A Summer Smile (12 page)

She was already tossing the sheet aside and swinging her legs to the floor as she reached for the dark brown negligee. It was just as transparent as she had feared, and she made a face as she slipped into its sheer folds and buttoned the top button. She gathered up the bra and panties, her eyes on the intricately carved door across the room that must lead to the bathroom. Her legs were shaky and her right ankle throbbed in protest as she got slowly to her feet. She would be all right in a moment, she assured herself staunchly. Her head was swimming, but that was probably perfectly natural after being in bed almost twenty-four hours. She took a deep breath and some of the dizziness subsided.

All she had to do was to take it slowly and she'd be fine. She took another step forward and then another. Unfortunately, the philosophy of mind over matter seemed not to be working in this case. Her knees were now shaking so badly that by the time she got halfway across the room she could scarcely control them. It took only a slight stumble on the edge of the Persian carpet to send her tumbling in a heap on the floor.

"Damn!" She could feel the helpless tears mist her eyes and she blinked them back determinedly. So stupid to be upset over a little tumble. It must be because she was so wretchedly weak. She had struggled to her knees and was about to try to get to her feet again when the door swung open.

"Good Lord in heaven!" Daniel exploded. He slammed the door behind him, strode across the room, and tossed the three boxes he was carrying on the bed. "What the hell do you think you're doing? I leave you alone for a few minutes and you're up running around." He was standing before her now and his dark blue eyes were blazing. He grasped her shoulders and hauled her unceremoniously to her feet.

"I just wanted to take a shower," she said defensively. "And brush my teeth."

"And then see the horses," he added grimly. "I wish I had never mentioned them to you."

"I planned that for later," she said with dignity. "I just wanted to be really clean again. I'm a total mess. Just look at me."

"I am," he said huskily. He had been trying to keep from doing just that since the moment he'd walked into the room. She was beautifully, lushly naked beneath the sheer dark brown of the negligee. He could see the dark pink thrust of the nipples that crowned her full breasts, the slim silkiness of her waist and abdomen beneath the material that veiled instead of covered. His gaze was drawn irresistibly to the shadowy triangle at the apex of her thighs, and he felt an aching thrust of desire in his loins. Her sun-burnished hair was falling in shining clouds around her shoulders, and he wanted to reach out and tangle his hand in her locks. To press her close to him so that he could feel that dark, shadowy softness against his hardness.

God, he could almost feel her rubbing against him, her nipples tautening for him as they had in the cave that night. They were peaking now as he looked at her, and he felt a jolt of need so intense it was painful. The bed was so damned close and she
would
want it. She might be frightened at first, but she had

been responsive before. Hell, she was responsive now. He could see the pulse pounding wildly in the hollow of her throat and he reached out a hand to half encircle it, pressing his thumb gently to that revealing pulsing. He bent forward, his lips only a breath from hers. He could see the faint cut where Hassan had struck her and he felt a surge of primitive rage rush through him that somehow only intensified the desire he was experiencing. "Is your lip still sore?"

"What?" She had forgotten about it. It was a moment before she could pull her attention from the spell Daniel was weaving about her with only the light touch of his hand and the smoky hotness of his eyes. "Oh, no." She nervously moistened her lips with her tongue. She felt his hand on her throat tighten compulsively. "It doesn't hurt at all anymore."

"That's good," he said hoarsely. He could feel her warmth reaching out to him through the film of material separating them. It would take only a motion of his hand to brush aside the robe and close his fingers on her breast. To lift that rosy nipple to his lips and nibble and suck until she gave that little breathless moan that excited him so. She would dig her fingers into his shoulders as she had in the darkness of the cave. He had noticed in the shower this morning that he still had the marks of her nails on his body. Such a little thing, but it had caused an instant arousal that had forced him to change the flow of water in the shower from warm to ice cold. Then he would run his hands slowly down her smooth warm back. He would cup her buttocks in his palms and lift her, press her against his aching arousal, make her take him into—-

Make
her take him! The shock of that subconscious thought sent an electrifying jolt through him. He had been within an inch of plunging into her like a rutting stag, not caring whether she wanted it or

not. His only concern had been the need for release from the painful aching in his loins. He felt sick with disgust. Only yesterday he had told Clancy that he wasn't going to touch her, that he was going to teach her to trust him. He had been the one who was going to show her that all men weren't animals. His predicament would have been funny if it hadn't possessed the elements of tragedy. Even realizing how close he had come, he was still trembling like a hound who had just scented a bitch in heat. And the most maddening aspect of this entire situation was that he could tell Zilah didn't even realize it existed. It was all there in the clear wonder of the eyes gazing up at him. In spite of her experiences as a child, she still possessed an innocence that amazed him. She knew about violation but she obviously wasn't aware of the more subtle nuances of sexual arousal. The time she had spent in the House of the Yellow Door was a thing apart for her, not connected with their relationship. She was even accepting their lovemaking in the cave as a temporary aberration on his part. Perhaps he should be grateful she was looking at it like that.

His hand fell from her throat to her shoulder and pushed her gently away. What had they been talking about? He could only remember dark pink crests crowning full golden breasts and . . . "You wanted to take a shower?"

A shower? Yes, she definitely needed a shower. She was trembling all over and her knees were weak again, but not from any physical disability. "Yes, I was going to take a shower," she said vaguely.

"We'll see what we can do." He released her shoulders and stepped back. She swayed. He quickly braced her again. "Damn, you can scarcely stand up. How do you expect to take a shower? Hell, you'd probably faint and drown before I could get in to pull you out."

He was angry again. She tried to clear her mind of the sensual mist that was clouding it. Why was he so angry with her when a moment ago he had been so gentle? Now there was no hint of anything but harshness in his face, and she felt a throb of pain tighten her chest. She lifted her chin. "I'll manage. I won't need your help."

"The devil you won't." He cradled her in his left arm and she found herself being half pushed, half carried toward the bathroom door. "Unless you want Philip's valet, Raoul, to help you, I'm the only game in town. Believe me, I don't like the idea any more than you do."

He threw open the door to reveal a bathroom that was the ultimate in sybaritic luxury. A long, mirrored vanity flanked one wall. In a corner, immediately to the left of the door, was a shower stall with frosted glass doors. The center of the room was occupied by a sunken tub that was as large as some swimming pools Zilah had seen. It was tiled in a mosaic rose and ivory floral design, and at the opposite end of the tub were two wide steps leading down into its gleaming depths.

Daniel slammed the door behind them and lifted Zilah onto the vanity before turning to kneel by the gold faucets at the head of the tub. He swiftly turned them on full blast. Clouds of steam swirled around him as he sat back on his haunches, keeping his eyes carefully averted from her and fixed on the gushing water. "This will take only a minute to fill."

"I thought I was going to take a shower."

"A bath is better. I'd have to get into the shower stall with you. It would be a little crowded."

The thought of that intimacy made her throat tighten. "I suppose you're right. I'll be able to manage on my own in the tub."

"The hell you will." He was pouring pink liquid from a small cut crystal flagon that he had snatched from a tray on the side of the tub, and the water exploded into millions of bubbles. 'Til bathe you myself and then I'll know you're all right."

"You're pouring in too much bubble bath."

He continued to tilt the liquid into the already soapy water. "You're wrong there," he said grimly. "There can't be too many bubbles in the world at the moment." He set the empty container on the side of the tub, tested the water to make sure it wasn't too hot, turned off the faucets, and rose lithely to his feet. "Come on, let's get this over with."

He swung her off the vanity, his fingers unbuttoning the top button of her negligee with total impersonality.

Zilah felt a shiver run through her that had nothing to do with her nudity as he stripped the filmy negligee off her and then picked her up. He was so remote, so cold. She had never imagined Daniel could be so cold. "You don't have to bother. Once I'm in the tub I'll be able—"

"Zilah," Daniel said between his teeth. "Shut up!"

Then she was being lowered carefully into the mountains and mountains of soap bubbles. She sneezed. "I knew you were using too much bubble bath. I'm practically drowning in bubbles."

He released her and stood up. He kicked his sandals off as he regarded her appraisingly. It was true. There wasn't an inch of that lovely body visible. She was up to her chin in foam. He felt some of the tension drain out of him. "You look fine to me," he said with a grin. "Kinda cute."

She sneezed again. "Let some of the water out."

"Nope, you'll be in there for only a few minutes." He was settling himself on the first step leading down into the sunken tub. He tossed her a sponge and a

bar of soap. "Come here and sit between my knees. You take care of the bath while I wash your hair. Deal?"

"Deal," she said happily as she moved to sit between his naked thighs on the first step. It had to have been her imagination. There was nothing cold or stern about Daniel now. "I don't have much choice if I'm to get out of this tub before I'm smothered by bubbles."

"Lean back. Your hair needs to be wetter." He was leisurely pouring shampoo into her hair, playing with the fragrant foam, making elaborate peaks and twirls. "You would have made a terrific eighteenth-century court lady. Those high white wigs would have suited you."

"I'm glad you think so." She was contentedly running the sponge over her neck and shoulders. "You do have a passion for bubbles, don't you? It's going to take you a long time to rinse all the soap out of my hair. I bet you spent hours in the tub playing with your toys when you were a kid."

"We were allowed precisely seven minutes in the showers at the orphanage. No baths. No rubber ducks," he said matter-of-factly. He was gently rubbing the shampoo into her hair. "It wasn't considered efficient with a mob of hellions like us."

She felt the tears sting her eyes and blinked them away determinedly. "And were you the hellion they thought you?"

"Sure," he said with a shrug. "I was well on my way to reform school when I decided to join the army and see the world." His hands momentarily paused. "The only part of the world I saw on that tour of duty was Nam, and it wasn't a very pretty world." His fingers slowly renewed their massage, but his voice was abstracted. "But I learned to survive in it. I was always a survivor. If I had any special talent, it was the ability to adapt and make situations work for me." His hands fell away from her and his voice was suddenly brisk. "I
did
make them work for me, and there are plenty of people who would criticize some of the ways I did it. I'm not making excuses and I don't intend to. I lived hard because it was the only way I knew how to live."

"You're very defensive," she said softly. "And you shouldn't be. Not with me. I know the kind of man you are. Whatever you did, it was in order to survive." She drew a deep breath. "I understand about surviving."

"Do you?" His voice was oddly choked. "Yes, I think you do." There was a short, poignant silence before he spoke again with deliberate lightness. "Hell, you've certainly managed to survive any number of hazards since I came upon the scene. Hassan, scorpions, even me. I'd say that definitely qualifies you as a survivor." He was standing abruptly. "Now, why don't we see how good you are at surviving"—he lowered his voice to a melodramatic hiss—"the attack of the killer soap bubbles. Go ahead and rinse your hair beneath that faucet while I get you a towel." He strode around the tub and across the room toward the louvered doors of a linen closet beside the shower stall.

He seemed to take a terribly long time choosing a towel, Zilah thought in puzzlement as she rinsed her hair thoroughly and tried to get as much of the foam as she could from her body. He kept his back to her as he went aimlessly through the stack of terry-cloth towels.

"I'm ready to get out."

"I only hope I'm ready to get you out," Daniel murmured beneath his breath as he yanked a white bath sheet from the pile in front of him. His face was set as he strode back toward her, unfolding the towel.

She started to rise but had not even reached a standing position before she was enveloped in the terry-cloth sheet and lifted from the tub. There was nothing in the least intimate about the thorough rubdown Daniel gave her through the soft material of the towel. When he had finished, he wrapped the towel around her and tucked the ends in at her breasts. Then he grabbed another towel, dried her hair with the same brisk impersonality, and wound the towel around her still damp hair in a makeshift turban. He lifted her in his arms and strode back into the bedroom.