Strong, Hot Winds

by Iris Johansen

  “I think you’d better get back to whatever you’re going to call that room and break up the squabble that’s going on between Saram and Jessica,” Bettina said from the doorway, an affectionate smile on her round, freckled face. “Scat, Michael.”

  Michael started up the stairs and then ran back down and gave Cory a quick, enthusiastic hug. “I missed you,” he whispered.

  “I missed you too.” Her arms tightened around him and then she forced herself to loosen her grasp. “Come back and see me in a little while, okay? I want to hear more about your helicopter ride.”

  “And my pony.” He had already disentangled himself from her embrace and was zooming up the stairs. “I have to tell you about my pony.” Then he had disappeared through the doorway and she heard only the sound of his running footsteps.

  Cory felt suddenly bereft.

  “He’s settled in very well,” Bettina said quietly. “We all have. I can’t tell you what Damon’s offer has done for Carter. He’s a new man.”

  Cory studied her friend’s face and found that Carter wasn’t the only one who showed signs of rebirth. Bettina looked more relaxed and contented than she’d ever seen her. “You like it here?”

  “Who wouldn’t?” Bettina grinned. “A beautiful house, mortgage-free. Two servants and Damon’s even provided me with a darkroom, where I can start working again. It’s like a dream come true.”

  Cory felt a swift surge of compassion. Her feelings toward Bettina and Carter had been mixed since she had learned they had allowed themselves to be deceived by Damon into accompanying Michael to Kasmara. Besides the resentment, she couldn’t help sympathizing with their predicament. She knew Bettina desperately missed her career as a photographer, given up when Jessica was born, and that Carter had strong feelings about providing for his family. It must have seemed like a miracle to have all their problems solved with one wave of Damon’s hand.

  Bettina was looking at her with a touch of apprehension. “It’s all right, isn’t it? It’s what you wanted? Damon is so good with Michael.…”

  Cory hesitated. What the devil was the point of blaming Bettina and Carter? They were still her friends, and the knowledge that she felt they had betrayed her would hurt them, perhaps even destroy their chances of a better life here. It would do no harm to let them think everything was fine between her and Damon for the time being.

  “It’s what I wanted.” Cory stood up and forced a smile as she started up the steps toward Bettina. “Now, tell me about this new job of Carter’s. Do you think he’s going to like it?”

  Bettina’s warm smile lit her face. “He’s going to love it. It’s the same thing he did at the mill without having to worry about the bureaucracy. He has to account only to Damon, and that will be easy. Carter says Damon will be fair.” She linked her arm with Cory’s as they went into the tiled foyer. “Of course, there’s the language problem, but a surprising number of the power plant personnel speak English and Damon’s provided an interpreter.…”

  “Well?” Selim asked when she got into the jeep that evening. “Are you satisfied that Damon isn’t holding Michael in a dungeon and feeding him bread and water?”

  “Worse.” She smiled wryly. “He’s treating everyone so well, it’s positively sickening. Contentment can be a prison too. One that’s nearly impossible to break out of.”

  “He won’t spoil Michael, if that’s what you’re worrying about. Damon knows the value of discipline.”

  “Even though he doesn’t practice it much in his personal life?”

  “There had to be a release valve somewhere. He has an explosive nature and he can show no volatility with the El Zabor.”

  “Ah, yes, the Bardono.” Cory leaned wearily back against the seat, her gaze on the palace that had just come into view. The lights illuminating the massive structure sparkled on the fountains and reflecting pools on the grounds surrounding it. Damon’s Arabian Nights dream of a palace, a filigreed, golden prison.

  Prison. The word as well as the manner in which she had connected it with Damon startled her. She was the one who was the prisoner, not Damon. But wasn’t Damon a prisoner too? A prisoner of his responsibilities, a prisoner of his very love for the El Zabor? “How is he, Selim?”

  “Better. Not good, but better. You helped him to get better, Cory.” He glanced at her. “He wants to see you tonight. He told me to ask you to come to his suite when you returned to the palace.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Ask?”

  “That’s the word he used.” A faint smile tugged at Selim’s lips. “I admit it surprised me, too. Are you going to go?”

  Her gaze returned to the palace, which was much closer now, and correspondingly more overwhelming, more smothering.

  “Yes,” she said impulsively. “I’ll go.”

  Fifteen minutes later she stood before the door of Damon’s suite and wondered why she had agreed to come. Selim had said Damon was better. He didn’t need her. Perhaps he had never needed her. The incident was over and she should distance herself from him. That was clear to anyone with any sense.

  She knocked on the door.

  “Come in.”

  She opened the door and gazed at Damon in surprise. He did look better, she thought with an unexplainable rush of relief. His demeanor was still grave, and the copper-bronze of his skin a shade paler, but that terrible haggardness was gone. “You look more rested. Did you sleep?”

  He nodded. “Enough.” He gazed at her uncertainly. “You found Michael well?”

  “Very well. Very happy.” She paused. “But he was happy in Meadowpark too. Children are exceptionally adaptable.”

  “He’ll be happier here.” His jaw squared obstinately. “He’s staying, Cory.”

  “Only for the time being.”

  “No, forever. I can’t—” He smiled crookedly. “So much for being calm and reasonable. I swore I wouldn’t let myself lose control.”

  “Are you losing control?” She studied him. “You’ve always appeared to be very much in control.”

  “I’m seldom in control when I’m with you. Not physically and not emotionally. You … churn me up.”

  She was surprised that he’d make that admission. She was even more surprised when she found herself admitting, “It’s mutual.”

  “Then we should take steps to correct it.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

  He crossed the room and stopped before her, his stance radiating that familiar half-defiant challenge. “I don’t believe in unresolved relationships. They leave a bad taste in my mouth. I think we should do something about it.”

  “You did,” she said dryly. “Isn’t that what this idiotic kiran business is all about?”

  “But that doesn’t work anymore.” He scowled moodily. “It’s impossible for me to continue with it when I have no excuse. We’ve struck a balance. You deprived me of my son. But you also gave me gifts this morning. I’ve thought it over and decided it would no longer be fair to punish you.”

  He was so like a cross little boy trying to work his way through a complicated problem that she felt a smile tugging at her lips. “How kind of you,” she said solemnly.

  “It’s not kindness, it’s justice. I’d much prefer it the other way. I think—” He glared at her suspiciously. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Heaven forbid,” she said in mock horror. “I wouldn’t think of damaging your consequence by doing anything so crass.”

  “You are laughing at me.” A reluctant smile touched his lips. “Did I sound pompous?”

  “Very. But I think I’m getting used to it. Though I don’t promise I won’t be tempted to deflate you occasionally.”

  “I think I might like that. No one but Selim and Cam argue with me.”

  “So I would imagine. It’s very bad for your character.”

  “Perhaps.” His gaze was fixed intently on her face. “You’re not angry with me anymore.”

  “I’m sure I will soon be in full force
, but I’m too happy right now to make the effort.”

  “Michael makes you happy.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I love him,” she said simply.

  “I know.” There was the faintest touch of wistfulness in his face before he lifted his chin and glared at her. “It makes no difference. I won’t let you take him from Kasmara. It’s not sensible.”

  “And you’re the one who decides what’s sensible and what’s not?”

  “In Kasmara I do.” He stopped and then continued with exasperation. “But you’ve made me wander from the subject. Unresolved relationships.”

  “Sorry,” she said flippantly.

  “As I said, I’ve been thinking about it, and I believe I have a solution.”

  “You’re going to have me beheaded?”

  He frowned warningly. “Cory.”

  “Well, it would certainly resolve the relationship.”

  Damon was silent, gazing at her in bewilderment. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

  Cory didn’t ever remember being like this when she was with Damon. Their relationship had always been too intense, too explosive to leave room for lightheartedness. What had made the difference? Her discovery of Damon’s vulnerability, her respect for his strength, the knowledge that he had needed her? Perhaps a combination of all those factors had served to lessen her wariness. “The solution?” she prompted.

  “I think we should spend time together.” He rushed on. “Not in bed. That is, unless you want to. I wouldn’t insist on it. I think I’d prefer we didn’t make love.” He stopped in surprise and the slightest hint of mischief glinted in his eyes. “Good Lord, I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

  “Neither can I.” She studied him curiously. “Just what are we supposed to be doing during this time we’re spending together?”

  “Talking, listening to music, playing cards.” He waved his hand grandly. “I’ll think of something.”

  “And how is this supposed to resolve anything?”

  “I thought we might become friends. It seems sensible since you’re the mother of my child.”

  Her eyes were suddenly twinkling. “Very sensible. Though I believe with most couples that comes somewhere near the beginning.”

  “So we skipped a few steps.” His gaze held her own. “It’s not too late to go back and start over.”

  Her amusement suddenly vanished. “It may not work, Damon. There are too many things weighted against it. I resent the hell out of your keeping Michael here without my consent.”

  His jaw set stubbornly. “He’s mine. I have the right to have him here.” He shrugged. “And since you have no intention of leaving him totally under my evil influence, you might as well remain here under more pleasant circumstances. You won’t want Michael to be aware of any conflict between us.” A sudden eager smile lit his face. “I think he likes me.”

  “He does like you. He chattered like a magpie about you all evening.”

  “Did he?” His smile faded. “I want you to know I won’t interfere with your time with him. You won’t even have to see me with him. I’ll go to see him every morning and I’ll have Selim drive you to the village after I come back to the palace. I think that’s fair.”

  Selim had told her Damon had a strict sense of justice, but she hadn’t dreamed he’d be this meticulous. “I think you’re going a little overboard on the subject, Damon,” she said with a smile. “I wouldn’t object to catching a passing glance of the two of you together.”

  “I want you to be content with the arrangement.”

  She sobered. “I won’t be content, but I can accept this a hell of a lot more easily than being your blasted kiran.”

  “That’s enough to start with.” He waved an imperious hand. “I’ll do the rest.”

  She found to her surprise that his royal arrogance no longer irritated, only amused her. “I think friendship takes two.”

  “But if I work twice as hard at it, then—” She started to laugh and he smiled sheepishly. “Well, determination does move mountains.”

  “I think so too.” Her face was alive with humor. “But I’m not a mountain.”

  His gaze moved over her with bold sensuality, lingering on the fullness of her breasts. “There are certain similarities, peaks to conquer, crevices to explore—” He stopped and grimaced. “I forgot. No sex.”

  “No sex,” she agreed, trying to keep the breathlessness from her voice. She knew Damon had intended to keep sexuality out of their conversation, yet it had been such an integral part of their relationship that the reaction had been instinctive, just as the heat that had surged through her in response had also been instinctive. She turned swiftly toward the door. “I think I’ll go to bed. Good night, Damon.”

  “Good night.”

  She turned suddenly to face him. “You’ll be all right? You’ll try to sleep?”

  A sudden smile lit his face with radiance. “I’ll be fine. I have some papers to go over with Selim. I’ll work until I’m tired enough to sleep.” He paused, and his next words came awkwardly. “Thank you for your concern.”

  She had been concerned, so concerned that it sent a shiver of uneasiness through her. She unconsciously squared her shoulders defensively as she met his gaze. “This doesn’t change anything. I still intend to take Michael away from Kasmara.”

  Damon’s smile vanished. “And I still intend to keep him here.”

  “There’s one thing more I’d like to know. What about Carter and Bettina?”

  “What about them?”

  “You’ve caught them up in our affairs, disrupted their lives, even brought them to a foreign country. What if I manage to get Michael away from you? Are you just going to cut them adrift?”

  He flinched. “My God, do you think I’d do a thing like that?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

  “No,” he said harshly. “There’d be no justice in doing that. If Carter does a good job, then he and Bettina will stay here regardless of what’s between us.” He glared at her. “Satisfied?”

  Justice again. That iron-hard discipline that ran like a glittering thread through Damon’s personality. She felt a melting deep within her and quickly lowered her lashes to veil her eyes. “Satisfied.”

  She turned and left the suite.

  SEVEN

  DAMON’S LONG FINGERS toyed with the jade chess piece. “Why did you become a television reporter?”

  “I never wanted to do anything else. All the other children in school wanted to be the movie star being interviewed. I wanted to be the reporter asking the questions.” Cory glanced up with an impish grin. “Are you trying to disturb my concentration?”

  Damon studied the chessboard carefully. “Perhaps. Where did you go to college?”

  “Princeton.” Cory knew exactly what Damon was doing and found herself amused. She couldn’t remember how many times in the last three weeks Damon would get her involved in a game or lull her with music and then suddenly slip in a question with elaborate casualness.

  “Who treated you like a doormat?” Damon didn’t look at her as he finally moved the jade knight on the chessboard.

  “What?” Cory’s gaze lifted with sudden wariness to Damon’s face.

  “You mentioned that someone treated you like a doormat before you met me.” His voice was carefully casual. “I just wondered who it was.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  Damon kept his gaze lowered on the chessboard. “I thought perhaps I’d behead the bastard.” He added politely, “If you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said curtly. “But I’m afraid you’re too late. The said bastard is already dead.”

  “You beheaded him yourself?”

  “No, he died a depressingly natural death.”

  “Was he your lover?”

  She didn’t answer.

  Damon glanced up sharply. “Was he?”

  Cory moved her bishop. “You were my firs
t lover, remember?”

  “I know you were a virgin. It shocked the hell out of me.” He added softly, “And it pleased the hell out of me.”

  “Typical male chauvinism.”

  “I never denied it.” His gaze lowered to the chessboard again. “What did he mean to you?”

  Cory shrugged. “Many things.” She paused. “He was my father.”

  He went still. “Your father?”

  “Lawrence Brandel, Esquire.” She indicated the knight he had just shifted. “That was a dangerous move, you know.”

  “Was it?” he asked absently.

  She nodded. “You play a very reckless game. I’ve noticed it before.”

  “And you’re extremely cautious.” He smiled. “Balance.”

  “Or chaos.”

  “Was it chaos living with Lawrence Brandel, Esquire?”

  He was back to square one, and Cory had to admire the dratted man’s persistence. He was obviously not going to give up until he had what he wanted. “No, living with my father was order personified. Everything ran on greased wheels. He saw to that.”

  “And you didn’t like—”

  “Damon, for heaven’s sake, will you stop it? I don’t want to talk about my father.”

  “I do. Why don’t you?”

  “Because he’s not the most pleasant subject in the world.”

  “Does thinking about him bother you?”

  She pushed her chair back from the game table and stood up. “Of course it doesn’t bother me. He’s not a bogeyman to me any longer. I’ve come to terms with how I feel about him.”

  “How did you feel about him? Did you hate him?”

  “Damon …” Her hands clenched slowly into fists at her sides. “Yes, I hated him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he smothered me, because he took delight in trying to make me into a mindless robot without one independent thought. From the time I was a little girl until the time I left home I couldn’t remember one day that wasn’t spoiled by his petty tyrannies.”