If things didn't work out, Neal had said. The memory of those words sent a frisson of panic through her. Things had to work out. She couldn't bear it otherwise. Her whole life was wagered on this toss of the dice. Oh Lord, they had to work out.
Three
"Good afternoon, Sheikh El Kabbar. Everything has been taken care of, just as you ordered," Raoul Coupler said as he met them at the front door. The words were as casual as if it had been only a few hours instead of six months since Philip had left Sedikhan. Raoul snapped his fingers and two white-uniformed young boys appeared to fetch the bags from the limousine. His thin, pale face was as impassive as usual as he turned to Pandora. "May I say what a pleasure it is to have you with us again, Miss Madchen?" he asked politely.
"Thank you, Raoul," she murmured, trying to suppress a smile. It was difficult to believe that he could be sincere, considering all the uproar she had brought to his serene, well-ordered life in the past. She had taken a heathenish delight in playing the most outrageous pranks just to see if shecould disturb the cool aplomb of Philip's personal servant. She had never succeeded. "It's good to be back."
"I took the liberty of ordering dinner in your suite tonight. Sheikh El Kabbar," Raoul said as he preceded them across the foyer and down the gleaming, mosaic-tiled hall. "You must be very weary after your trip. Miss Madchen. The time difference can throw your system a bit out of whack."
"I feel fine." It was good to have Raoul as a bulwark between them. He was ignoring Philip's grim and forbidding demeanor with the habit of years. "I'm not at all tired."
"You've forgotten what a powerhouse of energy Pandora can be, Raoul," Philip said caustically. He stopped at the door of his suite. "Time zones and jet trips of thousands of miles scarcely faze her at all."
"I haven't forgotten." A pained expression appeared on Raoul's face. "Miss Madchen was always exceptionally enthusiastic in all her . . . endeavors."
"However, well definitely have dinner in my suite. I find I'm not as resilient as our Pandora. I don't bounce back as quickly as the dynamic young rock stars she's accustomed to dealing with."
The barb in his last statement was obvious, but Pandora felt only a sense of relief. At least he was getting it out in the open. He had been in a foul mood since the moment Neal appeared in her dressing room. He'd practically ignored her for the entire trip, involving himself in a voluminous stack of paperwork from his many corporations.
In a way it had been easier for her. She hadn't had to keep up her guard, to maintain that nerve-racking air of sophistication. "Oh, I don't know. You should see us after two weeks of one-night stands. We practically fall into bed every night."
"I imagine you do," Philip bit out as he opened the door. "Though I'd guess you're very fond of one-night stands as well. Your suite is next door. Please join me in forty-five minutes." The door swung shut behind him with a force that was not quite a slam.
Pandora made a face at the door. Yes, Philip was definitely upset and on his imperial high horse. "Do you think I've been insulted, Raoul?"
For a moment there was a flicker of humor in Raoul's brown eyes. "I wouldn't presume to say, Miss Madchen. However, Sheikh El Kabbar has always been talented in that direction, as we both know." He had moved to the carved door a few yards down the hall. "I believe you'll be comfortable here. When I received the phone call from the San Francisco airport I facilitated the acquisition of the wardrobe the sheikh said you would require." His eyes rested for a fleeting moment on her full bosom. "He said you had filled out a trifle. I hope the clothing fits."
"I'll manage," she said with a grin. "I'm not any more of a clotheshorse now than I was in the old days. If you remembered boots and jeans, I'll be happy."
"Oh yes, I remembered those." He smiled faintly. "You were always at the stable or on the back of one of the sheikh's horses. It would be difficult to forget." He opened the door for her and stepped
back, inclining his head in a small bow. "If there's anything I can do, please let me know. Again, welcome home, Miss Madchen."
"Thank you." Her throat felt a little tight. This was home. Far more than the large house on the other side of the village that she had occupied with her father. "It's wonderful to be home."
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment. She was here at last. She felt relief sweep through her. It was over. Her glance swept around the room, taking in the canopy bed with the ivory silk hangings, the white fretted windows, and the rich amber and wine oriental carpet on the floor. Her eyes were drawn to the door to the right of the bed. She knew it led to Philip's suite. She was very familiar with this room. It was the one allotted to all of Philip's Khadims. She remembered that once she had crept in here, filled with resentment and burning jealousy, to examine the place where the chosen ones were quartered. The beautiful ones who occupied his bed and received his passion. It had hurt so much, yet the temptation had been irresistible. It still hurt, she found. She mustn't think about the past. She was the one occupying this room now.
She walked quickly to the louvered closet and threw open the folding doors. Thank heaven for Raoul's good sense. There were not only sexy garments appropriate for one of Philip's mistresses, but sport clothes, and even a practical terry-cloth bathrobe. She took the robe from the hanger and strode swiftly toward the bathroom.
Thirty minutes later she had showered, shampooed, dried her hair, and was once more standing in front of the closet trying to decide what a worldly-wise woman would select to wear for an intimate dinner for two.
"The yellow silk." Philip's voice made her jump. She hadn't heard him enter. He was dressed in dark, fitted pants and a soft white shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and lean, hard waist. His dark hair was still damp from the shower and she was conscious of the familiar spicy scent of his cologne. "I told Raoul to get that particular dress for you. I like the texture of silk."
She could have guessed that. She had never known anyone for whom tactile sensations were as important. She had a fleeting memory of Philip's hand stroking Oedipus's mane, his long fingers strong, yet infinitely sensitive. "All right. It doesn't really matter."
"On the contrary, it matters very much." There was a glint of mischief in his eyes. "This one has a zipper. I heartily approve of zippers." The humor suddenly faded from his face. "I imagine Sabine did too."
"I have no idea." She reached for the yellow dress. "We never discussed it."
"You were too involved with experimentation to waste time on mere chitchat, no doubt," he said silkily.
Oh Lord, Philip was definitely on the attack. She had wanted to arouse his possessiveness, but not to this extent.
She shrugged. "I suppose so." She tried to smile teasingly at him. It was very difficult with him glowering at her like an incensed raja. "You appear to be fond of demonstrations yourself."