He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [168]
“Excuse me, Emerson,” I said.
Ramses was not in the lounge or the Long Bar or the Moorish Hall or on the terrace. Unless he had left the hotel altogether, there was only one other refuge he would have sought. I went round the hotel into the garden. I heard their voices before I saw them. She must have left her partner and followed him, as I had done, but a surer instinct even than mine had led her to the right spot, a little dell where a circle of white rosebushes surrounded a curved stone bench. The flowers glimmered like mother-of-pearl in the moonlight and their scent hung heavy in the still air.
They must have been talking for some little time, for the first words I made out, from Nefret, were obviously a response to something he had said.
“Don’t be so damned polite!”
“Would you rather I called you rude names? Or knocked you about? That is, I am told, a demonstration of affection in some circles.”
“Yes! Anything but this—this—”
“Keep your voice down,” Ramses said.
I moved slowly and carefully along the graveled path until I reached a spot from which I could see them. They stood facing one another; all I could see of Ramses was the white of his shirtfront. Her back was to me; her robe shone with the same pearly luster as the roses that formed a frame round her, and the gems on her wrist twinkled as she raised a gloved hand and placed it on his shoulder. Her touch was not heavy, but he flinched away and Nefret’s hand fell to her side.
“I’m sorry!”
“Sorry for what?”
“We were friends once. Before . . .”
“And still are, I hope. Really, Nefret, must you make a scene? I find this very fatiguing.”
I did not hear what she said, but it had the effect of finally breaking through his icy and infuriating self-control. He took her by her arm. She twisted neatly away and stood glaring at him, her breast rising and falling.
“You taught me that one,” she said.
“So I did. Here is one I did not teach you.”
His movement was so quick I saw only the result. One arm held her pressed to his side, her body arched like a bow in his hard grasp. Putting his hand under her chin, he tilted her head back and brought his mouth down on hers.
He went on kissing her for quite a long time. When at last he left off, they were both exceedingly short of breath. Naturally Ramses was the first to recover himself. He released her and stepped back.
“My turn to apologize, I believe, but you really oughn’t trust anyone to behave like a gentleman when you are alone with him in the moonlight. No doubt Percy has better manners.”
Nefret’s hand went to her throat. She started to speak, but he cut her off.
“However, he’s not much of a gentleman if he skulks in the shrubbery looking on while a lady is being kissed against her will. He’s a little slow, perhaps. Shall we give it another try?”
I could hardly blame her for striking at him. It was not a genteel ladylike slap, but a hard swing with her clenched fist (learned from him, I did not doubt) that would have staggered him if it had landed. It did not. As his hand went up to block the blow she caught herself; and for a long moment they stood like statues, her curled fingers resting in the cradle of his palm. Then she turned and walked away.
Ramses sat down on the bench and covered his face with his hands.
Naturally, if I had happened upon such a scene that involved mere acquaintances I would have discreetly retired without making my presence known. Under these circumstances I did not hesitate to intrude. To be honest, I was not myself in a proper state to think coolly. How could I have missed seeing it—I, who prided myself on my awareness of the human heart?
He must have heard the rustle of my skirts; he had had time to compose himself. When I emerged from the shrubbery he rose and tossed away the cigarette he had been smoking.
“Continue smoking if it will calm your mind,” I said, seating myself.
“You too?” Ramses inquired. “I might have known. Perhaps in another ten or twenty years you will consider me mature