His lips twisted. “You’re very generous, but I was there, remember? I made a mistake, and I’m just lucky you don’t hate my guts.” He glanced up at her, a grave expression on his face. “I don’t know much about finesse, but I do know about friendship. I’ll make you a good friend if you’ll let me.” His voice was gruff. “I don’t have many real friends. It meant a hell of a lot to me when you said you wanted my friendship. I hope the offer still stands.”
“It still stands,” she said softly. It wasn’t what she had hoped for but it was better than nothing. If she worked hard at making that friendship beautiful, it might even be enough. She should know by now that life seldom handed out any prizes. “I’ll make you a good friend too, Daniel.”
“I know you will.” Still holding her gaze with his, he lifted her left palm to his lips and pressed his lips to it gently. “You’re a special lady, old friend.” He carefully lowered her hand to the bed, as if it were very fragile and might shatter. “Now, what game do you want to play? I brought Trivial Pursuit, Monopoly, and checkers.” He was leaning over her, reaching for the pile of boxes he had tossed on her bed.
“It doesn’t matter. Anything you like.” Her attention had been caught by a long, jagged scar on Daniel’s left thigh. It started above his knee and disappeared beneath the frayed edge of his cutoff jeans. “Where did you get that?”
“What?”
Her finger began to trace the puckered scar. He flinched as if she’d burned him. Her eyes flew to his face. “Is it still tender?”
He shook his head. “You just surprised me.” His voice was gritty. “It’s an old knife wound. I got it years ago.”
Her fingers followed the path of the scar up his thigh. “It looks as though it was very deep.” His thigh was so hard and muscular. It was growing even harder under her stroking finger. Was the memory of how he had received that wound causing the tension she felt in him? “Has it healed properly?”
“I think so. It hasn’t bothered me since then.” The muscles of his thigh were becoming knotted with tension. “Until now.”
“Now?” she asked. “Perhaps carrying me all that distance…”
“No.” He suddenly brushed her hand away and jumped to his feet. “It’s fine. Would you like to see the stables and the obstacle course?”
Her eyes widened. “I thought you said we were playing games today.”
“I changed my mind,” he said through his teeth. “I’m not up to a long, intimate game of Monopoly today. We’ve got to get out of here.” He disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a small portable dryer. He handed it to her. “Blow your hair dry while I hustle the servants to bring the rest of your wardrobe. I particularly specified sports clothes. I hope to heaven they sent jeans and not bikinis. Philip’s women usually aren’t into sports activity outside of the bedroom.”
“But you said I was too weak to tour the stables today.”
“You are. I’ll carry you.”
“But that’s ridiculous. I can wa-”
His hand covered her lips. “Zilah, stop arguing.” Suddenly he smiled with such warmth that it took her breath away. “Friends have to compromise. I’m giving you what you want, aren’t I? Now you have to yield an inch or two as well.”
She would have given him anything he wanted to keep him smiling at her with that roguish sweetness. She kissed his palm as gently as he had her own a moment before. “Okay,” she said softly. “An inch or so won’t hurt me. But only for today, Daniel.”
“Only for today.” He turned away and headed swiftly toward the door. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”
6
Daniel lifted Zilah easily to the top rail of the white wooden fence that separated the stableyard from the pasture. “There, you can have a bird’seye view and still not get in the way of the grooms who are exercising horses. In the morning the stable area has a tendency to get as busy as Churchill Downs before the Kentucky Derby.”
Zilah swung her leg over the rail to straddle it. Her gaze traveled eagerly over the long, low stable that was as spotless as the grounds themselves, and then crossed the fence to the lush green of the pasture, which contained a variety of obstacle jumps. “I can see that. What a wonderful place. It reminds me a little of a picture of the Calumet stables I’ve seen.”
“It should,” Daniel said dryly. “Philip’s father sent a trainer to Calumet to study methods and architecture before having this stable built. Nothing but the best for his only son.” He leaned lazily against the fence and lit a cigarette. He blew a thin stream of smoke into the air before studying her with narrowed eyes. “You seem to have livened up a bit. You were very quiet on the way from the house.” He looked down at the tip of his cigarette. “Did you get through to your mother?”
The smile faded from her face. “Yes.” She looked out at the obstacle course where a groom, who looked little more than a child, was fighting a huge black stallion for control. Despite his size, the boy seemed to be a fine horseman, she thought. “She was very happy. She said she looked forward to seeing me soon.” The words were stilted. “She cried.”
“That must have been upsetting for you,” Daniel said gently. “Are you close?”
“We used to be.” She shifted restlessly. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.” She was silent a moment before she spoke again. “She’s uncomfortable around me now. I think she still feels a sense of guilt.”
“Guilt? Why should she feel guilty?”
“She shouldn’t. I tried to tell her that.” Zilah’s hands clenched unconsciously on the rail. “She blames herself for my…illness, for leaving me with my grandmother while she was working. That’s one of the reasons I came back to Sedikhan. No one should have to live with guilt like that. I wanted to show her that I’m well and happy now.”
“And are you?”
She lifted her chin. “Of course.” Her gaze returned again to the boy on the black horse. “Look, he’s going to jump him.” She frowned. “Aren’t the bars awfully high? That must be a six-foot jump.”
Daniel’s eyes hadn’t left her face. “All of Philip’s grooms are very competent. You don’t have to worry about him.”
“He doesn’t look old enough to be that competent. He can’t be more than eleven or twelve.”
His head turned casually to glance out at the pasture. He muttered a low curse, tossed his cigarette to the ground, and crushed it beneath the heel of his boot. He was up on the rail beside her with one swift movement. “Pandora. Philip’s going to murder her.”
“That’s a distinct possibility,” Philip El Kabbar said grimly as he joined them on the bar. He had changed to tan riding pants and a white shirt. His worn black boots were of the finest leather, and he looked even more intimidating than he had earlier this morning. “If she doesn’t kill herself first.”
“Pandora? That’s a girl?” Zilah asked, surprised. The slight figure in the black ribbed sweater and frayed jeans appeared to be both wiry and strong. The gray cap pulled down over her eyes completely hid her hair and shadowed her face. It was no wonder Zilah had mistaken her for a boy.
“Her gender is debatable,” El Kabbar said. “She doesn’t recognize the fact that she’s female as yet. She knows only she’s either going to win the Olympics or be the greatest jockey since Willie Shoemaker. She hasn’t decided which choice will win her ultimate approval.”
“Pandora Madchen,” Daniel supplied. “She’s the daughter of Karl Madchen, the doctor Philip imported to set up a dispensary here at the compound.”
“Correction. She’s the devil’s daughter,” the sheikh said. His eyes were narrowed intently on the small figure bent low over the horse’s neck as she urged him toward the jump. “The gypsies must have left her.”