THE WARLORD'S DAUGHTER
CHAPTER 9
Henri Ducard drove the Range Rover through the dark streets of the village. The palace rose beyond as a blocky, shadowy mass, its brick walls faintly lit by security lights. At the distant sight, he softly cursed, wondering what the morning would bring. Had the Husseins somehow gotten wind of his plans? No; he was a careful man, even more careful than someone like Hussein. Ducard told himself that he was being stupid, paranoid. Yet why would Hussein bring his wife if his unexpected visit merely had to do with business? Ducard's well-honed instincts told him that the Husseins's visit would not bode well for him and Melisande.
His thoughts shifted to his wife, and regardless of his foreboding, an eager smile touched his lips, desire stirring in him. How he had missed her these past couple of days. Did she know about the Husseins's impending arrival? If not, should he tell her or leave it alone so as not to make her anxious? For a wild instant, he contemplated her frequent petition for them to run away together. But, no, he could not consider it; it would be suicidal. He needed to be patient. Once his plan succeeded and Jamal was no longer in the picture, he and Melisande could go on as they had been before that damned marriage contract. But, he reminded himself, there would be another suitor after Jamal. Well, he would just have to come up with another creative solution.
When he drove past the lane where Diya Panjabi lived, he cursed again. With Siddig having sent him away unexpectedly, he had not been able to deal with the village girl's predicament. But as soon as the Husseins were gone, he would have to arrange the abortion. The thought made him frown, for he regretted having to terminate the fetus. Yet there was no other way; he could neither have the child growing up steps away from him and Melisande nor could Diya raise a child out of wedlock in this society.
At the palace gate, his men on duty waved him through, and he drove to the multi-car garage one courtyard away from the palace's main entrance. From there, he emerged to stretch to his tall height and ease away the cramped miles. He slung his bag of meager belongings over one shoulder and headed for the lower level employee entrance. A glance at his tactical watch told him that he had three hours until daylight. Though sleep beckoned to him, another desire called more stridently, so he stopped in his room only long enough to drop off his pack.
The halls of the palace were deserted except for two of his men who patrolled the floors. Ducard knew how to avoid being seen, however, and did so as he made his way to Melisande's suite. Once there, he silently entered her bedroom and locked the door behind him. The scent of her instantly filled his senses, quickening his pulse and arousing him. She slept deeply, her breathing rhythmic, peaceful. She lay on her side, facing him, her loose dark hair splayed about her silk pillow like a storm cloud. One hand lay exposed from beneath the sheet, resting next to the pillow.
Ducard crept close, knelt beside the bed, and studied her exquisite beauty, the sight refreshing him like a desert oasis, taking away his fatigue. How he loved her, still could hardly believe she was his. With a featherlight touch, he caressed her cheek with the back of his finger. Warm and smooth. Perfect skin. Slowly her eyes opened.
"Am I dreaming?" she murmured.
Ducard smiled and softly kissed her lips, whispered, "No, my love."
Her hand slipped to the back of his head, drew his mouth to hers again and kissed him deeply. She emitted a murmur of longing, whispered, "Can you stay?"
"For a bit."
She smiled and invitingly lifted the silk sheet.
The next morning, on her way to Melisande's suite, Maysam thought of the Husseins's impending visit. She had been debating whether to warn Melisande but decided against it. No need to make her daughter anxious. That was what she had told Siddig this morning in case he had planned to tell Melisande over breakfast. After all, their visitors' arrival might have nothing to do with their daughter.
She found Melisande coming out of her bathroom, towel drying her long, thick mane of hair. Lakshmi was changing the sheets on Melisande's bed; Maysam could see her from the living room.
"Good morning, Mother."
"Good morning." Maysam then raised her voice to summon Lakshmi.
The servant hurried from the bedroom and bowed. "Yes, sahiba?"
"I would like to speak to my daughter in private for a few minutes."
"As you wish." The girl bowed again and left the suite.
Melisande's welcoming expression now closed in suspicion. "What is it? Is something wrong?"
"Come sit down."
Maysam settled on the sofa, but Melisande did not join her there. Instead she chose a recliner, all the while using the cream-colored towel on her hair, her attention on her mother.
"Why did you send Dawoud to Jaipur yesterday?"
Melisande momentarily stilled, then gave the ends of her hair one last squeeze with the towel before setting it aside. Maysam could not read her reaction. If the question surprised her daughter, she failed to show it. However, the indulgent smile that appeared seemed false to Maysam. More elusiveness. Why was Melisande freezing her out? But Maysam already knew the answer—Henri Ducard.
"You know Diya Panjabi from the village," Melisande began.
"Of course."
"Well, she's been having some…medical issues that I found out about from talking to her. The poor thing can't afford a doctor and the village physician is really only good for diagnosing sheep and goats, so I thought I would be charitable and set her up with an appointment with our doctor in Jaipur. Mr. Dawoud took her to stay with her aunt while she has her appointment."
Maysam studied her. "Why didn't you mention it to me?"
"I didn't want to trouble you or put you in a position where you had to explain to Baba. I knew if I asked him for the car, he wouldn't have let me send it for Diya."
"I've never heard you express any feelings for Diya before, so this seems…well, a bit odd, habibati. And you must know your father would find out, which he did. He asked if I knew what it was all about. I told him I didn't but that it would be best if I asked you the reason, in case you had sent for a surprise gift for his upcoming birthday."
"Oh," Melisande murmured, looking down.
"If your father found out about the car, who's to say he won't find out about the doctor's appointment? How is Diya paying for his services? If she can't afford the village doctor, she certainly can't afford a physician in Jaipur."
"I…well, I sent money with her for payment."
"Melisande," Maysam sighed. "Why must you set yourself up to displease your father?"
"I'm sorry, Mother, but I felt it was the right thing to do. Diya was desperate."
"What is the matter with her that she's desperate?"
"Well…" Melisande bit her lip. "She's pregnant."
"Pregnant?"
"Yes, and she's afraid of the child's father."
"I didn't know Diya was married."
"She's not. That's the problem. If her family finds out, they will disown her."
"I see." Maysam frowned. "But how is this your problem?"
"I felt sorry for her and wanted to help."
"Help how? Do you mean she is going to terminate the pregnancy?"
"The father wants her to, but she doesn't. It's important to see a doctor when you're pregnant, as you know. I thought she would be safer away from the village, out of the reach of the child's father. She had no way to leave, so I told her I would help."
"Oh, habibati," Maysam sighed. "You have a kind heart, and I understand what you are saying, but we both know your father will not understand."
"Please don't tell him. He will get angry, and I'm afraid he'll take it out on poor Diya. I could never forgive myself if that happened. Could you?"
Maysam considered. Was Melisande telling her the whole truth of the matter? It bothered Maysam that she was unable to read her daughter, someone who had once been an open book to her.
"She lives with her uncle, doesn't she?" Maysam asked. "Does he know she left?"
"She left him a note. He's away right now."
"And when he hears from his neighbors that a palace driver picked her up and whisked her away, what if he comes here inquiring?"
"Her note will stall for time. Even if he wants to come here, I doubt he will; he'll be too afraid. I have a feeling he doesn't really worry about his niece all that much."
Maysam shook her head and stood to pace across the large living room rug. "Oh, child. You do make life difficult sometimes."
"You won't tell Baba the truth, will you?"
Maysam frowned again. "We must tell him something. I suppose we can stick to my story of you sending for a special birthday present for him. While we are in Jodhpur, we must find something for him to make it true."
Melisande audibly exhaled in relief. "Thank you, Mother."
"Did she tell you who the baby's father is?"
"She…she just said he works at the palace."
Disappointed, Maysam shook her head. She knew the men who guarded her family caroused in the village, but she had never thought it would concern her. "Diya needs to tell us who the father is. Then I will impress upon him what his responsibility is for her and her child."
"But she's already afraid of him. If we make him resent her even more, there's no telling what he will do to her. You know how ruthless Baba's men can be."
"I will deal with it. If he wants to continue working for us, he will have to comply."
"Are you sure that's the right thing to do?" Melisande looked worried again, absently tormenting her cuticles. "Maybe she can just live away from here with her aunt."
"Is her aunt going to accept her child?"
"I don't know."
"I highly doubt it. No, we must compel the father to do what is right by her and marry her. That is the only solution."
After breakfast, Melisande sat upon her veranda, sipping chai and reading People. She had a Jodhpur newspaper close at hand in case someone came and she needed to conceal the magazine, for neither of her parents approved of Western magazines, especially ones that had to do with celebrities. When Henri had once found her reading an issue, he had chuckled and assured her that she was more beautiful than any starlet who had ever lived. The memory pulled a brief giggle of delight from her.
The morning lacked even a hint of a breeze, and haze shrouded the distant hills. It would not be long before she had to retreat inside from the heat of the day. She smiled, regardless. At least Henri was back. Now the hot days would not be insufferably long as they were whenever he was absent. With a soft, secretive laugh, she thought of their lovemaking just hours ago. Her body still hummed from the thrill of his skilled touch.
When her attention drifted to the village beyond the sun-pinked walls of the palace, she thought of Diya's baby and prayed that soon she would be the one carrying Henri's child. If she got pregnant, Henri would have to agree to them running away. He certainly would not expect her to have an abortion, and announcing such a pregnancy to her father would be absolutely out of the question. The thought of deceiving Henri did make her frown, though, for he believed she was taking an oral contraceptive. She had been, of course, but had stopped once she realized he would not agree to leave here with her. And with the wedding looming, she needed this to happen as soon as possible. Though Henri had promised that he would somehow find a way to ensure an end to the betrothal, Melisande was not about to leave such a thing to chance.
Thinking of her mother's plan to have them divorce, perhaps she should tell her that she was already pregnant, that she had just discovered it. But what would her mother do? Would she insist on an abortion? And what about her mother's insistence that they hold the father of Diya's baby responsible? Melisande wondered how she could stop her mother from learning the truth. All these questions made her feel a headache coming on. She set aside the magazine and rubbed her temples. This was all too much to contemplate. Why did things have to be so complicated?
The faint sound of a car's engine drew her attention. Something prodded her to move to the far end of the veranda so she could observe the vehicle. Looking down into the courtyard, she saw a gray sedan with dark-tinted windows halt near the main palace doors. A cold sensation trickled down her spine, for she recognized the car and the driver, who hurried from behind the wheel to open the rear door. Into the morning light stepped Abdul Hussein, followed by his wife.
Melisande quickly stepped back toward her chair, not wanting to be caught staring at them in surprise. Why on earth were they here again so soon after their previous visit? Was her father expecting them? If so, why had he not mentioned it at breakfast? Surely her mother would have warned her, if not her father. And what about Henri? Had he known, too? No, he surely would have told her.
An inexplicable fear gripped her, made her want to flee. Then she told herself to quit being a fool. There could be an innocuous explanation for the Husseins returning. At least Jamal was not with them.
She forced herself to sit back down, but she no longer had any interest in her chai or her magazine. Gazing out across the manicured gardens, she absently watched her younger cousins playing hide and seek among the shrubs and trees. Their carefree voices echoed from the palace walls, a disturbing contrast to Melisande's emotions.
Several minutes passed. Would she be summoned to greet the Husseins? She hoped not. She never wanted to see them again after their previous visit. Her attention drifted out past the gardens to the guesthouse. Could she escape there before anyone could come looking for her? It was worth a try.
She hurried inside to gather up a couple of her books and a water bottle, her stomach suddenly queasy. Would Henri be able to meet her at the guesthouse once the Husseins were gone? By then, he could tell her why the Husseins had returned.
Melisande peeked out her door into the long, carpeted hallway. No one in sight. Hugging her books close to her chest, she scurried toward the end of the hall where the servants' staircase was; she could not chance taking the main stairway or the elevator.
"Sahiba!" Lakshmi's voice carried the length of the hall just as Melisande reached the door to the stairs. Melisande pretended not to hear her, opening the door, but Lakshmi called even louder, hurrying toward her. Silently cursing, Melisande halted.
"What is it?" Melisande asked, trying to hide her uneasiness.
Bemused, the servant glanced beyond her to the stairs as if wondering why her mistress would ever use them instead of the main stairs. "Your father sent me to find you. He wants you in the gold room right away."
Melisande hesitated, glanced longingly at her avenue of escape.
"Please, sahiba."
"Is he with the Husseins?"
"Yes."
"Do you know why they're here? What have you heard?"
"Nothing, sahiba. But your father seemed very angry. You must hurry. Please."
Melisande easily saw Lakshmi's fear of Siddig El Fadil, so she decided to obey, if for nothing else but the servant's sake. "Very well," she sighed.