Текст книги "Golden Barbarian "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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"It wouldn't be force. A bargain is a bargain."

"It's a quirk of mine that I prefer enthusiasm to forbearance." He untied his striped cravat and pulled it off. "You may not conceive a child at once, and I dislike the idea of you gritting your teeth every time I touch you."

"I cannot promise you enthusiasm." Her hand clutched more tightly to the blanket. "I don't think I'll care for it. Though I admit I'm a little confused by it all. Pauline likes it, but I have seen mares mounted by stallions that don't look as if they're very… "—she paused, searching for the correct word—"comfortable."

"Comfortable?" He smiled. "No, there's little comfort in it. And I can't promise you there will be no pain, but I believe you'll find it interesting." He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. "When I show you the way of it."

She stared at his powerful muscles. They ridged his shoulders, grew large on his upper arms, and chest. Her gaze followed the black triangle of hair on his chest to where it disappeared into the waistband of his black trousers. His flesh looked like burnished bronze. A queer fluttery feeling started in the pit of her stomach. "If you aren't going to fornicate with me, why are you removing your clothes?"

"I'm going to bed."

"With me? Why? You have a chamber of your own."

His lips twisted. "Unlike the nobility of Tamrovia, in Zalandan husbands and wives not only sleep in the same chamber but the same bed."

"How peculiar. I should think the lack of privacy must be something of an imposition." She shrugged. "Oh well, I suppose I'll become accustomed to it."

"I trust so. Lower the cover."

She stiffened, her eyes widening. "What?"

"Sit up and drop the cover. I want to look at you."

Her cheeks began to sting. "I see no purpose in looking if you're not going to do anything."

"There's a purpose. Lower the blanket."

She forced herself to release her grasp, and the cover fell to her waist. She felt as if her flesh were ablaze as she lifted her chin defiantly to glare at him. "What rhyme or reason is there in exposing myself? I'm no beauty like Lady Camilla. You'll get no pleasure from staring at me."

"No, you're no Camilla." His gaze lingered on her shoulders before traveling down to her breasts. "But sometimes the smaller jewel has the most beautiful facets."

"And sometimes the facets are so small you can't tell whether they're beautiful or not." She couldn't breathe. Her breasts felt tight, yet they were swelling under his gaze. "May I pull up the blanket now, my lord?"

He slowly shook his head, his gaze never leaving her breasts. "I think not. I believe we're making progress."

"Toward what end?"

He smiled. "Why, to the end of becoming accustomed to each other. From now on you will sleep naked in my bed, and I will fondle and caress you whenever I am moved to do so." He sat down in the chair by the door, pulled off his left boot, and dropped it on the floor. "Kneel on the bed, facing me."

She didn't look at him as she threw aside the blanket and knelt on her haunches, facing him. "You cannot be enjoying this." She heard his other boot drop to the floor. "I believe you're doing this to shame me."

"Don't you like to have me look at you?"

"It makes me most uncomfortable."

"You shouldn't be uncomfortable. You're quite lovely."

She snorted derisively. "I have hideous red hair and eyes too big for my face and—"

"The most exquisite breasts and limbs I've ever seen."

She inhaled sharply and kept her gaze fastened on the wall behind his shoulder.

"You don't believe me?"

She swallowed. "No."

"Then I suppose I'll have to furnish proof. Look at me."

Her gaze moved reluctantly from the wall. He was naked, standing perfectly at ease, his legs slightly astride, a brawny study in sleek bronze and black.

Her eyes widened as they traveled down his body to rest on his rampant arousal.

His gaze followed hers. "Proof," he repeated softly.

"You look… different."

"Different from what?"

"From when I saw you naked before."

"You were only a child." He chuckled. "Besides, you saw me after the fact, not before or during. Proof is not always in evidence." He paused. "Though I've had a damnable time keeping it from becoming so today." He took the candle and started across the room.

She instinctively tensed, her gaze clinging to his.

"Listen very carefully," he said softly. "I do find you desirable, so desirable I ache with it." He stopped before her and set the candle on the bedside table. "Can you doubt it now?"

She couldn't speak.

His hand reached out and touched her hair with exquisite gentleness.

"You're so tiny," he whispered. "Last night as I watched you, I kept thinking how tight you'd be around me. Every time I think about you, I grow hard, wondering…"

She felt as if she were drowning. He was scarcely touching her, and yet she felt a deep tingling in her palms, in the nipples of her breasts, even in the arches of her feet. She tore her gaze away from his face. "I doubt you'll fit."

"You know better. A female is created to accept a man." His hand moved from her hair to caress her throat. "To want a man. A mare may not appear to enjoy mating, but haven't you seen one back up to a stallion, looking over her shoulder, wriggling her tail at him?" His thumb pressed the hollow of her throat, and she knew he could feel the leap of her pulse beneath the pad of flesh. "Do you know how much I'd like to have you do that for me?"

Shock caused her body to flinch. "I'm not an animal."

"I meant no insult. Sometimes my words have no grace." His hand left her throat and both arms fell to his sides. "I'm not entirely undressed. Help me."

She gazed at him in bewilderment. What was he talking about? He was already naked.

He turned his back to her. "The ribbon tying my queue. Unfasten it for me."

She rose onto her knees and with trembling fingers tried to unfasten the black grosgrain ribbon binding his hair. Her breasts brushed the warm flesh of his back. She felt a shudder go through him. She tried to arch away from him as she worked at the knot, but she brushed him again. This time the shiver that went through him was echoed by hers. Her breasts were aching, the nipples pebble hard, a strange throbbing between her thighs. What was happening to her? "I can't seem to—Perhaps you'd better do it."

"No." His voice was guttural. "In Zalandan it's traditional for a wife to do this. It symbolizes that only she has the privilege to set her man free."

But the act did not set Tess free. With every passing moment the feeling of being held and possessed by Galen was increasing. She finally managed to untie the ribbon and pull it from his hair. She tossed it on the bedside table and sat back on her heels with a sigh of relief. "It's done."

He shook his head, his back still turned to her. The candlelight caught the thick luster of his black hair as it flowed down to skim his shoulders, the play of muscles in his shoulders. She felt a sudden wild desire to reach out and stroke those muscles, tangle her fingers in his mane and pull him down to—

He turned to face her, huge, primitive, untamed. His eyes were glittering, a dark strand of hair now fell over his forehead, the rest of his loosened hair framed his face. His nostrils flared then, slowly, he slid both palms down his thighs in blatant invitation. Tess gasped, the muscles of her stomach clenching. He had not touched her, but she felt as if he had drawn her against his body with that one sensual gesture.

"Lust can arouse the animal in any of us, kilen. As I hope you'll soon discover." He drew a deep, harsh breath and closed his eyes tightly. "Dear Lord, very soon."

His lids flicked open, and he stepped back. He leaned forward and blew out the candle.

Tess supposed she should have felt relieved, but the darkness only made her feel more vulnerable.

She could see Galen's shadowy bulk before her, she could smell his scent.

"Lie down." Galen's low voice vibrated with tension. "I can't take any more. It's over for now."

It had not really begun, Tess thought dazedly. He had only touched her hair and her throat, he had only looked at her body and murmured a few words of need and desire. Why did she feel this sense of bondage?

"Now."

She scrambled under the cover and moved to the far side of the bed.

The next moment she felt the mattress give under Galen's weight.

He lay beside her, not touching her, every muscle hardened with tension.

She lay beside him, her heart pounding, the odd throbbing in her groin.

"I don't understand what this is all about," she said haltingly. "Why?"

His voice was thick, his breathing harsh in the darkness. "I'll have you the way I want you or not at all."

"It's only for the babe. What difference does it make?"

"A great difference." He was silent for a long moment. "We are two civilized people. I will not play stallion to your mare." He was silent, and when he spoke again, his tone was fierce, desperate. "Because, by God, I am not a barbarian."

Chapter 3

« ^ »

Galen was gone when Tess awoke the next morning, and she experienced a rush of relief mixed with disappointment. His presence was exciting; he intrigued her mind while inspiring a curious vitality to possess her body. She wasn't sure she was ready yet to try to understand his effect on her. Last night had been a most unsettling experience. What an unusual and unpredictable man Galen Ben Raschid was proving to be.

She dressed hurriedly in her old dark brown riding habit that she had refused to throw away despite Pauline's pleas, left the chamber, and started downstairs. She had reached the landing when she encountered a young man wearing a burgundy-and-cream striped robe and flowing white trousers tucked into brown suede boots. His face seemed familiar.

"I was just going to your chamber, Majira." He bowed politely. "The majiron wishes to depart within the hour. Is it convenient for me to pack your valises now?"

"There's not much to pack. I saw no sense in having my cases unpacked for such a short stay." She frowned thoughtfully. "You're Said, aren't you?"

He bowed again. "Said Abdul, Majira."

"I didn't recognize you at first." Her eyes twinkled. "You're wearing clothing."

He blinked, appearing slightly taken aback. "May I pack for you, Majira?"

Good Lord, he was as stiff and sober as the Mother Superior. "By all means," she said solemnly. "Where is the sheikh?"

"In the stable. Shall I tell him you wish to see him?"

"No, you go about your business." She started down the steps again. "I'll find him."

"Unescorted?" He looked slightly shocked. "There are men in the stable, Majira."

She glanced impatiently over her shoulder. "What difference does that make?"

"It is not fitting. You are the majira. It would be unwise for you to—"

"I'll escort her, Said." Sacha was standing at the bottom of the staircase. "Get to the packing."

Said sighed in apparent relief. "As you wish, my lord."

Tess shook her head as she watched him move quickly away. "He has no humor."

"Said's a good man," Sacha said. "But he does have a highly developed sense of protocol. It's a different world in Sedikhan."

"So I'm beginning to discover." She started down the last few steps. "What's a majira?"

He grinned. "That's you. Wife of the majiron. The Tamrovian equivalent would be 'Your Majesty'.

"And Galen is the majiron?"

He nodded. "It's one of his titles." His smile disappeared as his gaze searched her face. "Are you… well?"

She flushed and avoided his stare. "Probably better than you. You were definitely in your cups last night." She strode past him toward the door. "I'm going to see Selik."

"Not your husband?"

She glanced mischievously over her shoulder. "My husband appeared sound in wind and limb when I last saw him. Selik was not."

"Selik is much better."

Tess swung around to see Galen standing in the doorway. He gazed at her without expression, but his lips twitched betrayingly. "And I'm glad you found me… fit."

Tess heard a sound behind her from Sacha that sounded suspiciously like a smothered chuckle.

She flushed as memories surfaced of Galen standing in naked splendor before her, his dark eyes burning, his hair flowing about his shoulders. Her gaze flew to his hair. It was tied neatly in a queue. He was dressed in a black superfine coat and matching trousers, his cravat wound as intricately as the one gracing Sacha's throat. Somehow that evidence of proper civilized attire restored her composure. "Selik is able to travel?"

He nodded. "But not bear weight. We'll put him on a lead for a few days."

"That's wise," she commented.

"I'm glad you approve." He inclined his head in a slight bow. "I've purchased a mare from the innkeeper for you to ride to Zalandan. She's a little long in the tooth, but adequate for the journey. Now, if you please, we'll break our fast and be on our way. Our escort waits over the border at the Oasis of El Dabal."

A journey to Sedikhan. Who would have believed she would ever go to that barbaric land? She found she was suddenly filled with eagerness to be on her way. "Let's go now. I'm not hungry."

"Nevertheless, you will eat," Galen said. "We won't be stopping until sundown, and you must keep up your strength."

She frowned. "I don't like orders, my lord."

His faint smile faded. "Better mine than your father's."

"True." She gave him a veiled look from beneath her lashes. "But if you recall, I usually found ways to circumvent his orders."

"Those means will not be available to you in Zalandan." He saw her abrupt stiffening and withdrawal, and his expression softened. "Which doesn't mean I plan to tyrannize you, only to keep you safe."

"My father also took precautions to keep me safe. One of those precautions was to try to kill Apollo, who loved me." She met his gaze directly. "Would you do something like that?"

He gazed at her silently for a moment before he said slowly, "If such a thing became necessary."

She was startled. It was not the answer she expected. He had saved Apollo. Yet now he looked at her with implacable resolution shining in his eyes. There was no question he meant what he said. She drew a deep, shaky breath. "Then it's well we come to an understanding." She made an impatient gesture as he started to speak. "I know I have a certain value to you. I will do nothing to endanger it by damaging myself."

"I did not mean—"

"Of course you did. I'm no fool. I know what my worth is to you." She strode toward the common room. "I will eat. Such a small thing does not matter, and I know you must keep me well." She challenged him with a glance. "But you offered me freedom, and I will not let you have it all your own way."

"Freedom comes when you leave me." He smiled. "And I'm very used to my own way in Zalandan."

"I'm ravenous." Sacha moved quickly forward and grasped Tess’s elbow, smoothly inserting himself between her and Galen. "If you're both through throwing down gauntlets, may we eat now? Come along, Tess. You know how conflict upsets my delicate nature." He heard a disbelieving snort from Galen and glanced over his shoulder with a hurt expression. "Philistine. You've never appreciated the sensitivity of my feelings." He propelled Tess forward. "Besides, neither of you is giving me enough attention. I'm beginning to become bored."

Judging by the number of tents, Tess would have said a small army occupied the palm-shaded oasis of El Dabal. As she, Galen, Sacha, and Said approached, at least seventy riders, dressed in robes of the same striped burgundy and cream colors worn by Said, thundered toward them.

"Mother of God." Tess reined in her mare to stare at the cavalcade. "Even His Majesty doesn't travel with an entourage this large."

"King Lionel doesn't have to cross a country torn apart by warring tribes," Galen said. "An escort isn't mere panoply in Sedikhan."

"Not when Tamar claims the border country as his," Sacha added with a grimace.

"Tamar?" Tess asked.

"Sheikh Tamar Hassan," Galen said absently as he took off his tailored coat and draped it over the front of his saddle, then removed his cravat, put it carefully on top of the coat, and unfastened the first three buttons of his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Tess asked.

"Getting rid of these foolish trappings. I'm home now."

He smiled recklessly, his white teeth flashing in the bronze darkness of his face. Tess was spellbound. He looked wilder, less controlled than she had ever seen him. The hot breeze lifted his dark hair from his forehead, and barely suppressed excitement glittered in his eyes. She knew he spoke truly when he lovingly called the barren golden sand shimmering under hard blue skies "home." He seemed one with this merciless, exotically beautiful land.

"Bring her, Sacha. I need to go ahead to meet Kalim." Galen spurred ahead into a gallop, with Said pounding at his heels.

Tess sat her horse and watched the uproar of greeting as Galen rode into the troop. At first the men stayed still, merely making shrill, loud noises. Then, suddenly, they surrounded Galen. Even at a distance Tess could see that the faces of the men surrounding Galen showed affection and a respect bordering on worship.

"They do care about him," Tess said thoughtfully.

Sacha nodded. "Of course. He keeps the El Zalan alive and prospering."

"No, it's more than that."

Sacha shot her a thoughtful glance. "Very perceptive, imp. Galen's a chameleon. He's taught himself to become whatever he has to be, to adjust to any situation, to give whatever is demanded. He gives the El Zalan what they need, and in turn they give him unquestioning affection and loyalty. I told you he holds great power."

For the first time since she started the journey, Tess experienced a flutter of uneasiness. If Galen was the chameleon Sacha described, the man she thought she had begun to know might not exist. She suddenly felt very much alone in this wild land.

"It's too late for second thoughts now," Sacha said.

She tossed her head. "I wasn't having second thoughts. Well, only small ones." She spurred her horse into a gallop. "Come on, let's go. I'm hungry."

The tribesmen fell silent as Tess approached; they made her apprehensive, and she was glad Sacha was at her side. Galen was talking with an extraordinarily handsome young man mounted on a superb bay gelding. They were so absorbed in their conversation that Tess again felt estranged… and terribly alone.

"What news of Tamar?" Sacha called as they drew within hailing distance of the two men.

"No sign of him," Galen said grimly. "But that doesn't mean he's not here."

The beautiful young man next to Galen flushed and said quickly, "I searched most diligently, Majiron."

"That means little. Tamar's a wily wolf." Galen turned his head and said something to the man in a low tone.

Tess was irritated by Galen's ignoring her and then realized how foolish she was being. Nothing in their bargain demanded Galen must stay by her side every minute, and she must see to her own needs. She boldly rode up to Galen and stopped her mare before him. "I'm tired and wish water and food, my lord."

He looked up absently and gestured casually to the man next to him. "May I present my wife, Kalim? This is my lieutenant, Kalim Ranmir, Tess."

Surprise and then resentment flickered over Kalim's classic features. He bowed his head politely. "Majira."

"My lord Kalim." She nodded and then looked again at Galen. "As I said, my lord, I'm hungry."

He caught the hint of defiance in her tone, and his eyes narrowed on her. He saw the lines of tension around her mouth and the arrow-straight rigidity of the carriage of her slight body. He smiled. "Then of course I must supply food to appease you. We've already discussed my duty in that regard." He turned to Said. "Show my lady to my tent, Said, and fetch her whatever she requires."

"Will you be joining me later?" Tess asked.

He looked a trifle surprised. "Is that your wish?"

"As you like." She shrugged carelessly, she hoped. "I merely want to know if I am to expect you." Before he could reply, she turned and let her mare pick her way through the troop of tribesmen, her back very straight, her head high.

"Who is this Kalim?" Tess asked Said as she rode beside him toward a tent in Galen's striped colors. It was located by a sparkling blue pool that appeared to be directly in the center of the oasis.

"He's the majiron's second in command. Kalim's a very fierce fighter and much respected."

"I thought Sacha was his second in command."

"Oh no!" Said shook his head. "That would not be possible. My lord Sacha is an outsider. He is not of the El Zalan."

Her lips twisted. "Not too much of an outsider to befriend your majiron and fight for your cause."

Said nodded. "I meant no insult. He is a true friend to the El Zalan. Everyone likes my lord Sacha."

But they still had clearly not accepted him as one of their own, even after years of service. Her feeling of alienation deepened. "How nice for Sacha."

"He appears to find it pleasant." For an instant the tiniest flicker of smile touched Said's lips. "Our women have a special fondness for him." The smile immediately disappeared, as if he had been startled by his own outspokenness. "Forgive me, I meant no disrespect, Majira."

"Of course not." Tess shot him an exasperated glance. "Let's come to an understanding, since we're evidently going to spend a great deal of time together. I'm not like the women of the El Zalan, and I have no intention of behaving like them. I'm more accustomed to the talk in a stable than I am to women's gossip. I will not become offended if you make remarks you deem indiscreet." She paused. "And, in fact, such conversation may make me feel less…" She searched for a word that would not reveal her vulnerability and finally ended baldly, "Alone."

Said's expression softened as he dismounted in front of the tent and came around to help her down. "You will not be alone. The women of the court will be honored to become friends of Majira. The majiron would not permit anything else."

"We shall see." Holding Said's hand, Tess threw her leg over the pommel and slipped from the sidesaddle. "However, I believe I shall fight my own battles and not rely on your master."

She turned and strode into the tent.

Said brought water for washing, and after Tess had refreshed herself, he busied himself preparing to serve her meal. He put out a place setting on the intricate beauty of the Persian rug and served her delicately flavored rabbit stew. It was far better than the food at the cafe the previous night. "Won't the majiron and my cousin be joining me?"

Said shook his head. "They eat with the men by the fire."

"Indeed?" Now that she had rested a bit, her first qualms at the extraordinary situation in which she had been placed were disappearing. "Perhaps I'll join them." She picked up her bowl and started to get to her feet, but Said was frantically shaking his head, his face horror-struck. "No?"

"The majiron would be most upset with me if I permitted you to leave the tent. It is not—"

"Fitting," Tess finished for him. "For a barbaric land your customs are annoyingly stringent."

"Barbaric?" The man was obviously insulted. "The El Zalan are not barbaric. Other tribes are barbaric, but we have the majirons laws." He frowned. "You will not go to the campfire?"

"No." She was too weary tonight to fight the disapproval she would probably meet if she violated the El Zalan's customs. Besides, she was beginning to like Said and had no desire to get him into Galen's bad graces. "But it's too hot to stay in this tent."

He thought for a moment. "I will spread a rug just outside the entrance, and you may catch the night breeze. We will turn out the lantern so that you can see but not be seen by the men."

"Is that nec—" She sighed. "Very well. Anything you say. Please do get the rug."

The breeze was indeed cool on her face as she lounged outside the tent with Said sitting a protective few yards away on his own rug. She didn't really care about the coolness. She could have borne the heat of the tent, but she could not bear being totally isolated from the activity going on around the campfire across the pool from the tent. The air was alive with laughter and casual talk and the camaraderie of men accustomed to living with one another. She wasn't the least bit intimidated any longer, and she yearned to join the men.

She caught sight of Galen on the far side of the campfire. Her eyes widened in disbelief. He threw back his head and laughed heartily at something Kalim said. She watched Kalim smile and other men sitting in the circle move infinitesimally closer to Galen, as if being drawn by a magnet. She hadn't had so much as a glimpse of this side of Galen. Did he reveal his warmth and openness only to his people? No, Sacha must have seen him thus, for he had followed Galen and fought under his banner for six years.

A bittersweet wail, almost human-sounding, made her turn in surprise. Said was playing a reed flute, and the music was inexpressibly lovely, blending with the night, sand, and fire into a harmony that was completely right for the time and place. When he finally took the instrument from his lips, she said, "That was lovely, Said."

He looked faintly embarrassed as he said gruffly, "The majiron does not mind. It passes the time even though for a protector of the majiron, it is not—"

"Fitting," Tess finished for him. She was growing weary of that word. "Then it should be fitting. Everything beautiful should be fitting. Play some more."

"You do not wish to go inside now?"

"No, I want to stay here for a while." She added quickly, "You were right, the breeze is cooling." And she wanted to watch Galen's expressions as he talked to the men around the campfire. If she studied him while he had his guard down, might she see into the man?

Said continued to play his flute, and she settled herself more comfortably on the carpet, her gaze fixed in fascination on her husband.

When Galen left the campfire and strolled around the pool toward the tent, it was nearly ten o'clock. Surprised, he stopped in front of Tess. "I thought you would have gone to sleep by now."

She scrambled to her feet. "I was tired, but not sleepy."

"Did Said furnish you with everything you needed?"

"Everything but sociable company." She added tartly, "Which you and Sacha certainly didn't deny yourself."

Galen held the tent flap back, and she preceded him inside. He took off his burnoose and tossed it on the cushions of a low divan. "I've been away for almost two weeks. Kalim had much to tell me."

"You didn't look as if you were conducting state business."

He turned to stare at her with raised brows. "That sounded suspiciously shrewish and wifely."

She flushed. "No such thing. I was curious… well, and bored." She frowned. "I would have joined you, but the mere mention of doing such a thing sent Said into a tizzy."

"Quite rightly."

"Why? When members of the Tamrovian court travel, the women aren't stuck away in a hot, stuffy tent."

"You found the tent displeasing?"

"No." She looked around the tent. A thick, beautifully patterned carpet stretched over the ground, and everywhere her gaze wandered were colorful silk cushions, intricately worked brass lanterns, bejeweled silver candlesticks. "I've seen rooms at the palace that weren't as luxuriously furnished as this." She went back to the primary subject. "But I don't like being imprisoned here."

"I'll consider ways to make it more palatable."

"But I don't want to stay here. Can't I join you in the evening around the campfire? If the court does not—"

"The men of your court haven't been without a woman for four weeks," he interrupted bluntly. "And your Tamrovian courtiers are tame as day-old pups compared to my tribesmen."

Her eyes widened. "They would insult me?"

"No. You belong to me. They would offer no insult. But they would look at you and grow hard and know pain."

Her skin burned. "Your words are crude."

"The fact is crude, and you must understand it. I will not make my men suffer needlessly."

"You would rather have me suffer." She scowled. "I would think you'd try to teach your men to control their responses. After all, I'm not that comely."

He smiled faintly. "I thought we'd settled the matter of your comeliness last night."

She had not thought her cheeks could get any hotter, but she found she was wrong. "Not everyone would find me to their taste. I think you must be a little peculiar."

He chuckled, and his face looked as boyish as it had when he'd laughed and joked with his men. "I assure you that my tastes are not at all unusual. You have a quality I've seen in few women."

She gazed at him warily. "What?"

"Life." His eyes held her own, and his expression suddenly sobered. "I've never met a woman so alive as you, kilen."

Her stomach fluttered as she looked at him. She tore her gaze away from his face to stare down at the patterns in the carpet. "Your women are without spirit?"

"They have spirit," he said softly. "But they don't light up a tent by merely walking into it."

The flutter came again, and with it a strange breathlessness. "Pretty words. But what you're about to say is that I must stay in the tent."

"What I'm saying is that I prefer to save your light for myself."

Joy soared through her with bewildering intensity. She mustn't let him sway her feelings like this, she thought desperately. Sacha had said Galen gave whatever was demanded of him. Perhaps he thought this flattery was what she wanted of him. "As I said, pretty words." She changed the subject as she forced herself to lift her eyes to gaze directly at him. "You look different in your robe. "

"More the barbarian?"

"I didn't say that," she said quickly.

"But you thought it." He smiled bitterly. "I've embraced many of your civilized Western ways, but I refuse to give up everything. The material of our robes is thin, comfortable, and the white reflects the sun." He strolled to the small trunk in the corner. "Which reminds me, you look most uncomfortably hot in your velvet riding habit. I think we must do something about it." He rummaged until he found another robe like the one he was wearing. "Here, put this on." He turned and tossed the garment to her. "You'll find it far more satisfactory."