"The hell it is." His face above her was twisted with hunger as well as shock. "It's not all right." She moved again, and a shudder ran through him. "God, don't do that. I can't think."
"Don't think." She tried to tighten, to hold him closer. He made a guttural sound of need. "Just make love to me. I want you so much, Philip. Thisis right. Can't you feel how right it is?" Her voice was shaking with intensity. "Don't think, dammit!"
"Oh, God." His whisper was almost a prayer. "I can't. Not anymore." He flexed slowly, tentatively. Then he thrust forward and was lost. They were both lost in a rhythm so fiery it shimmered like flames. Golden flames in a golden room. Oh, love, Philip. Giving, taking. Flames rising, whirling in a vortex of tension and beauty. Exploding in an ecstasy that lasted forever.
Forever. Yet the room was still bathed in the golden halo of twilight and Philip's hard cheek was resting against her shoulder. His chest was heaving with the harshness of his breathing, and his body was still shuddering with tremors. Her hand went up to stroke the crisp hair at his nape with loving fingers. He felt so much hers at this moment. So close. After all the years he had stood apart from her, just out of reach. Her own at last.
Four
"Why?" His voice was low and intense. He lifted his head, and the harshness of his expression jarred her out of the dreamy euphoria she'd been experiencing. "Dammit, tell me why, Pandora."
"I love you," she said simply. "I always have. I always will."
There was a fleeting expression of shock on his face. "So you yielded your fair young body as some sort of sentimental offering?" He rolled away and got off the bed. He looked down at her. Her body was warm and glowing with loving, her lips soft and swollen. Something hot and wanting leaped into his eyes. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Cover up!" he said jerkily. "The party's over."
Yes, the party was over. She had known what his reaction would be, but foreknowledge didn't make his sudden rejection more bearable. She obediently pulled the satin sheet over herself.
He strode toward the bathroom, glancing over his shoulder with a menacing frown. "You didn't answer me."
"No, it wasn't a sentimental offering." Her eyes met his with clear honesty. "I tricked you."
His soft exclamation was followed by a violent curse as he disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door. He was back in two minutes, wearing a pearl gray velour robe. He sat down beside her and gripped her shoulders firmly, anchoring her in place. "Talk," he grated through his teeth. "It just may stop me from strangling you."
"What do you want me to say?"
"You might start with Luis Estavas, my chaste little Pandora."
"He was with the Brazilian polo team," she said quietly. "Your detective should have looked into those weekend jaunts a little more closely."
"Horses," he said disgustedly. "I should have known it was horses. Danford?"
"A ranch in Texas." A tiny smile curved her lips.
"Horses, again." His lips tightened. "Sabine? Don't tell me, let me guess. When he's not a rock star he moonlights as a jockey?"
She shook her head. "He's a good friend and agreed to be part of the setup."
"Oh yes, the setup." The words were bit out. "Let's talk about the setup. How long has this plot been brewing in your tiny brain?"
"Since the day I ran away from your agent in London," she said. "I knew what I was going to do. I just didn't know how I was going to do it."
"But I'm sure it came to you soon. You're nothing if not innovative."
"It wasn't that easy." She smiled a little sadly. "I think the most difficult part was the waiting. There were so many years to get through before I could even think of beginning."
"Well, when you got around to it you made up for lost time." He glared down at her. "I don't like being lied to."
"I know that." She moistened her lips nervously. "But I couldn't think of any other way."
"Any other way than pretending to be one step above a whore? Well, let me congratulate you, Pandora. You played your role exceedingly well. You obviously have a flair for the vocation."
She flinched. "I did what I had to do. The only way I could be sure you'd take me to bed was if I was . . . experienced because that's the only type of women you let into your life." She shrugged. "I thought if I sounded like a gold digger it would make you feel safer."
"Safer?" His tone was incredulous.
She lifted her chin. "Safer," she repeated distinctly. "You're afraid of me, Philip. You always have been. You were so afraid of me that you had to send me away to England." Her lips twisted bitterly. "You would have sent me to Timbuktu if you could have resolved it with your conscience."
"I sent you to England because you were fifteen years old and becoming a hoyden."
She shook her head. "You sent me there because you cared about me." She made a helpless little motion with her hand. "Oh, I don't mean romantically. I know what a scrawny mess I was then. But you did care for me." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Maybe you even loved me. I think there's a good chance that you did. It was too strong, wasn't it? You wouldn't let yourself love any woman. You use them, but you won't let yourself love them."
His face was expressionless. "If you know that, then aren't you a bit of a fool to let yourself be used by such a ruthless womanizer?"
"Perhaps." Her eyes glistened with tears. "But I didn't have any choice. I love you."
"Stop saying that!" he said with soft violence. "You don't love me. You developed some sort of fixation on me when you were a child and never got over it. You always were the most obstinately single-minded person I've ever had the misfortune to know." He gestured to the bed. "And this was nothing but a pleasurable sexual episode."
"The hell it was!" She was up on her knees on the bed. "That wasn't 'pleasurable,' that was beautiful. Don't you dare call it anything else!"
"Ah! The real Pandora is finally emerging. How did you manage to suppress that wild streak beneath your Khadim disguise?"
"It wasn't easy," she said tersely. Her face was still stormy. "I knew I'd have to time it just right or give myself away. But that's not what we're talking about. What happened here was beautiful. Say it, Philip."
"It was beautiful," he said gently. "But that doesn't mean it was made in heaven. Sex isn't love. Pandora."
"I know the difference," she said. "I've always known it. It's you who's wearing the blinders." She drew a deep breath. "It's time you took them off. We've wasted too many years already. We're not getting any younger, Philip."
He had to smother a smile. She looked little more than a child draped to the shoulders in the satin sheet, with her enormous dark eyes so earnest. Where had his anger gone? A moment ago he had been furious. Why couldn't he ever hold on to that anger where Pandora was concerned? "Have you considered the possibility that it's you who's wearing the blinders?"