“Elegance, luv. I like to see the expression of shock on the birds’ faces when they see the campy rock star in all this sartorial glory.” He held out the other wrist, and while she fastened the cuff link he said genially to Philip, “They’re the very devil, aren’t they? Are you coming to the promoters’ big do tonight?”
“No.” Philip’s voice was so dangerously soft that Pandora stiffened, and her eyes flew to his face. “And neither is Pandora. Sorry to disappoint you. She’s coming away with me tonight.” He turned away and crossed the room. “I’ll wait for you in the car, Pandora.” The door snapped shut behind him.
“He’s the one, isn’t he?” Neal asked quietly. His blue eyes were fixed musingly on her face. He had never seen her look so glowingly alive, not even when she was on stage performing. “He’s the man you wanted to impress with our cozy little setup.” His lips twisted ruefully. “If I’d known he was so intimidating, I might have hesitated a moment or two. I wasn’t sure if he was going to leave quietly or order me beheaded first.”
“They don’t behead people in Sedikhan anymore,” she said with a shaky smile. “Yes, he’s the one.”
“You’re leaving for good?”
“You won’t have any trouble replacing me. You’ll find someone else. Maybe she’ll even have a decent voice.”
His face was grave. “We’ll miss you. You’re sure you won’t change your mind?”
“I told you when we started out that it was only temporary, that there’d come a time when I’d walk away from it. It’s not my kind of life. It’s not what I want.”
He bent and kissed her on the cheek. “Then go for what you do want. I’ll be rooting for you.” He straightened. “I’ll send Gene and Pauly in to say good-bye. We wouldn’t want his royal munificence to get impatient, would we?” He stood there a moment, looking down at her. “I remember the first time you walked into that club in Soho where we were playing. You were only sixteen and you looked like a hungry chicken.”
“I was hungry,” she said. “And scared. God, I was scared.”
“I’d never have known it. You were the most boldly alive person I’d ever met.” His lips curved in a whimsical smile. “It’s a wonder I didn’t go completely bonkers over you. Isn’t it lucky that I didn’t?”
“Yes, very lucky,” she said gently. “I refuse to give you too much credit, though. It was probably my froggy voice that turned you off.”
“Maybe.” His hand touched her hair. All the light in the room seemed to be gathered in that silvery-blond mass. “I always did have a sensitive ear.” His hand dropped away. “Well, if things don’t work out for you, come back to us. I can always wear earplugs if you offend my sensibilities too drastically. Good luck, luv.”
“Good-bye, Neal,” she said huskily. “And thank you. Thank you for everything.”
His shoulders lifted in a shrug as he turned away. “You gave more than you got. You always do. Keep in touch.”
She watched the door close behind him, her throat tight with tears. So many years. She hadn’t realized how hard it would be to say good-bye and walk away. She’d had her mind so fixed on the goal at the end of the road, she hadn’t realized what treasures she had acquired along the way. She stood up and pulled the ivory silk costume over her head.
If things didn’t work out, Neal had said. The memory of those words sent a frisson of panic through her. Things had to work out. She couldn’t bear it otherwise. Her whole life was wagered on this toss of the dice. Oh Lord, they had to work out.
THREE
“GOOD AFTERNOON, SHEIKH El Kabbar. Everything has been taken care of, just as you ordered,” Raoul Coupier said as he met them at the front door. The words were as casual as if it had been only a few hours instead of six months since Philip had left Sedikhan. Raoul snapped his fingers and two white-uniformed young boys appeared to fetch the bags from the limousine. His thin, pale face was as impassive as usual as he turned to Pandora. “May I say what a pleasure it is to have you with us again, Miss Madchen?” he asked politely.
“Thank you, Raoul,” she murmured, trying to suppress a smile. It was difficult to believe that he could be sincere, considering all the uproar she had brought to his serene, well-ordered life in the past. She had taken a heathenish delight in playing the most outrageous pranks just to see if she could disturb the cool aplomb of Philip’s personal servant. She had never succeeded. “It’s good to be back.”
“I took the liberty of ordering dinner in your suite tonight, Sheikh El Kabbar,” Raoul said as he preceded them across the foyer and down the gleaming, mosaic-tiled hall. “You must be very weary after your trip, Miss Madchen. The time difference can throw your system a bit out of whack.”
“I feel fine.” It was good to have Raoul as a bulwark between them. He was ignoring Philip’s grim and forbidding demeanor with the habit of years. “I’m not at all tired.”
“You’ve forgotten what a powerhouse of energy Pandora can be, Raoul,” Philip said caustically. He stopped at the door of his suite. “Time zones and jet trips of thousands of miles scarcely faze her at all.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” A pained expression appeared on Raoul’s face. “Miss Madchen was always exceptionally enthusiastic in all her . . . endeavors.”
“However, we’ll definitely have dinner in my suite. I find I’m not as resilient as our Pandora. I don’t bounce back as quickly as the dynamic young rock stars she’s accustomed to dealing with.”
The barb in his last statement was obvious, but Pandora felt only a sense of relief. At least he was getting it out in the open. He had been in a foul mood since the moment Neal appeared in her dressing room. He’d practically ignored her for the entire trip, involving himself in a voluminous stack of paperwork from his many corporations. In a way it had been easier for her. She hadn’t had to keep up her guard, to maintain that nerve-racking air of sophistication. “Oh, I don’t know. You should see us after two weeks of one-night stands. We practically fall into bed every night.”
“I imagine you do,” Philip bit out as he opened the door. “Though I’d guess you’re very fond of one-night stands as well. Your suite is next door. Please join me in forty-five minutes.” The door swung shut behind him with a force that was not quite a slam.
Pandora made a face at the door. Yes, Philip was definitely upset and on his imperial high horse. “Do you think I’ve been insulted, Raoul?”
For a moment there was a flicker of humor in Raoul’s brown eyes. “I wouldn’t presume to say, Miss Madchen. However, Sheikh El Kabbar has always been talented in that direction, as we both know.” He had moved to the carved door a few yards down the hall. “I believe you’ll be comfortable here. When I received the phone call from the San Francisco airport I facilitated the acquisition of the wardrobe the sheikh said you would require.” His eyes rested for a fleeting moment on her full bosom. “He said you had filled out a trifle. I hope the clothing fits.”
“I’ll manage,” she said with a grin. “I’m not any more of a clotheshorse now than I was in the old days. If you remembered boots and jeans, I’ll be happy.”
“Oh yes, I remembered those.” He smiled faintly. “You were always at the stable or on the back of one of the sheikh’s horses. It would be difficult to forget.” He opened the door for her and stepped back, inclining his head in a small bow. “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know. Again, welcome home, Miss Madchen.”
“Thank you.” Her throat felt a little tight. This was home. Far more than the large house on the other side of the village that she had occupied with her father. “It’s wonderful to be home.”
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment. She was here at last. She felt relief sweep through her. It was over. Her glance swept around the room, taking in the canopy bed with the ivory silk hangings, the white fretted windows, and the rich amber and wine oriental carpet on the floor. Her eyes were drawn to the door to the right of the bed. She knew it led to Philip’s suite.
She was very familiar with this room. It was the one allotted to all of Philip’s Khadims. She remembered that once she had crept in here, filled with resentment and burning jealousy, to examine the place where the chosen ones were quartered. The beautiful ones who occupied his bed and received his passion. It had hurt so much, yet the temptation had been irresistible. It still hurt, she found. She mustn’t think about the past. She was the one occupying this room now.
She walked quickly to the louvered closet and threw open the folding doors. Thank heaven for Raoul’s good sense. There were not only sexy garments appropriate for one of Philip’s mistresses, but sport clothes, and even a practical terry-cloth bathrobe. She took the robe from the hanger and strode swiftly toward the bathroom.
Thirty minutes later she had showered, shampooed, dried her hair, and was once more standing in front of the closet trying to decide what a worldly-wise woman would select to wear for an intimate dinner for two.
“The yellow silk.” Philip’s voice made her jump. She hadn’t heard him enter. He was dressed in dark, fitted pants and a soft white shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and lean, hard waist. His dark hair was still damp from the shower and she was con scious of the familiar spicy scent of his cologne. “I told Raoul to get that particular dress for you. I like the texture of silk.”
She could have guessed that. She had never known anyone for whom tactile sensations were as important. She had a fleeting memory of Philip’s hand stroking Oedipus’s mane, his long fingers strong, yet infinitely sensitive. “All right. It doesn’t really matter.”
“On the contrary, it matters very much.” There was a glint of mischief in his eyes. “This one has a zipper. I heartily approve of zippers.” The humor suddenly faded from his face. “I imagine Sabine did too.”
“I have no idea.” She reached for the yellow dress. “We never discussed it.”
“You were too involved with experimentation to waste time on mere chitchat, no doubt,” he said silkily.
Oh Lord, Philip was definitely on the attack. She had wanted to arouse his possessiveness, but not to this extent.
She shrugged. “I suppose so.” She tried to smile teasingly at him. It was very difficult with him glowering at her like an incensed raja. “You appear to be fond of demonstrations yourself.”
“That’s different,” he said with royal disregard for logic. “You don’t belong to him.”
“And in three months I won’t belong to you either,” she said quietly. “This is strictly a temporary arrangement.” She made a mocking obeisance. “As decreed by the most honorable Sheikh El Kabbar.”
“We’ll see when the three months are up,” he said moodily. “I don’t like giving up what belongs to me.” He scowled. “And I didn’t like you fastening his cuff links. It was too . . . intimate.”
She blinked. “Fastening cuff links is intimate? Heaven forbid if I straighten a man’s tie.”
“You’re taking my displeasure very lightly. In the past you weren’t so unaffected by it.”
She wasn’t unaffected, but he mustn’t know that. Philip held too many weapons already. “You’re taking a small service far too seriously.”
“I just wanted to clarify that your services, both small and large, belong to me,” he said harshly. “I don’t share.”
“How selfish of you.” She lowered her eyes demurely. “I’ll try to remember.”
“I’ll be there to remind you if it slips your mind,” he said softly. “Be sure of it, Pandora.” He turned away. “I’ll leave you to get dressed. I have some phone calls to make.” He paused at the door. “Don’t bother to wear anything beneath the dress. I do hate to waste time.” He left the door open, and a minute later she heard the sound of his voice as he spoke on the bedroom extension. So intimate. As intimate as the last remark, which had taken her breath and frozen her to the spot with sudden shyness.
Please, not now. She was so close. She had to be bold and sure or everything would fall apart. She drew a deep, quivering breath and swiftly untied the belt of her robe.
Bold and sure. She mentally repeated the words like a litany through the almost silent candlelight dinner. Philip seemed withdrawn, even remote, as the white-clad servants brought the delicious dishes to the table that overlooked the fretted balcony. Was he still angry? She couldn’t tell by his expressionless face. It was still twilight, and the candles on the table weren’t really necessary, as the entire room was bathed with a golden light. It lent the room the luminous sepia tones of old photographs, giving the scene a strangely timeless air.
She never remembered what she ate and she knew she’d never remember the names or faces of the servants who attended them. The entire interlude seemed dreamlike, a vignette seen through a veil of antique gold. Then the table was being whisked away and Philip was handing her a crystal glass of wine as clear and golden as the twilight haze that surrounded them. The taste was golden, too, smooth and tingling on her tongue. “It’s very good,” she said as she stood up and moved to stand outside on the balcony. “Does it come from the south vineyards?”
“No, the north. They’ve been producing for over five years now.” He followed and stood at her side, looking out at the lavender-shaded hills in the distance. “We started reclaiming some of the slopes of the hills that border the Madrona Desert three years ago.”
There was an element of excitement beneath the casual statement. Evidently the irrigation project was still as much an obsession of Philip’s as when she’d left.
For as long as she could remember he had been endeavoring to turn this desert wasteland into fertile farmland. “I’d like to see it. I’ll have to take a ride up into the hills and look at what’s going on.”
He frowned. “Not alone. There have been reports of bandit raids on the villages on the Said Ababa side of the hills. They probably have a camp somewhere in the highlands. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to get back.” His lips tightened grimly. “I think I’ll just go on a little hunting party.”
“I’ll come with you.” The words were impulsive, and she almost bit her tongue.
“The hell you will,” he said curtly. “You have a more highly developed instinct for trouble than anyone I’ve ever run across. I doubt if that’s changed over the years.”
“Whatever you say.” She lowered her lashes so he couldn’t see the blaze of defiance she knew was there. “Perhaps I’ll go to the vineyards instead.”
His frown deepened. “As I remember, the last time you went there you persuaded the workers to have a moonlight grape-stomping party. My overseer was foaming at the mouth.”
“He wasn’t very reasonable.” Her lips curved with remembered laughter. “I was only trying to help. Everyone had a perfectly wonderful time.”
“Such a wonderful time that they were too exhausted to show up for work the next day,” he said dryly. “And you were just as bad off. I had to carry you home looking like something that had fallen into one of the wine vats.”
She had rested in his arms, she recalled, with her ear pressed to his heart. He had cursed her softly and emphatically with every breath, but his arms had been gentle. It had been a lovely memory to hold close when there was nothing in the world but barren loneliness. “Dancing on the grapes is a tradition.”
“Not half-ripe grapes,” he said flatly. “And not when there’s a very efficient press to do the job. You don’t go within hailing distance of the vineyards until I have time to go with you.”
She frowned mutinously. “I can’t go to the hills. I can’t go to the vineyards. Where can I go?”
“To bed, like a proper Khadim.” His hands cupped her shoulders. “Where else?”
The words shocked her back to the present and her role. “Where else, indeed?” She took his wineglass and set it, together with her own, on the balcony balustrade. Her arms went around him. Bold. She had to be bold and desirable so that he would become too aroused to stop when he . . . “Do you know that you’ve never kissed me?”
&nbs
p; “Haven’t I?” His hands were lightly massaging her shoulders through the yellow silk. “It seems as if we were beyond kisses before we even started.” His eyes were suddenly twinkling. “But if you insist . . .”
His lips touched hers. Delicate, sipping, sugar sweet and warm. So wonderfully warm. His tongue rimmed her lower lip, and she melted against him, opening her lips with a yearning that was as natural as that of the first woman. “I want you,” she murmured. “Give me all of you.”
She felt him grow rigid against her. Then his tongue was plunging into her mouth in a joust that was hotly passionate and hungry. So hungry. She was almost breathless when he raised his head.
“You’re going to get all of me,” he said thickly. “Over”—his tongue entered her mouth again, weaving an erotic spell—“and over.” His lips were buried in her hair now, and she felt his tongue enter her ear. “And over.” She was trembling, and her knees were so weak she sagged against him. Did his other women react so passionately? Probably not. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice, she thought in confusion. Shouldn’t she be doing something? She drew back a little, her hands quickly undoing the buttons of his shirt.
“Pandora.”
She looked up.
There was a tiny glimmer of amusement beneath the hunger in his face. “Don’t you think we should go inside? I’m flattered that you should be so eager, but I really dislike performing in public.”
She laughed shakily. “Well, it’s more private than the auditorium in San Francisco.” She turned and walked quickly from the balcony into the room. “You didn’t seem averse to performing there at the time.”
He followed her into the room and closed the French doors. “I’m on my own home ground now.” He took a step nearer so that he was directly behind her. With one sweeping motion, he slid down the zipper of her dress. “And I told you I won’t share you.”
And the Desert Blooms Page 4