There was a gift every day after that. They ranged from a hi-fi video recorder with a complete library of films to a comb and brush set of white jade embedded with amethysts in a beautiful floral design.
“Are you trying to overwhelm me?” she asked with a grin when Philip came into the room on the afternoon the comb and brush set arrived. “If you are, you’re succeeding.” Her finger traced the amethyst motif on the back of the brush. “But I think you’ve got our roles reversed. It’s the client who is supposed to give the gifts.”
He sat down on the bed beside her and took the brush from her hand. “I look at the broader picture. A Khadim is supposed to give pleasure. I’m limited at present as to the kind of pleasure I can give you, so I decided to improvise. The gifts do please you, don’t they?”
“Of course they do, but . . .”
“Then that’s all that’s important. I’m obviously a tremendous success in my new role.” He placed another pillow behind her back and eased her into a sitting position. “Besides, the giving of every gift has a selfish motive too.” He moved to a position at the head of the bed behind her. “You know how self-indulgent I am.”
He began pulling the brush through her hair with long, slow strokes. “I’ve looked forward to doing this ever since I ordered it from Rome. I love touching your hair.” His other hand tangled in its thick length. “It’s so silky and warm and alive. It makes my fingers tingle slightly as I draw them through. Are you enjoying this too?”
Her head was bent forward, her eyes half closed. If she were a cat, she would have purred. “It’s wonderful,” she said drowsily. He’d been at the stables. She could detect the scents of horse and leather and fresh air that surrounded him. “Have you been riding Oedipus?”
“Yes.” The brush was at her temple, sweeping up and then down, the bristles massaging her scalp and tugging at the tresses in a blissfully sensuous fashion. “He’s as temperamental as ever. He tried to run under a low-hanging branch and knock me off. He’s nothing if not a challenge.”
“He just has a strong personality,” she protested. “He wanted to keep you on your toes.”
“No, he wanted to knock me on my backside. There’s a big difference.” The stroking of the brush slowed. “You’ve been very meek about staying in bed for the last few days. How are you feeling?”
“Sore.” She made a face. “For some reason, I can’t seem to keep awake. I’ve been napping half the day away. I suppose it must be the shock.”
“Probably.” He carefully brushed her hair to one side and kissed the nape of her neck. “I expect it will pass shortly. Has your father been in to see you?”
She shook her head. “His assistant has been coming in every day and reporting back to him. I understand I’m to be honored with a visit before I’m allowed to resume normal activities.”
“Does it bother you that he hasn’t come?”
She thought about it. “No,” she said slowly. “I think I’ve come to terms with my father.” She laughed shakily. “It’s about time, isn’t it?”
“I’m glad.” He was silent a moment. “I received a follow-up report on you from the detective agency this morning. It was very interesting.”
“Was it?” She leaned back against him dreamily. “Have you ever considered the possibility that your avid interest in my scandalous past may be slightly unhealthy?”
“Scandalous, hell,” he growled. “Poor little greedy rock star whose passion for luxuries impoverished her and forced her into a life of sin.”
“I am impoverished,” she said lightly. “I’m sure your Sherlock discovered that when he was nosing around.”
“Oh, yes. Your bank account is bare as a bone. Denbrook found that out at once.” He paused. “It took him longer to find out where the money had gone.”
“Really? And I thought he appeared to be such an efficient operator.”
“He was looking for investments, not charities. You gave last year’s entire income to the Ethiopian Relief Fund. The year before you set up a shelter for stray animals in upper New York State.”
“I like animals,” she said. “And I didn’t need the money. I was on the road all the time.”
“So you gave it all away. Then you threw your career down the drain to come with me here to Sedikhan.” His tone was suddenly harsh. “For heaven’s sake, don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?”
“I do not,” she said quietly. “You taught it to me.”
There was a silence in which the only sound was the sibilant hiss of the brush moving through her hair. “I know I did.” His words were low and halting. “I don’t give gentle lessons, do I?”
She didn’t answer. She felt an aching need to ease the torment she sensed beneath his question, but the pain of that night was still too fresh, Philip’s cruelty still too incomprehensible to give him false assurances.
He pulled the strap of her blue nightgown off her shoulder and placed a kiss where her arm joined the shoulder. “I like this spot,” he murmured. “I can feel the suppleness of your muscles beneath the satin skin.” He nipped the flesh lightly. “It’s very arousing.”
Yes, it was. Pandora could feel the heat tingle through her shoulder. She felt warm and lazy and infinitely treasured. How odd that those feelings could exist side by side with this tingling heat. “Philip, I don’t think—”
“It’s all right.” His lips moved to the hollow at the base of her throat. “We’re just playing a little. I know you’re not well enough to”—he suddenly chuckled as he repeated her phrase—“be invaded.”
“I remember the last time you ‘played,’ ” she said breathlessly.
“That was different. That was the preliminary for the invasion.” He slipped the strap from her other shoulder. “This is just me giving you pleasure. Just a little, not enough to make you ache as I’ve been doing for the last few days.”
“Have you?” she asked with a twinge of guilt. She knew Philip was a highly sexed man, yet she had been accepting his services as if he were a maid. He had bathed her, helped her to the bathroom, kept her company, and sought to entertain her almost all of her waking hours since the night of the accident. “Perhaps you could arrange for someone else to help me for a few days. I’ll be all right after that.”
“I want to do it.” He was brushing her hair again. “I’m enjoying it in a masochistic way. You’re my hair shirt.”
“Well, then I guess I don’t have to worry about you. There’s nothing in the least erotic about a hair shirt.”
“How do you know?” His lips were moving back and forth on her neck. “Any texture can be erotic, depending on the way it’s used.” His arms were sliding around her. “For instance, do you know what I told the jeweler when I ordered this hairbrush? I told him to make the bristles firm, but soft as a whisper.”
“You did?” His hard chest was pressing against her back and his warm breath was feathering her ear.
“Shall we see if he carried out my instructions?” He pushed the bodice of her gown down, baring her breasts, and ran the brush lightly over one taut mound. The sensation of the soft bristles moving across her sensitive flesh was incredible. She drew in her breath sharply, and heard him laugh softly in her ear. “Textures. How does it feel?” He brushed lightly back and forth with a teasing stroke that suddenly caused her to arch forward against his arms with a little cry.
His long, strong fingers pressed lightly below her left breast. “Your heart is going wild. I don’t think you have to answer.” He kissed her temple, pulled up the bodice of the gown, and slipped the thin straps over her shoulders. “I’ll send the jeweler a little bonus. I’ll have to remember that you like that particular texture.” He reached over and set the brush on the bedside table. Then his arms were cradling her again, pulling her back against his chest and rocking her as if she were a child in need of soothing. “Now just relax and we’ll cuddle like this for a while.” There were long, peaceful moments in which the haze of sensuality that engulfed her
was gradually transformed into warm contentment. “I do love you, you know.” His voice was low and clear in her ear.
“Oh, I do hope you do,” she whispered. He was so dear. She had never dreamed that he could be this exquisitely gentle. “I love you so much, Philip. I don’t want to leave you. I never want to leave you.”
He stiffened against her. “You’re never going to leave me. Stop talking about it.” His arms tightened, and then released her. He stood up.
“You’re going?” she asked, disappointed.
“I think I’d better.” His lips twisted in a lopsided grin. “I need some more exercise. I get a little too anxious to start climbing those Alps when you say things like that. I’m riding out to the irrigation project for an hour or so. I’ll have Raoul look in on you every so often until I get back.”
“When will that be?” she asked wistfully. “Will you be back in time for dinner?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” he said with a smile that lit his dark face. “Wait for me.” He strode toward the door. “Do you want to nap, or shall I put a movie on the video recorder?”
“A movie, I think. Something funny.”
He inserted a cassette and turned on the television. “There, that should keep you occupied.” He slanted her a mischievous glance over his shoulder. “There are a few X-rated ones in the collection, but I thought we’d save those to watch together. I want to see if you’re as responsive to visual stimuli as you are to touch.”
“I think we’ll wait on those,” she said dryly. “I’ve had quite enough stimuli, thank you.”
“Pandora,” he said softly as he opened the door. “You have no idea yet how much is enough. But you will, love. You will.”
The gown was delivered the afternoon before Philip’s two-week hiatus was over. When she opened the box the first thing she was conscious of was the color. The deep cranberry of the brocade was so vibrant it appeared to glow with jewel-like radiance in its nest of white tissue paper.
The design of the gown was very simple. The boat neckline and the long, full sleeves were both modest, but the bodice would cling to her breasts with loving detail. The high waist that started immediately beneath the bust flowed to the floor with a gentle flare.
She picked up the card lying on top of the gown. “It’s copied from an authentic bedouin wedding robe,” she read. “The brocade was my idea. Though wool is the traditional fabric, I want all the textures to be right tonight when you wear this.”
Her lips curved in a smile as she picked up the gown and held it at arm’s length to look at it. Philip and his textures. He wouldn’t be able to complain about this particular brocade. It was both soft and supple, and a pleasure to touch.
That Philip did intend to touch tonight was clear, and the knowledge sent a little tingle of shock through her. It shouldn’t have. The sexual tension between them had been evident in every minute of their time together. Yet these two weeks had possessed the misty aura of a dream. Philip had been so gentle. Gentle and sweet and loving, so very loving. And now that loving was going to blossom into physical fulfillment. Their joining would be as natural and beautiful as the time that had gone before. She felt a sudden surge of excitement rising within her. It was like the moment before a jump, when there was only the sky before her and the unknown on the other side. Evidently Philip had decided to start his campaign early.
She experienced a thrill of happiness. It was time to move out of the dream into reality, and she was ready for it. She whirled around in a circle, hugging the gown to her. Oh yes, she was ready for it.
Philip didn’t join her for dinner that night. She was standing on the balcony perhaps fifteen minutes after her tray had been taken away, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach, when she heard the closing of the door.
“Come in and let me look at you.” Philip was standing in the doorway of the balcony as she turned. He was dressed in white. Superbly fitted white trousers clung to his narrow waist and slim hips, and his white, long-sleeved shirt was fashioned of a material that glowed with a soft, silky luster in the darkness. “I waited too long. It’s too dark out here to see you.”
“I was wondering if you were coming at all,” she said lightly as she moved toward him. “You didn’t show up for dinner.”
“I learned my lesson the last time,” he said. “I had only two days of anticipation to go through before that first night, and I nearly went crazy. I would have been tempted to toss the tray off the balcony tonight.”
“Me too.”
He went still. “You mean that? I was afraid you’d think I was rushing you.”
“Well, a little, maybe.” She smiled teasingly. “Tomorrow was the day for Hannibal’s arrival.”
“It still is.” He drew her into the room and shut the balcony doors behind them. “This is still a Khadim night. I promise you. Stay here while I turn on the light.”
He was gone, a pale ghost in a darkly shadowed room. Then the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated the darkness as he turned to look at her.
“Oh yes,” he said after a long moment. “I knew you’d look like that in the gown. The richest of wine and the most shimmering of silver-gold. There’s nothing more beautiful on the face of the earth.”
“I love it,” she said. “It makes me feel like a princess.”
“Every bride should feel like that.” He was moving back to stand before her. “And that is a bridal outfit, Pandora.” He cupped her face in his two hands. “Why not take advantage of it?” His lips were hovering near hers. “We could be married tonight. Why don’t we fly to Marasef and get the formalities out of the way? You know you’re going to do it anyway.”
“Probably,” she said huskily. He was so near. The warm scent of spice and soap was enveloping her, and his eyes were almost mesmerizing.
“Not probably. It’s a certainty.” His fingers were on her shoulders, kneading the flesh through the supple brocade. “Haven’t you kept me dangling long enough?”
“I wouldn’t play games like that. It’s just that it’s so important that I be sure.”
“Yes, I know.” His teeth nipped gently at her lower lip. “I wish I didn’t. It would be so much easier just to rush you off your feet.” He chuckled. “Well, there’s one way I can whisk you off your feet.”
He suddenly picked her up and carried her toward the bed, his face alight with laughter as he looked down at her. “I’m giving you fair warning. By morning I have every intention of wresting that promise from you.” He laid her down in a flurry of cranberry brocade. “I’m going to be such a very seductive Khadim that you’re never going to want to do without me again.”
“That’s no challenge. I don’t want to do without you now.”
His face was beautifully tender as he gently brushed back a lock of hair from her face. “Then you realize how simple everything is. Neither one of us will be without the other from now on. Turn over, love, and let me get you out of this thing.”
She rolled over on her stomach. “It’s not a thing, it’s beautiful.” She heard the hiss of the long zipper and then felt a breath of cool air on her naked back. She heard him inhale sharply. “I see you don’t believe in wasting time either.” His palm reached out to cover the smooth curve of her buttocks. “Lord, that’s pretty.”
“I told you I didn’t play games.”
“Then I’ll have to teach you. Certain games are very enjoyable.” He was deftly slipping her arms out of the sleeves. “I’m sure you’d be better at them than you are at mah-jongg.”
“I’d have to be,” she muttered. “It’s an idiotic game anyw—” She gasped as she felt his warm lips at the hollow of her back. When she got her breath back she asked, “Is that a fair move?”
“If you like it.” His teeth gently nipped the soft flesh below the hollow. “Tell me what you like and I’ll make up new rules as we go along.”
“You always do,” she said with amusement. “Ouch!” That bite had been decidedly more punishing than the last.
“You did have dinner, didn’t you?”
“No.” The lightness was completely gone from his voice. “I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep last night. Sometimes I wonder if I’m ever going to be able to do either again.” His hands were running up and down her back in long, caressing strokes, savoring the silkiness of her flesh. “I’m tired of keeping things light. I don’t feel light, dammit! I feel serious as hell.”
He was lifting her, turning her over on the rumpled cranberry brocade. She was startled when she saw the intense look of hunger on his face. “No seduction?” she asked softly.
“I’m trying.” His gaze was traveling over her, finally fastening on the soft golden nest of her womanhood. “It’s never been so difficult with any other woman.” He lowered his cheek and rubbed it against her belly. The slight abrasion caused her muscles to contract, and her hands went involuntarily to his shoulders. “It was a game with them. Skill against skill.” His warm breath was searing her. “I want to make it so good for you and I’m afraid I’ll foul it up.” Her heart was pounding wildly, and she felt a burning begin between her thighs. “This means something to me.”
“It means something to me too.” Her heart jerked as his lips moved against her in the most intimate of kisses. “Philip!”
“You’re so sweet here,” he said as his hands cupped her gently. “But then, every part of you is sweet. Do you know how beautiful you are?”
Her hands clenched on his shoulders, her nails digging into the silk of his shirt. “Yes. No. What did you say?” His tongue touched her, and she arched up against him with a little cry.
He raised his head. “I love to hear you cry out like that, but it makes it hard as the devil to hold on.” He lowered his lips to kiss her hand, which was still clenching desperately at his shoulders. “But it bothers me that you seem confused about how lovely you are. I think we should clear that up once and for all.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Come on.” He propelled her across the room, ignoring her confusion as he whisked her into the Khadim suite.
And the Desert Blooms Page 12
