Текст книги "The Desert Blooms "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 9 страниц)

"All right, I'll try." Had he heard her? His hand was tightening on hers, as if he were trying to hold her back. Back from what? The darkness was warm and friendly and she was floating away on a gentle surf that cradled her like strong arms. Like Philip's arms carrying her back from the vineyard that night so long ago. Such a lovely memory ...

"She's unconscious," Karl Madchen said from just behind Philip. His face was expressionless as he took a step forward and picked up her wrist. "Raoul said it was a fall from a horse in the hills.How long was she lying there before you found her?"

"Not more than two hours, perhaps less. I got together a party and rode after her as soon as Oedipus returned to the stable. We were very careful. We brought her down on that stretcher, but we reinforced it with special supports. I don't think there are any bones broken." He touched her jean-clad thigh gently. "However, she seems to be in shock and I think there's some bleeding."

"So I see. Well, we'll have to run a few tests. It may be nothing." Madchen was rapidly unzipping Pandora's jeans as he spoke. "I will let you know shortly. My assistant is waiting in the hall. Send her in, please. I will join you in the library when I have a report for you."

"I'm going to stay," Philip said hoarsely.

"As you like, but you'll be in the way. I can function more efficiently with you out of the room."

Philip muttered a curse and reluctantly released Pandora's hand. "All right. But hurry, dammit. I want to know right away."

"You will learn my diagnosis in good time. There are tests and perhaps X rays to be taken. I know my job, Sheikh El Kabbar."

Philip was aware of that. Madchen might be as emotionless as the Sphinx, but he was an exceedingly thorough, competent physician, or Philip never would have retained him all these years. "I want to know right away," he said again. "I'll be waiting."

He strode quickly from the room and proceeded directly to the library, pausing only to send Madchen's assistant into the first-aid room.

In the library he crossed to the cellarette and poured himself a stiff drink. Then he dropped into the large wing chair by the desk and stretched his booted legs out in front of him. He was filthy, he realized vaguely as he sipped the brandy. He should probably go to his suite and shower and change. There was even a smear of blood on his gray riding pants. Her blood. His grip tightened on the glass. Then he forced his hand to relax, one finger at a time. He had to keep his mind blank. Heaven knew when Madchen would see fit to come and give him the report on Pandora. If he let himself remember that nightmare moment when he'd found her lying crumpled on the stony mountain path, he'd go to pieces.

He couldn't do that. Pandora needed him to keep back the cold. Lord, he had felt as if he were bleeding inside when she murmured those poignant words. He was still bleeding. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He hadn't prayed since he was a child, but every breath he drew was a prayer now. Let her be well. Let him have the chance to keep his promise.

* * *

It was over two hours later when Madchen knocked, and then entered the library. Philip sat up straight. His shoulders were tense as he searched the doctor's face for any hint of expression. "Well?"

"There are no broken bones, as far as I can tell without an X ray." He nodded toward the cellarette. "May I have a drink?" he asked politely.

Philip made an impatient gesture. "Help yourself. What do you mean, as far as you can tell? Why didn't you take the X rays?"

"I thought it better not to, until I consulted you." Madchen was at the bar, pouring himself a small glass of white wine. "I wanted to determine your wishes in the matter."

"My wishes? What the hell do you mean? My 'wish' is to get your daughter well as quickly as possible. What the devil did you think I'd want?"

"There is no question that Pandora will be well in fairly short order." Madchen sipped the white wine with appreciation. "She has a very strong constitution. It's the child I'm wondering about. X rays would not be wise for the embryo."

Philip froze. "The child?"

"Pandora's approximately four weeks pregnant," Madchen said calmly. "She has had a bad fall. It will take extremely delicate handling to assure that the infant survives." He met Philip's eyes. "I wanted to be very sure that you wished me to take that care. After all, an illegitimate child can be very troublesome for a man in your position."

There was stunned silence in the room. "My God," Philip breathed incredulously. "She's your daughter."

Madchen shrugged. "An illegitimate child is often an inconvenience to the mother as well."

"You son of a bitch."

"There's no need to be abusive." Madchen straightened his horn-rimmed glasses. "I'm only looking out for your interests as my employer."

"What about her interests? You know damned well that Pandora would want that child." Philip could feel fury coursing through every vein. "You know that, damn your soul. Yet you're willing to take it from her while she's lying there helpless and unable to protect herself."

"I take it you want the child," Madchen said stolidly. "You had only to say so. Of course I'll make every effort to ensure a successful pregnancy."

"You're damn right, you will," Philip bit out. "You've cheated her out of affection all her life. You're not going to take this away from her too. You'll treat her as if a mere breath would shatter her." He rose to his feet, his hands clenched into fists. "And you'll be nice to her, or I'll tear you limb from limb."

Madchen blinked in surprise. "I've never been unkind to Pandora. I don't know what you mean."

Philip drew a deep breath and slowly unclenched his hands. It was obvious that Madchen was speaking the truth. He was an emotional cripple. Philip had to keep reminding himself of that, or he would end up strangling the man. "Just make sure that you don't hurt her," he said as he turned away wearily. "Perhaps it would be better if you saw as little of her as possible."

"As you like." Madchen set his wineglass down on the cellarette. "I would like to call your attention to one point, however. I wasn't the one who was responsible for Pandora being in that first-aid room tonight." He looked up. "And I think perhaps you were, Sheikh El Kabbar."

Philip could feel the blood draining from his face. He felt a million years old. "You're right," he said bitterly. "Between us, we've nearly destroyed her. We should be very proud of ourselves." His hand was trembling as he raised it to cover his eyes. "She's probably the most loving human being either one of us will ever encounter, and we've managed to rip her to pieces." His hand dropped to his side. "Well, it's up to us to put those pieces together again. I just hope to God she'll let us do it."

He sat down in his chair and picked up his brandy glass from the table. "Now, get back to Pandora and take care of her. If that baby dies, I'll break you, Madchen." He frowned. "Don't tell Pandora that she's pregnant. I'll do it myself. And for heaven's sake, if you can't say something kind to her, don't say anything at all."

Madchen moved ponderously toward the door. "Naturally I'll do everything I can. I told you that." He closed the door briskly behind him.

Philip leaned against the high back of the chair, his eyes staring blindly before him. A child. He had never thought about being a father. Yet there was no doubt he wanted Pandora's child. There was not a thing on God's green earth that he wouldn't cherish if it was loved and wanted by Pandora.

He wouldn't think of the pain or the difficulties to come. He wouldn't think of Madchen or of Pandora's white face when she had run out of the study earlier that evening. Instead, he would think of Pandora's child, even now growing in her womb. His child. He tested the idea and found it brought a sweeping rush of possessive joy. Yes, he would spend the time until he could go to Pandora thinking about their child.

Eight

Philip was lying naked beside her, his arm heavy and possessive around her and his alert gaze on her face. Pandora was naked, too, but she couldn't seem to remember how she got that way. Had they been making love?

"Philip . . .?"

"Shh ..." His lips touched hers in a quick, gentle kiss. "Go back to sleep. You need it. You're going to be as sore as hell in the morning."

"Why should I be ..." Her eyes suddenly widened. "Oedipus! Is he all right?"

His lips tightened. "Better than you are. He just went for a midnight run."

"I fell off," she murmured, attempting to remember. "I tried to stop him, he reared, and I fell." Her eyes flew to his face. "Have I done something stupid to myself?"

"You mean like breaking your back?" His eyes flashed in the dim lamplight. "No, but you damn well could have. You're only suffering from shock and bruises. Your father said you were to stay in bed and take it easy for the next week or so."

"My father's been here? I don't remember that." She laughed shakily. "Are you sure I didn't hit my head as well?"

"I'm sure. You've just been sleeping like the dead. Shock, Madchen said." He raised himself on his elbow and the sheet fell to his waist, revealing the soft mat of dark hair that roughened his chest. "Sleep is the best thing for you right now. Your father said that if you woke and had problems I should give you a light sedative."

"I don't want to go back to sleep. I'm wide awake now." Her eyes traveled around the room. "This is your suite. What am I doing here?"

"I wanted you in here. Madchen's assistant is on the premises, but I wasn't about to let you spend the night in the first-aid room." He smiled with such warmth, she felt a momentary dizziness that had nothing to do with her fall. "I decided, very selfishly, that I wouldn't be able to sleep without you tonight."

Her breath stopped in her lungs. "You appear to have been doing fine for the last month."

"I have?" His lips twisted ruefully. "I doubt if I got more than a few hours' sleep a night during the entire month. I've discovered that being in bed with you is very habit-forming." He bent forward and brushed her temple gently with his lips. "I may not ever be able to sleep without you again."

"Don't do this to me, Philip. I'm not a little girl to be given presents because I'm hurt." She glanced significantly at the door that led to the Khadim suite. "You weren't handing out any gifts earlier tonight." Her hand reached up to touch her throat, which felt naked without the medallion. "You were taking them away. Is Miss Lenat still here?"

His face tightened with pain, and she noticed for the first time how pale and haggard he looked. "No, she left almost immediately. Natalie isn't obtuse. She realized I was only using her as a way to hurt you." He removed his arm and rolled away from her. "She congratulated me on my ability to do that. She said that I had hurt you very much." He sat up on the side of the bed, his back turned to her. She couldn't see his face, but every muscle and tendon of his spine was taut with an agonizing tension. "She was right. I did it very well, didn't I?"

"Yes." Her voice was low. "You never do things halfway. I thought I was dying, and then I thought it would be better to die than to hurt that much."

He stood up and walked over to the chest across the room, his movements oddly jerky for a man so well coordinated. "You could have died." His voice was muffled. He took something from the top of the chest and was walking toward her again. His face was drawn, the skin pulled tightly over his high cheekbones. He knelt on the floor beside the bed. "I almost killed you."

"No, I was stupid," she said gently. "I shouldn't have let you drive me away like that. I thought I was so strong, but I seemed to break into a million pieces when you took my medallion away."

"God!" The exclamation was torn from him. He lifted her hand from the bed and laid the back of it against his cheek. "So did I." He rubbed her hand back and forth. His skin was slightly abrasive against the smoother flesh of her hand. "It was like dying or being born." He closed his eyes. "Maybe something like that did happen in the study tonight."

"I don't know what you mean."

"I mean I felt as if everything I'd ever known or believed about myself was suddenly torn away, leaving me naked and alone." He turned her hand over and pressed a kiss into her palm. "I'm going to have to start all over and I don't know how to go about it. Will you help me, Pandora?"

"What are you trying to tell me?" she whispered.

He laughed harshly. "I'm trying to tell you I love you. I'm not doing it very well, am I?"

Her eyes widened in shock. "You love ..."

"I don't know why you're so surprised." His lips curved in a rueful smile. "You always told me that I did."

"I know I did," she said dazedly. "It's just that it's happened so fast. I have to think about it."

"Well, while you're thinking about it"—he raised his hand and slipped the medallion he held around her neck—"wear this. It belongs to you." His fingers fumbled with the catch. "It will always belong to you."

"No." She suddenly put her hand up to stop him. "I don't want to put it back on." She moistened her lips nervously. "Not right now."

He went still. "Why not?"

Her eyes held bewilderment and a hint of pain. "I'm not sure. I don't think I trust you, Philip."

He flinched as if she'd struck him. "I suppose I deserve that," he said hoarsely. "But I don't think I've ever told you anything but the truth." His lips twisted mirthlessly. "Except when I told you I didn't want you. I lied through my teeth about that."

Her gaze was grave. "No, you've never lied to me before, but I don't think you've ever felt this guilty before. You have the idea that you're responsible for what happened to me tonight. It's not true, but I think it's shaken you just the same."

"It was my fault, dammit. And I feel guilty as hell, but that doesn't have anything to do with what I'm telling you."

"Don't you see? I can't be sure of that." Her lips were trembling as she tried to smile. "I want to take you at your word, but I think I found out something tonight too."

His eyes darkened with sudden pain. "That you don't love me after all?"

"No, that will go on forever," she said quietly. "It's too much a part of me to ever stop." She drew a deep breath. "No, it was about myself that I learned something. I found out that loving you wasn't enough, that I had to love myself as well. Ever since I met you I've been trailing you like a shadow. I thought just being close to you would make me happy. But I found out tonight that wasn't true. I need you to love me as much as I love you." She lifted her chin. "I'm pretty damn special. I deserve to be loved."

"I do love you," Philip said with a frown. "What the devil do you think I've been saying?"

"I have to be sure. It would tear me apart if I was fooled into thinking pity and guilt were love. I would rather be without you entirely than have that happen."

"So what do we do now? Am I supposed to go out and fight a dragon to prove my love?"

"Well, perhaps just a little dragon." A tiny smile was tugging at her lips. "For you, it will probably be worse than slaying a dragon. I want you to wait. I want time to make sure that you're capable of giving me what I'll give you. I know how you usually go after whatever you want. Your campaigns resemble Alexander's conquest of Persia." She paused. "I don't want to be invaded. I want to make my own decision."

"The decision's made. I love you, you love me. Why be so stupid as to waste any more time?" He suddenly smiled with beguiling warmth. "Someone told me recently that we're not getting any younger."

"That someone did a lot of growing up tonight," she said soberly.

The smile faded from his face. He kissed her palm one more time before placing it on the bed. "Yes, I imagine you did," he said wearily. "All right, you'll have your time. I promise I won't push." His voice was suddenly fierce. "For now. But don't expect my patience to last forever. Two weeks and then the invasion begins." His eyes were narrowed and glittering on her face. "And I never particularly admired Alexander's campaign strategy. I always thought Hannibal's march across the Alps was much bolder and more innovative." He rose to his feet. "Two weeks. Then we'll be married and start living happily ever after."

"Married?" she asked faintly.

He frowned haughtily. "Of course, what else? I told you I loved you, didn't I?" He swung the golden medallion in his hand. "It's obvious that I'm going to need more than this to hold you from now on. We'll see what a marriage ceremony will do."

"If I decide to marry you," she said serenely, "it will be when I'm asked politely, not told."

"We'll see." He looked reckless. "I don't recall that Hannibal asked the Alps if they wanted to be crossed."

She shook her head resignedly. So much for Philip's chastened mood. "Philip ..."

He shook his head. "Don't feel threatened. In two weeks I'll be Hannibal. Until then I'll be"—his eyes were suddenly dancing with mischief—"your Khadim."

"What!"

"Why not? I know the role well. I've studied it long enough." His tone was low and coaxing. "Would you like to have your own Khadim, Pandora?"

"Philip, stop joking."

He lifted mocking brows. "If you deserve to be loved, don't you think you deserve to be serviced by someone whose only desire is to please?" His eyes were holding hers intently. "Look at me, Pandora. Do I please you? Did I please you that first night? I know I hurt you, but wasn't there a little pleasure too?"

"More than a little," she said huskily. "You know that."

"No, I don't know. I was in such a fever that I wasn't aware of anything but how you felt around me." His hand closed tightly on the medallion. "But I'll know next time. It's a Khadim's duty to put the client's pleasure first. I'll watch your face very closely while I move and thrust—"

"Philip!"

He chuckled. "Sorry, I forgot for a moment that you're still ill. You have that effect on me." He glanced down at himself with a rueful smile. "Among certain others." He suddenly frowned anxiously. "Do you need that sedative before I leave?"

She shook her head. "You're going?"

He bent forward to kiss her forehead. "Just next door. To the Khadim suite. I find that very appropriate, as well as less of a temptation. I'll look in on you later." He crossed the room, his carriage lithe and indomitably royal in his nudity.

"Philip."

He paused as he opened the door and looked over his shoulder inquiringly. "Yes?"

Her brow was knitted in a frown. "I was bleeding. I felt it as I was lying there. Are you sure I was just bruised?"

He hesitated. "You were badly jarred," he said. "But there's nothing to worry about. You'll be fine." He winked rouguishly. "The word of a Khadim."

He didn't hear her low chuckle as he shut the door.

* * *

The first present came in the afternoon of the next day. It was a silver vase wrought with such exquisite workmanship, it was a sensuous pleasure to look at it. It was filled to overflowing with

dozens of cream-colored roses touched at the heart with a delicate peach hue.

Raoul set it beside the bed on the rosewood night table. "From the Sheikh El Kabbar." he said formally. Then a puzzled frown wrinkled his brow. "With the compliments of your Khadim."

There was a gift every day after that. They ranged from a hi-fi video recorder with a complete library of films to a comb and brush set of white jade embedded with amethysts in a beautiful floral design.

"Are you trying to overwhelm me?" she asked with a grin when Philip came into the room on the afternoon the comb and brush set arrived. "If you are, you're succeeding." Her finger traced the amethyst motif on the back of the brush. "But I think you've got our roles reversed. It's the client who is supposed to give the gifts."

He sat down on the bed beside her and took the brush from her hand. "I look at the broader picture. A Khadim is supposed to give pleasure. I'm limited at present as to the kind of pleasure I can give you, so I decided to improvise. The gifts do please you, don't they?"

"Of course they do, but ..."

"Then that's all that's important. I'm obviously a tremendous success in my new role." He placed another pillow behind her back and eased her into a sitting position. "Besides, the giving of every gift has a selfish motive too." He moved to a position at the head of the bed behind her. "You know how self-indulgent I am."

He began pulling the brush through her hair with long, slow strokes. "I've looked forward to doing this ever since I ordered it from Rome, I love touching your hair." His other hand tangled in its thick length. "It's so silky and warm and alive. It makes my fingers tingle slightly as I draw them through. Are you enjoying this too?"

Her head was bent forward, her eyes half closed. If she were a cat, she would have purred. "It's wonderful," she said drowsily. He'd been at the stables. She could detect the scents of horse and leather and fresh air that surrounded him. "Have you been riding Oedipus?"

"Yes." The brush was at her temple, sweeping up and then down, the bristles massaging her scalp and tugging at the tresses in a blissfully sensuous fashion. "He's as temperamental as ever. He tried to run under a low-hanging branch and knock me off. He's nothing if not a challenge."

"He just has a strong personality," she protested. "He wanted to keep you on your toes."

"No, he wanted to knock me on my backside. There's a big difference." The stroking of the brush slowed. "You've been very meek about staying in bed for the last few days. How are you feeling?"

"Sore." She made a face. "For some reason, I can't seem to keep awake. I've been napping half the day away. I suppose it must be the shock."

"Probably." He carefully brushed her hair to one side and kissed the nape of her neck. "I expect it will pass shortly. Has your father been in to see you?"

She shook her head. "His assistant has been coming in every day and reporting back to him. I understand I'm to be honored with a visit before I'm allowed to resume normal activities."

"Does it bother you that he hasn't come?"

She thought about it. "No," she said slowly. "I think I've come to terms with my father." She laughed shakily. "It's about time, isn't it?"

"I'm glad." He was silent a moment. "I received a follow-up report on you from the detective agency this morning. It was very interesting."

"Was it?" She leaned back against him dreamily. "Have you ever considered the possibility that your avid interest in my scandalous past may be slightly unhealthy?"

"Scandalous, hell," he growled. "Poor little greedy rock star whose passion for luxuries impoverished her and forced her into a life of sin."

"I am impoverished," she said lightly. "I'm sure your Sherlock discovered that when he was nosing around."

"Oh, yes. Your bank account is bare as a bone. Denbrook found that out at once." He paused. "It took him longer to find out where the money had gone."

"Really? And I thought he appeared to be such an efficient operator."

"He was looking for investments, not charities. You gave last year's entire income to the Ethiopian Relief Fund. The year before you set up a shelter for stray animals in upper New York State."

"I like animals," she said. "And I didn't need the money. I was on the road all the time."

"So you gave it all away. Then you threw your career down the drain to come with me here to Sedikhan." His tone was suddenly harsh. "For heaven's sake, don't you have any sense of self-preservation?"

"I do not," she said quietly. "You taught it to me."

There was a silence in which the only sound was the sibilant hiss of the brush moving through her hair. "I know I did." His words were low and halting. "I don't give gentle lessons, do I?"

She didn't answer. She felt an aching need to ease the torment she sensed beneath his question, but the pain of that night was still too fresh, Philip's cruelty still too incomprehensible to give him false assurances.

He pulled the strap of her blue nightgown off her shoulder and placed a kiss where her arm joined the shoulder. "I like this spot," he murmured. "I can feel the suppleness of your muscles beneath the satin skin." He nipped the flesh lightly. "It's very arousing."

Yes, it was. Pandora could feel the heat tingle through her shoulder. She felt warm and lazy and infinitely treasured. How odd that those feelings could exist side by side with this tingling heat. "Philip, I don't think—"

"It's all right." His lips moved to the hollow at the base of her throat. "We're just playing a little. I know you're not well enough to"—he suddenly chuckled as he repeated her phrase—"be invaded."

"I remember the last time you 'played,' " she said breathlessly.

"That was different. That was the preliminary for the invasion." He slipped the strap from her other shoulder. "This is just me giving you pleasure. Just a little, not enough to make you ache as I've been doing for the last few days."

"Have you?" she asked with a twinge of guilt.

She knew Philip was a highly sexed man, yet she had been accepting his services as if he were a maid. He had bathed her, helped her to the bathroom, kept her company, and sought to entertain her almost all of her waking hours since the night of the accident. "Perhaps you could arrange for someone else to help me for a few days. I'll be all right after that."

"I want to do it." He was brushing her hair again. "I'm enjoying it in a masochistic way. You're my hair shirt."

"Well, then I guess I don't have to worry about you. There's nothing in the least erotic about a hair shirt."

"How do you know?" His lips were moving back and forth on her neck. "Any texture can be erotic, depending on the way it's used." His arms were sliding around her. "For instance, do you know what I told the jeweler when I ordered this hairbrush? I told him to make the bristles firm, but soft as a whisper."

"You did?" His hard chest was pressing against her back and his warm breath was feathering her ear.

"Shall we see if he carried out my instructions?" He pushed the bodice of her gown down, baring her breasts, and ran the brush lightly over one taut mound. The sensation of the soft bristles moving across her sensitive flesh was incredible. She drew in her breath sharply, and heard him laugh softly in her ear. "Textures. How does it feel?" He brushed lightly back and forth with a teasing stroke that suddenly caused her to arch forward against his arms with a little cry.

His long, strong fingers pressed lightly below her left breast. "Your heart is going wild. I don't think you have to answer." He kissed her temple, pulled up the bodice of the gown, and slipped the thin straps over her shoulders. "I'll send the jeweler a little bonus. I'll have to remember that you like that particular texture." He reached over and set the brush on the bedside table. Then his arms were cradling her again, pulling her back against his chest and rocking her as if she were a child in need of soothing. "Now just relax and well cuddle like this for a while." There were long, peaceful moments in which the haze of sensuality that engulfed her was gradually transformed into warm contentment. "I do love you, you know." His voice was low and clear in her ear.

"Oh, I do hope you do," she whispered. He was so dear. She had never dreamed that he could be this exquisitely gentle. "I love you so much, Philip. I don't want to leave you. I never want to leave you."

He stiffened against her. "You're never going to leave me. Stop talking about it." His arms tightened, and then released her. He stood up.

"You're going?" she asked, disappointed.

"I think I'd better." His lips twisted in a lopsided grin. "I need some more exercise. I get a little too anxious to start climbing those Alps when you say things like that. I'm riding out to the irrigation project for an hour or so. I'll have Raoul look in on you every so often until I get back."

"When will that be?" she asked wistfully. "Will you be back in time for dinner?"

"I wouldn't miss it," he said with a smile that lit his dark face. "Wait for me." He strode toward the door. "Do you want to nap, or shall I put a movie on the video recorder?"

"A movie, I think. Something funny."

He inserted a cassette and turned on the television. "There, that should keep you occupied." He slanted her a mischievous glance over his shoulder. "There are a few X-rated ones in the collection, but I thought we'd save those to watch together. I want to see if you're as responsive to visual stimuli as you are to touch."

"I think we'll wait on those," she said dryly. "I've had quite enough stimuli, thank you."

"Pandora," he said softly as he opened the door. "You have no idea yet how much is enough. But you will, love. You will."

* * *

The gown was delivered the afternoon before Philip's two-week hiatus was over. When she opened the box the first thing she was conscious of was the color. The deep cranberry of the brocade was so vibrant it appeared to glow with jewel-like radiance in its nest of white tissue paper.

The design of the gown was very simple. The boat neckline and the long, full sleeves were both modest, but the bodice would cling to her breasts with loving detail. The high waist that started immediately beneath the bust flowed to the floor with a gentle flare.

She picked up the card lying on top of the gown. "It's copied from an authentic bedouin wedding robe," she read. 'The brocade was my idea. Thoughwool is the traditional fabric, I want all the textures to be right tonight when you wear this."

Her lips curved in a smile as she picked up the gown and held it at arms' length to look at it. Philip and his textures. He wouldn't be able to complain about this particular brocade. It was both soft and supple, and a pleasure to touch.

That Philip did intend to touch tonight was clear, and the knowledge sent a little tingle of shock through her. It shouldn't have. The sexual tension between them had been evident in every minute of their time together. Yet these two weeks had possessed the misty aura of a dream. Philip had been so gentle. Gentle and sweet and loving, so very loving. And now that loving was going to blossom into physical fulfillment. Their joining would be as natural and beautiful as the time that had gone before. She felt a sudden surge of excitement rising within her. It was like the moment before a jump, when there was only the sky before her and the unknown on the other side. Evidently Philip had decided to start his campaign early.