And the Desert Blooms by Iris Johansen

“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.”
    “We’ll 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?”
    She moistened her lips. “Yes. Yes, of course.” It had to come sometime. She mustn’t feel this wrenching pain. She should have known Philip