Free Tidal Wave by Roberta Latow Page A

their eyes were drawn to the beautiful Arabella. He shook hands with the two men and left them, greeting Arabella by picking up her hand and kissing it.
    “You look ravishing, absolutely ravishing.” He slipped his arm through hers and said, “Don’t you think we should introduce ourselves?”
    Embarrassed a third time, and feeling not at all like the worldly-wise seductress she was playing at, she simply smiled, held out her hand, and said, “I am Arabella Crawford.”
    “And I am Anthony Quartermaine.”
    They shook hands quite formally and started toward the dining room but Arabella, recalling her role, stopped him, saying “Oh, no, not the dining room?”
    “But the food is excellent. You may choose from an international cuisine.”
    “Anthony, don’t be so conventional! You can’t have been seduced as I have been by Alexandria or you would take me out into this sensuous city and share it with me. Nope, sorry, I will
not
settle for the Cecil. Not tonight.”
    She looked so annoyed, so crestfallen that he could not help but laugh at her.
    “All right,” he said. “Just to show you that I am not too stuffy, I’ll take you out to a restaurant.”
    They swung around and walked down the stairs, through the entrance. He helped her up into one of the open carriages lined up in front of the Cecil, and in perfect Arabic he told the driver where to drive.
    A light flick of the whip on the horse’s flanks, the bells began to tinkle, and they were off.
    “You didn’t tell me you spoke Arabic.”
    He smiled and answered, “No, I did not.”
    “Well, how is it you speak Arabic?”
    “Because I am an Arabist.”
    “Oh,” she said, not quite knowing what that meant. “Where are you taking me?”
    “To a lovely old restaurant on the Corniche where they serve delicious fish fresh from the sea and the most exquisite Arabic cuisine. It’s been there for donkey’s years. My father dined there before me when he was a young diplomat in Cairo.”
    Before they knew it, they were in front of the wide-fronted restaurant, an unprepossessing place with tables and chairs set out under a rolled-back awning that faced the sea wall.
    “Good heavens, Anthony. We could have walked here!”
    “With you in a dress like that? My dear, I do not consider myself a coward but I am not suicidal either. That would have been sheer folly, much too dangerous.”
    “My God, you
are
a bit on the stuffy side, aren’t you?” Maybe there was nothing beyond the stiff British composure after all, thought Arabella, feeling slightly annoyed with herself.
    They were shown to a table and made a fuss over. The owner appeared and greeted Anthony. “Ah, Lord Heversham, I had heard you were in Alexandria. How happy we are to see you again, my lord.”
    Anthony introduced Arabella and when the man finally left them alone, after taking over the ordering of their meal, Arabella said, “You told me your name is Anthony Quartermaine?”
    “It is. I am Anthony Quartermaine; the Earl of Heversham is my title.”
    “I refuse to be embarrassed again,” she said, turning a pleasant shade of pink.
    They both laughed easily together for the first time. They chatted casually about Alexandria, and he told her he had been there many times. She admitted to him that the city had touched her deeply in some way.
    “I know in my heart once I leave this extraordinary sensual city, I will never be the same and I will never return. I can’t go before fulfilling something, maybe my destiny. I want to be seduced by a man the way this city has taken me.”
    She put her hand out and as he took it in his, she had to admit to herself that she was enjoying this role and being with the proud, handsome Lord Heversham. It made her realize just how wicked the sensual, erotic atmosphere wasmaking her. She had never, ever behaved in such a sexually aggressive manner before. It was fun shocking him, though.
    She said, “Anthony, there’s something else I want you to know. I’ve