"He's not two years old, he's eight," Philip said distinctly. "And he's learned a good deal of devilry in those eight years. For your information, the fact that he's out here and not in the barn does not indicate that the poor old nag has been put out to pasture. He has the unpleasant habit these days of trying to kick his stall down. Last year he tried to trample a stableboy." His eyes were blazing. "And you're riding him bareback!"

"He likes me," she said defiantly. "He's always liked me. He may be mean, but I know how to handle him." She looked Philip in the eyes. "He reminds me of you."

For a moment indignation and outrage conflicted on his face. "Why, you little scamp," he said softly. "I ought to—" He was suddenly chuckling and reaching up to help her off Oedipus's back. "I've never had a woman compare me to a horse before. Most particularly a nasty one."

"It's only at times that he reminds me of you," she amended. "Sometimes he can be quite lovable."

His hands tightened on her waist. "Brat. You've grown impudent over the years. You never would have had the nerve to insult me before."

"If I had, maybe your arrogance would have been deflated a little."

"I was never arrogant. I was merely always and inevitably right." He slapped Oedipus on the rump and the stallion cantered off. "Exactly as I am now."

"If Oedipus has become so violent, why do you keep him around?"

He didn't look at her as he took her elbow and began to propel her across the pasture. "A whim, perhaps." His lips twisted in a sardonic smile. "No doubt I feel a subliminal kinship for the devil." He frowned. "Regardless of the reason, you're to stay off him."

She didn't answer, but her face took on a mutinous look.

"Pandora," he said warningly.

"I can handle him," she burst out. "I understand him."

"The way you think you understand me?" He shook his head. "Don't count on it. All understanding is colored by one's point of view. Both Oedipus and I are capable of acts that you can't imagine."

"No, I don't believe—"

"Pandora, if I catch you on Oedipus again, I'll get rid of him."

"You can't mean that. Not after all these years. He belongs here."

"I mean it," he said flatly. "You've made sure that I can't send you away, but there's nothing stopping me from getting rid of Oedipus."

She gazed at him uncertainly. "You'd really do it?"

"Try me."

She looked away. "You know I won't do that," she said huskily. "I couldn't take the chance."

"Wise woman. I wish you'd be as reasonable about your own welfare."

"That's another matter entirely."

"And one you don't want to talk about," he finished dryly. "All right, my little ostrich, well drop it for the moment." He was silent until they had left the pasture and were crossing the stableyard. "That was a difficult stunt to pull off bareback," he said abruptly. "You obviously haven't lost any of your skill while you've been belting out rock songs to the panting populace."

"I rode every day," she said quietly. "The shows were only at night. That left all the daylight hours to do what I wanted to do. I'd ride for four hours in the morning and spend the afternoon working on college correspondence courses." She grimaced.

"It nearly killed me to stay inside all that time when I wanted to be at the stables."

"Yet you did it anyway." He was gazing at her thoughtfully. "Why?"

She shrugged. "I figured it was better to be miserable than stupid. I told myself the mornings at the stable were my reward for that blasted studying. A fair exchange. Something I needed for something I wanted. When I finally got used to the schedule it wasn't so bad."

"And horses were what you wanted?"

"Always," she said simply. "I never wanted to do anything else. You know that."

"No glamour of the footlights for you?" His eyes searched her face.

She shook her head. "I never liked performing. It was all right once I learned to cope with it. It was better than being hungry."

His lips tightened. "You were hungry?"

"Of course." She looked at him in surprise. "I was fifteen years old with no job experience and just four pounds and a few pence in my purse when I ran away from Abernathy in London." She made a face. "The money lasted two weeks. I was lucky to stretch it that far."

"And then?"

"I managed," she said evasively. "You don't want to hear all that dreary business."

"Don't I?" he asked grimly. He was silent for a few minutes before he exclaimed violently, "What a fool you were! Anything could have happened to you."

"I was lucky," she said. "It wasn't all bad. I made friends. That was important. It's easier to live with an empty stomach than with loneliness."

His throat felt tight. "I'm glad you found friends," he said. "Are you going to go back to your rock group?"

She felt a swift pang at the impersonal way he asked the question. She tossed her head and smiled. "I hope not. I hope I'm going to stay with you here in Sedikhan for the rest of my life." She tilted her head. "Do you suppose I could talk you into forming an Olympic equestrian team? I promise I'd bring home the gold."

"The United States has an excellent team. I know some people. I'll make a few phone calls." He paused. "I haven't changed my mind since last night."

"Neither have I," she said lightly. "I guess it's an impasse."

"Not for long." His smile was touched with grimness. "I'm going to make your stay here very unhappy, Pandora. You'll be glad to leave when the time comes."

"Well see," she said blithely. "Are you going to the irrigation project this morning?"

He nodded. "As soon as I go back and shower and change. I didn't take time to do anything but throw on some clothes when I found you were gone. I knew you'd be looking for mischief somewhere, and the stable was the most likely place."

"I was just trying—" she started indignantly. She broke off. She didn't want to argue now. "May I go with you?"

"No," he said definitely. "You may not. You may go back to your quarters and paint your toenails or loll by the pool like any good Khadim."

She felt a quick, burning resentment. Philip evidently meant everything he had said about treating her like his mistress. "Oh well, I'll find something to do."

"That's what I'm afraid of. But whatever you do, be sure you're through doing it by dinner tonight. I plan on having a few guests and I want you to act as hostess." There was a touch of malice in the silky tone of his voice. "They'll be delighted to have such an illustrious personality at the foot of the table. Perhaps you should wear your orange wig."

"Perhaps I should. I threw it into my overnight case along with the other clothes I had in my dressing room. Are we expecting someone important whom I should try to impress?"

"It depends who you think is important." He paused. "I'm inviting the good Dr. Madchen."

Her stride faltered. "My father?"

"I thought it fitting that the two of you get together after such a long separation." He smiled faintly. "Don't you agree?"