"So what do we do now? Am I supposed to go out and fight a dragon to prove my love?"

"Well, perhaps just a little dragon." A tiny smile was tugging at her lips. "For you, it will probably be worse than slaying a dragon. I want you to wait. I want time to make sure that you're capable of giving me what I'll give you. I know how you usually go after whatever you want. Your campaigns resemble Alexander's conquest of Persia." She paused. "I don't want to be invaded. I want to make my own decision."

"The decision's made. I love you, you love me. Why be so stupid as to waste any more time?" He suddenly smiled with beguiling warmth. "Someone told me recently that we're not getting any younger."

"That someone did a lot of growing up tonight," she said soberly.

The smile faded from his face. He kissed her palm one more time before placing it on the bed. "Yes, I imagine you did," he said wearily. "All right, you'll have your time. I promise I won't push." His voice was suddenly fierce. "For now. But don't expect my patience to last forever. Two weeks and then the invasion begins." His eyes were narrowed and glittering on her face. "And I never particularly admired Alexander's campaign strategy. I always thought Hannibal's march across the Alps was much bolder and more innovative." He rose to his feet. "Two weeks. Then we'll be married and start living happily ever after."

"Married?" she asked faintly.

He frowned haughtily. "Of course, what else? I told you I loved you, didn't I?" He swung the golden medallion in his hand. "It's obvious that I'm going to need more than this to hold you from now on. We'll see what a marriage ceremony will do."

"If I decide to marry you," she said serenely, "it will be when I'm asked politely, not told."

"We'll see." He looked reckless. "I don't recall that Hannibal asked the Alps if they wanted to be crossed."

She shook her head resignedly. So much for Philip's chastened mood. "Philip ..."

He shook his head. "Don't feel threatened. In two weeks I'll be Hannibal. Until then I'll be"—his eyes were suddenly dancing with mischief—"your Khadim."

"What!"

"Why not? I know the role well. I've studied it long enough." His tone was low and coaxing. "Would you like to have your own Khadim, Pandora?"

"Philip, stop joking."

He lifted mocking brows. "If you deserve to be loved, don't you think you deserve to be serviced by someone whose only desire is to please?" His eyes were holding hers intently. "Look at me, Pandora. Do I please you? Did I please you that first night? I know I hurt you, but wasn't there a little pleasure too?"

"More than a little," she said huskily. "You know that."

"No, I don't know. I was in such a fever that I wasn't aware of anything but how you felt around me." His hand closed tightly on the medallion. "But I'll know next time. It's a Khadim's duty to put the client's pleasure first. I'll watch your face very closely while I move and thrust—"

"Philip!"

He chuckled. "Sorry, I forgot for a moment that you're still ill. You have that effect on me." He glanced down at himself with a rueful smile. "Among certain others." He suddenly frowned anxiously. "Do you need that sedative before I leave?"

She shook her head. "You're going?"

He bent forward to kiss her forehead. "Just next door. To the Khadim suite. I find that very appropriate, as well as less of a temptation. I'll look in on you later." He crossed the room, his carriage lithe and indomitably royal in his nudity.

"Philip."

He paused as he opened the door and looked over his shoulder inquiringly. "Yes?"

Her brow was knitted in a frown. "I was bleeding. I felt it as I was lying there. Are you sure I was just bruised?"

He hesitated. "You were badly jarred," he said. "But there's nothing to worry about. You'll be fine." He winked rouguishly. "The word of a Khadim."

He didn't hear her low chuckle as he shut the door.

* * *

The first present came in the afternoon of the next day. It was a silver vase wrought with such exquisite workmanship, it was a sensuous pleasure to look at it. It was filled to overflowing with

dozens of cream-colored roses touched at the heart with a delicate peach hue.

Raoul set it beside the bed on the rosewood night table. "From the Sheikh El Kabbar." he said formally. Then a puzzled frown wrinkled his brow. "With the compliments of your Khadim."

There was a gift every day after that. They ranged from a hi-fi video recorder with a complete library of films to a comb and brush set of white jade embedded with amethysts in a beautiful floral design.

"Are you trying to overwhelm me?" she asked with a grin when Philip came into the room on the afternoon the comb and brush set arrived. "If you are, you're succeeding." Her finger traced the amethyst motif on the back of the brush. "But I think you've got our roles reversed. It's the client who is supposed to give the gifts."

He sat down on the bed beside her and took the brush from her hand. "I look at the broader picture. A Khadim is supposed to give pleasure. I'm limited at present as to the kind of pleasure I can give you, so I decided to improvise. The gifts do please you, don't they?"

"Of course they do, but ..."

"Then that's all that's important. I'm obviously a tremendous success in my new role." He placed another pillow behind her back and eased her into a sitting position. "Besides, the giving of every gift has a selfish motive too." He moved to a position at the head of the bed behind her. "You know how self-indulgent I am."

He began pulling the brush through her hair with long, slow strokes. "I've looked forward to doing this ever since I ordered it from Rome, I love touching your hair." His other hand tangled in its thick length. "It's so silky and warm and alive. It makes my fingers tingle slightly as I draw them through. Are you enjoying this too?"

Her head was bent forward, her eyes half closed. If she were a cat, she would have purred. "It's wonderful," she said drowsily. He'd been at the stables. She could detect the scents of horse and leather and fresh air that surrounded him. "Have you been riding Oedipus?"

"Yes." The brush was at her temple, sweeping up and then down, the bristles massaging her scalp and tugging at the tresses in a blissfully sensuous fashion. "He's as temperamental as ever. He tried to run under a low-hanging branch and knock me off. He's nothing if not a challenge."

"He just has a strong personality," she protested. "He wanted to keep you on your toes."

"No, he wanted to knock me on my backside. There's a big difference." The stroking of the brush slowed. "You've been very meek about staying in bed for the last few days. How are you feeling?"

"Sore." She made a face. "For some reason, I can't seem to keep awake. I've been napping half the day away. I suppose it must be the shock."

"Probably." He carefully brushed her hair to one side and kissed the nape of her neck. "I expect it will pass shortly. Has your father been in to see you?"

She shook her head. "His assistant has been coming in every day and reporting back to him. I understand I'm to be honored with a visit before I'm allowed to resume normal activities."