"You won't have to," she said gently. "You didn't have to confess anything to me."
"Yes, I did." There was no bitterness now in the smile he gave her. It contained only tenderness and a little sadness. "You said you didn't trust me. It's very difficult to trust without understanding. Ask me. I'm the expert on cynicism." He liftedher hand to his lips and kissed her palm. "Until now."
"You mean it?" she asked, her eyes bright with tears. "Oh, please mean it, Philip."
"I mean it." The words were as solemn as a vow. "I never meant anything more in my life. Do you remember when we were on the cliff that morning and I told you what miracles could come from such an ordinary source as water?"
" 'One pure, crystal drop of water and the desert blooms,' " she quoted softly.
"I was like that desert until you came into my life. Barren and eroding into nothingness." He smiled. "I didn't even know it. That's the most dangerous kind of erosion, the kind that can't be detected until it's too late. Then you came and bubbled through that desert like a clear, deep stream. You brought me to life again."
She drew a deep breath, struggling to keep the incredible happiness bursting inside her under control. "I've never been compared to an irrigation project before. Trust you to be different."
His lips moved from her palm to her wrist. "You want something more picturesque?" He met her eyes with a teasing glance. "I'll be glad to oblige. How about spring? I hate to be cast as the god of the underworld when I'm trying to impress you with my more noble qualities, but you certainly fit the role of Persephone. You bring the spring, Pandora. Every minute of every day you bring the warmth and the sunlight and the blossoming to my winter world." His voice lowered to a husky whisper. "Please, don't take away that spring."
Beautiful. Had any man ever spoken such beautiful words to a woman before? The tears that had been brimming in her eyes could no longer be contained. Two drops ran slowly down her cheeks. "I wish you'd make up your mind. First you're a desert and then you're Pluto. A girl could get confused."
"I'm nothing but a man," he said gently. "Just a man who wants to share your life. Who wants to be your friend and your lover and the father of your child. Is that clear enough?"
"Oh, Philip." She flew into his arms, hugging him as tightly as she could. "You know that's not true. You're Hannibal and Alexander and a Khadim and ..." She ran out of words. "Oh, just everything."
His arms went around her. "Am I?" he asked huskily. "That's nice to know." Then, with the half-mocking arrogance that was quintessentially Philip, he added, "I suspected as much, of course, but it's always good to have one's qualities appreciated." His hand was stroking her hair with infinite gentleness. "You'll stay with me?"
"I'll stay." The words were muffled in the front of his shirt. "You'd have to tie me up and ship me out of Sedikhan in a trunk to get rid of me now."
"I don't think that's likely." His chuckle reverberated against her ear. "I'm already regarded as something of a barbarian in diplomatic circles, but even I draw the line somewhere. Besides, the cramped position might be bad for the baby."
"The baby." She pulled back to look up at him, her face lighting up. "I'm going to have a baby. Isn't that wonderful?"
"Very wonderful," he agreed. "You act as if that fact has just come home to you. If you recall, that's what this hullabaloo is all about."
"It has just come home. All I could feel was hurt and anger and betrayal when my father told me I was pregnant and that you knew all along." Her hands abruptly tightened on his shoulders. "My Lord, what if I'd taken another fall off Oedipus and hurt the baby?"
"You didn't fall," he said gently. "It didn't happen. Stop worrying about it."
She was gnawing at her lower lip. "But it could have happened. How irresponsible can you get? I suppose I'll have to stop riding right away."
"We'll bring in an obstetrician and see what he recommends." Philip's lips tightened. "But there's no way you'll get on Oedipus again."
"All right, I won't," she said meekly. Her lashes lowered to hide the mischief in her eyes. "Until after the baby's born."
"Pandora!"
She laughed. "He likes me," she protested laughingly. "He likes both of us. If he hadn't acted up today, it would have taken us much longer to get everything ironed out."
"You're casting that black devil in the role of Cupid?" Philip asked.
"Well, not exactly. It was very naughty of him to rear up and hit you with his hoof." She frowned. "We should really go back to the first-aid room so I can put some antiseptic on that cut."
"Presently." He pressed her back on the mound of hay and settled down beside her. "Why don't we just lie still and relax for a while? I like it here."
So did she. The dusky half light of the stable was so beautifully intimate and the hay beneath them was soft and springy, the scent both clean and sweet. Philip's long, lean body was warm and hard and infinitely dear as he folded her more closely against him.
She cuddled contentedly, her cheek finding the hollow of his shoulder. "All right, for just a little while." She suddenly chuckled. "What do you suppose the stableboys are thinking out there? After the way you carried me in here, they're probably expecting to hear screams and the sound of a horsewhip."
His lips twisted in a rueful smile. "My screams, more than likely. Most of them know what a wildcat you are. When that guard saw you hanging from the balcony he phoned me rather than run after you himself. I'm surprised none of them offered to stay and protect me."
"I'll protect you," she said dreamily. "You won't need anyone else. I'll take such good care of you."
His lips took hers in a kiss of enchanting sweetness that opened entire new horizons of joy and commitment. How wonderful that so much could be contained in just a single kiss.
"And I'll take care of you," he said with a touch of huskiness in his voice. "Now, hush. I want to lie here and hold you and be peaceful for a bit. Heaven knows, I'll get little enough chance to do it in the future."
"Will you mind?"
"No, I won't mind. You expect a little discomfort when your life is starting to grow and change." He smiled. "You expect it, and you look forward to it."
Growth and change. Such exciting words for what was to come. Growing individually, yet together, sharing ideas and experiences. Sharing love. A love that would make their lives rich and fertile for the blossoming to come.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked curiously, gazing down into her glowing face.
She laughed softly. "Deserts," she said. "And blossoms." Her expression held all the wonder and eagerness of a child. "Oh, Philip, we have so many wonderfully exciting things in store for us. I can hardly wait!"
His eyes were intent and warmly tender. "Neither can I." He kissed her gently on the forehead. "Neither can I, love."