She tucked the sheet carefully around his shoulders and moved swiftly to the door. She mustn't push too hard. She had given Philip enough to digest.
It was probably her fault that he looked as if he had slept very little the night before. Poor Philip. He wouldn't like the disruption that she was about to make in his life. Well, that was just too bad. It was all for his own good, and it was up to her to prove it to him. But, for now, she'd back off and give him breathing room.
* * *
The sun was beginning to streak across the sky in a burst of pink and lavender as she crossed the stableyard. She paused for a minute to breathe in the fresh scents of earth and grass. She could feel the coolness of the breeze against her cheeks and the joy rising up in her. Dear God, how good it was to be alive on a morning like this!
She was about to turn and go into the stables when she heard a soft neigh. She glanced casually toward the fenced pasture and then froze. Oedipus! The black stallion gleaming in the first light of dawn had to be Oedipus. She was over the high fence in seconds and running along the edge of the pasture. He was so beautiful, with his clean, powerful lines and a wild pride that was evident in every muscle and tendon. She slowed to a walk as she approached him. She mustn't startle him. Oedipus had always been only half tamed, and he was easily spooked.
"Hello, boy! Have you missed me?" Her voice was a soothing murmur as she approached him. "I've missed you. It's been a long time, hasn't it? I've been around a lot of horses since I've been gone, but there's never been one like you." He was looking straight at her, but she couldn't tell if he remembered her or not. With Oedipus, she might never know. He certainty wasn't sloppy about revealing his affections, she thought ruefully. Everything about his nature was difficult and challenging. In that way he reminded her of Philip. Perhaps that was why she had always been so crazy about Oedipus.
"What are you doing out here all by yourself, instead of lazing in your nice warm stall?" She was next to him now and reaching out a careful hand to stroke his nose. It was velvet beneath her palm. He looked at her as if he understood every word she was saying. "But then, you never did like to be inside, did you? Neither do I. It's always better to be out in the open, running with the wind in your hair." She moved slowly to his side, her hand shifting from his muzzle to his mane. "What do you say we do that now, boy?" Then, using the fence as a mounting block, she was on his back, gripping strongly with her knees. As she expected, he put up a fuss, but it was only a token protest. After she had ridden it out he settled down beautifully. "You want it, too. you devil." She laughed softly. "You just wanted to give me a hard time. Now let's go."
She started out at an easy canter, graduated into a gallop, and then they ran flat out, circling the large pasture as if it were a racetrack. She bent low over his mane, talking, urging him on. Oedipus was silk and fire beneath her, and the wind was tearing at her hair with cool, careless fingers. It was glorious!
"Pandora!"
She flinched. Oh dear, Philip. She cast him a glance. He looked just as grim as he sounded. He was dressed in riding clothes, and his hair was slightly rumpled. That was unusual in a man as meticulously groomed as Philip and boded no good. He must have guessed what she was up to as soon as he had awakened and dashed down here to catch her in the act. Drat it, Philip always seemed to know when she was doing something that wouldn't meet with his approval. She slowed Oedipus and headed him toward the fence. "Good morning, Philip. Didn't Oedipus look beautiful? He runs like he's still a two-year-old."
"He's not two years old, he's eight," Philip said distinctly. "And he's learned a good deal of devilry in those eight years. For your information, the fact that he's out here and not in the barn does not indicate that the poor old nag has been put out to pasture. He has the unpleasant habit these days of trying to kick his stall down. Last year he tried to trample a stableboy." His eyes were blazing. "And you're riding him bareback!"
"He likes me," she said defiantly. "He's always liked me. He may be mean, but I know how to handle him." She looked Philip in the eyes. "He reminds me of you."
For a moment indignation and outrage conflicted on his face. "Why, you little scamp," he said softly. "I ought to—" He was suddenly chuckling and reaching up to help her off Oedipus's back. "I've never had a woman compare me to a horse before. Most particularly a nasty one."
"It's only at times that he reminds me of you," she amended. "Sometimes he can be quite lovable."
His hands tightened on her waist. "Brat. You've grown impudent over the years. You never would have had the nerve to insult me before."
"If I had, maybe your arrogance would have been deflated a little."
"I was never arrogant. I was merely always and inevitably right." He slapped Oedipus on the rump and the stallion cantered off. "Exactly as I am now."
"If Oedipus has become so violent, why do you keep him around?"
He didn't look at her as he took her elbow and began to propel her across the pasture. "A whim, perhaps." His lips twisted in a sardonic smile. "No doubt I feel a subliminal kinship for the devil." He frowned. "Regardless of the reason, you're to stay off him."
She didn't answer, but her face took on a mutinous look.
"Pandora," he said warningly.
"I can handle him," she burst out. "I understand him."
"The way you think you understand me?" He shook his head. "Don't count on it. All understanding is colored by one's point of view. Both Oedipus and I are capable of acts that you can't imagine."
"No, I don't believe—"
"Pandora, if I catch you on Oedipus again, I'll get rid of him."
"You can't mean that. Not after all these years. He belongs here."
"I mean it," he said flatly. "You've made sure that I can't send you away, but there's nothing stopping me from getting rid of Oedipus."
She gazed at him uncertainly. "You'd really do it?"
"Try me."
She looked away. "You know I won't do that," she said huskily. "I couldn't take the chance."
"Wise woman. I wish you'd be as reasonable about your own welfare."
"That's another matter entirely."
"And one you don't want to talk about," he finished dryly. "All right, my little ostrich, well drop it for the moment." He was silent until they had left the pasture and were crossing the stableyard. "That was a difficult stunt to pull off bareback," he said abruptly. "You obviously haven't lost any of your skill while you've been belting out rock songs to the panting populace."
"I rode every day," she said quietly. "The shows were only at night. That left all the daylight hours to do what I wanted to do. I'd ride for four hours in the morning and spend the afternoon working on college correspondence courses." She grimaced.