A Summer Smile

  "It's just a little tiger," Pandora said coaxingly.

  "I don't know whether I should ask where you acquired him. I have an idea that I don't want to know."

  "Bazaar. Poachers," Pandora said succinctly.

  "I'm sure there's considerably more to the tale than that, but I can wait until later for the details." His usually cynical eyes were still alight with laughter and a rare tenderness as he looked down into her

  face. "You can't keep him, you know," he said gently. "We'll have to send him to the wildlife reserve."

  "I know that." Pandora's eyes were misty. "It's not fair to take away a wild thing's freedom just because we want to love and keep it close to us. It wouldn't be right."

  There was an odd look on Philip's face. "No, it wouldn't be right," he repeated in an abstracted way. He glanced down at the cub in her arms and reached out to take it from her. "I'll give your friend to Raoul to care for until we can make arrangements to transport him."

  "No." Pandora took a hasty step backward. "I'll take him to Raoul. He gets a little excited sometimes. He might scratch you."

  His gaze was on the gauze bandage on her fore­arm. "So I see. I take it that's a souvenir from this harmless little baby?"

  She nodded, a grimace on her face.

  "Yet I'm not to be allowed to take my chances?" he asked with a curious smile.

  "That's different." She shrugged. "He sort of belongs to me."

  "Not so different," he said softly. He took the cub and held him gently but firmly. "You sort of belong to me." He turned away so that he didn't see the radi­ance that dawned on her face. "Get your things together. I'm sending you back to your father for the time being. I think we all agree that this punishment detail wasn't exactly a success." He had climbed the two steps of the tub and was striding toward Zilah, his expression as cynical and inscrutable as ever. "I'll be back for you in twenty minutes." He paused beside Zilah to give her a slightly crooked smile. "I still think there was magic used, Miss Dabala, but I'm not sure which one of you was the spellweaver. You must be a good deal more softhearted than most women to let

  Pandora talk you into this particular madness. By the way, I forgot to give you a message from Daniel." For an instant there was a touch of lingering amusement in his eyes. "I don't know how it slipped my mind. It seems three of your former captors have been appre­hended, but Hassan is still at large. Daniel is waiting for a phone call with more information, so he won't be able to join you for dinner. He said he'd stop by later."

  He didn't wait for a reply, and she turned from watching the door close behind him to see that Pandora hadn't moved from where Philip had left her. Her face was still wearing that expression of sunrise glory and Zilah felt a shiver of fear run through her. Pandora experienced emotions with more intensity than anyone she had ever known. How could she help but be hurt?

  "Don't be so happy," Zilah whispered. "Don't let him mean so much to you. Pandora. It's not safe."

  "What is safe in this world?" Pandora shrugged. "I'd rather be happy now and perhaps unhappy tomorrow than take a chance on not being happy at all. I can't live like that." She hoisted herself to the edge of the tub and got to her feet. "I have to get my things from the guest room next door. I don't want to keep Philip waiting. He may have time to reconsider and realize he's really furious about Androcles." She grinned cheerfully. "I'll see you tomorrow morning at five at the stables. Now that I'm off restriction, I'll have to find out if Oedipus has missed me."

  Zilah shook her head. "Pandora, won't you ever learn? You know riding Oedpius is stupid."

  The grin faded from Pandora's face and some­thing raw and painful flared in its place, "You're the one who is stupid," she said fiercely. "You want Dan­iel Seifert. You have all the weapons to get him and you're not doing anything about it." Her hands clenched at her sides. "You're not helpless. You could do something. But you're afraid to take the chance of losing what you've got. Now, that's stupid."

  Zilah felt she must look as stunned as Philip when he'd seen Androcles in the bathtub. Only this tigress wasn't at all cuddly and knew exactly where to strike for maximum effect.

  There was a flicker of remorse on Pandora's face and she gave Zilah an awkward hug as she passed her on the way to the door. "Sorry," she muttered. "But it's true. Every bit of it is true." She opened the door. "Think about it."

  There wasn't any question that she'd do that, Zilah thought dazedly. She supposed she should be thinking about the news Philip had given her con­cerning Hassan, but it had barely registered. The danger and despair she had known at his hands now seemed a million miles away. The only thing that was real and pertinent was Daniel. She moved like a sleep­walker across the room to the fretted window to stare blindly out at the distant hills which were wreathed in the purple mists of dusk.

  Was she afraid? Had she grabbed at the straw of friendship Daniel had extended because she so des­perately wanted him to stay in her life at any cost? There was even the possibility that she did have sub­conscious doubts of her own self-worth, as Daniel had suggested. Had she felt she didn't deserve his love? Pandora had said he desired her. Yet, if that was true, why had he rejected her when she had offered herself this morning? Daniel was the most direct and basic of men and had no use for hypocrisy. No, Pandora must have been mistaken.

  But he had wanted her before. That night in the cave he had wanted her with an intensity of passion that had seemed incredible. Perhaps if she tried she could make him feel like that again. But how did a woman go about tempting a man? She would proba­bly be laughable in the role of temptress. Perhaps she'd better be content with . . .

  No! She was being as cowardly as Pandora had accused her. In only a few days Daniel would probably be taking her home to Zalandan. After that, who knew when she would see him again? A mistress had a much more potent draw than a mere friend. It was better to risk rejection than to sit meekly by with her hands folded, waiting for Daniel to leave her. Surely there was something she could do that would make her more desirable in his eyes. She turned away from the window to cross to the wing chair by the bed. She sat down and leaned her head back, her expression both intent and abstracted. Pandora was right. She had a good deal of thinking to do.

  Zilah didn't answer the door at the first knock. Daniel was about to knock again and then hesitated. It was after eleven. Perhaps she had given up on him and gone to bed.

  Then the door swung open and Zilah was stand­ing there. At least he hadn't gotten her out of bed. She was wearing a white satin tailored robe and her feet were bare, but there was still a light burning on the bedside table, and her eyes were alert and wide awake as she gazed up at him.

  "I know it's late, but Clancy just called back. I was going to wait until morning, but I didn't want to take the chance of your worrying about it all night."

  "Clancy?" she asked vaguely. Then she stepped back and away from the door. "Oh, yes, Hassan. It was very kind of you to stop by. Come in."

  He hesitated. Then he entered the room and closed the door. "They weren't able to get any more information out of the others regarding Hassan's

  whereabouts. Clancy thinks they really don't know." He smiled grimly. "They would have spilled their guts if they had."

  "That's too bad." Zilah nervously brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "Do you think he's still around here?"

  "If he is, he won't get near you," he said gently. "You don't have to be frightened."

  "I'm not frightened."

  She was frightened. He had seen the slight trem­bling of her hand as she brushed a shining strand of hair away from her face and the quickened pulse in the hollow of her throat. He took an impulsive step forward, his hands reaching out to cup her shoul­ders. He could feel the warm silkiness of her skin beneath the thin robe and knew immediately that the impulse to comfort had been a mistake. He forced himself to keep his grasp light and impersonal. "He won't hurt you. I won't let him touch you. No one will touch you."

  Her head bent an
d her hair slid forward to shadow her face. "That's what I'm afraid of," she said shakily.

  "What?" He frowned in puzzlement.

  She moistened her lips nervously, her lashes veil­ing her eyes. "I want to be touched," she said halt­ingly. "I want you to touch me, Daniel. And I'm scared to death you're not going to do it."

  She heard him inhale sharply, but she didn't look up. She was afraid she would lose her courage if she did. "Pandora said that you want me." Her hands were suddenly working at the tie at her waist. "I don't know if she's right, but if you don't, I'd like you to. Oh, God, that sounds awkward. I don't know how to entice a man, dammit." The tie suddenly gave way and she opened the robe and stepped closer, pressing her soft naked body against his now rigid one. "Does this help?"

  He shuddered. Every muscle had turned to stone. "Zilah, don't do this to me." He closed his eyes. "I can't take it."

  "Have I embarrassed you?" she asked miserably. "I knew Pandora was wrong, but I thought maybe I could make it work."

  "Damn Pandora!" he said through clenched teeth. "I told you I didn't want any free handouts because you feel sorry for me. Of course I want you." His hips arched suddenly, bringing her into intimate contact with his hard arousal. "I've been almost wild for you ever since that night in the cave. That doesn't mean I can't control it. You don't have to be afraid of me, Zilah."

  She felt a brilliant burst of joy within her. He wanted her! It wasn't everything, but it was a lot. Friendship and desire. She could build on that. "I'm not afraid," she said softly. "You keep thinking I'm some sort of hysterical ninny. Open your eyes and look at me, Daniel." He opened his eyes and met her clear, honest gaze. "Do I look afraid?" she asked softly. "Was I afraid in that cave?"

  "I didn't think so at the time," he said hoarsely. "But later I thought maybe ... I was rough with you. I lost control and went crazy." "So did I." Her hand went up to touch his mouth. It was like the end of the world." Her fingers traced the hard bone of his cheek. "Or the beginning. I couldn't decide which at the time." She took a step backward, the robe hanging open to reveal silken shadowy mysteries. "Do you think we could find out now?"

  "Honey, I want it to be so beautiful for you," he whispered. His face was beautifully sensual. "I want to be so gentle and loving. Lately I've been lying awake at night thinking of how I would touch you. All the moves and ways I'd make it good for you." His eyes were dark and glazed with heat. "But I'm hurting so much that I don't know if I can do it."

  "Then let me make it good for you." Zilah smiled lovingly. "Giving is even more beautiful than taking."

  He took a deep breath. "God, you're sweet. How did I get so lucky? I'll try." His hands slid from her shoulders to her nape. "I'll try my damnedest not to take more than I give." He tilted her head up; his hands tangled in the thick length of her hair. His lips lowered slowly. Too slowly. She wanted his mouth with a wildness that shocked her. She arched into his body and pressed her lips to his with a little moan of need.

  He froze. Then ice turned to flame as he groaned and took her lips with a passion that was close to sav­agery. He brushed and stroked back and forth against her mouth. He bit her lips and then soothed them with a warm, sensual tongue. He devoured her as if he were famished. Yet she heard him give a low groan of hunger deep in his throat, even as he feasted.

  She was vaguely aware that his hands had returned to her shoulders and were pushing the white robe off her arms. It fell into a silken pool on the carpet and his hard, warm hands were moving down her spine in feverish exploration. "I'd watched you ride ahead of me on that gray mare," he muttered. He cupped her buttocks, kneading their softness in his big hands. "And I'd think what a pretty bottom you had and how much I'd like to do this."

  "Did you?" She could barely get the words out Her chest was so tight she couldn't breathe. Her breasts were crushed against the crisp cotton of his blue shirt and she could feel his heat beneath it. "I

  didn't realize that. I guess you thought I was pretty dumb."

  "Blind," he murmured. "You had to be blind." He buried his face in the side of her throat and nuzzled the smooth flesh gently. "I couldn't even look at you without going into an erotic daydream."

  "What about?" She scarcely knew what she was saying. Her head was whirling. His hands were so big and powerful yet they were cupping and squeezing her with such gentleness.

  "I intend to describe every one," he assured her with a husky laugh. "Complete with demonstration." He was suddenly lifting her and rubbing her against his loins. "This is one I had often. Do you like the feel of me, Zilah?"

  Her fingers were digging into his shoulders. "Oh, yes," she said faintly. Her eyes closed and her head fell languidly against his chest. His heart was throbbing hard against her ear. Very hard. "I like that daydream very much."

  "No dream now. Reality." He slowly let her slide down his body inch by inch. She could feel the readi­ness of every muscle and tendon. Then her bare toes touched the floor and he was backing away from her. There was a slight smile on his face and his eyes were smoldering. "Reality for both of us. Have you had a few fantasies too, Zilah?"

  Color flooded her cheeks. "Yes, I suppose I have." She felt so vulnerable standing there before him naked while he was fully clothed. Vulnerable and shy. He leaned back against the door. She knew how aroused he was. Yet his pose was deceptively lazy, his shoulders resting against the door, his jean-clad legs slightly spread. The faded denim clung the powerful muscles of his calves and thighs. His feet xere bare except for the brown sandals he wore, and his feet looked as strong and hard as the rest of him.

  "What would you like to do to me?" he asked softly. "Any way I can please you, I will. I'm at your disposal." His eyes were on her face, lingering on the wild flush that touched her cheeks and the bruised softness of her mouth. "Are you shy? Would you like me to start?"

  She nodded. "I feel..." She shook her head help­lessly. "Strange."

  He smiled gently. "You won't for very long. It will all come together. Okay, my fantasy first. Walk over to the bed—slowly. I want to watch the play of the lamp light on your body and watch your hair move and shine against the naked flesh of your back."

  She did as he asked. She could feel his eyes on her as she crossed the room. It was almost as if he were touching her. She could hear the sound of his breathing in the quiet room. It had roughened in the last few minutes, and she knew it was because she was arousing him. It sent a thrill of pleasure through her that dissipated the awkwardness she had been experiencing. She stopped by the bed and tossed back her hair so that it fell in a shimmering stream down her back. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. "Like that?"

  "Like that," he said thickly. "Now sit down on the bed." His eyes were still fixed on her as he took off his sandals. "Damn, you're beautiful." He was moving toward her across the room, his bare feet making no sound on the carpet. "Sleek and soft and womanly." He stopped before the spot where she was sitting on the side of the bed. "Now part your thighs." He knelt before her on the floor between her thighs. His eyes were watching her expression searchingly. "Your turn." His voice was deep and quiet in the stillness. "Here I am. What do you want from me?"

  Everything. He was so close yet not brushing her with so much as a fingertip. Every nerve in her body transmitted a need that was almost painful. "I want ... to touch you." Her tongue moistened her lips. "I want to see you. It was so dark in the cave."

  "Then touch me." His smile was utterly sensual. "Look at me. I'm not as pretty as you, but what there is belongs to you." He picked up her hands and brought them to his chest. "You'll have to get rid of this shirt."

  Her fingers were trembling as she unbuttoned the dark blue cotton shirt. They trembled more when he became impatient with her fumblings and decided to amuse himself by cupping and fondling her breasts in his palms. "You're so ripe and lovely." His eyes were hot and intent as he watched the pink crests spring into prominence. "Such sweet, firm cushions. Remind me to tell you about another fan­tasy that just cam
e to mind."

  "I can't keep up with them," she said shakily. She pushed the shirt down over his shoulders. "And I can't think when you do that."

  "Good. If you can't think, then you certainly can't feel shy." He looked up, his eyes glowing softly. "Touch me, Zilah."

  Her hands were trembling as she placed them flat on his chest. Hardness, heat, vitality. The cloud of red hair tickled her palms. She found his nipples in that nest and heard him gasp, and then he stiffened against her. She felt a little thrill of triumph as she slowly bent her head and licked with catlike delicacy and felt the nipple firm to hardness. His breathing was uneven but he made no other sound as she licked and even nibbled playfully for the next few minutes. It was only when she glanced up at his face that she noticed his jaw was clenched and his nostrils flared with strain. "Don't you like it?" she whispered.

  His laugh held a touch of desperation. "Oh, I like it. It's just driving me crazy." He took her hand and

  placed it on the knotted hardness of his stomach. "See?" His arms went around her waist and he laid his cheek on her breast. "Give me a minute. I'm want­ing you so much. So much." In spite of his words he was rubbing his cheek wildly against her softness as if he couldn't resist the temptation of her naked breasts. His beard was erotically abrasive against her. His lips were warm, his breath hot.

  She arched, offering herself blindly. His lips cap­tured one burgeoning nipple with desperate hunger. He was murmuring something broken and incoher­ent as he nibbled, sucked, ran his tongue over her in a delirium of passion. She moaned, the sound barely audible.

  Then his lips were gone from her breast. They were burning the valley between her breasts, the smooth skin of her abdomen, the fleecy nest that sur­rounded her womanhood. He lifted his head. His eyes were blazing in his pale face. "Zilah? Say yes. I can't take much more."

  She nodded. She couldn't speak. At the moment she felt utterly mindless.

  He took a deep breath and tried to still the trem­bling that was shaking him. "You're sure? It's got to be right for you this time."