There was an element of excitement beneath the casual statement. Evidently the irrigation project was still as much an obsession of Philip's as when she'd left.

For as long as she could remember he had been endeavoring to turn this desert wasteland into fertile farmland. "I'd like to see it. I'll have to take a ride up into the hills and look at what's going on."

He frowned. "Not alone. There have been reports of bandit raids on the villages on the Said Ababa side of the hills. They probably have a camp somewhere in the highlands. That's one of the reasons I wanted to get back." His lips tightened grimly. "I think I'll just go on a little hunting party."

"I'll come with you." The words were impulsive, and she almost bit her tongue.

"The hell you will," he said curtly. "You have a more highly developed instinct for trouble than anyone I've ever run across. I doubt if that's changed over the years."

"Whatever you say." She lowered her lashes so he couldn't see the blaze of defiance she knew was there. "Perhaps I'll go to the vineyards instead."

His frown deepened. "As I remember, the last time you went there you persuaded the workers to have a moonlight grape-stomping party. My overseer was foaming at the mouth."

"He wasn't very reasonable." Her lips curved with remembered laughter. "I was only trying to help. Everyone had a perfectly wonderful time."

"Such a wonderful time that they were too exhausted to show up for work the next day," he said dryly. "And you were just as bad off. I had to carry you home looking like something that had fallen into one of the wine vats."

She had rested in his arms, she recalled, with her ear pressed to his heart. He had cursed her softly and emphatically with every breath, but his arms had been gentle. It had been a lovely memory to hold close when there was nothing in the world but barren loneliness. "Dancing on the grapes is a tradition."

"Not half-ripe grapes," he said flatly. "And not when there's a very efficient press to do the job. You don't go within hailing distance of the vineyards until I have time to go with you."

She frowned mutinously. "I can't go to the hills. I can't go to the vineyards. Where can I go?"

"To bed, like a proper Khadim." His hands cupped her shoulders. "Where else?"

The words shocked her back to the present and her role. "Where else, indeed?" She took his wineglass and set it, together with her own, on the balcony balustrade. Her arms went around him. Bold. She had to be bold and desirable so that he would become too aroused to stop when he ... "Do you know that you've never kissed me?"

"Haven't I?" His hands were lightly massaging her shoulders through the yellow silk. "It seems as if we were beyond kisses before we even started." His eyes were suddenly twinkling. "But if you insist ..."

His lips touched hers. Delicate, sipping, sugar sweet and warm. So wonderfully warm. His tongue rimmed her lower lip, and she melted against him, opening her lips with a yearning that was as

natural as that of the first woman. "I want you," she murmured. "Give me all of you."

She felt him grow rigid against her. Then his tongue was plunging into her mouth in a joust that was hotly passionate and hungry. So hungry. She was almost breathless when he raised his head.

"You're going to get all of me," he said thickly. "Over"—his tongue entered her mouth again, weaving an erotic spell—"and over." His lips were buried in her hair now, and she felt his tongue enter her ear. "And over." She was trembling, and her knees were so weak she sagged against him. Did his other women react so passionately? Probably not. Perhaps he wouldn't notice, she thought in confusion. Shouldn't she be doing something? She drew back a little, her hands quickly undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"Pandora."

She looked up.

There was a tiny glimmer of amusement beneath the hunger in his face. "Don't you think we should go inside? I'm flattered that you should be so eager, but I really dislike performing in public."

She laughed shakily. "Well, it's more private than the auditorium in San Francisco." She turned and walked quickly from the balcony into the room. "You didn't seem averse to performing there at the time."

He followed her into the room and closed the French doors. "I'm on my own home ground now." He took a step nearer so that he was directly behind her. With one sweeping motion, he sliddown the zipper of her dress. "And I told you I won't share you."

His hands slipped inside the loosened dress. "Naked," he said hoarsely. "There was nothing in the world more erotic than knowing that you were naked beneath that flimsy layer of silk." His hands were squeezing her waist, his fingertips running over the supple muscles with a pleasure that was echoed in his voice. "While we were sitting there at the table I was thinking how beautiful you'd look when I took it off you." His hands moved slowly up her back, and with painstaking care he pushed the silk off her shoulders. "I don't know what we ate this evening." He pushed the bodice down another inch until it hovered over the tips of her breasts. "All I could taste were warm, sweet breasts." He drew the silk farther down until it fell about her hips. She felt dizzy. "And I wondered if the rest of you would taste as sweet." He suddenly jerked the material over her hips and let it fall into a pool at her feet, leaving her in only her high-heeled sandals. "Look as sweet."

Then the sandals also slipped from her feet as his hands encircled her waist and lifted her out of the dress. He held her for a moment, rubbing her against him with a raw sensuality that made her heart pound wildly. "And you do look sweet." He kissed her deeply. "And you taste ..." He lifted his head, his eyes glazed with need. He drew a deep, shaky breath and slowly released her. "Not yet. I want to look at you for a few minutes. This golden half light was created for you." He took a few steps back, his eyes flicking over her with an intimacy that caused a tingling to start between her thighs. His hands finished unbuttoning his shirt and he stripped it off, his eyes never leaving her. "I don't want to make love to you in the dark. I want to do it now with you awash in this golden mist. I want to watch your silver hair flying around your face as I move in you."

She laughed shakily. "Then you'd better hurry. I don't know how long this light will last." She bit her lower lip. "I don't know how long I will, either. Do you want me to undress you?"

"I'll do it. It's faster." She watched him as he stripped with efficient swiftness. He had a beautiful body, she thought dreamily. Lean and tough, with tight, hard buttocks and a horseman's strong, muscular thighs. The cloud of dark hair on his chest looked soft and inviting to touch. "And that's the last hurried action we're taking tonight. Slow. Every move slow and easy." He was drawing her over to the wing chair by the French doors. "I want to play with you, get to know your body. I don't know how long I can stand it, but I want to try. Would you mind?"

"Not at all." She didn't know if he heard. Her assent had been a mere breath of sound. She was surprised the words came out at all.

"Good." He dropped into the chair and pulled her down on his lap, facing him. She gasped. The masculine hardness of his bones and sinews was a sensual shock against her softness. She had never felt so womanly before in her life. She was conscious of the pliant softness of each curve, the ripe fullness of her breasts, the slight swell of her buttocks against the hardness of his thighs. Good heavens, the differences between their bodies! He rubbed his chest lightly, teasingly, against her breasts, the soft mat of hair tickling the sensitive tips. She made a low sound deep in her throat and arched against him. "Philip."