Chapter Twelve

"I was dismissed like some lowly lackey and run off his property," Farida spat out. "Damn his arrogant hide!"

"Come to bed, Fari. Ranelagh's made us rich enough. Don't be greedy."

"I'm not greedy, Mahmud, when the man's worth ten million. He can afford to give us more and not even miss it."

Her brother curled his fine mouth in a grimace and stretched his lithe brown body. "We should sell this grand house and go back to Egypt. It's always damp here in England and the sun never shines."

Farida stood at the end of the bed and glared at her brother. "We'll go back once I have the fortune I want. And we'll live in Cairo near the Azbakiyah Gardens, where the British nabobs live-"

"Not unless you're serving their wallah wives," he pointed out, less prone to daydreams than his sister. "Only the Europeans live there."

"Then we'll have our mansion somewhere else."

"We can do that now. We don't need more of Ranelagh's money."

"You've always thought too small, Mahmud."

His gaze turned sullen. "While you've lain with anyone who has ten piastres to offer you."

"And look what we have, thanks to me. Darling, consider"-her tone turned coaxing-"if I can make Ranelagh pay, you'll have all the desert ponies you wish."

"I want only the ones Hasim stole from us."

"And you'll have them. I promise."

"When?" Moody and sullen, he gazed at her, his handsome face a male duplicate of hers, brother and sister a stunning matched pair who had advantageously used their beauty for profit.

"Soon. The barrister said we can file a breach of promise suit, and there's always Ranelagh's Egyptian collection. Think what we could get for it on the art market." She moved around the end of the bed and sat down beside him. "I missed you today," she whispered, leaning over to kiss his sulky mouth.

"I waited for you all afternoon." His fingers tangled in her hair and he pulled her closer.

"I'm here now…" she murmured, stroking his rising erection.

Загрузка...