The Tiger Prince (11 page)

“We would both be more comfortable in my bed. I have cool silken sheets that feel wonderful against your skin.”

“I don’t want comfort.” He took the lantern from her hand and carefully positioned it on the ground beside the dead man’s head. “I want to take you while he lies there staring at us. I want to show him how good it is to be alive.” His nostrils flared, his eyes glittered wildly. “But perhaps you do not wish to please me, whore?”

She swallowed and then turned around and leaned her palms against the rough sod wall. It did not matter, she told herself. She had performed many acts almost as twisted as this with less to gain.

Her skirt was pushed up and the next moment she felt him plunge deep within her. He grunted, his breathing
quick, heavy, excited as he began to rut with brutal animal ferocity.

It
did
matter. He was taking her as if she were of no more value than a bitch in heat. The smell of garbage and refuse churned her stomach, and she was horribly conscious of the dead man staring at them only a few feet away.

But she was no mongrel and, when she had the riches and power Abdar would heap on her, she would show them all.

Jane stopped in surprise as she and Ruel were walking out of the hotel the next morning.

Her mare, Bedelia, was tied to the hitching rail beside a chestnut stallion.

“How did you get Bedelia?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I found out from the desk clerk where the Sahib Reilly’s bungalow was located and rode Nugget over to fetch her. By the way, that dog you have at the stable is less than useless. The only threat he could pose is if he licked you to death.”

“I know, I tried to teach Sam to be a guard dog, but he’s not too bright and much too friendly. I keep him in the stable only because Patrick won’t have him in the bungalow.” She spoke absently as she stroked Bedelia’s nose. “But how did you know which horse was mine?”

For an instant an indefinable expression flickered over Ruel’s face. “It wasn’t difficult. There were only two horses in the stable and the other one was larger, not in good condition, and showed a lack of exercise. I thought you’d probably work your horse as hard as you do yourself. I’m glad I chose correctly.” He moved to the mare’s left side. “We’d better get on our way. Let me help you up.”

She hesitated before allowing him to boost her onto the mare. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been given this courtesy, and it felt odd and vaguely pleasant. She watched him mount. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“It was a stimulating evening.” He smiled sardonically as he turned his horse, Nugget, and kicked him into a fast trot. “I trust you had no problem sleeping.”

“None at all. I couldn’t allow myself to do anything else.” She looked away from him. “I’m much better this morning. You needn’t go with me.”

“We had this discussion last night.”

“You didn’t listen to me last night.”

“And I’m not listening this morning. How far away is this site?”

“About five miles. We started the track in Narinth and worked our way back to a point twenty miles out of Kasanpore while the bridges were being built.”

“Bridges?”

“There are two deep gorges about ten miles apart that had to be bridged. The Zastu River flows from the north and then splits into two tributaries that join together about a mile before it reaches Kasanpore. We had to build a bridge before we could lay the track.”

“And that’s finished?”

“The track across Sikor Gorge has been completed, but we’ve got another seven miles before we come to the bridge across Lanpur Gorge.”

A silence fell between them that lasted until they were a few miles outside the town following the railroad track toward Sikor Gorge.

“What’s a running patterer?” Jane asked suddenly. At Ruel’s blank look she added, “You said you became one because you weren’t good as an acrobat.”

“Oh, a running patterer is a street seller who peddles stories. He stands on the street corner and tries to make the stories in the papers he’s selling more exciting than the ones the other running patterers are hawking.”

“And you were good at that?”

“Not at first, but I learned fast. An empty belly can lend the melody of a nightingale to the voice of a crow.”

“Why were you hungry if your brother is an earl?”

His expression became shuttered. “Because I’m not Ian.”

Clearly questions on this particular subject were not welcome. “What other work did you do in London?”

“Rat catching.” He glanced slyly at her from under his lashes. “Shall I describe my adventures in the sewers?”

She made a face. “That won’t be necessary. I had no idea such things went on in London. Not that I know much about it. I was there only a few days before we went to Salisbury, and it seemed a crowded, confusing place.”

“Aye, it’s that all right. You must just sort out the confusion and make it your own. So you never went back to London?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“There was the railroad to build.”

“Apparently there’s always a railroad to build.”

“Yes,” she said simply. “Always.”

“Some people would say it’s no task for a woman.”

She bristled. “Then some people would be fools. Why not? Because I don’t have huge, bulging muscles? It takes more than physical strength. It takes care and measuring and knowing when to blow through a mountain and when to go around. It takes making sure every tie and rail is laid safely and well. I can do that as well as a man. Better.”

“Easy. I’m not arguing with you.” He paused. “And who taught you to do it better?”

“I taught myself. When we got to Salisbury I followed Patrick everywhere and listened and learned.”

“And where did you live before you came to Salisbury?”

“Utah.” She quickly changed the subject. “The gorge is just around the bend.” She reined in and gestured to the bluff ahead. “We’ll have to dismount and walk across the ties from here.”

“If you can walk without falling down on your face. You’re still paler than a tombstone.”

“I won’t fall down. I told you I was quite well this morning.” She got down from the mare. “If you don’t
think about discomfort, it goes away.” She could feel his gaze on her as she unsaddled Bedelia and tied her to a banyan tree in a grove a few yards from the track.

“No, you won’t fall down.” An odd note in his voice made her glance over her shoulder at him, but his expression was as mocking as ever. “Tell me, does Reilly appreciate what he has in you?”

“Of course.”

“But not enough to let you keep a dog you care about in the bungalow?”

“Patrick thinks animals are good only if they perform a function.” She rushed defensively on. “Lots of people feel that way about keeping pets. I bet you’ve never had a pet yourself.”

“You’d lose. I did have a pet once.”

She looked at him in surprise. “A dog?”

“A fox.”

“What a peculiar pet.”

He shrugged. “I was a peculiar lad.”

“What was his name?”

“I never gave him one.”

“Why not?”

“He was my friend. It would have been an imposition. Besides, I had only him. There was no question of getting confused.”

“Strange …” She started down the track crossing the gorge. “I have an entire crew to protect me a half mile from here. You don’t have to come any farther with me.”

“Stop trying to get rid of me.” He dismounted, unsaddled his horse, and tied him to a tree a short distance away. “There are other threats than Abdar. What if you fell off the bridge?” He glanced down at the narrow yellow-brown ribbon of water trickling through the gorge as he followed over the railway ties. “Well, maybe you wouldn’t drown, but the fall could hurt you. Besides, why should I leave? Now that I’m here, I might as well learn a new skill.”

“There’s no skill needed in laying track,” she said dryly. “You only have to have a strong back.”

“Oh, I’ve got a strong back.”

A sudden memory of Ruel lying naked on the bed, all sleek tendons and power, came back to her. “I don’t doubt it,” she muttered.

“Then I assume I’m hired?”

“What about your wound? You have no business working with a hurt shoulder.”

“That’s what I tried to tell you,” he murmured. “The pot calling the kettle? My shoulder’s almost healed. I keep the bandage on only because Ian insists.”

She met his gaze. “Why are you doing this?”

“You don’t believe I want only to keep a benevolent eye on you?”

She frowned, trying to puzzle out his motives. “You’re not like your brother.”

“I’m cut to the marrow. I must get Ian to have a talk with you. He believes I have a noble soul.”

“I don’t know anything about souls, but I know you’re not what you seem.”

“Very perceptive. But then, few of us are what we appear to be. Actually, I’m more honest than most when it doesn’t hurt me too grievously.” He added softly, “And I do pay my debts, Jane.”

“But that’s not the only reason you’re here, is it?”

For an instant the mockery disappeared from his expression. “No, that’s not the only reason, but I have no intention of sharing the others with you. You’ll have to take me as you find me.”

And she found him a disturbing, glittering enigma. “I don’t have to take you at all.”

“But you will, won’t you,” he said, looking steadily into her eyes.

She should reject him. He didn’t belong here and she didn’t need the distraction of his presence. Yet she was curiously reluctant to say the words that would banish him. In some mysterious fashion he had lent a shimmer and color to the last hours that she had never known before. Perhaps it would do no harm to let him linger
for a little longer. “Working in this heat is no pleasure. One day should be enough to make you give it up.”

“Oh, no.” He smiled. “I never give up a job until something more interesting presents itself.”

e didn’t give up.

The only reason her gaze was drawn to him so constantly during the day, Jane assured herself, was her concern for his hurt shoulder. But the wound didn’t seem to hamper him, for with every blow of the hammer the muscles of his back and abdomen slid as smoothly as the gears of a locomotive. The rhythmic force with which he struck each wedge-shaped spike sank it deep and true. At the end of the day he was still swinging the huge hammer with the same strength and determination he exhibited when he had started ten hours before.

“You can stop now.” She walked over to him. “Didn’t you hear Robinson call a halt? The others left five minutes ago.”

“I heard him.” He swung the hammer and the spike plunged deeper. “But I’m not like the others. I had to prove myself, didn’t I?” He tossed the hammer aside. “Do I come back tomorrow?

She gazed at him, baffled. “I can’t understand why you’d want to.”

“Sometimes I like this kind of work. You don’t have to think, you just feel.”

He had shed his shirt only minutes after he had accepted the hammer from Robinson. His golden skin now gleamed with a patina of sweat and dust, and his chest was moving harshly with his labored breathing. She felt a tingling in the palms of her hands, and she realized with astonishment that she wanted to reach out and touch him to see if the ridged muscles were as hard as they looked. She quickly clenched her hands into fists and stepped back.

He picked up his shirt from the ground beside the track and slipped it on. “Invite me to your bungalow for dinner.”

“What for?”

“I want to meet your Patrick Reilly.” He started up the track across Sikor Gorge. “I want to see you together.”

She started to put another question to him, but his expression had taken on the shuttered look she was beginning to recognize. “You wouldn’t get along. You’re not at all alike.”

“Invite me.”

She hesitated and then said formally, “Will you be so kind as to join us for dinner?”

“Delighted. I’ll go to the hotel first and wash off this sweat and be at your bungalow at eight.” He shot her a shrewd look. “And don’t worry, you won’t have to be protective of your friend Reilly. I’m no threat to him.”

She had a sudden memory of the bulging eyes of the man lying dead in the alley. Ruel MacClaren might not
be a threat to her or Patrick, but there was no doubt he could be extremely dangerous when aroused.