A Summer Smile

by Iris Johansen

  She almost laughed aloud. "I'm sure," she said shakily.

  He waited no longer. He was on his feet, stripping off his clothes with an impatience that was almost savage. He was almost savage, she thought dazedly as her eyes ran over the tight powerful buttocks and the iron-hard sinews of his calves and thighs. He looked wild and barbaric, a naked, virile giant with flaming hair and beard.

  But there was nothing savage about the dark blue eyes that were looking at her with such glowing tenderness. "Lie back," he said gently. "I won't hurt

  you. I'll never hurt you. We'll go slow and easy this time." He noticed her eyes on him and he smiled. "I want you. Would you like to see how much I want you? Do you want to touch me?"

  She shook her head. "Not now." She smiled back at him. "Later, perhaps."

  "I'll look forward to it." He pushed her down on the pillows. "Do you like my body?" He was over her, looking down at her. "Does it please you?"

  "It. . . pleases me," she said haltingly. It was dif­ficult putting words together when she was con­scious only of his big hands parting her thighs and his narrowed eyes intent on her face. "You're beauti­ful, Daniel."

  "I wasn't fishing for compliments." He smiled. "I know I'm no movie idol. I just wanted to make sure I didn't scare you. I'm such a big bastard."

  He was doing it again. Why did he persist in thinking she would be frightened of him? "There's nothing frighten—"

  He had entered her with one smooth plunge, tak­ing her breath and mind and setting her body on fire. "Daniel!"

  "I can't stand it," he grated. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes so beautifully sensual that she wanted to keep looking at him forever. "It's so damn good.'' He was moving slowly, carefully, filling her with himself, filling her with beauty. "We fit so well. We were meant to be together like this. Can't you feel that, love?"

  She could feel him. She could feel the closeness and the fire and the wonder. Her hands ran over his chest, fluttering, searching mindlessly. Full, empty. Full again. Her breasts were full, too, and achingly taut with the need for more of him.

  She suddenly surged upward, taking more of him. He froze. His eyes closed. His chest was shuddering with the harshness of his breathing. "I wish you hadn't done that. I was doing so well. I was almost civilized." His lids flicked open. "I'm sorry. I tried."

  He went wild. Stroking, plunging, moving her. His words were fevered and sweet. His hands rough, yet loving on her body. It was all bold and hot and caring. It was blinding rapture. It was Daniel. Beauty, heat, and then a flame of glory.

  He collapsed in her arms, his chest moving as if he were starved for oxygen. His big fist clenched and then hit the bed with a force that shocked her. "Dammit! I blew it!"

  She was so dazed that at first she was totally bewildered. "Daniel?" Her hand tangled in the soft richness of his hair, caressing, soothing.

  His face was buried in her throat and she could feel him shaking against her. "I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I tried so hard. Don't hate me,

  Zilah."

  "Hate you!" She shook her head as if to clear it. "Why should I hate you?"

  "I wanted it to be beautiful for you, dammit. I wanted to be gentle and kind." He laughed. "I wanted to be a damn white knight."

  "You think it wasn't beautiful for me?" She couldn't believe it. "Daniel, you're a complete idiot."

  He lifted his head. "Don't try to make me feel bet­ter," he growled. "I was there, remember. I was rough as hell."

  Her lips were twitching. "You're still there," she said demurely. "And you notice I'm not objecting."

  "It's not funny. I don't see how you can laugh about it. I practically violated you." His lips were tight with pain. "No generosity can excuse that."

  "Dammit," she said clearly. "Shut up." She framed his face with her hands and looked into his

  eyes. "It was beautiful. It was a little rough, because that's a part of you. I wouldn't have done without that part of it any more than I would the gentleness and beauty that are a part of you too." She pulled his head down and kissed him hard. "I don't know where you got the idea I was so breakable, but it's not true. Understood?"

  His eyes were oddly bright. "Understood," he said gruffly. His lips covered her own with a sweetness that made her a little dizzy. He lifted his head. "All the same, I'll do better next time."

  She shook her head in exasperation. Heavens, he was stubborn. Then she felt him stir within her and she smiled delightedly. "It looks like you're going to get the opportunity very soon."

  "You're damn right." The rhythm began again, deep and lazy but just as thrilling. "That was one of my very favorite daydreams. Loving you." His words were punctuated with a thrusting movement that took her breath away. "And loving you. Over and over. Deeper and deeper. Sweeter and sweeter. Hotter and ..."

  She didn't know how much later it was when she felt his kiss on her temple. She was lying in perfect contentment, her head on his shoulder, watching moonlight filter through the fretted window across the room. The lamp was out now and there was only the darkness, the moonlight, and Daniel.

  "Well, have you decided, old friend?" he asked softly.

  "Decided?"

  "Whether it's the end of the world or the beginning?"

  She cuddled closer. "Oh, the beginning." Rebirth, sunrise, the world remade in his arms. Definitely the beginning, Daniel."

  Nine

  Those blissful feelings of renaissance and warm contentment were still with her when she opened her eyes a few hours later. It was the gray hour before dawn and she was tempted to close her eyes and go back to sleep. It was so lovely to be held like this in Daniel's arms. She snuggled closer and felt those arms tighten around her in unconscious possession.

  Last night had been wonderful and Daniel so lov­ing. Even though no words of commitment had been spoken, surely their loving meant something. His words, when he had made love to her, had been of passion and possession. Still, later, when passion was spent, he had been so marvelously gentle and caring that hope had sprung into full bloom. But she mustn't ask for too much. She had been given the lovely seeds of friendship and desire. She would nour­ish them well and pray that they would grow into love.

  The room was cool. Zilah pulled the sheet higher to cover Daniel's shoulders, careful not to wake him. She closed her eyes. Then they flicked open as a sud­den memory pierced the mists of contentment. Pandora. She felt like groaning aloud. Oh, damn, it was almost dawn, and Pandora would be at the sta­bles waiting for her.

  And if she didn't go, there was every chance that Pandora would take Oedipus out again. Not that she could prevent it anyway, she thought crossly. How­ever, there was no question that she had to try. Not only was there the possibility of Pandora being phys­ically hurt riding the big stallion, but even, if that didn't occur, Philip was sure to be angry enough to completely devastate the girl verbally.

  Although he had been surprisingly indulgent with Pandora the night before, she remembered with a touch of speculation. In fact, Zilah had been astounded at the sheikh's gentleness with Pandora. There had been a rapport between them that would have been noticeable to even the most casual onlooker.

  She didn't want to think about Philip or Pandora or anything but Daniel right now. dammit. If she had any sense, she would leave Pandora to her own willful pursuits and their consequences. She sighed in dis­couragement because even as she gave herself this very sensible advice she was cautiously removing Daniel's arm from around her and slipping out of the bed. She knew she couldn't do that. She cared about Pandora. The girl might be wild and willful, but there was an eagerness and generosity about her that were completely endearing. Zilah couldn't just ignore the fact that there was every chance Pandora would get into trouble if she wasn't there to prevent it.

  Perhaps she would be back before Daniel awoke, she thought wistfully. She quickly grabbed under-things, jeans, a longsleeved white sweatshirt, and her boots from the closet and then disappeared into the bathroom. However,
with Pandora there was no telling. She'd better leave Daniel a note.

  A short time later she was crossing the stable-yard. The sun still hadn't risen, though there were faint lavender streaks piercing the blue-gray clouds. She loved this time of the morning when the world was so silent that she could hear her footsteps on the soft turf. It reminded her of the many times she and Jess Bradford had risen at this hour and ridden out in the predawn mornings at the ranch. There was something about the quiet and serenity of this time of day that bred a comfortable companionship, a silent joining of the spirit.

  She knew at once, when she caught sight of Pandora leaning against the fence, staring blindly out into the pasture, that there would be no serene, companionable ride this morning.

  Pandora was dressed in her customary riding garb of jeans and dark ribbed sweater but that was all that was usual about her. Pandora's back was to her and Zilah couldn't read the expression on her face, but it was scarcely necessary. That back was braced with a tense rigidity as if to bear some torturous strain. She could almost see the effort the girl was making to retain control.

  "Pandora?"

  Pandora didn't turn around. "I saddled up Danc­ing Lady for you. She's still in the stall. I wasn't sure when you'd be coming. I thought I'd wait around until you got here though." She laughed shakily. "I didn't want you to think I'd stood you up."

  "Pandora, what's wrong?" Zilah had drawn next to the girl and was gazing searchingly at her averted face. "What's happened?"

  "Nothing much." Pandora's slim, nervous hands tightened on the bars of the fence. "It's just turned out that I'm not going to be around here anymore. I'm going away this morning. Philip gave me the good news when he drove me home last night. I'm to be whisked away in Philip's helicopter to Marasef and put on a plane for England. Isn't that exciting?"

  "England?" Zilah echoed, shocked. "I don't understand."

  "Don't you?" Pandora asked tautly. "Philip says that the private schools in England are very good. He's sending me to his agent in London, who's going to find just the right one for me. Philip's specified that it have a fine stable and that it specialize in training Olympic equestrian candidates. Isn't that absolutely wonderful?"

  "But why so suddenly? He didn't seem at all angry last night."

  "You don't understand." Pandora's words were coming with feverish rapidity. "This isn't a punish­ment. He's only doing what's best for me. That's what he said. This is what's best for you, Pandora.' He kept saying that over and over. He wouldn't listen to me." One hand released the bar and balled into a fist that turned her knuckles white. "He wouldn't listen to me."

  "What about your father? Doesn't he have any­thing to say about this?"

  "I told you, he does anything Philip tells him to do. If Philip told him to send me to darkest Africa to make a meal for the cannibals, he would do it."

  "England isn't so bad," Zilah said gently. "Per­haps this will be best for you. Why don't you give it a chance? Philip must have thought it was, or he wouldn't be sending you away." She felt achingly sorry for the girl. She wanted to reach out and hold her, comfort her, but that control was too fragile. It might shatter at any moment.

  Pandora muttered a curse that was charged with pain. "That' s not the reason he's sending me away," she said with a violence that had a touch of despera­tion. "I was coming too close. Philip won't let anyone come too close. He knew I'd never stop trying to make him—" She broke off and drew a deep shaky breath. "I knew that, when he was giving me all that hogwash about doing what was best for me. He just wanted to get the kid away and out of his life. He'd be safe then." She shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't even know it himself."

  "Well, if you can't do anything—"

  "The hell I can't!" Pandora turned to face her, and Zilah experienced a shock at the agony in the young girl's face. Agony and a relentless purpose. Her dark eyes were glowing with an almost incandescent strength. "He can send me away but he can't make my choices as to how I run my life. He can keep his wonderful school. I'll find my own way." She closed her eyes. "And it will be my way. I'll get over this pain," she whispered. "You'll see, I'll get over it." She opened her eyes that were glittering with unshed tears. "Good-bye, Zilah. I'll try to keep in touch."

  Then she was gone. Running across the stable-yard as if she were a creature of the night fleeing the dawn.

  Oh, God, such pain. It didn't seem fair that she. herself, was so happy and full of hope when Pandora was so miserable. She couldn't let her go without try ing to speak to her again. Perhaps Daniel could talk to Philip. . . . No, that would serve no purpose. She had an idea the sheikh was an immovable obje; when he made up his mind. It would only put a stra I on the friendship that Daniel valued so highly Pandora's father was in accord, there was nothing

  anyone could do to prevent her being sent to England. Perhaps the best thing Zilah could do would be to try to reconcile Pandora to the idea and offer her all the support she could give her.

  Zilah suddenly had no desire to go riding. All she wanted to do was go back to Daniel's arms, where she felt so secure. Where she could experience again that hope she had known this morning. She had turned away and had already taken a few strides toward the house when she stopped suddenly. Dancing Lady. Pandora had said she had already saddled her. She'd have to go into the stable and unsaddle her. Her steps were quick with impatience as she crossed the stableyard and entered the shadowy stall-lined barn. Dancing Lady was in the first stall, and Zilah reached for the latch to open the wooden gate.

  "I thought for a few minutes you were going to disappoint me."

  She froze. Her heart stopped and then started beating again in double-time. Hassan!

  He stepped out from behind a high stack of baled hay, his rifle held almost casually in the crook of his arm. "You looked as if you were undecided whether to come into the stable or not." He smiled mockingly, his dark eyes gleaming in the dim light. "That would have been a pity. I was getting tired of my long vigil. I've been here almost twenty-four hours, you know. I was even tempted to take the little silver-haired girl as hostage when she came in this morning to saddle the mare. I stopped only because I didn't know who she was. After waiting so long I didn't want to waste my valuable time on a nobody."

  "How did you know I was here?" Zilah asked jerkily.

  "This is a very small world and the sheikh and his guests are of prominent interest to the residents. I asked a few discreet questions in the bazaar." His

  hand tightened on the stock of the rifle. "I listened and I watched. I even saw you and Seifert at a dis­tance on one of your early morning rides a few days ago. Did you know this rifle has a telescopic sight?" His palm rubbed the wood caressingly. "I can't tell you how close I was to killing Seifert. But it wouldn't have done me any good to kill him if you got away. Then they would have gotten scared and moved you to Zalandan right away."

  "You still think you can get away with holding me hostage?" Zilah shook her head. "It didn't work last time." She lifted her chin. "Daniel made fools of you and your men."

  "He caught us off guard," Hassan snarled. "It won't happen again." A wavering ray of light flickered into the dimness and she could see him more clearly. The sight wasn't encouraging. He looked wild, des­perate, and very deadly. His madras shirt and black pants were dirty and stained and he had a dark stub­ble on his thin cheeks.

  "They've already caught the other three men and they'll catch you too." Hassan had stiffened at her words. "You didn't know that, did you? They caught them yesterday morning."

  "They were cowards and fools. They gave up before the game was half played." Hassan's lips twisted. "Now that I have you, the game begins again with a brand new deck of cards. This time I'll have to think of something to do to you to convince Ben Raschid that the game is to be played in earnest."

  Zilah felt a chill of terror run down her spine. "But you don't have me." She tried to keep her voice steady. "How do you expect to get me away from the compound? Someone is sure to see you."
/>   "Then they'll also see the gun at your back." He smiled faintly. "And I doubt if they'll interfere."

  "Zilah, I'm glad I caught you," Daniel said as he entered the stable. He was grinning and his voice was light and teasing. "What the devil do you mean run­ning out—" He broke off as he saw the tenseness in her figure.

  He stiffened, his body automatically tautening with the instinct of a jungle animal sensing danger. Then his gaze discovered the threatening figure in the deeper shadows to the left of the door. He uttered a low, violent curse.

  "Ah, our special envoy, Mr. Seifert," Hassan said silkily. "This is an unexpected pleasure. I thought I was going to have to demand your head as part of the ransom of my brother, but now that won't be necessary."

  "You're a fool, Hassan. Clancy Donahue has half the agents on the security team scouring the prov­ince for you. You'll never get away with it," Daniel said roughly. "If you're smart, you'll run like hell and only hope it's fast enough."

  "I don't give up that easily. My brother is rotting in that tyrant's prison in Marasef." Hassan's eyes were flickering wildly in his taut face. "The others may give in, but I will not." He gestured with the rifle. "Get away from that door."

  Daniel hesitated and then moved slowly to stand beside Zilah at the stall. He watched with narrowed eyes while Hassan edged sidewise until he was stand­ing in front of the open stable door facing them.

  Hassan smiled with satisfaction. "Now, come along, my pretty whore, we have a long way to go."

  Daniel took an impulsive step forward and then stopped as the barrel of the rifle lifted. "I'm going to kill you." Daniel's voice was deadly certain. "I hope you know that, Hassan. You're building your own funeral pyre, stick by stick."

  "Am I?" A mocking smile touched Hassan's lips again. "I seem to have drawn blood. Is it possible you feel something more than responsibility for the pretty lady? I've heard that some men form sentimental attachments to prostitutes on occasion, but I thought you were a man of discrimination."

  "Hassan ..." Daniel grated warningly between set teeth.