When they reached his tent, Philip dismounted, lifted Christina off the horse, and pushed her inside. She sat down on one of the couches to await whatever would happen next.
Philip spoke to someone outside the tent, came in, and sat down beside her. “There is food coming. Are you hungry?” he asked, the harshness gone from his voice.
“No,” she lied. But when a young girl brought in a platter of food, nothing could have stopped Christina from eating her fill.
Philip finished eating before she did, and leaned back on the couch behind her. She felt him gather her hair in his hands and play with it gently. Christina stopped eating and turned to look into his smiling green eyes.
“Would you like to bathe, my sweet?” Philip asked her, rubbing a lock of her golden hair between his fingers.
Christina couldn’t deny that she would love a bath. While she finished eating, Philip left the tent and came back shortly with a skirt, a blouse, a pair of slippers, and what she assumed was a towel. She wondered who they belonged to, but she was not about to ask.
Philip led Christina from the tent and across the camp. There was a young woman about Christina’s age playing with a small child in front of the tent to the left of Philip’s. Goats and sheep grazed on the hills above the camp, and a corral housed ten or twelve of the finest Arabian horses she’d ever seen, including two new foals. She wished that she could stop to look at the horses, but Philip led her out of the camp and up a path into the mountains.
Christina pulled away from him. “Where are you taking me?” she demanded. But he grabbed her arm again and continued walking.
“You wished to bathe, did you not?” he asked, leading her into a small clearing that was surrounded by tall juniper trees.
A large pond in the middle of the clearing had been formed by the mountain rains. It was a beautiful place, but Christina wondered why Philip had brought her here. He took the clothes from her and handed her a bar of sweet-smelling soap.
“You don’t expect me to bathe here, do you?” she asked haughtily.
“Look, Tina, you’re not in England anymore where you can have a nice hot bath sent up to your room. You’re here now, and if you wish to bathe, you will do as the rest of us do.”
“All right. I must wash after that horrible journey. If this is the only way that I will be able to bathe, then so be it. You may leave now, Mr. Caxton.”
Philip grinned at her. “No, my lady, I have no intention of leaving.” He sat down on a log and lazily crossed his legs. She noticed that the yellow flecks in his eyes brightened in the sunlight.
A slow blush crept into Christina’s face. “You can’t possibly mean that you are going to stay here and”—she paused, not wanting to finish—“and watch me!”
“That’s exactly what I intend to do. So you may proceed if you will.” He was staring at her intently with a wicked grin on his lips. Her blood boiled.
“Well, turn around so I can disrobe!”
“Ah, Tina. You will have to learn that I will not be denied the pleasure of looking at your body, even if I haven’t possessed it yet,” he replied.
Christina glared at him with stormy blue eyes. This man left her no dignity.
“I hate you,” she hissed. She turned around and untied her robe. The robe and torn nightdress slid down over her body and dropped to the ground. Christina stepped out of the clothes and walked into the water; deeper and deeper until it covered her breasts.
She’d give him no pleasure if she could help it. She kept her back to Philip and washed herself under the deliciously cool water. She submerged to wet her hair, but it took a long time to build up enough lather to give it a thorough scrubbing with the bar of soap. When she finally succeeded, she heard a large splash.
Christina turned around quickly, but she couldn’t see Philip anywhere. Suddenly he was standing directly in front of her. She was all too aware that they were both naked underneath the cool water.
Philip shook the water from his thick black hair and reached to take Christina in his arms, but she was prepared and threw the bar of soap at him. She swam away quickly. She stopped when she heard him laughing, and turned around to see that he hadn’t moved, but was washing himself with the soap.
The relief showed openly on Christina’s face as she finished rinsing her hair and emerged from the water. Quickly she toweled herself dry and wrapped the towel around her hair. She wrapped the long, dark-brown skirt around her waist, tying it in front. Next, she put on the dark-green sleeveless blouse with a low, rounded neckline. The rough cotton material irritated her skin, but she would have to make do with whatever he gave her.
Christina sat down and was trying to comb the tangles from her hair with her fingers when Philip came up behind her.
“Feel better now, my sweet?” he ventured softly.
She refused to answer him or look at him, and busied herself with braiding her hair while Philip dressed. Christina couldn’t keep quiet for long, however, because her curiosity was stronger than her unwillingness to talk to him.
“Philip, what are you doing in this land, and how do these people know you so well?” she asked.
His laughter rang through the clearing. “I was wondering when you would start asking questions,” he said. “These are my father’s people.”
Christina was stunned. “Your father! But you’re English!”
