She caught sight of Galen on the far side of the campfire. Her eyes widened in disbelief. He threw back his head and laughed heartily at something Kalim said. She watched Kalim smile and other men sitting in the circle move infinitesimally closer to Galen, as if being drawn by a magnet. She hadn't had so much as a glimpse of this side of Galen. Did he reveal his warmth and openness only to his people? No, Sacha must have seen him thus, for he had followed Galen and fought under his banner for six years.

A bittersweet wail, almost human-sounding, made her turn in surprise. Said was playing a reed flute, and the music was inexpressibly lovely, blending with the night, sand, and fire into a harmony that was completely right for the time and place. When he finally took the instrument from his lips, she said, "That was lovely, Said."

He looked faintly embarrassed as he said gruffly, "The majiron does not mind. It passes the time even though for a protector of the majiron, it is not—"

"Fitting," Tess finished for him. She was growing weary of that word. "Then it should be fitting. Everything beautiful should be fitting. Play some more."

"You do not wish to go inside now?"

"No, I want to stay here for a while." She added quickly, "You were right, the breeze is cooling." And she wanted to watch Galen's expressions as he talked to the men around the campfire. If she studied him while he had his guard down, might she see into the man?

Said continued to play his flute, and she settled herself more comfortably on the carpet, her gaze fixed in fascination on her husband.

When Galen left the campfire and strolled around the pool toward the tent, it was nearly ten o'clock. Surprised, he stopped in front of Tess. "I thought you would have gone to sleep by now."

She scrambled to her feet. "I was tired, but not sleepy."

"Did Said furnish you with everything you needed?"

"Everything but sociable company." She added tartly, "Which you and Sacha certainly didn't deny yourself."

Galen held the tent flap back, and she preceded him inside. He took off his burnoose and tossed it on the cushions of a low divan. "I've been away for almost two weeks. Kalim had much to tell me."

"You didn't look as if you were conducting state business."

He turned to stare at her with raised brows. "That sounded suspiciously shrewish and wifely."

She flushed. "No such thing. I was curious… well, and bored." She frowned. "I would have joined you, but the mere mention of doing such a thing sent Said into a tizzy."

"Quite rightly."

"Why? When members of the Tamrovian court travel, the women aren't stuck away in a hot, stuffy tent."

"You found the tent displeasing?"

"No." She looked around the tent. A thick, beautifully patterned carpet stretched over the ground, and everywhere her gaze wandered were colorful silk cushions, intricately worked brass lanterns, bejeweled silver candlesticks. "I've seen rooms at the palace that weren't as luxuriously furnished as this." She went back to the primary subject. "But I don't like being imprisoned here."

"I'll consider ways to make it more palatable."

"But I don't want to stay here. Can't I join you in the evening around the campfire? If the court does not—"

"The men of your court haven't been without a woman for four weeks," he interrupted bluntly. "And your Tamrovian courtiers are tame as day-old pups compared to my tribesmen."

Her eyes widened. "They would insult me?"

"No. You belong to me. They would offer no insult. But they would look at you and grow hard and know pain."

Her skin burned. "Your words are crude."

"The fact is crude, and you must understand it. I will not make my men suffer needlessly."

"You would rather have me suffer." She scowled. "I would think you'd try to teach your men to control their responses. After all, I'm not that comely."

He smiled faintly. "I thought we'd settled the matter of your comeliness last night."

She had not thought her cheeks could get any hotter, but she found she was wrong. "Not everyone would find me to their taste. I think you must be a little peculiar."

He chuckled, and his face looked as boyish as it had when he'd laughed and joked with his men. "I assure you that my tastes are not at all unusual. You have a quality I've seen in few women."

She gazed at him warily. "What?"

"Life." His eyes held her own, and his expression suddenly sobered. "I've never met a woman so alive as you, kilen."

Her stomach fluttered as she looked at him. She tore her gaze away from his face to stare down at the patterns in the carpet. "Your women are without spirit?"

"They have spirit," he said softly. "But they don't light up a tent by merely walking into it."

The flutter came again, and with it a strange breathlessness. "Pretty words. But what you're about to say is that I must stay in the tent."

"What I'm saying is that I prefer to save your light for myself."

Joy soared through her with bewildering intensity. She mustn't let him sway her feelings like this, she thought desperately. Sacha had said Galen gave whatever was demanded of him. Perhaps he thought this flattery was what she wanted of him. "As I said, pretty words." She changed the subject as she forced herself to lift her eyes to gaze directly at him. "You look different in your robe. "

"More the barbarian?"

"I didn't say that," she said quickly.

"But you thought it." He smiled bitterly. "I've embraced many of your civilized Western ways, but I refuse to give up everything. The material of our robes is thin, comfortable, and the white reflects the sun." He strolled to the small trunk in the corner. "Which reminds me, you look most uncomfortably hot in your velvet riding habit. I think we must do something about it." He rummaged until he found another robe like the one he was wearing. "Here, put this on." He turned and tossed the garment to her. "You'll find it far more satisfactory."

"My habit is comfortable."

"And unattractive enough to satisfy me when you're out of the tent in the presence of my men." He met her gaze. "But not when we're alone. Put on the robe."

She was to dress herself to please him. She knew wives did such things, but the idea was somehow… intimate. The air between them changed, thickened. She was suddenly acutely conscious of the soft texture of the cotton robe in her hands, the sound of Said's flute weaving through the darkness, the intensity of Galen's expression as he gazed at her. She swallowed. "Very well." She began to undo the fastening at the throat of her brown habit.

He watched her for a minute before he turned and strode toward the entrance of the tent.

"You're leaving?" she asked, startled. "I thought—" She broke off, her tongue moistening her lower lip.

"You thought I would want to look at you again." He smiled. "I do. But it was easier last night at the inn, with all the trappings of civilization about me. Here, I'm freer and must take care." He lifted the flap of the tent, and the next moment she saw him standing outside, silhouetted by the moonlight against the vast dark sky.

He wasn't going to leave her. The rush of relief surging through her filled her with confusion and fear. Surely, the only reason she didn't want him to leave was because she had felt so alone in such a strange land, she assured herself. She couldn't really care if he went back to the tribesmen by the fire.