a young woman who is doing a great deal of caterwauling.” His expression was pained. “She has a most distressingly shrill voice.”
“Oh, my Lord. Why the hell did you let them all in?”
Raoul shrugged helplessly. “Miss Madchen was quite determined.”
“Miss Madchen is always determined. That doesn’t mean you can’t say no.”
“I seem to have problems there. She’s very difficult to refuse when she wants something.”
Philip couldn’t argue with that. In the two weeks Pandora had been back in Sedikhan she had managed to turn his normally serene household upside down. She had been in so many scrapes, both in the bazaar and in the village, that he had been tempted to confine her to his compound. Obviously he should have done just that before this occurrence. A baby, for heaven’s sake!
“I’m sure it was all done for the best of reasons,” Raoul offered tentatively. “Miss Madchen is a very warmhearted young lady.”
“That’s generous of you,” Philip said dryly. “Particularly since there’s every chance you’ll have to baby-sit this infant as you did that tiger cub six years ago.”
“Oh dear, I hope not. I know very little about babies.” He brightened. “Miss Madchen appears to be very attached to him. Perhaps she may want to take care of the child herself.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Philip muttered. He took the front stairs two steps at a time. “Where is she?”
“In the front salon,” Raoul said. “There wasn’t room in her suite.”
Philip heard the music as soon as he entered the foyer. If you could call it music. There was some kind of stringed instrument fighting for dominance over the boom of a drum. Philip grimaced. “And you said the woman was shrill?”
“You haven’t heard her yet,” Raoul said gloomily.
Philip heard her a moment later, a loud wailing that was enough to set his nerves on edge. “Damn, couldn’t you shut her up?”
“Miss Madchen appeared to think it was a healthy outlet.”
“She would.” Philip was striding swiftly down the hall toward the salon. “Order the car ready, Raoul. We’re about to clean house.”
“Oh yes, sir. That would be splendid,” Raoul said with heartfelt relief. “I’ll see to it at once.”
The sight that met Philip’s eyes when he walked into the salon was enough to set his head spinning.
Two musicians dressed in brightly striped robes were sitting in the center of the Aubusson carpet, one playing a zither, the other a kettledrum. The wailing woman was huddled in a heap on the couch, her face covered with a portion of her brown robe. The scarlet-garbed water vendor, with his traditional girdle of copper cups and goatskin water bag, was arguing volubly with a young man in a white turban by the window. In the midst of the tempest, Pandora sat cross-legged on the floor by the musicians, calmly playing with a dark-haired baby of perhaps seven months.
“Pandora.” Philip tried to keep his voice level. “Would you be so good as to tell me what is going on here?”
She looked up with an expression of relief. “Oh, Philip, I’m so glad you’re home.” She jumped to her feet, snatched up the baby, and hurried across the room. “They won’t listen to me. I showed them the medallion, but I’m a woman and they don’t seem to have the least respect for our sex. I don’t really think Hanar likes the idea of the snakes, but they won’t listen to her either, and she’s afraid of her father-in-law.” She stopped to catch her breath. “You run this damn country. Tell them they can’t do it.”
“Can’t do what?” he asked blankly.
“Put a snake in his playpen,” Pandora said impatiently. “I don’t care if it is only a harmless little grass snake. It can’t be sanitary.” She shivered. “Besides, the whole idea is creepy.” Her hand was rubbing the baby’s back caressingly. “Imagine putting one of those things in with this darling.”
“I don’t want to imagine anything at
“Oh, my Lord. Why the hell did you let them all in?”
Raoul shrugged helplessly. “Miss Madchen was quite determined.”
“Miss Madchen is always determined. That doesn’t mean you can’t say no.”
“I seem to have problems there. She’s very difficult to refuse when she wants something.”
Philip couldn’t argue with that. In the two weeks Pandora had been back in Sedikhan she had managed to turn his normally serene household upside down. She had been in so many scrapes, both in the bazaar and in the village, that he had been tempted to confine her to his compound. Obviously he should have done just that before this occurrence. A baby, for heaven’s sake!
“I’m sure it was all done for the best of reasons,” Raoul offered tentatively. “Miss Madchen is a very warmhearted young lady.”
“That’s generous of you,” Philip said dryly. “Particularly since there’s every chance you’ll have to baby-sit this infant as you did that tiger cub six years ago.”
“Oh dear, I hope not. I know very little about babies.” He brightened. “Miss Madchen appears to be very attached to him. Perhaps she may want to take care of the child herself.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Philip muttered. He took the front stairs two steps at a time. “Where is she?”
“In the front salon,” Raoul said. “There wasn’t room in her suite.”
Philip heard the music as soon as he entered the foyer. If you could call it music. There was some kind of stringed instrument fighting for dominance over the boom of a drum. Philip grimaced. “And you said the woman was shrill?”
“You haven’t heard her yet,” Raoul said gloomily.
Philip heard her a moment later, a loud wailing that was enough to set his nerves on edge. “Damn, couldn’t you shut her up?”
“Miss Madchen appeared to think it was a healthy outlet.”
“She would.” Philip was striding swiftly down the hall toward the salon. “Order the car ready, Raoul. We’re about to clean house.”
“Oh yes, sir. That would be splendid,” Raoul said with heartfelt relief. “I’ll see to it at once.”
The sight that met Philip’s eyes when he walked into the salon was enough to set his head spinning.
Two musicians dressed in brightly striped robes were sitting in the center of the Aubusson carpet, one playing a zither, the other a kettledrum. The wailing woman was huddled in a heap on the couch, her face covered with a portion of her brown robe. The scarlet-garbed water vendor, with his traditional girdle of copper cups and goatskin water bag, was arguing volubly with a young man in a white turban by the window. In the midst of the tempest, Pandora sat cross-legged on the floor by the musicians, calmly playing with a dark-haired baby of perhaps seven months.
“Pandora.” Philip tried to keep his voice level. “Would you be so good as to tell me what is going on here?”
She looked up with an expression of relief. “Oh, Philip, I’m so glad you’re home.” She jumped to her feet, snatched up the baby, and hurried across the room. “They won’t listen to me. I showed them the medallion, but I’m a woman and they don’t seem to have the least respect for our sex. I don’t really think Hanar likes the idea of the snakes, but they won’t listen to her either, and she’s afraid of her father-in-law.” She stopped to catch her breath. “You run this damn country. Tell them they can’t do it.”
“Can’t do what?” he asked blankly.
“Put a snake in his playpen,” Pandora said impatiently. “I don’t care if it is only a harmless little grass snake. It can’t be sanitary.” She shivered. “Besides, the whole idea is creepy.” Her hand was rubbing the baby’s back caressingly. “Imagine putting one of those things in with this darling.”
“I don’t want to imagine anything at
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