Текст книги "A Summer Smile "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

I will he strong. I will survive. But, please, just this one time, let me not have to use that strength. Let me have Daniel. Please. Let me have Daniel.

Five

Turquoise eyes gazed down at her. Zilah opened her own eyes with a distinct sense of deja vu as she looked up in drowsy bewilderment into the face of the man standing by her bed.

"I'm Philip El Kabbar, Miss Dabala. I apologize for barging in on you so unceremoniously. I wished to welcome you to my home, and assure you that if there's anything you need or want, you have only to ask." His smile was charming. "I would have waited, but I had to leave early to go to the irrigation project and I wanted to be sure to see you before I left. I hope you will forgive me?"

There wouldn't be many women who would fail to forgive Philip El Kabbar almost any transgression. Zilah thought as she sat up in bed, tucking the satin sheet firmly beneath her arms. He was one of the most fantastically attractive men she had ever seen. He was in his early thirties, she concluded, with raven-dark hair and skin bronzed to a dark gold,

high, hollowed cheekbones and a well-shaped mouth that held a hint of leashed sexuality. Leashed. Yes, everything about him fit that word. His tall, slim frame, garbed in casual blue jeans and a black sweatshirt, gave the impression of tremendous strength, rigidly restrained. His expression was a smooth, guarded mask of charm. Those striking blue-green eyes were cool and slightly cynical beneath slashing dark brows.

"I should be the one to apologize for intruding into your household, Sheikh El Kabbar," she said. "You've been very kind. I promise I won't abuse your hospitality any longer than I have to."

He shrugged. "Daniel wishes you to remain here. My home has many rooms and the servants have little to do. You are welcome to stay as long as Daniel enjoys your presence."

Well, that certainly put her firmly in her place, she thought wryly. It appeared that the sheikh's charming facade was just that. Beneath that mask was an almost brutal honesty and a touch of ruthless-ness. "It's not a question of my entertainment value, Sheikh El Kabbar," she said dryly. "When my health is improved, I'll leave with or without Daniel. I'm not a harem girl or khadim waiting on any man's pleasure. In case you haven't heard, Sedikhan has outlawed slavery in any form."

"But the laws of Sedikhan don't necessarily apply to my province," he said with a slight smile. "I believe you'll find that out shortly. I run my lands to suit myself." His gaze raked slowly over her. "You're a very lovely woman. I can see how Daniel would be intrigued by you. If you are generous with your body, he will treat you well. He is kind to his women." His lips twisted. "Far kinder than I. You would be wise to be less defiant and more accommodating. It is, after all, what a woman is most proficient at doing."

She shook her head incredulously. "I can't believe this. You're speaking as if women have no wills or minds of their own."

"Am I?" The slashing black brows lifted mockingly. "I have no desire to give that impression. I know women can have extraordinarily strong wills. As for their mental powers"—he lifted one shoulder in a half shrug—"they can be very cunning as well."

"Cunning?" Zilah echoed distastefully. "What a horribly denigrating word. I regard myself as intelligent, but I am nor cunning." She frowned. "Do you always speak to women so insultingly?"

"No, usually I'm quite flowery and utterly charming," he drawled outrageously. "I'm only honest with them when they might offer a threat to me or mine." Her eyes widened. "You think I'm some kind of a threat?"

"It's a possibility." His eyes were cool, shimmering ice floes. "As I said, Daniel is intrigued. It is not like Daniel to regard women in a serious light. He was very emotional yesterday when you were so ill. Emotion has a way of weakening a man's defenses. I will not have him hurt. Miss Dabala. You must ply your woman's wiles on someone else. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," she said calmly. "I'm to fall meekly into Daniel's bed, but on no account am I to venture to think or regard myself as anything but a vassal." She lifted a brow. "Have I got it right?"

He nodded. "Perhaps you are more intelligent than cunning after all, Miss Dabala. You're quite correct."

"I just wanted to make sure I understood." She met his eyes and said clearly, "Go to hell, Sheikh El Kabbar."

There was a flicker of surprise in his face, followed by a touch of amusement. "I've found some women capable of sending men there, but not by suggestion alone. I'm afraid you're going to have to do better than that."

"I have no desire to try to influence your destiny in any way, Sheikh El Kabbar," she said wearily. "Or Daniel's either. All I want to do is to get well enough to go to Zalandan. The minute the doctor releases me, I won't bother you again."

"Ah, but the doctor is a very cautious man where certain patients are concerned. You may be with us for some time. That's why I thought we should have this chat." His smile was brilliant in his bronzed face. "Enjoy your stay with us, Miss Dabala. I promise that on the next occasion we meet I'll be as meticulously polite and diplomatic as anyone could wish."

"I'd rather you'd be rude but honest," she said bluntly. "I haven't any use for polite deception."

For an instant there was a trace of admiration in those guarded eyes. "I can see how you would appeal to Daniel. He has a great respect for honesty as well. That was why I was a bit alarmed when—" He broke off. His gaze narrowed thoughtfully on her face. Respect and admiration are far more dangerous than lust. I'll have to keep a close eye on you. Miss Dabala." His gaze once more traveled over her, lingering on her naked shoulders above the sheet. There was suddenly a fugitive twinkle in his eyes. "A task I'm going to take a good deal of aesthetic pleasure in performing." Before she could reply he had turned away and was strolling toward the door. "You have such superb skin that it's really a shame to cover even an inch of it, but Daniel's being very stuffy about not keeping you totally naked for the duration of your stay here. As your own clothing was blown up with :he plane, I've taken the liberty of ordering you a complete wardrobe from the stores in Marasef." He glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming

with mischief. "Don't worry, Daniel also insisted on paying for everything, so you're not beholden to me for a single handkerchief. What a pity. I enjoy having beautiful women in my debt. Good day, Miss Dabala." Zilah found herself staring at the closed door with a mixture of indignation and amusement. Philip El Kabbar was utterly impossible, obviously a complete male chauvinist and more arrogant than even a ruling sheikh had any right to be. She should be ready to roast him over open flames after that little conversation. Yet there had been a thread of warmth and humor beneath the mask of glittering hardness that for some inexplicable reason had kept her from feeling too much animosity.

There was a perfunctory knock on the door, and it swung open. Daniel entered, balancing a covered rattan tray in one hand and a large box in the other. He was dressed even more casually than El Kabbar had been, in cutoff jeans and an army-green tank top. However, nothing about Daniel's vitality was leashed. It was almost an explosive force as he strode into the room. "I ran into Philip in the hall," he said grimly as he kicked the door shut with his sandaled foot and strode toward the bed. "Was he decent to you?"

"Isn't he usually decent to his guests?" she asked evasively.

"Don't play word games with me, Zilah." He tossed the box he was carrying on the bed and settled the tray on her lap. "I want an answer from you." He sat down on the bed beside her and plucked the napkin from the covered tray to reveal eggs and fingers of buttered toast. "Eat your breakfast."

A little smile tugged at her lips. "Which do you want me to do first?"

"Both." He scowled. "Hell, I wanted to be here to run interference for you. I only stopped for a minute to pick up that box from the helicopter. I should have known Philip would do something to upset you."

"He didn't upset me," she said as she took a bite of toast. "I had no trouble holding my own with your friend, the sheikh. Though I think he was doing his best to intimidate me. He appears to have very little respect for the gentler sex."

"That's because he's never found them to be particularly gentle." He too picked up a piece of toast from her plate and began to nibble it absentmind-edly. "That, along with having a father who believed all women belonged in a seraglio, wasn't conducive to developing warm and tender feelings toward womankind. He doesn't trust them worth a damn and acts accordingly."

"Is that why he doesn't have any women servants?"

"Probably. I never asked him," he said. "Look, I know he said something that wasn't exactly hospitable. When I told him you were staying for a bit, he had that thoughtful look that usually means trouble. I'd appreciate it if you'd ignore it. Philip is a good friend to me. I'll see that it doesn't happen again."

"He is a good friend to you. That was why he was trying to save you from my vampish ways. I got the distinct impression he believed I was about to clip all your locks off as Delilah did Samson's." She tilted her head to look at him with mock objectivity. "I could have told him that with your beard it would be entirely too much trouble."

Daniel's hand rose quickly to his jaw. "You don't like my beard?"

She had a fleeting memory of the soft virile brush of that beard rubbing against her naked breasts and she felt a sudden thrust of aching heat go through her. She dropped her eyes to her plate. "I like it. I just don't have any desire to wear it on my belt as a trophy." She smiled. "That particular shade of red doesn't go well with my coloring."

"Oh, I don't know," he said blandly. "I think you could get used to wearing me on your person in no time at all." He took another bite of toast before adding softly, "Or in your person."

Her startled gaze flew up to meet his. His eyes were soft and midnight-dark and his face was filled with sensuality. She was abruptly conscious of the warm hardness of his naked thigh pressing against her own through the thin satin barrier of the sheet. There was a sudden tingling clenching between her thighs that made her inhale sharply.

Daniel muttered a curse beneath his breath and got to his feet. "Dammit, I told you I was a roughneck. Things just come out." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll try to watch it."

Why was Daniel upset? The remark hadn't been obscene, merely suggestive. Yet Daniel was acting as if he'd just propositioned a nun. "It didn't offend me," she said, bewildered.

"Good," he said briskly. He bent over the bed and opened the lid of a large box he'd brought into the room just before he'd gotten her breakfast tray. "These are for you. There are more boxes in the helicopter. The servants will bring them in later. I went through this one and it seems to contain all you'll need for right now." He pulled out wisps of lacy underthings and a chocolate-colored robe that was only a sheer float of accordion pleats. "I suppose I should have expected something like this. Philip ordered the wardrobe from the same store his Khadims usually use."

"Considering his attitude toward women, it doesn't really surprise me," Zilah said dryly. "He probably thinks that's our sole role in life and we

should dress for it. I can't say I'm overly fond of your friend."

"That bad, was he?" Daniel asked gloomily. "I was afraid he might be. Well, you may not be crazy about his manners, but he has one attribute that will win your approval."

"And what is that?"

"He's a damn fine rider and has one of the most famous stables in the Middle East. I'll take you to see it tomorrow if you're well enough."

Zilah's face lit up. "Horses? I'd love to see them. Couldn't we go today? I feel fine."

Daniel was shaking his head. "Not today. You may feel fit, but you're bound to have a reaction from the fever you had yesterday. The doctor said you were to take it easy for the next few days. That means today you stay in bed."

Zilah's expression clouded mutinously. "But I feel fine. I'm very tough usually. I don't know why that scorpion sting affected me so violently."

"You may think you're Annie Oakley and Calamity Jane rolled into one, but today you're definitely playing Camille." He turned to the door. "Finish your breakfast. I'll go to the study and see if I can find a few games to keep you occupied. Any preferences?"

"I want to see the horses," she said stubbornly. "I Aouldn't try to ride them without the sheikh's permission, of course. I just want to see them."

"Games," Daniel repeated firmly as he strode through the doorway. "I'll be back in a few minutes to pick up the tray. Eat."

He was doing it again. Just because she'd been so helpless after she'd been stung by the scorpion, he Aas taking charge and giving orders as if she had no rill or mind of her own. She lifted the tray off her lap and set it on the bed beside her. She'd had enough to eat, blast it. She'd also had enough orders for one

day. First, El Kabbar with his autocratic instructions, and now Daniel. She wasn't about to lie in bed and be waited on by Daniel. He had already done too much for her. When he came back she would tell him that, but she had better look less like the Camille of Daniel's metaphor when she did it. The first thing she needed was a shower and then to brush her teeth and wash her hair. . . .

She was already tossing the sheet aside and swinging her legs to the floor as she reached for the dark brown negligee. It was just as transparent as she had feared, and she made a face as she slipped into its sheer folds and buttoned the top button. She gathered up the bra and panties, her eyes on the intricately carved door across the room that must lead to the bathroom. Her legs were shaky and her right ankle throbbed in protest as she got slowly to her feet. She would be all right in a moment, she assured herself staunchly. Her head was swimming, but that was probably perfectly natural after being in bed almost twenty-four hours. She took a deep breath and some of the dizziness subsided.

All she had to do was to take it slowly and she'd be fine. She took another step forward and then another. Unfortunately, the philosophy of mind over matter seemed not to be working in this case. Her knees were now shaking so badly that by the time she got halfway across the room she could scarcely control them. It took only a slight stumble on the edge of the Persian carpet to send her tumbling in a heap on the floor.

"Damn!" She could feel the helpless tears mist her eyes and she blinked them back determinedly. So stupid to be upset over a little tumble. It must be because she was so wretchedly weak. She had struggled to her knees and was about to try to get to her feet again when the door swung open.

"Good Lord in heaven!" Daniel exploded. He slammed the door behind him, strode across the room, and tossed the three boxes he was carrying on the bed. "What the hell do you think you're doing? I leave you alone for a few minutes and you're up running around." He was standing before her now and his dark blue eyes were blazing. He grasped her shoulders and hauled her unceremoniously to her feet.

"I just wanted to take a shower," she said defensively. "And brush my teeth."

"And then see the horses," he added grimly. "I wish I had never mentioned them to you."

"I planned that for later," she said with dignity. "I just wanted to be really clean again. I'm a total mess. Just look at me."

"I am," he said huskily. He had been trying to keep from doing just that since the moment he'd walked into the room. She was beautifully, lushly naked beneath the sheer dark brown of the negligee. He could see the dark pink thrust of the nipples that crowned her full breasts, the slim silkiness of her waist and abdomen beneath the material that veiled instead of covered. His gaze was drawn irresistibly to the shadowy triangle at the apex of her thighs, and he felt an aching thrust of desire in his loins. Her sun-burnished hair was falling in shining clouds around her shoulders, and he wanted to reach out and tangle his hand in her locks. To press her close to him so that he could feel that dark, shadowy softness against his hardness.

God, he could almost feel her rubbing against him, her nipples tautening for him as they had in the cave that night. They were peaking now as he looked at her, and he felt a jolt of need so intense it was painful. The bed was so damned close and she would want it. She might be frightened at first, but she had

been responsive before. Hell, she was responsive now. He could see the pulse pounding wildly in the hollow of her throat and he reached out a hand to half encircle it, pressing his thumb gently to that revealing pulsing. He bent forward, his lips only a breath from hers. He could see the faint cut where Hassan had struck her and he felt a surge of primitive rage rush through him that somehow only intensified the desire he was experiencing. "Is your lip still sore?"

"What?" She had forgotten about it. It was a moment before she could pull her attention from the spell Daniel was weaving about her with only the light touch of his hand and the smoky hotness of his eyes. "Oh, no." She nervously moistened her lips with her tongue. She felt his hand on her throat tighten compulsively. "It doesn't hurt at all anymore."

"That's good," he said hoarsely. He could feel her warmth reaching out to him through the film of material separating them. It would take only a motion of his hand to brush aside the robe and close his fingers on her breast. To lift that rosy nipple to his lips and nibble and suck until she gave that little breathless moan that excited him so. She would dig her fingers into his shoulders as she had in the darkness of the cave. He had noticed in the shower this morning that he still had the marks of her nails on his body. Such a little thing, but it had caused an instant arousal that had forced him to change the flow of water in the shower from warm to ice cold. Then he would run his hands slowly down her smooth warm back. He would cup her buttocks in his palms and lift her, press her against his aching arousal, make her take him into–

Make her take him! The shock of that subconscious thought sent an electrifying jolt through him. He had been within an inch of plunging into her like a rutting stag, not caring whether she wanted it or

not. His only concern had been the need for release from the painful aching in his loins. He felt sick with disgust. Only yesterday he had told Clancy that he wasn't going to touch her, that he was going to teach her to trust him. He had been the one who was going to show her that all men weren't animals. His predicament would have been funny if it hadn't possessed the elements of tragedy. Even realizing how close he had come, he was still trembling like a hound who had just scented a bitch in heat. And the most maddening aspect of this entire situation was that he could tell Zilah didn't even realize it existed. It was all there in the clear wonder of the eyes gazing up at him. In spite of her experiences as a child, she still possessed an innocence that amazed him. She knew about violation but she obviously wasn't aware of the more subtle nuances of sexual arousal. The time she had spent in the House of the Yellow Door was a thing apart for her, not connected with their relationship. She was even accepting their lovemaking in the cave as a temporary aberration on his part. Perhaps he should be grateful she was looking at it like that.

His hand fell from her throat to her shoulder and pushed her gently away. What had they been talking about? He could only remember dark pink crests crowning full golden breasts and . . . "You wanted to take a shower?"

A shower? Yes, she definitely needed a shower. She was trembling all over and her knees were weak again, but not from any physical disability. "Yes, I was going to take a shower," she said vaguely.

"We'll see what we can do." He released her shoulders and stepped back. She swayed. He quickly braced her again. "Damn, you can scarcely stand up. How do you expect to take a shower? Hell, you'd probably faint and drown before I could get in to pull you out."

He was angry again. She tried to clear her mind of the sensual mist that was clouding it. Why was he so angry with her when a moment ago he had been so gentle? Now there was no hint of anything but harshness in his face, and she felt a throb of pain tighten her chest. She lifted her chin. "I'll manage. I won't need your help."

"The devil you won't." He cradled her in his left arm and she found herself being half pushed, half carried toward the bathroom door. "Unless you want Philip's valet, Raoul, to help you, I'm the only game in town. Believe me, I don't like the idea any more than you do."

He threw open the door to reveal a bathroom that was the ultimate in sybaritic luxury. A long, mirrored vanity flanked one wall. In a corner, immediately to the left of the door, was a shower stall with frosted glass doors. The center of the room was occupied by a sunken tub that was as large as some swimming pools Zilah had seen. It was tiled in a mosaic rose and ivory floral design, and at the opposite end of the tub were two wide steps leading down into its gleaming depths.

Daniel slammed the door behind them and lifted Zilah onto the vanity before turning to kneel by the gold faucets at the head of the tub. He swiftly turned them on full blast. Clouds of steam swirled around him as he sat back on his haunches, keeping his eyes carefully averted from her and fixed on the gushing water. "This will take only a minute to fill."

"I thought I was going to take a shower."

"A bath is better. I'd have to get into the shower stall with you. It would be a little crowded."

The thought of that intimacy made her throat tighten. "I suppose you're right. I'll be able to manage on my own in the tub."

"The hell you will." He was pouring pink liquid from a small cut crystal flagon that he had snatched from a tray on the side of the tub, and the water exploded into millions of bubbles. 'Til bathe you myself and then I'll know you're all right."

"You're pouring in too much bubble bath."

He continued to tilt the liquid into the already soapy water. "You're wrong there," he said grimly. "There can't be too many bubbles in the world at the moment." He set the empty container on the side of the tub, tested the water to make sure it wasn't too hot, turned off the faucets, and rose lithely to his feet. "Come on, let's get this over with."

He swung her off the vanity, his fingers unbuttoning the top button of her negligee with total impersonality.

Zilah felt a shiver run through her that had nothing to do with her nudity as he stripped the filmy negligee off her and then picked her up. He was so remote, so cold. She had never imagined Daniel could be so cold. "You don't have to bother. Once I'm in the tub I'll be able—"

"Zilah," Daniel said between his teeth. "Shut up!"

Then she was being lowered carefully into the mountains and mountains of soap bubbles. She sneezed. "I knew you were using too much bubble bath. I'm practically drowning in bubbles."

He released her and stood up. He kicked his sandals off as he regarded her appraisingly. It was true. There wasn't an inch of that lovely body visible. She was up to her chin in foam. He felt some of the tension drain out of him. "You look fine to me," he said with a grin. "Kinda cute."

She sneezed again. "Let some of the water out."

"Nope, you'll be in there for only a few minutes." He was settling himself on the first step leading down into the sunken tub. He tossed her a sponge and a

bar of soap. "Come here and sit between my knees. You take care of the bath while I wash your hair. Deal?"

"Deal," she said happily as she moved to sit between his naked thighs on the first step. It had to have been her imagination. There was nothing cold or stern about Daniel now. "I don't have much choice if I'm to get out of this tub before I'm smothered by bubbles."

"Lean back. Your hair needs to be wetter." He was leisurely pouring shampoo into her hair, playing with the fragrant foam, making elaborate peaks and twirls. "You would have made a terrific eighteenth-century court lady. Those high white wigs would have suited you."

"I'm glad you think so." She was contentedly running the sponge over her neck and shoulders. "You do have a passion for bubbles, don't you? It's going to take you a long time to rinse all the soap out of my hair. I bet you spent hours in the tub playing with your toys when you were a kid."

"We were allowed precisely seven minutes in the showers at the orphanage. No baths. No rubber ducks," he said matter-of-factly. He was gently rubbing the shampoo into her hair. "It wasn't considered efficient with a mob of hellions like us."

She felt the tears sting her eyes and blinked them away determinedly. "And were you the hellion they thought you?"

"Sure," he said with a shrug. "I was well on my way to reform school when I decided to join the army and see the world." His hands momentarily paused. "The only part of the world I saw on that tour of duty was Nam, and it wasn't a very pretty world." His fingers slowly renewed their massage, but his voice was abstracted. "But I learned to survive in it. I was always a survivor. If I had any special talent, it was the ability to adapt and make situations work for me." His hands fell away from her and his voice was suddenly brisk. "I did make them work for me, and there are plenty of people who would criticize some of the ways I did it. I'm not making excuses and I don't intend to. I lived hard because it was the only way I knew how to live."

"You're very defensive," she said softly. "And you shouldn't be. Not with me. I know the kind of man you are. Whatever you did, it was in order to survive." She drew a deep breath. "I understand about surviving."

"Do you?" His voice was oddly choked. "Yes, I think you do." There was a short, poignant silence before he spoke again with deliberate lightness. "Hell, you've certainly managed to survive any number of hazards since I came upon the scene. Hassan, scorpions, even me. I'd say that definitely qualifies you as a survivor." He was standing abruptly. "Now, why don't we see how good you are at surviving"—he lowered his voice to a melodramatic hiss—"the attack of the killer soap bubbles. Go ahead and rinse your hair beneath that faucet while I get you a towel." He strode around the tub and across the room toward the louvered doors of a linen closet beside the shower stall.

He seemed to take a terribly long time choosing a towel, Zilah thought in puzzlement as she rinsed her hair thoroughly and tried to get as much of the foam as she could from her body. He kept his back to her as he went aimlessly through the stack of terry-cloth towels.

"I'm ready to get out."

"I only hope I'm ready to get you out," Daniel murmured beneath his breath as he yanked a white bath sheet from the pile in front of him. His face was set as he strode back toward her, unfolding the towel.

She started to rise but had not even reached a standing position before she was enveloped in the terry-cloth sheet and lifted from the tub. There was nothing in the least intimate about the thorough rubdown Daniel gave her through the soft material of the towel. When he had finished, he wrapped the towel around her and tucked the ends in at her breasts. Then he grabbed another towel, dried her hair with the same brisk impersonality, and wound the towel around her still damp hair in a makeshift turban. He lifted her in his arms and strode back into the bedroom.

"I know this is terribly inconvenient for you," she said falteringly. "I promise you won't have to do it again. I'm sure I'll be able to manage on my own tomorrow."

"And have me worried out of my skull about you?" He placed her on the bed and covered her with the satin sheet. "You're right. We're going to have to work something else out. I can't go through this every day. I'm not cut out to be a lady's maid."

Those foolish tears were misting her eyes again. It was stupid to feel hurt at his rejection. She tried to smile. "Well, you did an exceptionally good job, even if you did dislike it. It was very kind of you."

"I did a lousy job," he said bluntly. "And there's nothing kind about me. I told you I was a survivor." He ran his hand through his hair. "But I don't think I could survive another session like this. I've got to talk to Philip about getting you a maid until you're fit again."

"There's no reason to disrupt the sheikh's household." She lifted her chin. "And no reason for you to have to take care of me. Your responsibility ended when you brought me to Sedikhan." She met his eyes steadily. "You mustn't think you owe me anything, Daniel. I have no right to demand anything of you."

A variety of emotions were chasing across Daniel's face. Amusement, exasperation, and a fleeting something that might have been tenderness.

"Oh, hell, here we go again." He plopped down on the bed beside her and gathered her hands in his. "We'd better get this in the open right now. I'm no good at beating around the bush." He looked down at her hands clasped in his, a frown creasing his brow. "Look, what happened in the cave was a mistake. We both know that." His thumb was absently rubbing the delicate blue veins of her wrist. "I just want you to know that there's no danger of it ever happening again. I'd like to start out with a clean slate, if it's all right with you. I'm not always a savage."

"You were never savage with me," she said huskily. She was glad he wasn't looking at her. It gave her a moment to absorb the pain his words were knifing into her. She shouldn't have been surprised. She had suspected that the experience in the cave had meant more to her than to Daniel.