And the Desert Blooms by Iris Johansen

always felt a little sorry for Pluto. Perhaps all he wanted was his share of the blooming. I always hoped that Persephone brought it with her when she came to stay with him in the underworld. We all need our own time for blossoming.” She kissed his palm again. “When I first met you, you reminded me a little of Pluto, imprisoned forever in a barren world. I’ve always wanted to bring you spring. I know how empty a winter world can be.” Her voice was suddenly wistful. “I can do that, Philip. You’re not like my father. Please, let me come in and try.”
    He was silent for a long moment. “Pandora, I
can’t.
” The words were torn from him. “Don’t you see that?”
    “No, I don’t see that,” she said with a weary sigh. She closed her eyes. “I think I’ll sleep now.”
    Oh Lord, the stubbornness of her. He felt exasperation mixed with an aching tenderness wash over him. His hands pulled her head to rest on his shoulder. He kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose. “Yes, you go to sleep. Hostilities are definitely ended for tonight.”
    “I’m not hostile toward you.” She didn’t open her eyes. “I couldn’t be. You’re the only one who’s fighting, Philip.” She cuddled closer, and then stiffened. “I forgot. You don’t like to sleep with anyone. It’s all right to leave me. I’ll be perfectly fine now.”
    “I’m sure you will.” His arms tightened protectively around her. “I just don’t happen to want to let you go at the moment.” His lips touched her forehead. “Merely a whim, you understand. Pluto and I have been known to have them.”
    She laughed softly. “Yes, you have.” She relaxed against him. “Well, whenever you want to leave, just go.”
    “I will,” he promised. “Go to sleep.”
    She nestled deeper into his embrace. “Good night, Philip. I’ll see you in the morning.”
    “Good night, Pandora.”
    He would get up soon and undress and put out the lights, but he knew he wouldn’t leave her tonight. She was too vulnerable, in too much pain that he, himself, had inflicted. Strange, after all these years of living for himself, that he would want to soothe another’s pain. Strange . . . and threatening.
    Yet he knew, even if there was danger in it, that there was no question he was going to do it. But only because he wanted to. It was a whim, just as he had told her. Tomorrow, when they were both on an even keel, would be soon enough to lift his guard again.

SIX
    R AOUL WAS WAITING for him in the stableyard. It was the fourth time in the last two weeks that the servant had felt compelled to meet him as soon as Philip rode in from the irrigation project. There was a worried expression on Raoul’s face. Philip felt a sudden tension grip him and forced himself to relax. Pandora. It had to be Pandora, but it was probably nothing more than one of her usual brouhahas.
    He swung down from the saddle and threw the reins to the waiting groom. “Well?” he asked tersely. “What now?”
    “It’s Miss Madchen,” Raoul said hesitantly.
    “I guessed that.” Philip’s tone was caustic as he set off briskly for the house. “It’s always Pandora. What precisely has she done now?”
    “She has a baby.”
    Philip stopped in midstride. “Would you mind repeating that? Very slowly.”
    “She came back from the bazaar this morning with an infant,” Raoul said unhappily. “I’m afraid the house is in something of a turmoil.”
    “She
bought
a baby at the bazaar?”
    “No, I think she found it.” Raoul’s wide forehead creased in a frown. “At least I believe that’s what she said. Everything was very confusing at the time.”
    Philip shook his head. Only Pandora was able to bewilder his usually tranquil servant to this extent. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
    Raoul nodded reluctantly. “She also brought some people with her. I gathered they have something to do with the baby.”
    “People?”
    “A snake charmer, two street musicians, a water vendor, and