by Maya Banks
“Then I won’t interpret the script,” she interjected. “Quite simply, my lord, without me, you’ll go nowhere. Either we both travel to the city or we both remain in England. Which shall it be?”
Checkmate.
She watched him grapple with his irritation and prayed he wouldn’t toss her out of his house. She was counting on his intense desire to find the city for him to agree to her terms.
“Is this about greed?” he demanded, his features darkening in distaste. “Is this an effort to prevent anyone, save you, from finding the city?”
Anger flashed in his dark eyes. He leaned forward, his face twisted in a frown. A shiver crept over India’s shoulders as she watched him attempt to keep his annoyance in check. His jaw twitched with the effort. Obviously he hadn’t counted on her going with him, and he was likely contemplating the ramifications of sharing such a momentous find.
“It really doesn’t matter what it’s about. All you need to know is that unless you agree to my terms, I won’t help you.”
She finished, watching the hardness on his face. Let him think what he wanted. She had more important matters to address. She stared challengingly at him, refusing to back down under his smoldering gaze. “Whatever you may think of me, I do not suffer from greed,” she said softly, hating the need to explain herself to him. “I would not accept your money, only I have no way to provide for those under my protection any longer.”
His brown eyes assessed her, and she felt oddly discomfited by his scrutiny. They were interrupted as a servant brought in a tray of tea.
“Perhaps your servants would care for something?” he asked stiffly, glancing at the two still standing beside her.
“They are not my servants,” she corrected. “They are my family.”
He lifted one corner of his mouth in a half smile. “But of course.” He gestured for the maid to pour the tea then he looked up at Kavi and Udaya. “Please sit down. You must be weary after your travels.”
Udaya slipped over to the settee and perched on the edge, taking the cup from the maid. “Thank you, Sahib,” she murmured.
Kavi stood unmoving, his arms crossed over his chest. India shrugged and turned her attention back to Lord Ridgewood. She paused for a moment and drew in her breath before launching into her next request. “I had hoped due to the lateness of the hour that you would accommodate us for the night, my lord.”
The request felt more personal than it should, but the idea of sharing the same roof with this man suddenly seemed too intimate.
“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Whatever you may think of me, Miss Ashton, I would not turn away a woman in the middle of the night.”
She flushed at having her words turned back on her.
“I trust your...friend,” he said looking at Udaya, “is a sufficient chaperone in your mind.”
India stared at him in total confusion. What was the man babbling about?
“Your reputation,” he said patiently. “Surely you realize this is the middle of Mayfair. Polite society, if you will.” He stared pointedly at her.
Ridge watched as realization set in, and to his surprise, she laughed. A full throaty laugh. No light giggle. A husky beautiful sound. Full of life. The sound cut straight through him, his body reacting immediately to her smile.
“I have no reputation, Lord Ridgewood. Surely you must know that though. Your attempts to shield my modesty are quite unnecessary.”
She smiled again, dimples deepening the corners of her mouth. Her expression was rueful as if she laughed at herself.
“Polite society regards me as a heathen. More comfortable digging in the dirt than discussing the latest fashions over tea.”
Yes, he could see that, but it wasn’t the detriment she made it sound. He was bombarded with images of them digging in the dirt. Together. The idea certainly had merit.
“I’ve heard stories that I was a member of a harem, and another that I possessed a harem of Indian men,” she continued on.
Did she have to say harem? Good Lord, had she actually said harem in his presence? He didn’t know whether to be shocked or incredibly aroused at the images her words evoked.
“According to polite society, I am little better than a savage.”
Her face was alight with amusement, but he could see hurt register in her soulful eyes. Ballocks. He was waxing poetic about her eyes.
“And then there’s the story of how I walked naked to the British High Command in Calcutta. So you see, my lord. I have no reputation to salvage, nor do I particularly care whether people assume I am your mistress. Unless you have an objection?” she asked lightly. “Though I’ve been given to believe men do not have the same concerns over their reputation that women do.”
His throat tightened. Hell, his whole body tightened. Naked. Must she plant these startling images in his head? Mistress? He nearly groaned aloud. Hellfire.
Some devil prompted him to ask, “And did you, Miss Ashton? Walk naked to the consulate?”
Pain filled her eyes. Raw emotion swamped her face before she adopted a bland expression. Then she shrugged. “Yes.”
He snapped his jaw shut when it would have gaped open. His chest tightened at the agony expressed in that one little word. He wanted to press the subject, sate his curiosity, but he didn’t want to cause her undue pain. “Perhaps your companions would like to retire?” he asked, desperate to change the subject. “You and I have much to discuss.”
She glanced over at the Indian woman. “He’s right, Udaya. You and Kavi retire. Lord Ridgewood and I will decide on our course.”
Kavi stared suspiciously at Ridge. “I do not think it wise to leave you, Mem-sahib.”
The man was extremely protective of Miss Ashton. Certainly a complicating factor in gaining her help.
“Go on to bed,” Miss Ashton said firmly. “I have need to speak with Lord Ridgewood.”
“I’ll have Moreland show you to your rooms,” Ridge inserted smoothly.
The couple reluctantly followed Moreland a few minutes later. When they disappeared from view, Ridge turned back to Miss Ashton. “Now, where were we?”
She gave him a rueful smile. “You were about to voice your belief that I am a greedy, grasping person. Not surprising that you hold me in such high esteem since you think my father a ‘delusional old fool.’” Her eyes dared him to refute her statement.
“I wouldn’t use delusional,” he said mildly. “Whatever my disagreements are about your father’s theories, I have enormous respect and admiration for him.”
Her eyebrow lifted delicately in disbelief. “How interesting that you would decide a man who has spent his life traveling the world collecting artifacts and researching his theories is wrong when you have no evidence to do so.”
She leaned forward slightly before continuing. “Tell me, Lord Ridgewood. What have you based your suppositions on? Have you traveled much? Have you conducted any research outside your stuffy historical society?”
Heat rushed to his cheeks, and he struggled to control his embarrassment. The chit’s directness was discomfiting. More so because she was correct. He had no basis for his ideas other than the countless hours he had spent reading others’ opinions. First hand knowledge...experience was what he craved.
“The luxury of an opinion, Miss Ashton, is that we are entitled to one. Mine just doesn’t happen to agree with yours or your father’s.”
“You are free to have...to voice your opinion. But when you do so at the expense of my father, I find it not only deplorable, but beneath your station as a scholar and a gentleman.”
“Touché.” He smiled at her ferocity. Clearly she protected her own. And they in turn protected her as evidenced by Kavi’s hesitance to leave her alone with him. “Now suppose we get back to the matter at hand, and you tell me the reason you had a change of heart. I assume you have one beyond a sudden desire to help someone as wrong minded as myself.”
“Perhaps I have a de
sire to see first hand the city my father spent a lifetime trying to find,” she said quietly. “Perhaps I’d like to see what took him away from me.”
He felt a rush of pity at the sadness in her voice, and she must have seen it in his eyes.
“Do not feel sorry for me,” she gritted out, her eyes bright with anger. “If you do not want my help then stop wasting both our time and tell me so that I may be on my way.”
He held out his hands in a placating manner. “Forgive me. I do want...need your help. And I agree to your conditions.”
“There is one other,” she spoke up.
He raised a brow, not sure he wanted to hear it.
“We go alone. No entourage, no group to help with excavation. Just me and my companions and you and whatever servants you require.”
He clenched his jaw and glared openly at her. “So you wish me to make two journeys?”
She stared back at him, undaunted by his tone. “Perhaps, my lord, I’ll be sparing you the expense of hiring an excavation group. Has it ever occurred to you that there will be nothing to bring back? Besides, there are always locals to hire. If you choose to remain, that is your choice, but I have no desire to travel with a large group.”
Despite his irritation, he knew she had a solid point, though he was loathe to admit it.
“Very well, Miss Ashton. Shall we shake on it?” He stretched his hand out to her.
She slid her cool hand into his, and he experienced a jolt of pleasure at her touch. But the look in her eyes made him wonder if he’d just signed away his soul.
Chapter Four
India slowly withdrew her hand from Lord Ridgewood’s, regretting the loss of warmth. There was something remarkably soothing about the man, even when he was being irksome.
The odd tingling she felt when she came into contact with him was disturbing, and yet intriguing. It surprised her that she would be attracted to this man. He was everything she should avoid and very different than the kind of man she was used to being acquainted with.
He wasn’t handsome in the dashing, debonair way Henry had been. Henry was charming, a soldier in the British army, a man she had taken a fancy to long ago in India.
Lord Ridgewood was handsome in a quiet, studious way. His hair was as carelessly fashioned as his demeanor, and he didn’t appear to be overly concerned with societal conventions.
Despite her reservations, she felt herself drawn to him.
He studied her for a moment, his dark eyes simmering with excitement. “I propose we form a partnership, Miss Ashton. I do not feel as though our journey will work as well if we travel as employer and employee.”
The idea flooded her with warmth. A partnership. Though she knew her father respected and cultivated her ideas and intelligence, she never felt she shared a partnership with him. No. He talked, she listened. He led, she followed. But now she would have a hand in the decision making, and more importantly, the direction they would follow.
She shook her head, angry with herself for weakening for a moment. She worked for no one but herself, and it was an arrogant assumption on his part to even think he needed to clarify their positions. She could not afford to allow him into a position of power over her.
“I assure you, Lord Ridgewood. As partners is the only way we will travel. I am accountable only to myself. You would do well to remember that.”
“Indeed, I shall,” he murmured. “I want to thank you for reconsidering, Miss Ashton. I cannot tell you how grateful I am. This expedition means more to me than I can possibly relate.”
She looked up at him and their eyes connected. Passion, enthusiasm, a burning need for knowledge glowed brightly in his gaze, and for a moment, she saw a kindred spirit.
The thought of having someone who understood her stirred her soul and awakened a need in her that had long gone unheeded. Friendship. Companionship. Someone who didn’t make her feel so terribly alone.
When she realized how long she stood staring at him, she looked quickly away. Of course he was passionate about Pagoria. He intended to loot the city and return the conquering hero.
Not if she could help it.
She felt a brief pang of guilt over her deceit, but she waved it away as quickly as it singed her. Purposely lying to the viscount was far removed from her nature, but drastic measures were called for in a drastic situation.
Using him to recover the bracelet was far better than allowing her father to die.
“Perhaps you should retire now,” Lord Ridgewood said, breaking into her thoughts. “We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
She nodded and bent to collect her valise.
He reached for it at the same time, and their heads nearly bumped. She turned her head up to find herself just inches from his face.
“Allow me,” he said, closing his hand over hers.
Slowly, she untwisted her fingers from the handle, and extricated her hand from his grasp. “Thank you.” She stepped away, her sudden need for more space from him as inexplicable as her shortness of breath.
He swept his hand out before him. “Come. I’ll show you to your room.”
India followed him from the drawing room, and they mounted the stairs in the foyer. She took in the simple décor, and she was somewhat surprised that his home wasn’t more ostentatious. Besides the location of his home, there was nothing to hint of his station.
“Here we are,” he said, opening a door and gesturing her inside. He placed her bag on the floor, and turned back to her. “We’ll speak more in the morning.” He checked his timepiece then offered a rueful grin. “I should say we’ll speak later on. It’s already quite well into the morning. The sun will be up in a few hours.”
“My apologies for barging in unannounced to your home,” she said, her lips twisting in amusement. How ironic that she would be apologizing for what he had done the day before.
He smiled and had the grace to look abashed. “No apology needed, Miss Ashton.” He paused and looked intently at her. “I am just very glad you are here.”
She felt a peculiar surge of pleasure at his words. Her face warmed, and despite her attempt to control it, a wide smile split her lips.
“Good night, Lord Ridgewood. I shall speak to you again in a few hours.”
###
Ridge rose early despite the fact he had slept so little. He was anxious to begin preparations for their journey. Where to he still had no idea, but as soon as Miss Ashton translated the journal he would. There was so much to sort out. So much to do.
He paced his study in agitation, stopping periodically to check his timepiece. How could she sleep at a time like this? Growing more impatient, he stalked out of the study and into the dining room where he saw Kavi and Udaya eating breakfast.
They both rose and he motioned them back down. “If you aren’t her servants then stop acting like them,” he said crossly.
“But we do serve Mem-Sahib,” Kavi said in a somber tone.
“Where is she this morning?” he asked when they had taken their seats again.
Udaya exchanged a troubled glance with Kavi. “She does not sleep well at night, Sahib.”
“She does not sleep at all,” Kavi contradicted.
Udaya silenced Kavi with her eyes.
“Why doesn’t she sleep?” Ridge demanded. “Is that why she looks so exhausted all the time? Because she’s not sleeping?”
“She sleeps with the dawn,” Udaya said simply. “These past days she has been unable to rest when she should.” She stared pointedly at Ridge.
He refused to allow himself to feel more guilt over Miss Ashton. If she slept normal hours, he wouldn’t have disturbed her. “When can I expect her to rise?” he asked, trying to mask his growing irritation. He had no desire to sit on his hands for an entire day.
“I am here, Lord Ridgewood,” Miss Ashton spoke from the doorway.
He whirled around to find her glaring at him.
“My apologies for
keeping you waiting, my lord.”
Her tone suggested she was anything but sorry. His gaze swept over her tired face, and despite his best effort, he felt...Well that was the question of the day. What did he feel?
It defied rational explanation, but the caustic Miss Ashton inspired emotions in him that he couldn’t define. Nor did he think he particularly wanted to. Irritation suited him much better than some of the other stirrings he felt. Yet he couldn’t summon it after staring into her shuttered eyes. He felt the whispering of something remarkably like desire.
“Are you going to remain there staring at me all morning or shall we begin translating the script?”
He shook his head, embarrassed to be caught like a schoolboy eyeing a bag full of treats. “Aren’t you going to eat?” His gaze filtered over her breeches. Apparently yesterday’s appearance in a dress was a rarity.
“I don’t eat breakfast,” she replied.
“Ahh yes, of course. You are usually asleep for the occasion.”
She regarded him coolly. “Shall we retire to your study? I am eager to decipher the location of the city as soon as possible.”
He nodded and gestured for her to follow him. Moments later they settled in the study, and he slid the open journal across the desk toward her.
She picked up the book, her forehead wrinkling in concentration. “I’ll need paper and ink.”
When he pushed the materials at her, she looked up at him. “It will take me some time. It isn’t like reading a book,” she explained. “Their language isn’t based on an alphabet system. It’s not as easy as exchanging a symbol for a letter.”
“How then do you translate it?”
He walked around behind her and leaned over her shoulder. Instantly, her scent filled his nostrils. Musky. Exotic. She smelled of incense. And it was incredibly arousing. He’d never experienced a scent that screamed passion like hers did. Lucinda had always smelled flowery, and he had spent most of his time suppressing the urge to sneeze.
“You piece the symbols together like a puzzle. Each symbol tells a part of the story, but the whole isn’t told until they are grouped together just right.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “I fear this will be rather tedious for you. Perhaps you should leave me to it.”
