She didn't look at him as she threw aside the blanket and knelt on her haunches, facing him. "You cannot be enjoying this." She heard his other boot drop to the floor. "I believe you're doing this to shame me."

"Don't you like to have me look at you?"

"It makes me most uncomfortable."

"You shouldn't be uncomfortable. You're quite lovely."

She snorted derisively. "I have hideous red hair and eyes too big for my face and—"

"The most exquisite breasts and limbs I've ever seen."

She inhaled sharply and kept her gaze fastened on the wall behind his shoulder.

"You don't believe me?"

She swallowed. "No."

"Then I suppose I'll have to furnish proof. Look at me."

Her gaze moved reluctantly from the wall. He was naked, standing perfectly at ease, his legs slightly astride, a brawny study in sleek bronze and black.

Her eyes widened as they traveled down his body to rest on his rampant arousal.

His gaze followed hers. "Proof," he repeated softly.

"You look… different."

"Different from what?"

"From when I saw you naked before."

"You were only a child." He chuckled. "Besides, you saw me after the fact, not before or during. Proof is not always in evidence." He paused. "Though I've had a damnable time keeping it from becoming so today." He took the candle and started across the room.

She instinctively tensed, her gaze clinging to his.

"Listen very carefully," he said softly. "I do find you desirable, so desirable I ache with it." He stopped before her and set the candle on the bedside table. "Can you doubt it now?"

She couldn't speak.

His hand reached out and touched her hair with exquisite gentleness.

"You're so tiny," he whispered. "Last night as I watched you, I kept thinking how tight you'd be around me. Every time I think about you, I grow hard, wondering…"

She felt as if she were drowning. He was scarcely touching her, and yet she felt a deep tingling in her palms, in the nipples of her breasts, even in the arches of her feet. She tore her gaze away from his face. "I doubt you'll fit."

"You know better. A female is created to accept a man." His hand moved from her hair to caress her throat. "To want a man. A mare may not appear to enjoy mating, but haven't you seen one back up to a stallion, looking over her shoulder, wriggling her tail at him?" His thumb pressed the hollow of her throat, and she knew he could feel the leap of her pulse beneath the pad of flesh. "Do you know how much I'd like to have you do that for me?"

Shock caused her body to flinch. "I'm not an animal."

"I meant no insult. Sometimes my words have no grace." His hand left her throat and both arms fell to his sides. "I'm not entirely undressed. Help me."

She gazed at him in bewilderment. What was he talking about? He was already naked.

He turned his back to her. "The ribbon tying my queue. Unfasten it for me."

She rose onto her knees and with trembling fingers tried to unfasten the black grosgrain ribbon binding his hair. Her breasts brushed the warm flesh of his back. She felt a shudder go through him. She tried to arch away from him as she worked at the knot, but she brushed him again. This time the shiver that went through him was echoed by hers. Her breasts were aching, the nipples pebble hard, a strange throbbing between her thighs. What was happening to her? "I can't seem to—Perhaps you'd better do it."

"No." His voice was guttural. "In Zalandan it's traditional for a wife to do this. It symbolizes that only she has the privilege to set her man free."

But the act did not set Tess free. With every passing moment the feeling of being held and possessed by Galen was increasing. She finally managed to untie the ribbon and pull it from his hair. She tossed it on the bedside table and sat back on her heels with a sigh of relief. "It's done."

He shook his head, his back still turned to her. The candlelight caught the thick luster of his black hair as it flowed down to skim his shoulders, the play of muscles in his shoulders. She felt a sudden wild desire to reach out and stroke those muscles, tangle her fingers in his mane and pull him down to—

He turned to face her, huge, primitive, untamed. His eyes were glittering, a dark strand of hair now fell over his forehead, the rest of his loosened hair framed his face. His nostrils flared then, slowly, he slid both palms down his thighs in blatant invitation. Tess gasped, the muscles of her stomach clenching. He had not touched her, but she felt as if he had drawn her against his body with that one sensual gesture.

"Lust can arouse the animal in any of us, kilen. As I hope you'll soon discover." He drew a deep, harsh breath and closed his eyes tightly. "Dear Lord, very soon."

His lids flicked open, and he stepped back. He leaned forward and blew out the candle.

Tess supposed she should have felt relieved, but the darkness only made her feel more vulnerable.

She could see Galen's shadowy bulk before her, she could smell his scent.

"Lie down." Galen's low voice vibrated with tension. "I can't take any more. It's over for now."

It had not really begun, Tess thought dazedly. He had only touched her hair and her throat, he had only looked at her body and murmured a few words of need and desire. Why did she feel this sense of bondage?

"Now."

She scrambled under the cover and moved to the far side of the bed.

The next moment she felt the mattress give under Galen's weight.

He lay beside her, not touching her, every muscle hardened with tension.

She lay beside him, her heart pounding, the odd throbbing in her groin.

"I don't understand what this is all about," she said haltingly. "Why?"

His voice was thick, his breathing harsh in the darkness. "I'll have you the way I want you or not at all."

"It's only for the babe. What difference does it make?"

"A great difference." He was silent for a long moment. "We are two civilized people. I will not play stallion to your mare." He was silent, and when he spoke again, his tone was fierce, desperate. "Because, by God, I am not a barbarian."

Chapter 3

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Galen was gone when Tess awoke the next morning, and she experienced a rush of relief mixed with disappointment. His presence was exciting; he intrigued her mind while inspiring a curious vitality to possess her body. She wasn't sure she was ready yet to try to understand his effect on her. Last night had been a most unsettling experience. What an unusual and unpredictable man Galen Ben Raschid was proving to be.

She dressed hurriedly in her old dark brown riding habit that she had refused to throw away despite Pauline's pleas, left the chamber, and started downstairs. She had reached the landing when she encountered a young man wearing a burgundy-and-cream striped robe and flowing white trousers tucked into brown suede boots. His face seemed familiar.

"I was just going to your chamber, Majira." He bowed politely. "The majiron wishes to depart within the hour. Is it convenient for me to pack your valises now?"

"There's not much to pack. I saw no sense in having my cases unpacked for such a short stay." She frowned thoughtfully. "You're Said, aren't you?"

He bowed again. "Said Abdul, Majira."