He picked her up and carried her to the bed. Was he going to make love to her? She hoped so. It might make her feel like a human being instead of a robot. He put her on the bed while he stripped back the spread and then tucked her beneath the satin sheet. It was cool against the bare skin of her back.
He was still standing by the bed, frowning down at her. What was he waiting for? "Hadn't you better get undressed?" He didn't answer. "Do you want me to help you?" She started to sit up. "You'll have to tell me what you like. I haven't had the benefit of experience, but I learn quickly."
"I don't think you do. I don't think you learn quickly at all. You just take any punishment that comes along and come back for more," he said hoarsely. His eyes were glittering strangely. "And no, I don't want you to help me undress so that I can use you as I did last night."
Use? What an ugly word for something as beautiful as Philip loving her. She wished she could tell him how wrong he was, but she could only gaze at him with that bright, meaningless smile.
"Damn!" He was tearing off his jacket and loosening his tie. Then he was in the bed beside her, drawing her into his arms. His hand was on the back of her head, burying her face in the crisp-ness of his white dress shirt. His voice was shaking a little. "Stop it! Don't do this to me. Quit holding it in or we're both going to explode."
She couldn't let go. If she released the floodgates, she didn't know whether they could ever be closed again. "You don't want to make love to me?" she asked dully.
"No, I don't want to make love to you," he said harshly. "I want you to talk to me." His hand was stroking her hair with a gentleness that belied his tone. "I want you to talk about your father."
She stiffened. "I don't know why you want me to do that. It's not as if there's anything to say." There never had been. In all the years there had never been anything to say between the two of them. "I'm afraid there was no horrible scene or contretemps. That was what you expected, wasn't it?"
"I didn't know what to expect. I was using his presence as a weapon that I knew would hurt you, but I never expected this. Not this."
"You needn't worry. I'm not going to burst into tears and embarrass you." She laughed. It came out only slightly strained.
His hand hesitated and then continued its stroking. "What's it going to take to get through to you?" He was silent for a moment. "Would you like to know your father's reaction when I told him you were missing six years ago?"
"No!"
"Well, you're going to listen anyway. He didn't say one word. He just shrugged his shoulders. He exhibited the same concern as if I'd told him I'd misplaced a handkerchief."
"No, I don't want to hear any more." She tried to push him away, but his arms only tightened around her.
"Too bad. Because you're going to hear more. In the last six years I haven't heard him refer to you once. Does that hurt you, Pandora?"
"Why should it?" She was shaking and she couldn't seem to stop.
"It shouldn't, but it obviously does. It always will, until you face it. Karl Madchen has about as much emotion in him as a block of wood. He doesn't love you, Pandora, and there's nothing you can do to make him. It's not your fault, dammit."
The trembling racked her entire body. "Philip, please. Not now."
"Now," he said. "Do you think I'm enjoying this? I planned it all quite coolly. Inviting your father was to be the piece de resistance, the crowning touch that would remove you from my life. I didn't know it would all go wrong." His voice was low and strained. "I didn't know it would hurt me too."
"Philip, I can't ..." There was a loosening, a melting, deep inside her, and suddenly the tears were running down her cheeks. "It's the coldness I've never been able to bear. I've always known he didn't love me. I don't think he's capable of loving anyone." Her nervous hands were running restlessly up and down his chest. "I think marrying my mother was some kind of experiment for him. No wonder she divorced him. If she'd stayed with him, she probably would have frozen to death." She wiped her cheeks childishly on the crisp front of his shirt. "I'm sorry. I'm getting you all wet."
"I'll survive," he said gently. "Some people are born with something missing, Pandora. It's like being blind or crippled. It's not your fault that he doesn't have the capability of responding to affection."
"I think I know that now." Her words were muffled against his chest. "It took me a long time to work it out. There were always just the two of us, moving from place to place. I guess I was lonely. I couldn't understand why he wouldn't love me." Her voice was suddenly fierce with passion. "I loved him so much. It wouldn't have hurt him to love me just a little. I got so tired of being pushed away."
Philip felt a strange tightening in his chest. How incredibly painful that rejection must have been for the wild, passionate child Pandora had been.
"But I got over it." She laughed shakily. "I suppose you won't believe that after the way I fell apart so badly just now. It was the shock, I guess. He was very polite to me. He said it was silly to pretend an attachment that didn't exist, but that we could talk again." Her hand clenched on his shirtfront. "Perhaps I should ask him over for a spot of tea. He tells me that he doesn't mind my being your mistress as long as I don't come running to him when you tell me to hit the road."
Philip muttered a violent curse beneath his breath and his arms tightened around her. "How broad-minded of him." He pushed her away, then his hands came up to frame her face as he looked down at her. "You really know how to pick the men in your life, don't you? You'd think that after
growing up with an iceman like Madchen, you'd learn to discriminate between the people who are willing to give love and those who aren't."
"I didn't have any choice with you, Philip. It was just"—she made a helpless little motion with one hand—"there."
He closed his eyes. "Oh, dear God. I don't want this. I won't have it. You can't do this to me." He opened his eyes, and they contained the fierce rebellion of a caged hawk. "I'm not going to love you, Pandora. No matter how long you stay, you'll never be more to me than a body to warm my bed. Why don't you go away and save yourself a lot of grief? You're not meant to live like that."
"I can't go away," she whispered. Her eyes were glittering with unshed tears. "I have to try."
"And put us both through hell," he said flatly. "I hurt you tonight. I'll hurt you again. Give up."
"No," she said. She was almost numb with weariness. "There's no use your trying to talk me out of it, Philip. I'd like to go to sleep now, if you don't mind. I'm very tired." She had a sudden thought. "Unless you've changed your mind about wanting to make love to me?"
His lips twisted in a smile that held pain rather than humor. "Such a willing little Khadim." His hand brushed her cheek gently. "Go to sleep. I don't want you tonight." It was a lie. His body was as aroused and ready as it had been the night before. He was finding it impossible to be near her without such a reaction taking place. One finger traced the shadows beneath her eyes. "Maybe I'm getting old."