And the Desert Blooms

by Iris Johansen

  “Now,” he said. “Do you think I’m enjoying this? I planned it all quite coolly. Inviting your father was to be the pièce de résistance, the crowning touch that would remove you from my life. I didn’t know it would all go wrong.” His voice was low and strained. “I didn’t know it would hurt me too.”

  “Philip, I can’t . . .” There was a loosening, a melting, deep inside her, and suddenly the tears were running down her cheeks. “It’s the coldness I’ve never been able to bear. I’ve always known he didn’t love me. I don’t think he’s capable of loving anyone.” Her nervous hands were running restlessly up and down his chest. “I think marrying my mother was some kind of experiment for him. No wonder she divorced him. If she’d stayed with him, she probably would have frozen to death.” She wiped her cheeks childishly on the crisp front of his shirt. “I’m sorry. I’m getting you all wet.”

  “I’ll survive,” he said gently. “Some people are born with something missing, Pandora. It’s like being blind or crippled. It’s not your fault that he doesn’t have the capability of responding to affection.”

  “I think I know that now.” Her words were muffled against his chest. “It took me a long time to work it out. There were always just the two of us, moving from place to place. I guess I was lonely. I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t love me.” Her voice was suddenly fierce with passion. “I loved him so much. It wouldn’t have hurt him to love me just a little. I got so tired of being pushed away.”

  Philip felt a strange tightening in his chest. How incredibly painful that rejection must have been for the wild, passionate child Pandora had been.

  “But I got over it.” She laughed shakily. “I suppose you won’t believe that after the way I fell apart so badly just now. It was the shock, I guess. He was very polite to me. He said it was silly to pretend an attachment that didn’t exist, but that we could talk again.” Her hand clenched on his shirtfront. “Perhaps I should ask him over for a spot of tea. He tells me that he doesn’t mind my being your mistress as long as I don’t come running to him when you tell me to hit the road.”

  Philip muttered a violent curse beneath his breath and his arms tightened around her. “How broadminded of him.” He pushed her away, then his hands came up to frame her face as he looked down at her. “You really know how to pick the men in your life, don’t you? You’d think that after growing up with an iceman like Madchen, you’d learn to discriminate between the people who are willing to give love and those who aren’t.”

  “I didn’t have any choice with you, Philip. It was just”—she made a helpless little motion with one hand—“there.”

  He closed his eyes. “Oh, dear God. I don’t want this. I won’t have it. You can’t do this to me.” He opened his eyes, and they contained the fierce rebellion of a caged hawk. “I’m not going to love you, Pandora. No matter how long you stay, you’ll never be more to me than a body to warm my bed. Why don’t you go away and save yourself a lot of grief? You’re not meant to live like that.”

  “I can’t go away,” she whispered. Her eyes were glittering with unshed tears. “I have to try.”

  “And put us both through hell,” he said flatly. “I hurt you tonight. I’ll hurt you again. Give up.”

  “No,” she said. She was almost numb with weariness. “There’s no use your trying to talk me out of it, Philip. I’d like to go to sleep now, if you don’t mind. I’m very tired.” She had a sudden thought. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about wanting to make love to me?”

  His lips twisted in a smile that held pain rather than humor. “Such a willing little Khadim.” His hand brushed her cheek gently. “Go to sleep. I don’t want you tonight.” It was a lie. His body was as aroused and ready as it had been the night before. He was finding it impossible to be near her without such a reaction taking place. One finger traced the shadows beneath her eyes. “Maybe I’m getting old.”

  Her lips curved in a smile that caused his heart to jerk. “Oh no, not you, Philip.” She turned her head and her lips were soft as they touched his palm. “Not you.”

  “Pandora . . .” He stopped. When he spoke again his words were halting. “It’s not that you’re not worthy of love. In spite of what you’ve experienced with your father, you mustn’t think that. You have more value than any woman I’ve ever known. You have intelligence and drive and heart. It could be that I’m like your father. Perhaps there’s something missing.”

  “I won’t believe that.” She nestled her cheek in his palm. “I want to tell you something. When I was a little girl I was always reading myths. I guess it was a natural interest, considering my name. I never liked the one about Pandora, but something about the tale of Persephone fascinated me. She was the daughter of Demeter, the earth mother, and was stolen by Pluto, the god of the underworld. Her mother refused to allow one grain of wheat to grow on earth until she was returned. Man would have perished from starvation if Zeus hadn’t persuaded Pluto to let her go. They made a deal: Persephone was to spend three seasons on earth, during which time the earth would bloom and bear fruit. The other season she would return to Pluto in the underworld and the earth would be plunged into winter.” Her gaze was pensive, far away. “I always felt a little sorry for Pluto. Perhaps all he wanted was his share of the blooming. I always hoped that Persephone brought it with her when she came to stay with him in the underworld. We all need our own time for blossoming.” She kissed his palm again. “When I first met you, you reminded me a little of Pluto, imprisoned forever in a barren world. I’ve always wanted to bring you spring. I know how empty a winter world can be.” Her voice was suddenly wistful. “I can do that, Philip. You’re not like my father. Please, let me come in and try.”

  He was silent for a long moment. “Pandora, I can’t.” The words were torn from him. “Don’t you see that?”

  “No, I don’t see that,” she said with a weary sigh. She closed her eyes. “I think I’ll sleep now.”

  Oh Lord, the stubbornness of her. He felt exasperation mixed with an aching tenderness wash over him. His hands pulled her head to rest on his shoulder. He kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose. “Yes, you go to sleep. Hostilities are definitely ended for tonight.”

  “I’m not hostile toward you.” She didn’t open her eyes. “I couldn’t be. You’re the only one who’s fighting, Philip.” She cuddled closer, and then stiffened. “I forgot. You don’t like to sleep with anyone. It’s all right to leave me. I’ll be perfectly fine now.”

  “I’m sure you will.” His arms tightened protectively around her. “I just don’t happen to want to let you go at the moment.” His lips touched her forehead. “Merely a whim, you understand. Pluto and I have been known to have them.”

  She laughed softly. “Yes, you have.” She relaxed against him. “Well, whenever you want to leave, just go.”

  “I will,” he promised. “Go to sleep.”

  She nestled deeper into his embrace. “Good night, Philip. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Pandora.”

  He would get up soon and undress and put out the lights, but he knew he wouldn’t leave her tonight. She was too vulnerable, in too much pain that he, himself, had inflicted. Strange, after all these years of living for himself, that he would want to soothe another’s pain. Strange . . . and threatening.

  Yet he knew, even if there was danger in it, that there was no question he was going to do it. But only because he wanted to. It was a whim, just as he had told her. Tomorrow, when they were both on an even keel, would be soon enough to lift his guard again.

  SIX

  RAOUL WAS WAITING for him in the stableyard. It was the fourth time in the last two weeks that the servant had felt compelled to meet him as soon as Philip rode in from the irrigation project. There was a worried expression on Raoul’s face. Philip felt a sudden tension grip him and forced himself to relax. Pandora. It had to be Pandora, but it was probably nothing more than one of her usual brouhahas.

  He swung dow
n from the saddle and threw the reins to the waiting groom. “Well?” he asked tersely. “What now?”

  “It’s Miss Madchen,” Raoul said hesitantly.

  “I guessed that.” Philip’s tone was caustic as he set off briskly for the house. “It’s always Pandora. What precisely has she done now?”

  “She has a baby.”

  Philip stopped in midstride. “Would you mind repeating that? Very slowly.”

  “She came back from the bazaar this morning with an infant,” Raoul said unhappily. “I’m afraid the house is in something of a turmoil.”

  “She bought a baby at the bazaar?”

  “No, I think she found it.” Raoul’s wide forehead creased in a frown. “At least I believe that’s what she said. Everything was very confusing at the time.”

  Philip shook his head. Only Pandora was able to bewilder his usually tranquil servant to this extent. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  Raoul nodded reluctantly. “She also brought some people with her. I gathered they have something to do with the baby.”

  “People?”

  “A snake charmer, two street musicians, a water vendor, and a young woman who is doing a great deal of caterwauling.” His expression was pained. “She has a most distressingly shrill voice.”

  “Oh, my Lord. Why the hell did you let them all in?”

  Raoul shrugged helplessly. “Miss Madchen was quite determined.”

  “Miss Madchen is always determined. That doesn’t mean you can’t say no.”

  “I seem to have problems there. She’s very difficult to refuse when she wants something.”

  Philip couldn’t argue with that. In the two weeks Pandora had been back in Sedikhan she had managed to turn his normally serene household upside down. She had been in so many scrapes, both in the bazaar and in the village, that he had been tempted to confine her to his compound. Obviously he should have done just that before this occurrence. A baby, for heaven’s sake!

  “I’m sure it was all done for the best of reasons,” Raoul offered tentatively. “Miss Madchen is a very warmhearted young lady.”

  “That’s generous of you,” Philip said dryly. “Particularly since there’s every chance you’ll have to baby-sit this infant as you did that tiger cub six years ago.”

  “Oh dear, I hope not. I know very little about babies.” He brightened. “Miss Madchen appears to be very attached to him. Perhaps she may want to take care of the child herself.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Philip muttered. He took the front stairs two steps at a time. “Where is she?”

  “In the front salon,” Raoul said. “There wasn’t room in her suite.”

  Philip heard the music as soon as he entered the foyer. If you could call it music. There was some kind of stringed instrument fighting for dominance over the boom of a drum. Philip grimaced. “And you said the woman was shrill?”

  “You haven’t heard her yet,” Raoul said gloomily.

  Philip heard her a moment later, a loud wailing that was enough to set his nerves on edge. “Damn, couldn’t you shut her up?”

  “Miss Madchen appeared to think it was a healthy outlet.”

  “She would.” Philip was striding swiftly down the hall toward the salon. “Order the car ready, Raoul. We’re about to clean house.”

  “Oh yes, sir. That would be splendid,” Raoul said with heartfelt relief. “I’ll see to it at once.”

  The sight that met Philip’s eyes when he walked into the salon was enough to set his head spinning.

  Two musicians dressed in brightly striped robes were sitting in the center of the Aubusson carpet, one playing a zither, the other a kettledrum. The wailing woman was huddled in a heap on the couch, her face covered with a portion of her brown robe. The scarlet-garbed water vendor, with his traditional girdle of copper cups and goatskin water bag, was arguing volubly with a young man in a white turban by the window. In the midst of the tempest, Pandora sat cross-legged on the floor by the musicians, calmly playing with a dark-haired baby of perhaps seven months.

  “Pandora.” Philip tried to keep his voice level. “Would you be so good as to tell me what is going on here?”

  She looked up with an expression of relief. “Oh, Philip, I’m so glad you’re home.” She jumped to her feet, snatched up the baby, and hurried across the room. “They won’t listen to me. I showed them the medallion, but I’m a woman and they don’t seem to have the least respect for our sex. I don’t really think Hanar likes the idea of the snakes, but they won’t listen to her either, and she’s afraid of her father-in-law.” She stopped to catch her breath. “You run this damn country. Tell them they can’t do it.”

  “Can’t do what?” he asked blankly.

  “Put a snake in his playpen,” Pandora said impatiently. “I don’t care if it is only a harmless little grass snake. It can’t be sanitary.” She shivered. “Besides, the whole idea is creepy.” Her hand was rubbing the baby’s back caressingly. “Imagine putting one of those things in with this darling.”

  “I don’t want to imagine anything at all,” he said, trying to hold on to his patience. “I want to be told, very clearly and precisely.”

  “But I am telling you,” she said indignantly. “They put a snake in the baby’s playpen. There was actually one curled up on the mat sleeping in the sun when I first saw the baby by the booth at the bazaar, but I snatched it out and threw it away.”

  “It’s obvious that we’re going to have to play question and answer.” He stabbed his finger at the weeping woman, who broke off in midwail, her eyes wide with apprehension. “Who’s that?”

  “Hanar, the baby’s mother. She’s really quite nice, if a trifle wishy-washy.”

  “The one who is afraid of her father-in-law and allows snakes to be put in the baby’s playpen. Now, who is the father in question?”

  Pandora pointed to the young man standing by the window being berated by the huge, bearded water vendor. “Beldar, the snake charmer, and that’s his father, Damien, the water vendor.”

  Philip gestured to the musicians sitting on the floor, then gritted his teeth as the zither emitted a particularly shrill shriek. “Do they have to do that?”

  “Well, I couldn’t stop them. They’re Beldar’s brothers and absolutely crazy about the baby. It’s the first boy born in the family. They think their music soothes the baby.” She glanced down at the docile little boy in her arms. “You know, they may be right. Maybe he has a thing for heavy metal.”

  “Well, I do not,” Philip said decisively. “Now that we have the cast of characters, let’s have the scenario. You were at the bazaar this morning. You saw the snake in the baby’s playpen and you took it out. What happened next?”

  “Beldar came running up and tried to put it back in the playpen.” Pandora’s eyes were flashing with indignation. “I couldn’t let him do that, could I? So I snatched up the baby and brought him here, until we could pound some sense into Beldar’s head. He picked up the rest of the family as we went through the bazaar. I really think it’s his father’s fault. According to Hanar, he’s very ambitious for his sons.”

  “Why does Beldar want the snake in the playpen?” The absurd picture was at last becoming clear. Only a few more pieces to the puzzle and he would be able to restore order to this madhouse.

  “His father told him he should do it to get the baby accustomed to reptiles. You see, Beldar’s the success in the family, and his father wants the baby to follow in Beldar’s footsteps.” She lowered her voice. “Just between you and me, those musicians will never make it beyond the poverty level.”

  “I can see why. Their music has all the charm of a rusty nail being scraped across a blackboard.”

  “That’s why Damien wants his grandson to go into the snake-charming business,” Pandora said reasonably. “I can see that. Musicians have to be damn good to make it, while snake charmers don’t have to—”

  “Pandora,” Philip interrupted. “Just tell me what I have to do to
get these people out of my salon.”

  “It’s very simple. Just do the voodoo you do so well. In short, intimidate the hell out of them. Make them promise not to put a snake back into the baby’s playpen on pain of instant beheading or something.”

  “Is that all? Why didn’t you say so?” He brushed by her and strode into the center of the confusion. Pandora jiggled the baby on her hip as she watched Philip draw a royal cloak of arrogance about himself. No one could be more menacing than Philip when he set his mind to it. He moved from the musicians to the snake charmer to the water vendor to the weeping mother, speaking incisively and leaving no room for argument. Then he crossed back to Pandora and took the baby from her arms. “Stand aside,” he said. “I hope we’re going to have a parade.”

  She shifted to the side of the archway. He put the baby in the chastened mother’s arms and returned to stand beside Pandora. He crossed his arms over his chest, his legs slightly astride. She had a sudden vision of Yul Brynner standing in that same pose in The King and I and had to smother a smile. All they needed was the “March of the Siamese Children,” but thank heavens these musicians weren’t going to supply it. They were scrambling to their feet and snatching up their instruments. The two men nodded nervously to her as they practically ran out of the room. Damien followed, scowling, his shoulders set and proud. The last to leave were Beldar with Hanar and the baby. The young mother gave her a tentative smile and scurried from the room.

  “You did that very well.” Pandora turned to Philip with a satisfied smile. “Of course, I’ll have to go visit the booth periodically to make sure they don’t backslide.”

  “No! I don’t want you anywhere near that clan again.”

  “But I can’t just let—”

  He held up his hand. “I’ll send a man down to check it out every other day,” he said. “But you stay out of it.”

  “If you insist.” Her expression was suddenly wistful. “I would like to see the baby again, though. Wasn’t he sweet? Such big, dark eyes . . .” She broke off as her gaze fell on something across the room. “Oh, dear.”