I feel so ashamed, Christina thought as she wolfed down the stew. Philip must be in extreme pain, and I have to go and jump on him, demanding answers when he is in no condition to give them. I have to forget about it and just think about making him well again. He will tell me everything when he is ready—or will he? He doesn't like to answer questions. Well, he will have to answer these questions. They concern me, tool

Christina had forgotten all about her own injuries. Her eyes and cheeks were still swollen and sore, but it didn't bother her to eat or talk.

Her robe was a mess—completely covered with dirt. She felt so sticky, but how could she bathe when Philip was bedridden? It was too dangerous to go alone. When she finished eating, Syed came into the tent carrying a bucket of water in each hand.

"Sheik Abu ordered the water for you. He said you would have to wash this way for a while," Syed said quickly as he put the buckets down.

He was obviously embarrassed, and Christina wanted to laugh, but didn't "Thank you, Syed. You are very kind."

Maidi came out of the bedroom, and finally Christina was left alone in the tent with Philip. She decided to wash in the bedroom. Someone might walk into the tent and find her without any clothes on, but she also wanted to be near Philip. She went to the cabinet for towels and soap, then carried the buckets into the other room.

"Philip, are you asleep?" she asked.

"No."

"I wanted to bathe in here where it's more private, but if it will disturb you, I can leave."

"Of course not It was my intention that you should wash in here. In fact I have been looking forward to it."

"Oh, you!" she retorted angrily. But when she saw the grease caked so thickly all over the upper half of his body, she started laughing.

"What the devil is so amusing?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry," she giggled. "But you look so ridiculous. Have you seen what you look like yet?"

"No I haven't—have you?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"I suggest you view your own face before you laugh at mine."

Christina picked up her looking glass and gasped at her own reflection. "Oh, God—that's not me! I look so horrible! Td love to horsewhip the bastard who hit me!"

"Damn, Tina. Must you swear so much? I hardly think it's ladylike."

"Ladylike! Look at my face, Philip. Is this swollen and bruised face the face of a lady? Ladies are not supposed to be beaten, but I was."

"Now that I think of it, besides not speaking like a lady, you hardly look like one in that robe and breeches," Philip chuckled.

"You go too far now, Philip. Before insulting my appearance, why don't you view your own?" she replied haughtily, tossing him her looking glass. "Now tell me which of us looks the worst"

"Touche", my sweet. I give you this round gladly. Why don't you wash up so we can stop this ridiculous banter and get some rest?"

"Whatever you say, master. But as long as I no longer look like a lady, I see no reason why I should act like one." She untied her robe and let it drop to the floor. Slowly the rest of her clothes followed.

"Now what the hell was that remark supposed to mean?" Philip asked.

"Oh—nothing," she teased, then she began to scrub her body from head to foot. She knew that Philip was watching her. And, surprisingly, it didn't bother her in the least She had been shy about undressing in front of Philip before, but now she enjoyed what the sight of her body could do to him.

"Christina, perhaps you'd better wash in the other room."

He sounded annoyed, and she could guess the reason. "But why, Philip?" she returned innocently. "I'm almost finished, and you can always close your eyes if you can't stand to look at me."

She heard him groan, and suddenly she was angry with herself for teasing him. A month, even a week ago, she would have enjoyed having Philip at her mercy. But now she just wanted him to get well. She wanted to feel his arms around her again.

After drying herself, Christina let her hair down and gave it a few quick strokes before coming to the bed.

"Christina, wait. I think it might be best if I slept on the couch for a few days—until this blasted pain goes away."

She looked hurt for a moment, but then her expression changed to one of determination.

"You will do no such thing. If anyone is going to sleep on the couch, it will be me. There's no point in your moving after you're already comfortable." She went to his chest and took out one of his robes to sleep in.

"Christina, I will not have you sleeping out there alone!"

"You're in no condition to argue with me." She slipped the robe on and tied it about her waist, then began rolling up the long sleeves. "Now relax and get a good night's rest. I'll see you in the morning."

"Will you?"

She turned and looked at him tenderly. "Is that what's bothering you—that I will run away during the night? Shame on you, Philip. It would hardly be fair of me if I escaped now, while you're incapacitated. Besides, I don't trust your damn desert. I give you my word that I'll be here in the morning."

"Is your word any good?"

"Oh, you're impossible! You'll just have to wait until tomorrow to find the answer to that. Now, good night."

With that, she left the bedroom and curled up on the lonely couch. Well, at least it was comfortable. Damn, she didn't want to sleep here, she wanted to sleep in the bed with Philip. But he was right, of course. She might hurt him during the night, and she didn't want that. She wanted him to get well as soon as possible.

Everything was changed now that she knew she loved Philip. She could no longer fight him or deny him anything. But how could she explain her change of attitude without telling him of her love? Perhaps he would believe her grateful for her rescue. Yes, he might believe that Then again, he might not even wonder.

But after she gave in, what if he tired of her because he'd won the game? No—Philip wasn't like that. He must care something for her or he wouldn't have come to rescue her. Christina couldn't stand it if he sent her away now. She didn't even care that they weren't married. She only wanted to stay with Philip.

Perhaps they would have children. That would bind them together. A child—a son! That would solve everything, for Philip couldn't send away the mother of his son. Life would be so wonderful

Chapter Eighteen

IT seemed to Christina that she had been running for an eternity. The miles flew by, she reached no destination. All she could see was sand—everywhere she looked, just sand and a monstrous sun beating down on her. But behind her was death, and she had to escape. Her legs ached terribly, and they felt apart from her body. Her chest hurt with every gasp, but death still chased her. She had to run faster—she had to get awayl She heard death call her name. She looked back, and fear engulfed her, for he was getting closer. The sweat of fear broke out on her body. He called her name again and again, but she kept running, praying for some miracle to save her. The man's voice was getting louder as he kept calling her name. She looked back again. Dear God, he was right behind her, his hands reaching out, and then she saw his face. He was that horrible man who'd beaten her, and now he was going to kill her. Philip! Where are you I

"Christina!"

She sat up suddenly, her eyes wide open and frantic. But she relaxed when she saw the familiar surroundings of the tent.

A dream, she laughed—a stupid dream. She wiped the perspiration from her forehead. Damn, but it's going to be hot today.

"You stupid fool. You should have known better than to trust her."

Christina wondered whom Philip was talking to. She quickly got up and walked to the bedroom. When she opened the curtains she saw Philip sitting on the side of the bed, trying with great difficulty to put his pants on.

"What the devil do you think you are doing, Philip? You shouldn't be sitting up yet," Christina scolded him. She glanced about the room, but saw no one. "And whom were you talking to just now?"

Philip stared at her with surprise written all over his face, than it changed to anger. "Where the hell have you been?"

"What?"

"Where have you been, damn it? I have been calling you for the last ten minutes. Where were you?" he stormed.

"So—you were talking to yourself just now. Well, you're a stupid fool if you can't find a little trust in your heart for me. I was on the couch sleeping. I told you I wouldn't leave, and my word is just as good as yours is."

"Then why didn't you answer me?"

"I was having a nightmare, Philip. I dreamed I was being chased through the desert by that man who beat me. The dream was so intense—I thought he was calling my name. When I finally woke up, all I heard was you mumbling to yourself."

"All right, I'm sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusion."

Philip eased himself off the bed and tried to fasten his pants.

"Philip, you shouldn't be up," she said quickly when she saw the pain on his face.

"I intend to stay in bed, Tina, but it's too damn hot in this tent for that heavy cover. And for modesty's sake, I would like something on."

Christina came to him and fastened his trousers, then helped him to lie back down on the bed. "Can I get you some food, Philip?"

"That's why I called you in the first place. I'm famished."

Christina started to leave the room, then turned back. "After I feed you, will you tell me how you were burned?" "I will tell you one thing now. There's no need to have any more nightmares about that man—he's dead." "Deadl" she gasped. "But how?" "I killed him."