And the Desert Blooms

by Iris Johansen

  “Yet you did it anyway.” He was gazing at her thoughtfully. “Why?”

  She shrugged. “I figured it was better to be miserable than stupid. I told myself the mornings at the stable were my reward for that blasted studying. A fair exchange. Something I needed for something I wanted. When I finally got used to the schedule it wasn’t so bad.”

  “And horses were what you wanted?”

  “Always,” she said simply. “I never wanted to do anything else. You know that.”

  “No glamour of the footlights for you?” His eyes searched her face.

  She shook her head. “I never liked performing. It was all right once I learned to cope with it. It was better than being hungry.”

  His lips tightened. “You were hungry?”

  “Of course.” She looked at him in surprise. “I was fifteen years old with no job experience and just four pounds and a few pence in my purse when I ran away from Abernathy in London.” She made a face. “The money lasted two weeks. I was lucky to stretch it that far.”

  “And then?”

  “I managed,” she said evasively. “You don’t want to hear all that dreary business.”

  “Don’t I?” he asked grimly. He was silent for a few minutes before he exclaimed violently, “What a fool you were! Anything could have happened to you.”

  “I was lucky,” she said. “It wasn’t all bad. I made friends. That was important. It’s easier to live with an empty stomach than with loneliness.”

  His throat felt tight. “I’m glad you found friends,” he said. “Are you going to go back to your rock group?”

  She felt a swift pang at the impersonal way he asked the question. She tossed her head and smiled. “I hope not. I hope I’m going to stay with you here in Sedikhan for the rest of my life.” She tilted her head. “Do you suppose I could talk you into forming an Olympic equestrian team? I promise I’d bring home the gold.”

  “The United States has an excellent team. I know some people. I’ll make a few phone calls.” He paused. “I haven’t changed my mind since last night.”

  “Neither have I,” she said lightly. “I guess it’s an impasse.”

  “Not for long.” His smile was touched with grimness. “I’m going to make your stay here very unhappy, Pandora. You’ll be glad to leave when the time comes.”

  “We’ll see,” she said blithely. “Are you going to the irrigation project this morning?”

  He nodded. “As soon as I go back and shower and change. I didn’t take time to do anything but throw on some clothes when I found you were gone. I knew you’d be looking for mischief somewhere, and the stable was the most likely place.”

  “I was just trying—” she started indignantly. She broke off. She didn’t want to argue now. “May I go with you?”

  “No,” he said definitely. “You may not. You may go back to your quarters and paint your toenails or loll by the pool like any good Khadim.”

  She felt a quick, burning resentment. Philip evidently meant everything he had said about treating her like his mistress. “Oh well, I’ll find something to do.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. But whatever you do, be sure you’re through doing it by dinner tonight. I plan on having a few guests and I want you to act as hostess.” There was a touch of malice in the silky tone of his voice. “They’ll be delighted to have such an illustrious personality at the foot of the table. Perhaps you should wear your orange wig.”

  “Perhaps I should. I threw it into my overnight case along with the other clothes I had in my dressing room. Are we expecting someone important whom I should try to impress?”

  “It depends who you think is important.” He paused. “I’m inviting the good Dr. Madchen.”

  Her stride faltered. “My father?”

  “I thought it fitting that the two of you get together after such a long separation.” He smiled faintly. “Don’t you agree?”

  She moistened her lips. “Yes. Yes, of course.” It had to come sometime. She mustn’t feel this wrenching pain. She should have known Philip would exploit any weakness he found in her defenses. “You were quite right to invite him.”

  They were crossing the courtyard, and Philip stopped her for a moment with a hand on her arm. “I can hurt you, Pandora,” he said softly. “I don’t want to do that. Give in, tell me you’ll leave Sedikhan, and I’ll cancel the dinner party.”

  She shook her head. “That would only be running away.” Her smile was bittersweet. “I haven’t done that since I was fifteen. You didn’t approve of it then, why should you now?”

  “Pandora, dammit, I don’t—” He broke off and drew a deep breath. “Oh, hell!” His hand dropped away from her arm, and he strode away from her and on up the stairs of the entrance. “Dinner is at eight.” The heavy, studded front door slammed behind him.

  FIVE

  “I THOUGHT YOU were joking.” Philip, dressed in impeccable black evening clothes, leaned indolently on the jamb of the door between his room and Pandora’s. His eyes moved over her impassively. The thigh-length tunic she was wearing was of black velvet that clung to her body and left one shoulder bare in the Grecian fashion. Her lovely legs were encased in sheer black hose that flowed into high-heeled black sandals. The effect was blatantly sexual.

  “I was joking.” She smiled and touched the orange fuzz of the wig on her head. “But I thought it over and decided it would be appropriate for the occasion.” Her dark eyes were burning in her pale face. “I’ve learned to give the audience what it wants.”

  “And you think your rather bizarre costume will do that?” he asked quietly.

  “Well, it will give them what they expect, anyway.” She lifted her head. “Will you be ashamed to sit opposite me at the dinner table?”

  He straightened in the doorway. “No, I won’t be ashamed.” He walked toward her, his eyes searching her face. “But are you sure you don’t want to change your mind?”

  She shook her head so hard the orange curls danced like curling flames. “No,” she said fiercely. “This is part of me, too, and I’m not ashamed either.”

  He offered his arm. “Then shall we go to the salon and greet our guests?”

  She drew a deep, quivering breath and took his arm. “By all means.”

  Karl Madchen wasn’t in the salon when they arrived, but the other guests were all present, and Raoul was quietly moving about the room, serving drinks. A small dinner party, Philip had said. She supposed it was small by his standards, but there were at least fifteen people in the room. The low murmur of conversation dwindled as they walked in the door, and Pandora was immediately conscious of the raised eyebrows and amusement her appearance was causing. She unconsciously stiffened and immediately felt Philip’s hand tightening on her elbow. “Steady,” he said in an undertone. “Orange wig or not, you’re still the loveliest woman in the room. Remember that.”

  She experienced a little surge of warmth. “I’ll do that.”

  “Then come meet your guests.” His blue-green eyes were twinkling. “I can hardly wait to introduce you to the ambassador’s wife. She always was a stuffy bitch.”

  If this dinner party was supposed to be a punishment, Philip was certainly going about it in a strange way. He introduced her to each person in the room. His hand was constantly beneath her elbow, and his manner was both regally possessive and fiercely protective. Only when he had made sure that she would have no problems did he allow himself to be drawn away by one of his business cohorts. Even then she was still conscious of his glance on her from time to time, and again it gave her that warm feeling of being treasured.

  She was casually chatting with an eager young oil executive when she heard a familiar voice behind her. “Good evening, Pandora.”

  She went still. Karl Madchen had been born and raised in Munich and had never lost the trace of a German accent. She turned to face him. “Good evening, Father.” She held out her hand politely. “How nice to see you again.” He looked almost exactly the same. His short,
powerful body was perhaps a little more rotund, his blond hair a little more silver than gold, but his eyes were still crystal gray, cold and remote as a high mountain peak. “You look very well.”

  His expression remained impassive as his gaze went over her. “You haven’t changed.”

  She tried to smile. “I thought you’d say that. I have, you know.” She raised her eyes to meet his in challenge. “Were you surprised when Philip told you I was here?”

  He raised a glass of white wine to his lips. “Not at all. I always expected it. You’ve had your eye on him ever since we came to Sedikhan.”

  Not her eye, her heart. Her father had never understood that. “You don’t object to your daughter becoming the sheikh’s Khadim?”

  “Why should I?” He shrugged. “You will do as you wish. It is your nature. As long as you do not interfere with my life, I’ll have no quarrel with you.”

  She felt the freezing cold touch her. Why could he still hurt her like this? She tried to laugh. “I assure you that if Philip kicks me out I’ll try not to do anything that might influence him against you.” She took a sip of her champagne cocktail. “And I promise you that I won’t come crying to you. I know how you value your comfortable lifestyle here in Sedikhan.”

  “I would appreciate that.” He permitted himself a small smile. “It would be foolish to pretend an attachment that never existed. Neither one of us ever needed anyone else. We were both very self-sufficient.”

  She lifted her chin. “No, I never needed you. I found that out a long time ago.”

  “You were always a bright child,” he said objectively. “It was a shame you were so lacking in discipline.”

  Her hand tightened on her glass. “Yes, wasn’t it?” Her lips felt numb as she smiled brightly. “I made your life quite uncomfortable. I’m sorry about that.” She put her glass down on the rosewood table beside her with careful precision. “And now. if you’ll excuse me, I think I see Philip signaling me.”

  “By all means don’t keep him waiting.” Madchen moved aside politely. “Perhaps we’ll talk again.”

  She hoped not. How she hoped not! She was moving hurriedly across the room to Philip, conscious only of the need to escape. Philip’s back was turned to her, and he didn’t realize she was by his side until she slipped her arm into his. He broke off in the middle of a sentence to look down at her. His swift gaze took in her pale face and overbright eyes.

  “All right?” he asked quietly.

  Her smile was brilliant. “Of course I’m all right. I was just lonely.”

  His hand reached over to cover the hand that rested on his sleeve. “You’re cold.”

  The whole world was cold. “My cocktail glass was frosted.” She moistened her lips. “I’m fine. Really.”

  His lips tightened. “Perhaps we’d better go in to dinner.”

  “That would be a good idea,” she said, smiling at Philip’s bearded business associate with dazzling sweetness. “I’m starved, aren’t you?”

  During the meal she was conscious of Philip’s eyes on her from the far end of the long table. She tried to make her earlier claim of hunger appear valid, but she was barely able to choke down a few bites. She gave up finally and concentrated on keeping up the appearance of gaiety instead. Smiling, chatting with the guests at her end of the table, she burned with a charm and vivacious energy that lit up the dining room. As long as she talked, she wouldn’t be able to think.

  It was the same in the library after dinner, as mint tea, coffee, and conversation ended the evening. She even managed to give a bright, meaningless smile to her father as she stood at the door with Philip, saying polite good nights to the guests.

  Then it was over and everyone was gone. She turned away from the door, the smile still painted on her lips. “I think it went very well, don’t you?”

  “Oh, brilliantly,” he said caustically. “Everyone was impressed. You were lighting up the dining room like neon. I should have had the lights turned off and saved on electricity.”

  “That wouldn’t have been appropriate for a multimillionaire like you. You don’t have to worry about coins for the electric meter.” She smoothed the velvet dress over her hips. “Remind me to tell you how I jimmied the meter one freezing night in my flat in London. It might amuse you.”

  “I doubt it.” He took her elbow and began propelling her down the long hall. “You haven’t amused me so far tonight.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better next time. It’s just as well your guests aren’t as difficult to please. I think they found me sufficiently entertaining.”

  “You practically mesmerized them. I think they even forgot about that atrocious orange wig.”

  “On the contrary. The ambassador’s wife asked me where I bought it. She said it was sure to start a new fashion.” Her laugh tinkled like little silver bells. “Isn’t that funny?”

  “Hilarious,” he said grimly. He opened the door to her suite, pushed her inside, and shut the door behind them. “The next social event in Sedikhan will probably see every woman sporting one of those monstrosities.” His hands were swiftly removing the hairpins that held the wig in place. “Except you.” He pulled the wig and cap off her head. Her hair tumbled down her back in a luminous silver stream. “I never want to see you in it again. Do you hear me?”

  She lifted her brows in mock dismay. “You didn’t like it? I’m truly crushed, Philip.”

  “You reminded me of Pagliacci,” he muttered. He combed his fingers through her hair, loosening the confined strands. “A damned clown laughing to keep from crying.”

  She tensed. He was coming too close to the truth. She should have known he would. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Stop that awful grinning.” He whirled her around and unzipped her dress, shoving it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. “Get out of the rest of those things while I find your nightgown.”

  He went to the bureau and riffled through the drawer. When he came back to where she was standing he was carrying a hyacinth blue silk nightgown. “This should do. The rest of that stuff seems about as substantial as cobwebs.”

  “As becomes a mistress’s wardrobe,” Pandora said. “Everything conforms to your standing order with the shop in Marasef, Philip. Blue predominating for blondes, scarlet for brunettes; yellow for—”

  “Shut up!” He slipped the gown over her head and down over her hips. “I’ve had enough for one night.”

  So had she. “I’m sorry.” She was smiling. He had told her not to do that, hadn’t he? She couldn’t seem to stop. “You were looking forward to such a satisfying evening.”

  He picked her up and carried her to the bed. Was he going to make love to her? She hoped so. It might make her feel like a human being instead of a robot. He put her on the bed while he stripped back the spread and then tucked her beneath the satin sheet. It was cool against the bare skin of her back.

  He was still standing by the bed, frowning down at her. What was he waiting for? “Hadn’t you better get undressed?” He didn’t answer. “Do you want me to help you?” She started to sit up. “You’ll have to tell me what you like. I haven’t had the benefit of experience, but I learn quickly.”

  “I don’t think you do. I don’t think you learn quickly at all. You just take any punishment that comes along and come back for more,” he said hoarsely. His eyes were glittering strangely. “And no, I don’t want you to help me undress so that I can use you as I did last night.”

  Use? What an ugly word for something as beautiful as Philip loving her. She wished she could tell him how wrong he was, but she could only gaze at him with that bright, meaningless smile.

  “Damn!” He was tearing off his jacket and loosening his tie. Then he was in the bed beside her, drawing her into his arms. His hand was on the back of her head, burying her face in the crispness of his white dress shirt. His voice was shaking a little. “Stop it! Don’t do this to me. Quit holding it in or we’re both going to explode.”
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br />   She couldn’t let go. If she released the floodgates, she didn’t know whether they could ever be closed again. “You don’t want to make love to me?” she asked dully.

  “No, I don’t want to make love to you,” he said harshly. “I want you to talk to me.” His hand was stroking her hair with a gentleness that belied his tone. “I want you to talk about your father.”

  She stiffened. “I don’t know why you want me to do that. It’s not as if there’s anything to say.” There never had been. In all the years there had never been anything to say between the two of them. “I’m afraid there was no horrible scene or contretemps. That was what you expected, wasn’t it?”

  “I didn’t know what to expect. I was using his presence as a weapon that I knew would hurt you, but I never expected this. Not this.”

  “You needn’t worry. I’m not going to burst into tears and embarrass you.” She laughed. It came out only slightly strained.

  His hand hesitated and then continued its stroking. “What’s it going to take to get through to you?” He was silent for a moment. “Would you like to know your father’s reaction when I told him you were missing six years ago?”

  “No!”

  “Well, you’re going to listen anyway. He didn’t say one word. He just shrugged his shoulders. He exhibited the same concern as if I’d told him I’d misplaced a handkerchief.”

  “No, I don’t want to hear any more.” She tried to push him away, but his arms only tightened around her.

  “Too bad. Because you’re going to hear more. In the last six years I haven’t heard him refer to you once. Does that hurt you, Pandora?”

  “Why should it?” She was shaking and she couldn’t seem to stop.

  “It shouldn’t, but it obviously does. It always will, until you face it. Karl Madchen has about as much emotion in him as a block of wood. He doesn’t love you, Pandora, and there’s nothing you can do to make him. It’s not your fault, dammit.”

  The trembling racked her entire body. “Philip, please. Not now.”