Free And the Desert Blooms by Iris Johansen Page B

as Philip and boded no good. He must have guessed what she was up to as soon as he had awakened and dashed down here to catch her in the act. Drat it, Philip always seemed to know when she was doing something that wouldn’t meet with his approval. She slowed Oedipus and headed him toward the fence. “Good morning, Philip. Didn’t Oedipus look beautiful? He runs like he’s still a two-year-old.”
    “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, we’ll 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.