Galen glanced over his shoulder. Hakim, Kalim, and several others were still in the field. He crossed the finish line ahead of Tess with ten yards to spare. He heard the shouting of the watchers behind the barricade, but ignored them as he turned to watch Pavda cross the finish line.
But there was no rider on Pavda's back.
Tess lay crumpled in the sand three yards from the finish line, her red carobel shattered and lying in splinters, her body still.
Panic raced through Tess as she gasped helplessly for air. She hadn't expected to hit the ground so hard, and the impact had knocked the breath from her body.
She could hear Galen saying something, his voice oddly husky above her, but she was too dazed to make out the words. She dimly felt him loosen the straps of the broken carobel and jerk it off her. Then his hands were running down her limbs.
"Is she hurt?" Sacha's voice, Sacha's concerned face, hovered behind Galen.
"I don't know,” Galen said hoarsely. "She hasn't moved."
"Not—hurt," she gasped. "Can't—breathe."
"Thank God,” Sacha breathed. "I told you it was dangerous, imp."
Galen shot him a fierce glance. "But you still helped her in this madness, didn't you? She couldn't have done it alone."
"You underestimate her," Sacha said. "I think she could have managed without me." He nodded. "But yes, I gave her my carobel and showed her where to hide in the brush to wait for the riders to pass."
"And damn near got her killed," Galen said harshly. "Why?"
"She was persuasive." Sacha shrugged. "And you always knew I detested Hakim."
"Not—Sacha's fault." Tess struggled to a sitting position in the sand. "I had to—"
"Kill yourself?" Galen demanded. "Two men died racing in the last carobel."
"Had to show… Hakim." Tess was at last able to draw a deep breath. She was immediately sorry as the stench of perfume nearly overpowered her. Dear heaven, she stank. "Not… an animal." She stiffened as she saw Hakim riding toward her.
The old man halted before her and smiled down at her with malicious satisfaction. "You see what happens when women forget their place and try to mimic men? They end up kneeling humbly in the dust." He turned to Galen and demanded, "You will punish her?"
"Be assured, you will hear her scream," Galen said grimly. "There should be time before we meet for the final vote this afternoon."
"Good." The old man turned his horse and rode away toward the tents of El Kabbar.
Sacha stepped forward. "Galen, I know you're angry, but you have to admit she had justification, and she wasn't as self-indulgent as you might bel—"
"Go find Viane and tell her to heat water for a bath." Galen wrinkled his nose. "Dear Lord, she stinks." He turned to Tess and asked coldly, "Can you walk?"
"Of course." She struggled to her knees and then to her feet. "I told you I wasn't hurt."
"Then go to the tent and wait for me there." He turned and took Pavda's and Selik's reins and started for the enclosure. "Pavda deserves more care than you do. You could have killed her on that fourth jump."
"I knew she could make it. I would never do anything to endanger Pavda."
He neither answered nor glanced at her as he stalked toward the enclosure.
Sacha gave a low whistle. "Be careful, imp. I've never seen him like this."
Tess was out of the bath, and Viane was wrapping her in a long length of toweling when Galen came into the tent. He carried a short riding whip.
"Leave us, Viane."
Viane gazed in horror at the whip. "Would not a small stick do as well?"
Galen smiled grimly. "The whip was sent by Hakim as a gesture of goodwill and a reminder of how a woman should be disciplined. Wasn't it kind of him?"
Viane hesitated. "I'm sure she didn't mean to cause trouble, Galen. Couldn't you—"
"She meant to cause the furor she did."
Galen said curtly. "Leave us, and tell your servant to start packing. I've told Kalim he's to form an escort and take you back to Zalandan this afternoon."
"But truly, Galen, she meant no harm. Could you not forgive her?"
"No, it's gone too far. If I don't punish her, I lose Hakim's vote for unity."
"That vile old man What do you care—?"
"He's right, Viane," Tess said quietly. "I must be punished. It's the only way. Leave us."
Viane gave her a worried glance and reluctantly left the tent.
"I didn't expect you to be so understanding."
Galen said without expression. "Was humiliating Hakim in the race worth it?"
She lifted her chin. "Yes."
"I disagree." He started toward her. "Nothing would be worth what I felt when I saw you—" He broke off as he stopped before her. "I thought you were dead when you fell off Pavda."
"I didn't fall off Pavda," she said indignantly. "I don't fall off horses."
He went still. "What?"
"Well, I did, but only because I wanted to fall." She frowned. "But I didn't know the ground would jar me so badly. I haven't taken a fall since I was a child, and I thought the sand would be softer."
"Would you care to explain?" Galen asked carefully.
"I told you, I fell deliberately." She shrugged. "I didn't wish to enrage Hakim or any of the other sheikhs by a total victory. That would have disrupted the council and your chance for unity. I thought if I took a fall and broke the carobel, it would be enough to soothe their wounded pride." She met his gaze fiercely. "But he had to be punished. He had to know a woman could best him."
"But you didn't best him. You gave up your victory just as you had it in your grasp."
"It was enough." She scowled. "No, it wasn't. I hated lying in the sand with him smirking down at me. Next time I'll—" She stopped and drew a shaky breath. "But it was enough for now." She looked at the whip again. "Do you wish me to kneel?"
"No, just turn around."
She turned her back.
"Now drop the towel. "
She unwrapped the towel and let it fall to the carpet. She waited, bracing herself for the first blow.
Then, incredibly, she felt not the lash but a warm brushing in the hollow of her spine.
She looked over her shoulder to see Galen kneeling on the carpet, his lips moving across the flesh of her lower back. The whip lay on the rug beside him. She felt a wild leap of joy.
"You're not going to punish me?" she whispered.
"I didn't say I'd punish you, I said I'd make you scream." His hands cupped her buttocks and began to knead. "And I fully intend to keep my word."
His hands encircled her waist, and he pulled her down to her knees.
"I thought you were angry with me."
"I am," he said thickly. He pushed her down on the carpet, his hands searching, petting, arousing. "Dear God, you frightened me. You deserve to be punished—but not with a whip."
She should be fighting him, she realized hazily as hot shivers began to race through her. She had been prepared for a beating, not his lust, and he had caught her off guard.
He parted her thighs, and three fingers plunged deep and then began a jerky rhythm that brought a cry to her lips, and her body arched upward in a delirium of pleasure.