if I had any complaints,’ she replied evenly.

  The chairs were high-backed and intricately carved. He held one away from the table for her and slid it into position as she sat down.

  In a deadened kind of way she found herself aware of the woody fragrance of his after-shave lotion.

  They ate from silver dishes brought in at intervals by a flamboyant figure in striped waistcoat and balloon-like trousers referred to as Momeen. Throughout the meal Trent Colby kept up a suave conversation which Vivienne could well have done without.

  ‘I believe Rob used to write to you in a little town called Ayleshurst near Oxford. I know it vaguely.’ He forked more meat on to his plate.

  ‘Have you always lived there?’

  Vivienne shook her head. ‘It’s not my home town. I moved there some years ago.’

  ‘With your family?’

  ‘No. I happened to like the surroundings, so I got a job there.’

  ‘From what I’ve seen of the place passing through,! he said with his dubious smile, ‘it seems hardly capable of supporting itself, let alone offering employment.’

  ‘It does, though,’ Vivienne replied lightly, with similar cool. ‘There’s a huge mail order company on the outskirts. I’m a desk clerk there.’

  ‘A small fish in a big outfit.’ His glance was openly roving. ‘You don’t look the type to be satisfied with that?’

  ‘Nevertheless it’s true.’ She went on eating with apparent unconcern.

  ‘I’m just a working girl.’ Then with an upward tilt of her hazel gaze, ‘I’m sorry if this is a disappointment to you, for Robert’s sake.’

  ‘Hardly.’ He leaned back in his chair with a humourless slant to his mouth. ‘It’s more or less what I expected.’

  After the dessert,- a light and frothy soufflé, he said, ‘You’ll find plenty to do around the house. Rob spends most of his time in the pool—he’s still able to move pretty powerfully in the water. You’ll be a disappointment to him if you can’t keep up.’.

  She lowered her coffee cup uncertainly. ‘I can swim quite well, but…

  I thought…’

  ‘Get rid of the idea that Rob is a sickly invalid.. His kind of complaint allows him to indulge in all the activities enjoyed by other full-blooded young males.’

  Vivienne felt her cheeks flame momentarily and, quick to notice this, Trent Colby added with his hostile charm, ‘What’s wrong? Getting cold feet at the thought of physical contact with a boy you’ve never met?’

  Recovering herself almost immediately, she answered . with hardly a tremor in her tones, ‘I’m sure I’ll find Robert as attractive in person as I do in his letters.’

  She felt herself being surveyed through a screen of smoke. That blue gaze narrowed slightly as the man across from her drawled, ‘The interesting thing will be to see his reaction to you.’

  This was dangerous ground, and Vivienne rose unhurriedly and wandered to look at the view from the windows. This semi-interview with Trent Colby was gruelling enough. But the worst was yet to come. What would Robert think of her? Would he see through her?

  Fear feathering her nerves, she stood slender and smooth-haired gazing out into the night. There were the shrouded rooftops of the Casbah to tug at her heartstrings again,’ slim minarets pencilling up into the fluorescent blue of the star-bright sky. Trent Colby came to stand at her side. Musing with her over the scene of the sprawling city and the Grand Mosque bathed in greenish-white light, he offered her a cigarette with the query, ‘Reckon you’re going to enjoy your stay in Tangier?’

  She declined, saying with a doleful smile, ‘This is hardly a holiday visit, is it?’

  He shrugged his smooth-clad shoulders. ‘You tell me?’ She didn’t miss the bantering steel in his eyes.

  She remarked levelly, ‘I’m here because Robert needs me. What reasons would I have for travelling all this way other than love?’

  ‘Plenty.’ He took a thoughtful pull on his cigarette and blew out through clamped white teeth. ‘A chance to live it up in exotic surroundings, maybe. The urge to sample life in a rich Moorish household and have everything laid on for a while.’

  So that was it! That was at the root of his veiled sarcasm and smiling suspicions! He thought she was a girl out for a good time, grasping at the opportunity to leave a humdrum job and using Robert as an excuse. Poor Lucy! Poor, dear Lucy!

  With ice-cold anger she responded with withering calm, ‘Don’t mislead yourself into thinking that a
ny of this impresses me.’ She made a gesture at the elaborate furnishings at the floodlit mosaic terraces beyond the windows. ‘This kind of wealth has a taint to it that I have no wish to be associated with.’

  His smile was unaffected. ‘So you’ve heard that I run a casino?’ He thrust a hand into the pocket of his impeccable black trousers and that bantering knife-edge gleam still focussed on her as he queried, ‘I take it you don’t approve?’

  ‘I’m not sufficiently interested to care one way or the other.’ She lifted her chin. ‘But I hardly think you’re in a position to preach to me about what’s right for your brother.’

  ‘Meaning that I’m not being fair to Rob?’ The quizzical steel in his eyes became a little molten. Then he relaxed his frame and stubbing out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray spoke with lazy familiarity.

  ‘You’re way behind the times Vivienne. Gambling is a respectable profession these days, indulged in by royalty and wealthy members of society.’

  ‘Is that why you chose it?’ She marvelled at her own nerve confronting this man who could if he wished have crushed her by the mere indolent force of his personality, ‘Could be.’ Surprisingly he ignored her jibe. There wash only the hint of smiling antagonism mingling with his hard expression. He glanced at his watch. ‘And talking of work, it’s time I was on my way.’

  Turning to go, he waved a hand towards the rest of the house. ‘Amuse yourself any way you like. There’s books in the library and music— pop records and the heavier stuff.’

  ‘Thank you, but it’s been a long day,’ she said primly. ‘I think I’ll go to my room.’

  ‘I should if I were you.’ Somehow she knew he meant to have the last word. ‘You’ve got a big day ahead of you tomorrow. Rob’s waiting to meet you and nothing must happen to disappoint him.’ He left her with a curt, ‘Goodnight, Vivienne,’ and went out.

  Later, hearing his car drive away as she turned down the bed in her room, that hollow feeling of fear took possession of her again. Here she was in a strange household in Tangier taking another girl’s part in an affair that was both tragic and dangerous. Had she been wise in allowing Lucy to talk her into it? She had agreed, mainly to shield Robert from the truth, but she had reckoned without the ruthlessly protective presence of his guardian standing by like a leopard watching over a wounded cub. She listened to the fading sound of the car engine and found that her heart was beating fast. Trent would have no mercy on anyone who inflicted pain on his brother. She would have to watch her step with him.