And the Desert Blooms (9 page)

Her expression was so earnest when she told him she wouldn’t try to seduce him, Philip thought ruefully. Didn’t she realize that her hand on his arm was doing just that? Just a touch and his body was hardening, readying itself. “You said I didn’t have women friends,” he reminded her with a faint smile.

“I’d like to be the exception.” Her hand tightened on his forearm. “Dammit, Philip, you know you’re going to want me to stay in your life in some way or other. Why don’t you admit it and behave sensibly? Maybe friendship is the way you can have me and your precious isolation too.” Her voice softened. “And if not, then there’s no harm done, and we’ll still have had a pleasanter time than the last two weeks.”

It was a mistake. Yet he knew he was going to make it. She was right. He was not going to be able to let her go entirely. She was too closely woven into the fabric of his life.

He reached out slowly and covered her hand with his own. “I’ve always known you were an exception to almost every rule,” he said lightly. “Why not this one?”

The tension flowed out of her. “You mean it?” Her dark eyes were suddenly blazing with joy. “Oh, Philip, you won’t be sorry. It will be beautiful, you’ll see. We’ll have such good times and do so many things together. We’ll talk and ride and—”

He threw back his head and laughed. His eyes were warm and dancing as he looked down at her. She didn’t think she’d ever seen them so warm. “So much for staying meekly out of my way until I have time for you in the evenings. I should have known it wouldn’t last long.”

She grinned back at him. Happiness was bubbling through every vein in a golden tide. “I’ll be so good, you won’t know me. I won’t bother you at all and—”

His fingers covered her lips again. “I don’t want a meek little Pandora prowling around, trying not to bother me.” He grimaced. “Which is a good thing, considering that pose wouldn’t last more than a day or two anyway.” His expression was suddenly gentle. “Just be yourself.”

“Okay. But in case you haven’t noticed, I can be a little difficult on occasion.”

“I can tolerate that. As I said, I’ve had a good deal of practice.” His fingers dropped from her lips. “I believe I’m fairly easy to get along with.” He frowned. “That was a most unladylike snort. It’s quite true, you know. I have only one requirement for my friends.”

“Really?” she asked warily. “And what’s that?”

His stance was majestic, but his eyes held an elusive twinkle. “That they absolutely do
not
bring cobras into my salon.”

Pandora slipped from the back of the chestnut horse and flipped the reins over his head. “Let’s stop here for just a minute,” she said over her shoulder as she ran to the edge of the cliff. She stood there, her eyes eagerly wandering over the scene below. “If you don’t mind, that is,” she added politely.

“Would it make any difference?” Philip drawled as he swung off Oedipus and strolled over to join her at the edge of the precipice. “I’ve seen that look on your face before.”

“Just for a little while.” She dropped down on the ground and crossed her legs tailor fashion. “You’ve seen all this before, but it’s the first time for me.” Her gaze traveled eagerly over the carefully terraced slopes of green and brown that encircled the valley below. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It’s more than that,” Philip said quietly. “It’s productive and life-giving. When the oil is gone it will still be here furnishing grain and a livelihood for thousands of families. It took four long years, but we’ll have a good harvest this fall.” His expression was suddenly alight with eagerness. “Do you realize what a miracle is happening here? One pure, crystal drop of water and the desert blooms.” His voice deepened with intensity. “It
blooms,
Pandora.”

“I’m glad. You’ve worked very hard for that harvest.” She felt a sudden rush of love for him. He cared so much, worked himself into exhaustion for the people in his province. How could he possibly think he was lacking in the capacity for emotion?

It was only in his personal life that he forbade warmth and caring. For the last two weeks she had been permitted past his defenses, and she had been filled with a delight that was close to euphoria. They had talked and listened to music. Taken long walks on the estate and in the bazaar. Ridden together, eaten together. She had even made the supreme sacrifice and had taken a stab at learning mah-jongg, a game that Philip was practically fanatical about. He had been surprisingly patient and, given a hundred years or so, she might even begin to like the damn game.

But none of it really mattered. All that mattered was the laughter and warmth between them. How wonderful it was to stand on equal footing with him at last. No longer a child or an enemy, but a woman he treated with surprising respect.

“What are you smiling about?” He sat down beside her, drawing up his knees and linking his arms loosely about them. His gaze of mock suspicion was fixed on her face. “I’ve learned through the years to be wary when you’re particularly pleased about something.”

“I was thinking that you’re not nearly the chauvinist you pretend to be,” she said lightly. “And that pleases me very much. I think you have more appreciation for women than you think.”

“I have an appreciation for a certain few of your sex. I wouldn’t want you to think I lack in discrimination. For instance, I find there are several aspects of your character that are admirably masculine.”

“Masculine?” She repeated the word warily.

He nodded. “Determination, a sense of fair play, honesty. Given time, you might develop a good many others.”

“Oh Lord, I spoke too soon.” She covered her eyes with her hand. “Shades of Henry Higgins. But I’m no Eliza Doolittle, thank you. I think I brought myself up very well, and, if any further finishing is necessary, I’ll do it myself too.”

He snapped his fingers. “Independence. I knew I’d left out one of your laudable masculine virtues.”

She shook her head. “Impossible,” she murmured. “Utterly impossible.”

His eyes were innocent as he said with deliberate misunderstanding, “Not impossible. It’s improbable a woman should have such qualities, but not—”

“Philip!” she said warningly, and then threw back her head and laughed helplessly. “I give up. You’ll never change.”

“How perceptive of you to realize that. My ideas and responses have been set far too long to change now. They will bend a little, perhaps, but they won’t snap.”

It was a warning. A flash of pain pierced through the happiness that surrounded her like a glowing cloud. No, she wouldn’t let herself worry about tomorrow. Today was too beautiful to spoil. Philip did care for her. He had enjoyed these last days as much as she had. In the last week he hadn’t even mentioned her leaving. Perhaps he was closer to a breakthrough than he imagined.

“I wouldn’t admit that if I were you. A set mind is a closed mind.” She smiled. “And a closed mind locks out all kinds of intriguing impossibilities that might become possible”—she paused—“someday.”

He shook his head. “Fairy-tale thinking.”

“Maybe.” She suddenly rose to her feet in one lithe motion. “And maybe not.” She strode briskly toward the waiting horses. “I’m hungry, aren’t you? I’m definitely ready for breakfast. I’ll race you back.”

He stood up and followed her at a more leisurely pace. “All this energy.” He shook his head. “Where do you get it?”

She grinned at him as she mounted the chestnut. “I manufacture it at night. The elves have set up a magic spinning wheel in my room, and all night long I spin strands of energy to use the next day.” The smile faded as she met his gaze. “But it happens only after midnight, when the rest of the world is asleep. You’re invited to come in and watch. The elves won’t mind.” Her voice lowered to just above a whisper. “I won’t either.”

She saw his hand tighten on the saddle, and something flared hot and bright in his eyes.

Then his expression was once again veiled. He swung up into the saddle. “I don’t think that would be such a good idea. Magic has a tendency to disappear when disbelievers appear on the scene. You’d better continue your spinning on your own.”

She mustn’t let the rejection hurt so much. She knew he was wary of the effect she had on him physically. He had avoided touching her as if she were a plague victim. She could feel the tension in him whenever he brushed against her accidentally. She had thought, at first, that it was her imagination, that she was seeing her own desire reflected in him. But the signs were there, occurring too often to be mistaken. He wanted her. Why the devil wouldn’t he give in and take her?

“Well, if you insist.” She kicked the chestnut into a trot. “It’s your loss. But you don’t know what you’re missing.”

She was wrong. He knew exactly what he was missing, and that was the problem, he thought grimly. Perhaps this damnable abstinence would have been easier if he didn’t know just how velvety her skin felt to the touch or how wonderfully tight she was around him as he moved . . . He felt the familiar heat begin to build in him and he checked the thought. He was having a difficult enough time resisting the emotional tumult of Pandora’s nearness without risking a sexual maelstrom.

Pandora had reined in several yards away and was looking back over her shoulder in puzzlement. “What’s wrong?” Her face lit with a teasing grin. “Having trouble keeping up, Philip?”

He started to laugh. His eyes were suddenly dancing as he spurred after her down the road. “That’s an entirely subjective matter,” he said solemnly. “There are any number of ways of looking at it.”

She frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Never mind. It’s an in joke.” He chuckled. “Or should I say, it’s an up joke?” He had drawn abreast of her and was passing her in a cloud of dust. “What did you say about a race?”

The telephone call came when they were halfway through breakfast.

Pandora looked at Raoul in surprise. “For me? Who is it?”

“A Mr. Neal Sabine,” Raoul said. “He’s calling from Paris.”

“Paris? What on earth is he doing in Paris?” she wondered aloud as she pushed back her chair. She was aware of Philip’s sudden stiffening across the table from her.

“You’re obviously going to jump up and run to find out,” Philip said caustically. “You could call him back after breakfast.”

“I’d die of curiosity before then. Besides, it might be important.”

“What could be so important?” Philip’s expression was forbidding. “You said you were through with Nemesis.” His lips twisted. “Evidently that didn’t include Sabine.”

Oh heavens, Philip was going to be difficult. Why did this have to happen when everything was going so beautifully? Well, she’d just have to soothe him when she finished talking to Neal. She stood up. “Neal’s my friend. He’s done a good deal for me over the years. I’m never ‘through’ with friends,” she said as she turned away. “I’ll take the call in the library and be right back.”

“Don’t hurry.” Philip took a sip of coffee, his expression hard. “We wouldn’t want you to slight your ‘friend’ in any way.”

She gave a helpless shrug. “I’ll be right back,” she repeated as she strode swiftly out of the breakfast room.

She returned a little over fifteen minutes later. There was a worried frown on her face as she sat down opposite him. She took a sip of coffee. It was cold. She made a face and set the cup down in the saucer and pushed it away.

“Well?” Philip asked with a cool smile. “How is your old friend?”

“Not so good.” She took a deep breath and said in a rush, “I have to fly to Paris today.”

His face showed both shock and pain before he wiped it clean of expression. “Really?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Philip, don’t freeze me out like this,” she said impatiently. “I’ve
got
to go. Neal, Gene, and Pauly are in Paris trying to put together a European tour. They have a new lead singer.” She smiled fleetingly. “Neal said she has a great voice, but my legs are better.”

“If they have a new singer, why do they need you?” She was going away. She was leaving him just as—He blocked the thought out and ignored the wild explosion of pain that seared through him. He kept his features carefully expressionless as he tried to fortify himself against the corrosive agony he knew so well.

“Dubois, the promoter, is giving them problems. He doesn’t want to invest heavily in an unknown.” Her face was earnest. “It’s important that everything about the tour be first-rate. It can be very traumatic careerwise for a group to lose its lead singer. A triumphant European tour would give them the clout to ask for big bucks when they return to the U.S.” She paused. “Dubois always liked me. He handled our first tour after Nemesis was formed. Neal thinks I can persuade him to take a chance on the new girl too. It’s worth a try.”

“Is it?” He pushed back his chair and stood up. “Then, of course, you must go. I’ll tell Raoul to have the plane readied while you pack.”

She felt a little shiver of panic run through her at the impersonal way he was speaking. “I have to go, Philip. It isn’t as if I want to run off to Paris. I’ll fly in today, see Dubois tonight, and be back tomorrow evening at the latest.”

He shook his head. “No.”

She went still. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t come back. I don’t want you here.” There was suppressed anger beneath the coldness of his words. “I don’t want you in my life. I’ve told you that before.”

Agony ripped through her. “You do want me. I know you do.” Her chin lifted defiantly. “I’ll be back tomorrow night and everything will be the same. You’ll see.”

His lips twisted. “Don’t count on it. You know I seldom keep a woman for more than a month. Be sure to take that pretty trinket I gave you in San Francisco. There won’t be any more forthcoming.”

“You know I don’t want your damn gifts,” she whispered. “Why are you doing this to me?”

A shadow of pain passed over his face. Then it was gone. “Don’t come back,” he said again. “You’ll regret it if you do.”

“I’ll be home tomorrow evening,” she said huskily. “I’m not going to let you do this to us, Philip.”

“This is my home, not yours,” he said as he turned away. “You’re an outsider here. Remember that, Pandora.” He didn’t look at her again as he strode out of the room.