She turned to the books, picking them up one by one. There were Shakespeare, Defoe, Homer.... Some she had read before, and some were by authors she'd never heard of. Lying beside the books was a beautifully carved ivory comb-and-brush set.
Christina was delighted. She felt like a small child on her birthday receiving an abundance of presents that would last until another birthday came. Philip had been standing behind her, watching her joy at the surprise. She swung around to face him now, her eyes a soft blue-green again surrounded by their dark ring.
"Are these for me?" she inquired demurely, running her hand over a bolt of soft blue velvet that matched her eyes.
"They were, but I don't know if I should give them to you after the way you have been acting," he said.
His eyes gave no clue whether he was teasing her or not. She suddenly felt desperate.
"Please, Philip! I'll die without anything to occupy my time."
"Perhaps you could give me something in return," he replied huskily.
"You know I can't. Why must you torture me so?"
"You jump to conclusions, my sweet. What I had in mind was a kiss—an honest kiss with some feeling in it."
Christina took one more look at the bounty of goods on the couch. What harm could one little kiss do, she thought, if it would get her what she wanted? She came to him and waited, eyes closed, but he did nothing. She opened her eyes and stared into his amused ones.
"I asked you to give the kiss, my lady, with feeling." He smiled down at her.
After a moment's hesitation, Christina put her arms around his neck and drew his lips down to hers. She opened her mouth to his. The kiss began softly, then his tongue penetrated deeply. The butterfly feeling came over her again, but this time she didn't fight it. His arms went around her, crushing her body to his. She could feel the hardness between his legs as he lowered his lips to leave a trail of fire across her neck.
Philip picked her up and began to carry her into the bedroom. Christina started to struggle.
"A kiss was all you asked for! Please put me down," she begged.
"Damn you, woman! The time will come when you'll gladly go with me. I promise you that"
He set her down and went outside. A smile crossed Christina's lips when she saw that she'd won again. But how long did she have before her luck ran out? Philip's kiss stirred something in her that she didn't understand. It left her empty, wanting something more, but she didn't know what.
After a few minutes, Philip came back into the room, followed by a girl who brought in the evening supper. When she left, Philip spoke harshly.
"We will eat now, and afterward I'll take you to meet my father. He has been expecting us."
They ate silently, but Christina was too nervous to enjoy the meal. She was a little afraid of meeting Philip's father. If he was anything like his son, then she had much to fear.
"Couldn't this meeting be put off for a few days until I can make something more presentable to wear than this?" she asked.
Philip frowned at her. "My father has lived his whole life here. He's not used to fancy gowns and dresses on women. What you're wearing will be quite suitable for the occasion."
"And whose clothes am I wearing? Did they belong to your last mistress?" Christina asked distastefully.
"You have a sharp tongue, Tina. The clothes belong to Amine, the girl who brought in the food. Amine is the wife of Syed, one of my distant cousins."
Christina felt ashamed, but she wasn't about to admit it
"Shall we go? My father is eager to meet you."
Philip took her hand and led her to a smaller tent to the right of his. They entered, and she saw an old man sitting on the floor in the middle of the tent
"Come in, my children. I have been looking forward to this meeting." The old man beckoned them to enter.
Philip led her across the room and sat down on a sheepskin across from his father, pulling her down beside him.
"I would like you to meet Christina Wakefield," Philip said to his father, then looked to her. "My father, Sheik Yasir Alhamar."
"You must stop calling me sheik, Abu. It is you who are the sheik now," Philip's father scolded.
"I shall always think of you as sheik, my father. Do not ask me to stop addressing you with respect."
"Well, it does not matter between us. So this is the woman that you could not live without," Yasir said, staring intently at Christina. "Yes, I can see why you had to have her. You are a pleasure to look at, Christina Wakefield. I hope you will give me many beautiful grandchildren before I die."
Christina's eyes flew open wide, and her face quickly turned a becoming shade of pink. "Grandchildren! Why, I—"
Philip cut her off abruptly. "You will say no more." He glared at her, daring her to disobey him.
"It is all right, Abu. I can see that your Christina still has a lot of fight in her. Your mother was the same way when I first brought her to my camp. Only I was not so kind as you, for I had to beat her once."
Christina gasped in horror, but Yasir smiled at her knowingly.
"This shocks you, Christina Wakefield? Well, it did not sit well with me, either, after the deed was done. You must understand that I had been drinking heavily at the time and was in a blind rage because she was flirting openly with the men of my camp. She admitted to me afterward that she had been purposely trying to make me jealous enough to marry her.
"I never raised a hand against her after that, and we married the very next day. I had five treasured years with her, and she gave me my sons, Abu and Abin. But she could not endure the desert heat, so when she begged to go home, I could not refuse her. I still grieve over her death. I always will."
Philip's father had a sorrowful look in his dark-brown eyes, as if he were remembering those long-ago years of happiness. He only nodded, without looking at them, when Philip said they would come again.
Christina felt sorry for Yasir, who had had only five years with the woman he loved, but she had no such feelings for Philip. When they returned to his tent, she faced him with flashing dark-blue eyes.
"I will not give him grandchildren!" she stormed.
"What?" Philip laughed at her. "That's just an old man's dream. I don't expect you to give me any children. That's not why I brought you here."
"Then why did you bring me here?" Christina yelled at him shrilly.
"I have already told you, Tina. You're here for my pleasure. Because I want you," he replied simply.
He reached for her, and Christina moved away swiftly, her anger replaced by fear. "Where can I put these bolts of material?" she asked to distract him.
"I'll see if I can find you a chest next week. For now, you can leave them where they are. Come, let us go to bed," he said, and started to walk into the bedroom.
"It's only just dark, and I'm not tired. Besides, I won't sleep in that bed with you. And you have no right to force me!" She sat down and started to unbraid her hair.
Philip came over to the couch and picked her up in his arms. "I did not say we were going to sleep, my sweet," he chuckled wickedly.
"No!" she cried. "Put me down this instant!"
Philip smiled down at her as he carried her into the bedroom and threw her on the bed. "I told you you'd give me pleasure. Take off your clothes, Tina."
"I will do no such thing," Christina retorted indignantly.
She started to get off the bed, but it was a futile gesture, because Philip swiftly pulled her over to the middle of the bed and straddled her hips with his knees. He pulled the blouse over her head, pinning her arms with one hand, though she fought him with all her strength. He untied her skirt and rolled her over to pull it off.