Authors: Iris Johansen
“And yet Kartauk managed to hide himself and fashion an entire door without you knowing it.”
A faint flush tinted Abdar’s olive cheeks. “I begin to
find your insolence intolerable. Perhaps I do not need your help after all.”
Ian said quickly, “What is it that you wish us to do?”
“I told you, find Kartauk and bring him to me. His mother was Scottish and he has the same fondness as my father for those of your nationality. Perhaps he will trust you when he would hesitate to give faith to a man of my race.”
“And how do you suggest we find him?”
“The woman. The Barnaby slut must occupy Kartauk’s bed as well as Reilly’s, or she would not run such risk.” He shrugged. “It is not surprising. Reilly is no longer in his first youth, and Kartauk is a man in his prime.”
Ruel’s gaze narrowed on Abdar’s face. “And what risk does she run?”
Abdar smiled blandly. “Why, the risk of displeasing my father by her deceit, of course. What other risk would I be speaking about?”
“And in return you’ll arrange a meeting with your father?”
“Yes.”
“And offer what influence you possess to gain us what we seek?”
“Just what do you seek from him?”
Ruel shook his head. “I believe we’ll not discuss that at the moment.”
“You expect me to promise blindly?” Abdar didn’t wait for an answer. “Oh, very well, it doesn’t matter. Bring me Kartauk and I’ll give you whatever you wish.” He turned and strode across the room. At the door he paused, glanced over his shoulder at Ruel, and for a moment a curious smile curved his lips, “I believe I would like you to pose for Kartauk.”
“What?”
“The molding of your features has a certain beauty that rather reminds me of the sun god the Greeks favored. When I get Kartauk back, I’d like you to pose for a golden mask for the wall in my study.”
“I think not.”
“I can be very persuasive. We will discuss it later.” The next moment the door had closed behind him.
“Arrogant bastard,” Ian said.
“Yes.” Ruel’s tone was absent as he gazed at the carved panels of the door. “But he just may be able to give me Cinnidar.”
“You’re going to look for this Kartauk?”
“No.” He started toward the door. “I’m going to find Kartauk.”
Ian frowned as he followed him across the room. “I’m not sure we should have dealings with this Abdar. Kartauk may have had good reason to leave the court.”
“I’m sure he did. But no better than I do for finding him.”
“You’re obsessed.”
“Possibly.”
“Even if you do find him, you won’t turn him over to Abdar.”
“Don’t bet on it. I’ll make that decision when I find him.”
“I’ll bet on it,” Ian said placidly. “You intend to watch and follow the woman?” “Probably.”
“But Abdar said she hadn’t met with Kartauk in two weeks.”
“Which should make her very frustrated and eager to bed him at the earliest opportunity.”
“Even if it places him in danger? What could justify that?”
Ruel’s lips twisted cynically as he murmured a single obscene Anglo-Saxon verb.
Ian immediately shook his head. “Carnal pleasure isn’t that important.”
“Perhaps not to you.” Ruel inclined his head in a mocking nod. “But to self-indulgent voluptuaries like Jane Barnaby and myself, it can cause a temporary fever that makes it seem worth quite a few risks.”
“You don’t know if he’s telling the truth about her either.”
“True. I admit he painted her a little too black. Even
the most lustful of whores usually has some discrimination when choosing a bed partner. We’ll have to see.”
Ian shrugged as he glanced back at the statue. “Any man who can worship that monstrosity is capable of any falsehood.”
“Probably.” Ruel smiled recklessly as his glance followed Ian’s. “But Abdar was right. His Highness and I do have a great deal of common ground. His lady isn’t my favorite goddess, but I’ve dealt with her before and I know her ways well.”
“Which goddess is she?”
“Kali.”
“That doesn’t mean anything to me. You know I pay no attention to these heathen practices.”
“She’s the wife of Siva.” Ruel strode quickly down the hall past two turbaned footmen and out the front entrance of the palace. He paused a moment on the top step, the wet heat robbing him of breath as he looked down at the muddy river Zastu winding snakelike past the palace. A scrawny, half-naked beggar crouched by the river shaded by a palm-leaf umbrella as he dispensed blessings on the passersby who tossed him rupees, and curses on those who did not.
Kasanpore. Christ, what a miserable place. Hot, stinking, overrun by disease and snakes that crawled on the ground and walked on two legs.
As Ian joined him, Ruel started down the hundred stone steps leading to their waiting ricksha outside the palace gates. “But that’s not Kali’s only distinction,” Ruel said. “The diety Abdar admires so much is also the goddess of destruction.”
Jane Barnaby wasn’t what he had thought she would be.
Ruel leaned back against the rock and pulled his felt hat forward to shade his eyes as he gazed down at the crew laboring on the track in the valley below. From Abdar’s description, he had pictured a strident, Junoesque virago, but Jane Barnaby was none of those things. Small and fine-boned, she appeared almost childlike
in the baggy denim trousers, loose blue chambray shirt, and brown suede boots she always wore. A tan straw coolie hat shaded her head from the merciless rays of the sun as she moved down the row of track, stopping now and then to examine a fitting or speak sharply to a worker who was carelessly hammering a tie. Today her every step, every slightest movement, was charged with energy and vitality, but it was not always so. Often at the end of the day, when the workers had been dismissed and she thought no one present to witness her weakness, Ruel had seen her lean her forehead on the saddle of her mare, Bedelia, her shoulders sagging with exhaustion before gathering enough strength to mount her horse for the long ride back to Kasanpore.
Jane stopped, her gaze zeroing in on a wiry Indian whose pace in pounding the steel into the ground was almost leisurely. Ruel grinned as he saw her shoulders square and jaw tighten. He recognized those signs of annoyance and determination as he now recognized every gesture and motion she made. It was odd how quickly he had learned to read the woman. He had thought the surveillance would bore him, but instead he found himself caught, intrigued, and often amused.
She strode down the track toward the Indian and stopped before him. Ruel couldn’t hear her words, but he could tell by the scowl on the Indian’s face that the spate blistered. She turned and walked away and the Indian gazed after her, an ugly expression twisting his features. However, he kept his place, and it was not because of the brawny overseer, Robinson, who watched from the side of the road. He knew about the knife sheathed in Jane Barnaby’s left boot.
And so did Ruel.
After a moment the Indian picked up his huge hammer and started pounding the spike with slightly more enthusiasm.
“Why don’t you give it up?”
Ruel glanced over his shoulder to see Ian climbing the hill from the grove where he had tied his horse beside Ruel’s. “Why should I? She’s the key to Kartauk.”
“You’ve been watching her for four days and she’s done nothing but work like a galley slave.” Ian crouched down beside Ruel. “Can’t you see Abdar was lying to you? She couldn’t be Kartauk’s mistress. Just look at her, the lass isn’t much more than a child.”
“Appearances are almost always deceiving. Remind me to tell you about a whore I once had in Singapore. Mei Lei had the face of a baby angel and the delightfully corrupt talents of Delilah.” His gaze returned to the woman below. “What did you find out from Colonel Pickering about Reilly?”
“Not much. Reilly’s uneducated but good-natured enough and drinks like a sot. He had a fairly good reputation in Yorkshire, and after he finished building a line between Dover and Salisbury, he entered a bid for this job.”
“And the woman?”
Ian shrugged. “No one ever sees her. She never goes to the club with him. Reilly keeps her pretty much to himself.”
“And their relationship?”
Ian looked uncomfortable. “There are rumors … but no one knows for sure.” His gaze shifted down to Jane in the valley below. “I believe it’s all nonsense and she is Reilly’s ward.”
“Because you want to believe it.”
Ian tilted his head as he looked back at Ruel. “And you don’t. Why not?”
Ruel realized to his surprise that Ian was right. He wanted Jane Barnaby to be the promiscuous harlot Abdar had described, and the reason lay in the odd fascination she held for him. It couldn’t be lust, he thought impatiently. How could he feel lust for this bony, big-eyed waif? Nor was it pity. Even exhausted she displayed a strength of purpose and an endurance that defied sympathy. Yet, somehow, she
moved
him.
The acknowledgment caused his defenses to instantly rise. God, the sun must be addling his brains. He allowed no one to touch his emotions, and certainly not a woman whom he might have to use to get Kartauk. He
turned to Ian and smiled cynically. “I haven’t your faith in human nature. We’re all what life makes us, and I’d wager Jane Barnaby’s life has been as turbulent as mine.”
“I still think that—” Ian shrugged as he met Ruel’s gaze. “You’ve been out here for hours in the sun. Would you like me to watch her for the rest of the day?”
“No.” Ian’s brows lifted in surprise at the quick refusal. Ruel tempered his tone. “I’m used to the heat. You’d probably get sunstroke after an hour.”
“You’re probably right. I can’t see how you can bear it.” Ian’s voice became wistful. “It never gets this hot at Glenclaren. Remember how the cool mists on the hills rise in the morning?”
“No, I don’t remember.”
Ian smiled. “Then it will come as a delightful surprise when you come back to us.” He rose to his feet. “If you won’t let me help now, I’ll take my turn watching the bungalow tonight.”
“We’ll see.”
“You never know when to stop. You’re becoming as obsessed about watching that child as you are about your Cinnidar.”
“She’s not a child.” The words came too sharply again, and Ruel forced himself to smile carelessly. “If you want to help, go back to the Officers’ Club and see if you can find out from Pickering if the maharajah has any passions besides his new toy of a railroad.”
Ian nodded as he took out his handkerchief and wiped his perspiring brow. “I won’t argue with you. A cool drink on the veranda while being fanned by one of the club’s servants seems like heaven right now.” He turned and started down the hill toward the horses. “I’ll see you back at the hotel.”
“Yes.” Ruel’s tone was abstracted as he turned to look down at the woman again. Jane had stopped by the water bearer and took the dipper of water he held out to her. As she drank, she tilted back her head, and he could see the graceful line of her throat and the dark lashes curving against her tan cheeks as she half closed her eyes against the glare of the sun.
He waited, anticipation stirring. After she drank she would splash a little water on her cheeks and throat and run her damp palms under the heavy braid covering her nape.
She returned the dipper to the bearer, who smiled, filled it again, and poured the water into her cupped hands.
Ruel leaned back against the rock, watching as she cooled her cheeks and forehead and then her throat and nape. It was ridiculous to feel this absurd sense of satisfaction just because she had done what he had expected her to do. Yet the satisfaction persisted, escalated, as she returned the dipper back to the bearer.
Now she would retrace her steps back to the point where the new track started and examine the ties, measure the distance between the rails to make sure it was exactly four feet eight and a half inches.
Jane whirled and walked briskly back along the newly laid track.
He laughed softly and tilted his hat until it rested on the back of his head. By God, he
knew
her. He felt as if he had never known anyone in his entire life as well as he knew Jane Barnaby. He knew every gesture, every reaction, almost her every thought.
His smile faded as he realized the pleasure that knowledge brought him, the pleasure a man might feel in exploring the gaits of a fine horse he had just acquired or the first sensual discoveries of the talents of a mistress.
The pleasure of possession.
Nonsense. He had no desire to own anyone and had a passion only for what awaited him on Cinnidar. He was merely bored and it amused him to predict the girl’s next moves. Besides, it would be only sensible to familiarize himself with the way she thought if she could lead him to Kartauk.
“The work is going too slow.” Patrick stretched his long legs out before him under the dinner table and lifted the glass of whiskey to his lips. “The maharajah paid me a
little visit this afternoon and the bastard says he wants the railroad finished before the monsoon season.”
“Well, he’s not going to get it.” Jane looked dully down at the rice and chicken on her plate. She felt too tired to eat but knew she must. Food brought strength and she had to keep strong. She picked up the fork and attacked the rice. “The rains start in two weeks and we’ve just finished the bridge across Sikor Gorge.”
“That leaves only another twenty-five miles of track to lay before you join with the track we laid from Narinth. At six miles a day we—”
“We’re not doing six miles a day. We’re lucky to do two.”
Patrick muttered a curse. “Then push them, dammit.”
Jane’s hand tightened on the fork. “I’m doing the best I can. You know the workers won’t listen to me.” She smiled mirthlessly. “Those who don’t regard me as a freak look on me only as a woman and therefore unworthy of attention.”
“The crew listened to you on the Yorkshire job.”
“Because most of the time you were on the site. They thought I was only mouthing your orders.” She met his gaze across the table. “It might be the same here if you’d just make an appearance every day.”
He flushed. “This infernal heat gives me a headache. You have Robinson to back you up.”