A Son of the Sahara Part 25

Then she kissed the ear the confession had been made into.

"And that you will marry me," he added.

"Perhaps, some day, twenty years hence," she said airily. "When I've had my fling."

Le Breton had never had to wait for any woman he fancied, and he had no intention of waiting now.

"No, Pansy, you must marry me now, at once," he said firmly.

"What a hustler you are, Raoul. You must have American blood in you."

She said his name as if she loved it: on her lips it was a caress.

With a touch of savagery his arms tightened round the girl. Even with her in his embrace he guessed that if she knew of the Sultan Casim Ammeh there would be no chance for him. His dark blood would be an efficient barrier; one she would never cross willingly.

"Say you will marry me next week, my little English flower," he said in a fierce, insistent tone.

"I couldn't dream of getting married for ages and ages."

He held her closer, kissing the vivid lips that refused him.

"Say next week, my darling," he whispered pa.s.sionately. "I shall keep you here until you say next week."

Pansy looked at him with love and teasing in her eyes. "It's midnight now, or perhaps it's one, or even two in the morning. Time flies so when I'm with you. But at six o'clock the gardeners will be here with rakes and brooms, and they'll scratch and sweep us out of our corner.

Six hours at most you can keep me, but the gardeners won't let you keep me longer than that. Good-night, Raoul, I'll go to sleep in the meantime."

In a pretence of slumber Pansy closed her eyes.

With a tender smile he watched the little face that looked so peacefully asleep on his shoulder.

"Wake up, my flower, and say things are to be as I wish," he said presently.

One eye opened and looked at him full of love and mischief.

"In ten years' time then, Raoul. That's a great concession."

"In a fortnight. That would seem eternity enough," he replied.

"Well, five years then," Pansy answered, suddenly wide awake. "I could see and do a lot in five years, if I worked hard at it. Especially with the thought of you looming ominously in the background."

"In three weeks, little girl. I've been waiting for you all my life."

Pansy stroked his face with a mocking, caressing hand.

"Poor boy, you don't look like a waiter."

He took the small, teasing hand into his own.

"Never mind what I look like just now," he said. "Say in three weeks'

time, my darling."

"Two years. Give me two years to get used to the cramped idea of matrimony."

"A month. Not a day longer, Heart's Ease, unless you want to drive me quite mad," he said, a note of desperate entreaty in his voice.

Suddenly Pansy could not meet the eyes that watched her with such love and pa.s.sion in their smouldering depths.

This big, dark man who had come into her life so strangely, seemed to leave her nothing but a desire for himself. At that moment she could refuse him nothing.

"In a month then, Raoul. But it's very weak-minded of me giving in to you this way."

He laughed in a tender and triumphant manner.

"My darling, I promise you'll never regret it," he said, a slight catch in his strong voice.

Then he sat on, with Pansy pressed close against him. And the latent searching look had gone from his eyes, as if the girl lying on his heart had brought him ease and peace.

And Pansy was content to stay.

Just then it was sufficient to be with him; to feel the tender strength of his arms; to listen to the music of his deep, caressing voice; to have his long, pa.s.sionate kisses. Nothing else mattered. Even liberty was forgotten.

CHAPTER XIV

The next morning the sun streaming into Pansy's bedroom roused her.

She awoke with the feeling of having indulged in some delightful dream, which, like all dreams, must melt with the morning.

She thought of the episode with Le Breton in the garden. A gentle look lingered on her face. He was a darling, the nicest man she had ever met; the only one she had ever liked enough to let kiss her; the only one in whose arms she had been content to stay. But about marrying?

A frown came and rested on her white brow.

Marrying was quite another matter. In a month's time, _impossible_. A thing not to be contemplated.

Pansy sat up suddenly, hugging her knees as she gazed thoughtfully at the brilliant expanse of dancing, s.h.i.+mmering sea that sparkled at her through the open bedroom window.

She, engaged to be married! She who had vowed never to fall in love until forty!

It was love Pansy had wanted in the moonlit garden with Le Breton's arms about her. But it was liberty she wanted now, as she sat hugging her knees, amazed at herself and her own behaviour.

She had bartered her liberty for a man's arms and a few kisses!

Pansy could hardly believe herself capable of such folly.

She had been swept off her feet--over her depth before she knew it.

By daylight her freedom and independence were as sweet to her as Le Breton's love had been by the romantic light of the moon. In the sober light of morning she tried to struggle back to where she had been before the hot flood of love he had poured over her had made her promise more than she was now prepared to fulfill.