Touch the Horizon

by Iris Johansen

  “Courtesy rates very high, but hypocrisy comes in below zero,” she said meeting his eyes steadily. “I found out a long time ago that I couldn’t live like that. So what do you say we put our cards on the table? Clancy, here, seems to think I may be involved in some sort of plot to either snag the apple of your eye or massacre him. Will you believe me when I say I have no intention of doing either? That three days from now you’ll have seen the last of me? I’d never even heard of this Ladram fellow before today.”

  “Your candid approach is very convincing, Miss Callahan.” Ben Raschid said coldly. “I, too, have a dislike for hypocrisy, though I find it valuable upon occasion. It occurs to me you could have been coached to appeal to that preference.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, just look at me.” Billie threw her arms out in frustration. “What kind of nutty villain would choose a lure like me? I’m not even sexy. I have my moments, but I’m definitely not the material kadines are made of.”

  “Yet you evidently exert a certain fascination for David,” Ben Raschid answered. “He was quite insistent that I welcome you with all cordiality. Perhaps Ladram is more clever than we’d supposed. I didn’t think he had that degree of subtlety, but hatred can bring out the cunning in rats like Ladram.” His eyes narrowed. “He’s on the run, so it wouldn’t be possible for him to pay you exorbitantly. I, on the other hand, have unlimited resources. If you care to switch sides and confide Ladram’s whereabouts, I’m prepared to be very generous.” His smile was so lethal, she shivered involuntarily. “When Ladram is captured, his treatment is going to be most painful, and ultimately fatal. You wouldn’t want to share in that fate, I assure you.”

  Good heavens, the man was a barbarian. “You sound quite savage,” she said lightly, trying to smile. “What did the poor man do to arouse such a thirst for vengeance?”

  “That ‘poor’ man was one of the kingpins of vice and narcotics in Sedikhan,” Clancy said dryly as he strolled forward to stand beside her. “He was also rumored to have connections with the Mafia, but they seem to have deserted him. They didn’t like the kind of heat David generated when he broke up the ring and sent Ladram on the run. That was eight months ago, and Ladram’s been bombarding David with threatening letters and phone calls ever since.”

  “Knives,” she whispered, remembering David’s flippant words.

  “How did you know that?” Ben Raschid asked in a harsh, guttural tone.

  “David mentioned it,” Clancy interjected swiftly. “I was there.”

  “So quick to the defense, Clancy?” Ben Raschid’s voice was silky soft. “I think perhaps she may be even more clever than I thought.”

  “And now I’m supposed to have vamped your trusty right hand from his duty? How can I convince you that I’m just not that appealing?”

  “You can’t, Billie.” David said softly from the door. “Anyone would have to be blind not to see how sweet you are.” He strolled forward. His golden good looks were set off beautifully by the elegant black tuxedo he was wearing, and his brilliant blue eyes were twinkling. “None of us are immune.”

  “Bull,” Billie said succinctly. “Will you stop that? I’m having a rough time as it is trying to convince everyone I’m not after your scalp, either figuratively or literally.”

  “Not exactly seductive, Karim,” Clancy murmured, his lips quirking.

  Ben Raschid shrugged. “But challenging and a little intriguing, which could accomplish the same end with a man like David.”

  “You see? Everything I do is wrong. They’re determined to view me as Lucrezia Borgia incarnate.”

  “Poor baby.” David’s face was alight with amusement. “They are giving you a hard time, aren’t they? You’re holding up better than most, though.” His smile faded as he glanced at Karim, and his tone cooled considerably. “Testing her mettle. Karim? I asked you to make her welcome, not to intimidate her.”

  To Billie’s amazement Karim actually looked disconcerted. “I tried to play the civilized host,” he growled defensively. “She wouldn’t let me. It seems the lady has a dislike for the social graces. She practically attacked me.”

  “Interesting.” David’s eyes were dancing as they went from Billie’s indignant face to Karim’s ferocious scowl. “You appear to have survived her assault very well, and perhaps it’s just as well the amenities were dispensed with in the first confrontation.” He smiled at Billie with a glowing intimacy. “I’m glad you have no use for games. Neither do I, windflower. It’s going to escalate the pace of our relationship immensely.”

  “We have no relationship,” she said, running her hand abstractedly through her hair. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell everyone. What I’ve been trying to tell you.” She glared up at him. “And I do think you like to play games. I think it’s amusing you to make some kind of play for me to wile away a day or so in your little desert Shangri-La. I don’t think you care a snap of your fingers what I think or feel.”

  David sobered instantly. “You’re wrong. Billie,” he said quietly. “They really have upset you, haven’t they?” He took her hand in his. “I won’t have that. We don’t have time to waste with anger and hurt feelings. I want you to be able to concentrate on forming new emotional responses.” He turned to Karim and said tersely, “I think we’ll dispense with any type of formal dinner. I’m taking Billie with me to my suite. We’ll dine there and perhaps I can repair some of the damage you’ve done. The next time you see her, I hope you’ll take the opportunity to apologize.”

  Karim flushed. “Apologize! She’s no delicate shrinking violet. She’s a very tough lady. I think she came through the encounter better than I did.”

  “She’s strong, but she’s sensitive enough underneath all that brashness to be hurt,” David said as he turned and pulled her toward the door. “I won’t have her hurt, Karim.”

  “David—”

  David turned, and when he saw the pleading that warred with the pride in Karim’s fierce hawk eyes, he smiled very gently. “It’s all right, Karim. It’s just that you’ve made a mistake. She’s special to me, and you must treat her with kindness. It’s very important to me.”

  “It’s you who are making a mistake,” Karim said heavily. “It’s dangerous to trust her. Even more since she is strong. You respond to strength, David. Weakness in others arouses your sympathy, but strength attracts you. Ladram would know that. He’s made a study of you.”

  “It’s not a mistake,” David said softly. “Can’t you see she wouldn’t use that strength to do anything but help?”

  “No. I can’t see that.” Karim’s voice was roughly impatient. “And neither can you. She’s an unknown quantity.”

  “I know her very well.” David’s smile encompassed her in a sunrise of warmth. “And I’m going to know her even better. Get used to the idea, Karim.” The door closed behind them, shutting out the sight of Karim’s frowning face and Donahue’s smile of amusement.

  Then David’s hand was beneath her elbow and he was hurrying her through the mosaic corridors at a pace that had her half skipping to keep up with him. “Sorry about that, Billie. I should have realized they would react like that and been there to support you. It won’t happen again. Karim knows I’m dead serious now.”

  “That’s more than I do,” Billie said wryly. “I can’t believe any of this is really happening. Would it be too much to ask you to slow down so I can catch my breath?”

  “Literally or figuratively?” His pace slowed as he glanced down at her. “Both, I think,” he decided. “I’m moving too fast for you, aren’t I, windflower? You need time to catch up and grow into your own knowledge of me.” His eyes were grave. “I promised you that time, and I won’t go back on it. I won’t force that growth.”

  “Why should you, when everyone else is willing to do it for you?” Billie grumbled. “Yasmin almost served me up on a silver platter.” She touched the glittering lamé dress. “She informed me that there wasn’t much she could do to make me as glamorous as you
r last kadine, but this was her best effort.”

  “Is that who it belonged to?” David asked, his gaze running over her admiringly. Again she had that sensation of warm sunlight flowing over her. “I thought it was vaguely familiar. It looks different on you, sweetheart.”

  “I imagine it does,” Billie said dryly. “According to Yasmin, Miss Nazare was considerably more voluptuous.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” David said. “On Shareen, it was just a dress. On you it’s like a precious shimmering vase to hold my bright, glowing flower-girl.” His eyes were twinkling. “And for your information, I’m finding you much more provocative in it than I ever did Shareen.”

  “That’s difficult to believe,” Billie said a trifle breathlessly, looking away from him.

  “I know.” David sighed, shaking his head. “You’re not sexy, right? I can see something’s got to be done to set you straight on that score.” The amusement suddenly vanished. “Does the thought of Shareen bother you? It shouldn’t, Billie. I’m no saint. I need sex, like any other man, but that was all it was with Shareen and the others.” His voice was warm and deep. “I took pleasure and I tried to give it back, but what happens between us is going to be entirely different.”

  “Oh, Yasmin assured me she was nothing to you,” Billie said lightly, trying to keep the warmth he was exuding from flooding her being.

  David frowned. “That wasn’t true. Everyone has value and gifts to give. I’d be an unappreciative bastard to denigrate the giver of those gifts.” His hand tightened on hers. “It’s just that some gifts have more value than others. Physical satisfaction can mean a hell of a lot. But joy”—his deep blue eyes were glowing softly—“joy can last forever, Billie.”

  She forgot to breathe, and felt that dizzying warmth move languidly through her veins. Why was she letting him do this to her? She’d always moved so lightly on the surface of life, pausing to touch and enjoy relationships and adventures and then moving on. None of it had really affected her, but she knew with a little thrill of panic that if she let herself stay in this small circle of sunlight, she might never want to move on again.

  “No!” She jerked her hand away from his and nervously smoothed the sleek material of the dress over her hips. “All this has nothing to do with me. Why can’t you understand that?” She smiled with an effort. “And you say everyone is valuable and has gifts to give. What about this Ladram I’ve been hearing about? He doesn’t seem to have much to give to the human race.”

  For the first time since she had met him, his face hardened and the warmth entirely left his eyes. “I stand corrected,” he said curtly. “In every garden there are weeds that try to smother and destroy the useful and beautiful around them.” His smile had the cold glitter of a stiletto. “The only thing you can do to prevent their doing that is to pluck them out and destroy them first.”

  She shivered as if the sun had suddenly gone behind a cloud. She’d wanted to distract him and change the conversation, but this facet of David’s character frightened her a little. “Another flower allusion,” she said. “Your conversation certainly abounds with them. I suppose it’s natural, considering you’re something of a gardener. I saw that picture of you in the study. Was it painted here in Zalandan?”

  He shook his head, his expression softening. “Lance Rubinoff painted that in the garden of the palace at Marasef. I have a garden here, too, but I think I like the one in Marasef better. It’s outdoors, and I’ve always liked the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. The air is too dry and harsh, here in the middle of the desert, for plant life to flourish, so Karim built me a greenhouse to work in. It’s very special to me too.” His face was grave. “I want to share it with you, but not right now, Billie. I want to save it for a time that will be special to us both. Now we’re just beginning to push through the earth to see the sun. I want to save it for the blossoming. Okay?”

  The blossoming. What a beautiful and moving phrase. Almost as beautiful as the honey darkness of his voice when he said the words. “Okay,” she said dreamily, and was rewarded by that sudden blinding smile.

  “Good.” He’d stopped before a carved teak door much like the one that graced the library, and he threw it open with a little flourish. “Now, step into my chamber and we’ll talk of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings.” He winked. “And if you’re extremely lucky, I might just let you bolt down a morsel or two of food in between.”

  David’s suite was even more luxurious and lovely than her own, if a trifle more masculine. The white mosiac floor was covered with a cream-and-beige Aubusson carpet, and the coverlet on the wide ottoman bed was the flaming scarlet of autumn leaves. One wall was dominated by a huge, age-silkened rosewood desk, where an IBM Selectric typewriter, several piles of paper, and a stack of books offered a surprisingly workmanlike contrast to the antique desk. There were plants and greenery everywhere, and one particularly lovely plant with exquisite white blooms stood tall and proud in a glossy ebony planter in the corner.

  “Sit down.” David gestured to a scarlet-cushioned cane chair. He was shrugging out of his tuxedo jacket as he strode swiftly across the room toward another carved door. “I’ll be with you in just a minute. I’ll order our dinner to be served here and get rid of all this sartorial glory.” He grimaced. “Karim likes us to dress for dinner, but it’s all a little too grand for a cowboy like me.”

  Billie gazed musingly at the intricate carving on the door even after it had closed behind him. Gardener, cowboy, friend of sheikhs and princes, Lisan. He was so many things, and wherever she turned a new facet was revealed. What would she discover next? Her gaze was drawn irresistibly toward those curiously workmanlike stacks of papers beside the typewriter and she found herself pulled across the room as if to a magnet.

  Manuscript pages, very professional, with “Bradford” and the page number neatly typed in the upper right-hand corner. Her lips curved in tender amusement. Another facet revealed. It appeared that David was an aspiring author. Then her smile faded as something tugged at her memory, and she reached slowly for one of the two leather-bound volumes that sat carelessly on the corner of the desk. It was lettered in gold, and she knew even before she saw the spine what the script would say. She had a well-thumbed paperback copy in her duffel in the jeep. The Growing Season, by David Bradford, an incredibly moving novel that had sent critics into ecstasies and was still on the best-seller list after nine months.

  “I’d like you to read it when you get the time,” David said quietly from the doorway. “A lot of me went into that book. I think you might get to know me a bit faster through it.” He was dressed in dark cords and was rolling up the sleeves of a soft cream shirt, which was left open to reveal the bronze column of his throat.

  “I already have,” Billie said huskily. “It’s the most beautiful book I’ve ever read.” She laughed shakily. “But you don’t need me to tell you that. The critics are calling it the book of the century, a classic. I’ve been haunting the bookstores for your second one.”

  “It came out four weeks ago,” David said carelessly. “My publisher says it’s doing better than the first one.”

  “That’s understandable.” Her fingers moved caressingly over the smooth leather spine. “Everyone wants to touch something special, even if it’s only for a moment.” Her eyes lifted to meet his across the room. “You spoke of giving gifts. I’d like to thank you for giving me this one. It could have been written for me personally.” She shrugged and tried to laugh. “I’m sure millions of people feel the same way. That’s probably why it’s going to be a classic.”

  “I don’t know about that,” David said, making a face. “I had no idea everybody would make such a fuss about it when I submitted it. I just wanted to tell a story and try to create something beautiful.” His expression became thoughtful. “I was restless and searching for something to do with my mind that would give me the same satisfaction I received from working with my plants.” There was a flicker of excitement
in the depths of his eyes. “I found almost more than I had bargained for when I started to write. It’s like planting a brand-new garden with each story—plotting, then developing the characters, then nurturing and watching the story grow and blossom in your mind and then on the paper before you.” He shook his head and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, it’s all still new to me. I’m a little overenthusiastic.” He closed the distance between them, took the book out of her hand and tossed it casually on the desk. “My editor sent me a copy of my second book. If you’ll accept it, I’d like to give it to you.”

  “No, I couldn’t….” she started politely. Then she bit her lip as she saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes. To hell with convention. That glimmer of pain had started an aching somewhere near her heart, and she wanted that book. It would be almost like having a part of this beautiful, eccentric boy-man with her always. “Yes,” she said impulsively. “Yes, please.”

  A brilliant smile lit his face. “I’ll send it to your suite tomorrow. Tonight I want you to concentrate on the man, not the author.” There was a soft knock on the door. “But first I’ll let you concentrate on dinner. Karim has an excellent chef. Let’s see what he has for us.”

  Throughout the meal that followed she was only vaguely conscious of the exotic dishes set before her by the deft, white-clad servant. Her attention was centered solely on the golden man seated across the small, damask-covered table. The conversation was light, the silences wonderfully comfortable, and always she was conscious of that magical pool of sunlit warmth that surrounded her. It melted all restraint, and she found herself deliberately blacking out everything but this moment. Why shouldn’t she enjoy herself for the short time she was here? It had been ridiculous to be so wary and afraid of the responses David was arousing within her. She always welcomed new experiences, and this promised to be one of the most exciting yet. She felt a little tingle of excitement as she realized what that experience might entail. She found anticipation growing steadily as the servant cleared the table and filled the fluted crystal glasses with a clear golden wine that was no more heady than the thought of what might be.