"It nearly killed me to stay inside all that time when I wanted to be at the stables."
"Yet you did it anyway." He was gazing at her thoughtfully. "Why?"
She shrugged. "I figured it was better to be miserable than stupid. I told myself the mornings at the stable were my reward for that blasted studying. A fair exchange. Something I needed for something I wanted. When I finally got used to the schedule it wasn't so bad."
"And horses were what you wanted?"
"Always," she said simply. "I never wanted to do anything else. You know that."
"No glamour of the footlights for you?" His eyes searched her face.
She shook her head. "I never liked performing. It was all right once I learned to cope with it. It was better than being hungry."
His lips tightened. "You were hungry?"
"Of course." She looked at him in surprise. "I was fifteen years old with no job experience and just four pounds and a few pence in my purse when I ran away from Abernathy in London." She made a face. "The money lasted two weeks. I was lucky to stretch it that far."
"And then?"
"I managed," she said evasively. "You don't want to hear all that dreary business."
"Don't I?" he asked grimly. He was silent for a few minutes before he exclaimed violently, "What a fool you were! Anything could have happened to you."
"I was lucky," she said. "It wasn't all bad. I made friends. That was important. It's easier to live with an empty stomach than with loneliness."
His throat felt tight. "I'm glad you found friends," he said. "Are you going to go back to your rock group?"
She felt a swift pang at the impersonal way he asked the question. She tossed her head and smiled. "I hope not. I hope I'm going to stay with you here in Sedikhan for the rest of my life." She tilted her head. "Do you suppose I could talk you into forming an Olympic equestrian team? I promise I'd bring home the gold."
"The United States has an excellent team. I know some people. I'll make a few phone calls." He paused. "I haven't changed my mind since last night."
"Neither have I," she said lightly. "I guess it's an impasse."
"Not for long." His smile was touched with grimness. "I'm going to make your stay here very unhappy, Pandora. You'll be glad to leave when the time comes."
"Well see," she said blithely. "Are you going to the irrigation project this morning?"
He nodded. "As soon as I go back and shower and change. I didn't take time to do anything but throw on some clothes when I found you were gone. I knew you'd be looking for mischief somewhere, and the stable was the most likely place."
"I was just trying—" she started indignantly. She broke off. She didn't want to argue now. "May I go with you?"
"No," he said definitely. "You may not. You may go back to your quarters and paint your toenails or loll by the pool like any good Khadim."
She felt a quick, burning resentment. Philip evidently meant everything he had said about treating her like his mistress. "Oh well, I'll find something to do."
"That's what I'm afraid of. But whatever you do, be sure you're through doing it by dinner tonight. I plan on having a few guests and I want you to act as hostess." There was a touch of malice in the silky tone of his voice. "They'll be delighted to have such an illustrious personality at the foot of the table. Perhaps you should wear your orange wig."
"Perhaps I should. I threw it into my overnight case along with the other clothes I had in my dressing room. Are we expecting someone important whom I should try to impress?"
"It depends who you think is important." He paused. "I'm inviting the good Dr. Madchen."
Her stride faltered. "My father?"
"I thought it fitting that the two of you get together after such a long separation." He smiled faintly. "Don't you agree?"
She moistened her lips. "Yes. Yes, of course." It had to come sometime. She mustn't feel this wrenching pain. She should have known Philip would exploit any weakness he found in her defenses. "You were quite right to invite him."
They were crossing the courtyard, and Philip stopped her for a moment with a hand on her arm. "I can hurt you, Pandora," he said softly. "I don't want to do that. Give in, tell me you'll leave Sedikhan, and I'll cancel the dinner party."
She shook her head. "That would only be running away." Her smile was bittersweet, "I haven't done that since I was fifteen. You didn't approve of it then, why should you now?"
"Pandora, dammit, I don't—" He broke off and drew a deep breath. "Oh, hell!" His hand dropped away from her arm, and he strode away from her and on up the stairs of the entrance. "Dinner is at eight." The heavy, studded front door slammed behind him.
Five
"I thought you were joking." Philip, dressed in impeccable black evening clothes, leaned indolently on the jamb of the door between his room and Pandora's. His eyes moved over her impassively. The thigh-length tunic she was wearing was of black velvet that clung to her body and left one shoulder bare in the Grecian fashion. Her lovely legs were encased in sheer black hose that flowed into high-heeled black sandals. The effect was blatantly sexual.
"I was joking." She smiled and touched the orange fuzz of the wig on her head. "But I thought it over and decided it would be appropriate for the occasion." Her dark eyes were burning in her pale face. "I've learned to give the audience what it wants."
"And you think your rather bizarre costume will do that?" he asked quietly.
"Well, it will give them what they expect, anyway." She lifted her head. "Will you be ashamed to sit opposite me at the dinner table?"
He straightened in the doorway. "No, I won't be ashamed." He walked toward her, his eyes searching her face. "But are you sure you don't want to change your mind?"
She shook her head so hard the orange curls danced like curling flames. "No," she said fiercely. "This is part of me, too, and I'm not ashamed either."
He offered his arm. "Then shall we go to the salon and greet our guests?"
She drew a deep, quivering breath and took his arm. "By all means."
Karl Madchen wasn't in the salon when they arrived, but the other guests were all present, and Raoul was quietly moving about the room, serving drinks. A small dinner party, Philip had said. She supposed it was small by his standards, but there were at least fifteen people in the room. The low murmur of conversation dwindled as they walked in the door, and Pandora was immediately conscious of the raised eyebrows and amusement her appearance was causing. She unconsciously stiffened and immediately felt Philip's hand tightening on her elbow. "Steady," he said in an undertone. "Orange wig or not, you're still the loveliest woman in the room. Remember that." —
She experienced a little surge of warmth. "I'll do that."
"Then come meet your guests." His blue-green eyes were twinkling. "I can hardly wait to introduce you to the ambassador's wife. She always was a stuffy bitch."
If this dinner party was supposed to be a punishment, Philip was certainly going about it in a strange way. He introduced her to each person in the room. His hand was constantly beneath her elbow, and his manner was both regally possessive and fiercely protective. Only when he had made sure that she would have no problems did he allow himself to be drawn away by one of his business cohorts. Even then she was still conscious of his glance on her from time to time, and again it gave her that warm feeling of being treasured.