Then Ross threw the boz into the circle of justice and Juliet went wild herself, jumping and shouting as hysterically as any of the men around her. It was not only the excitement of the game that moved her, but a deep, primitive pride in her man, for in spite of all that separated them, he was still her husband, and she exulted in his accomplishment. If she had been close enough, she might have hurled herself into his arms in joyous celebration.
Then he looked across the crowd and their gazes met with an impact that coursed through her body like a physical blow. Ross seemed wild and menacing, not at all the civilized man she had loved and married. Certainly he was not the considerate, coolly detached companion of these last weeks of travel.
But it was not just the fact that he seemed a stranger that jarred Juliet. There was something intensely, dangerously sexual in Ross's eyes, and it aroused a matching response in her.
She bit her lower lip as she observed his lithe, sweat- saturated body. He was pure masculine animal, so powerfully male that she felt herself dissolving inside with involuntary female response. If they were alone, she would be ripping his clothing off, as wild as any jungle creature yearning for her mate.
Their gazes held for only an instant before Juliet turned away, but it was an instant that left her shaken. Throat dry, she made some inane comment to Saleh. A jubilant Murad was already pushing his way through the crowd to his master, but Juliet stayed with Saleh and the camels. The last thing she needed was to be closer to Ross.
Doggedly she tried to analyze the reasons for her reaction, in the hope that understanding would dissipate her unruly desire. Ever since their paths had crossed back in Persia, she had been continually aware of how attractive Ross was. But today was different, she realized, because the warrior wildness she had seen in his face was closely akin to the passion he had shown in the intimacy of their marriage bed. Seeing that intensity again, of course she had responded with matching desire.
Unfortunately, understanding her reaction did not dissipate the effect.
Juliet tensed when she saw Ross ride over to Dil Assa. She had no faith that the khalifa's command would keep the Turkoman in check, and Dil Assa had just suffered a very public defeat. Then the two men laughed and shook hands. She smiled behind the safety of her veil.
Leave it to Ross to make a friend out of an enemy. No doubt such behavior was good for the benefit of his soul. Better yet, under these conditions such maturity was also very practical.
Soon the crowd began to thin as people headed for their homes, though they would be talking about this bozkashi match for years to come. Ross dismounted and handed the stallion's reins to Dil Assa. Then, after saying his farewells, he and Murad walked over to join Juliet and Saleh.
"Well played, Khilburn," Saleh said, rising to his feet. "You will become one of the legends of Turkestan: the ferengi who became a bozkashi master."
Ross laughed. "I must admit that I rather enjoyed the match. Bozkashi has the excitement of English fox hunting, with the advantage that the animal is already dead. I never quite saw the point of dozens of hounds and horses chasing one little fox."
The wildness had gone from Ross's expression, but he still looked like the romantic conception of a pirate. His damp white shirt was open halfway down his chest, exposing tawny curling hair, and the wolf-trimmed cap on his golden head was quite dashing, in a barbaric way. Though a dark bruise was forming on his left cheekbone, Juliet was glad to see that none of the whiplashes had seriously damaged his face. Scarring there would be like defacing a work of art.
Having her husband within touching distance was making Juliet weak-kneed and soft-headed, so she turned away before she disgraced herself. He must be hungry after expending so much energy in the match. Silently she handed him a piece of flat bread and a chunk of goat cheese.
"Thank you." In a soft voice that Murad could not hear, Ross added, "Sorry I forgot my resolution to behave with proper British restraint. I hope you didn't find the match exciting to a fault."
When Juliet tried to reply, she found that her voice did not want to work. After clearing her throat, she murmured, "I wouldn't have minded more boredom, but at least you survived more or less intact." Then her gaze fell to his hands. They were scraped and bruised, with several bloody lacerations. "Perhaps not intact enough."
He flexed his fingers and grimaced. "Messy and uncomfortable, but nothing broken."
Juliet had brought clean scraps of cloth in case bandages were needed, so she dug out a square of cotton and moistened it. Then she took his right hand in hers and cleaned away the blood and dust. Falling into the role of nurse steadied her and made it possible to touch him dispassionately, though she was acutely aware of the warmth of his fingers where they lay across hers.