by Maya Banks
He placed her in the large armchair and cursed again. Moreland lay unconscious in the hall and who the hell knew where India’s companions were. After a moment of indecision, he made sure she was settled then he hurried out of the room and back to Moreland.
“Gretchen!” he bellowed for the cook. “Anyone!” Damn, what were India’s friends’ names? Kavi? U-something. “Kavi!” Where was the damn man when you needed him? His chest filled with dread. Could he have been hurt as well?
The stairs thumped and soon Kavi barreled around the corner. “What is it, Sahib?”
“Moreland’s been hurt, and Miss Ashton I’m not sure about,” he said.
“What is it? What is all the shouting about?” Udaya rounded the corner in a flurry of material, her hand going to her mouth when she caught sight of Moreland.
Moreland moaned softly and stirred on the floor. His eyes fluttered open and he winced. “My lord, what happened?”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Ridge said grimly. “Can you sit up?”
Though pale, Moreland shakily righted himself and attempted to stand. Kavi linked his arm underneath Moreland’s and helped him to rise.
“Someone hit me from behind, my lord.” He rubbed his head and swayed precariously.
“Take him into the drawing room, find a footman and send him for the doctor,” Ridge directed. “I must see to Miss Ashton.”
He hurried back into the study and knelt beside the armchair where India was huddled. Her eyes were fixed on a spot across the room, and she rocked back and forth, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs.
“India?” he asked softly.
She didn’t acknowledge him. He wasn’t even sure she had heard him. He reached out and touched her cheek.
“Sahib, what is wrong with her?” Udaya demanded from the door.
He held out a hand. “Leave us.”
Udaya looked as if she would argue, but clamped her mouth shut and retreated.
Ridge grasped India’s shoulders and gave her a slight shake. “India, speak to me. Are you hurt?”
She blinked and refocused her eyes on him. She was looking directly at him, but he wasn’t at all sure she was seeing him. He shook her gently again. “India, you’re safe now.”
“Sahib, let me tend to her,” Udaya said.
He turned to see her standing again in the doorway, a look of sorrow on her face. Reluctantly, he stood and nodded at the woman.
Udaya rushed over and enfolded India in her arms. She murmured comfortingly in a language he didn’t understand. India gripped Udaya’s arm, her panic-stricken eyes wide and fathomless.
For several long minutes, Udaya rocked India back and forth making soothing noises. Ridge stood helplessly by, willing the physician to arrive soon.
Nearly a half hour later he heard a noise in the hall. Moreland, looking a bit haggard, and the physician walked into the study.
“Do sit down, Moreland,” Ridge ordered. He gestured toward India and addressed the doctor. “She has received a great shock. I was unable to determine if she suffered injury.”
The doctor hastened to India’s side and gently pushed Udaya away. “Let me examine her, madam.”
Udaya reluctantly stood up and backed a few feet away. Ridge closed the distance between him and Udaya and inquired in a soft voice, “What is wrong with her?”
“Where did you find her, Sahib?” she asked, ignoring his question.
“She was locked in the armoire.”
Her hand flew to her mouth and she gasped. Then she shook her head and turned her sorrowful gaze toward Ridge. “There are two things India cannot withstand. The dark and enclosed spaces.”
Ridge mulled over the information in his mind. Was it a natural fear, something she had held all her life? Or was it the product of an event? Whatever the cause, the stark terror in her eyes had been very real.
He glanced over at the desk again, despair swamping over him with every passing second. He’d been so close to realizing his dreams only to have them snatched away. Now the journal was gone, and with it, any chance of finding Pagoria.
The doctor stepped away and motioned for Ridge to come closer. “She’s sustained quite a shock and other than a bump on the head, I’ve been unable to find any injury. I’m going to give her a dose of laudanum so she’ll rest. I recommend her staying in bed for the remainder of the day.”
Ridge nodded. “I’ll see to it that she goes to bed at once.”
The doctor nodded then proceeded to give Udaya a small bottle and murmured instructions to her. Ridge walked past them to where India still sat huddled on the sofa. Her arms were wrapped around her legs and her face was buried between her knees. Her shoulders trembled and she rocked back and forth.
He placed his hand on her back and she flinched. Not removing his hand, he stroked it over her back in a soothing motion. “India,” he murmured. “I’m taking you up to your room now.”
She didn’t respond and slowly, he curled his arms underneath her and lifted her slight form. He strode by Udaya, who was still conversing with the doctor, past an unsmiling Kavi who stood at the door.
He mounted the stairs and slowly made his way up to her room. When he walked in, he deposited her gently on the bed and stepped slightly away. “Do you need me to help?” he asked, ignoring the impropriety of the question.
When she didn’t acknowledge him, he sat down on the bed beside her and cupped her face in his hand, forcing her gaze to his. “India,” he said quietly. “No one can hurt you now. I won’t allow it.”
Finally her eyes seemed to focus, and panic flared in her dark orbs. Her mouth opened as if she would say something then it snapped closed just as quickly.
He stroked his thumb over her cheek, enjoying the softness of her skin. “You’re all right now.”
A tear slipped down her cheek and collided with his hand. He stroked it away and reached out with his other hand to frame her face. Her eyes, shining with a sheen of moisture, reached out to him and squeezed his insides.
Before giving ample time to contemplate his actions, he leaned in and brushed his lips softly across hers. He slipped one hand behind her neck and pulled her closer as he deepened the kiss. His tongue slipped between her lips as she opened her mouth to his advance.
She breathed a small sigh, breathless, surprised, approving. Her fingers fluttered to his face, tentative, seeking, swirling over his cheekbones. Then her tongue reached out to meet his, dancing lightly along his lips.
She tasted of all the dreams he had ever dreamed, of all the places he ever wanted to visit. She tasted spicy and exotic, and if he didn’t stop now, he was going to be beyond the ability to do so.
With great reluctance, he pulled away, but his hand remained underneath her jawline. She felt so damn good. Better than he’d imagined a woman could feel. She felt right.
He watched a dull flush creep over her face, painting her cheeks a dusky red. He dropped his hand immediately and looked away, unable to offer the apology he should. Truth was, he couldn’t very well apologize for something he held no remorse over.
“I’ll collect Udaya for you,” he mumbled as he stood awkwardly.
She caught his hand. “Don’t go.”
He turned in surprise at her request.
“I’m sorry,” she offered, her face bright with embarrassment. “You must think me a silly sort of female.”
He arched an eyebrow. He thought her anything but.
“The journal. Is it gone?”
He nodded, disappointment swelling in his throat.
She hung her head. “It’s my fault.”
He moved back to the bed and sat down once more. “India, I don’t blame you. I should have taken more precautions. Particularly in light of the break ins at both our residences.”
“I remember the translation,” she said. “If you bring me a quill and ink, I can recopy it.”
His heart began to race. Dare he hope th
at his plans weren’t in ruins after all? Then he frowned. “You should rest. You’ve received a terrible shock.”
She shook her head. “I must do it now or I chance forgetting. I can rest once I am finished.”
He paused for a long second, battling with his conscience. “If you’re sure...”
“I’m sure,” she said in a determined voice.
“Very well. I’ll return in a moment with the supplies.”
Chapter Six
India rested against the mound of pillows at her back as she hastily scribbled the fabricated translation once more. Her mind was a tumultuous jumble of conflicting emotions. Never once had she felt such strong guilt over her plan to dupe the viscount. Until now.
She sighed and laid aside the quill then rubbed her aching temples. He had kissed her. And not just any kiss. She had been kissed before but not like this. Not like this achingly, perfect kiss.
She had done far more with Henry, but she had not felt so incredibly captivated, so powerless to do anything but feel, like she had with Ridge. Now she wondered just what other wonders she had missed out on in her experience with Henry.
She closed her eyes and relived Ridge’s lips on hers. Feather soft, then firmer. Warm, comforting, gentle. She had never felt anything like it. It made her feel of home, security, warm fires in the winter, summer breezes. All the things she most wanted. Yet here she was poised to jaunt off again on some wild goose chase.
Only this time it mattered. Really mattered if she were to get her father back. She’d have to put aside her dreams of home and family. Perhaps she would never have them, but the idea remained firmly ensconced in her heart.
She stared down at the translation and felt guilty all over again. The viscount had done nothing to indicate she couldn’t trust him, and her initial assumption of him being a glory seeking sensationalist just didn’t ring true now. But was she willing to take the chance?
It no longer mattered what she thought of the viscount. Her father’s well being took precedence over everything else. Even if the viscount never forgave her deception, at least her father would be alive and well. And he was all she had left.
Feeling only marginally better about her perfidy, she blew over the ink to make sure it was dry then set it on the small table by her bed. She rose from the bed and walked to the window to look out.
Streetlamps cast flickering shadows in the deepening twilight. Traffic on the streets had picked up as London came alive. Her brow wrinkled. She had never experienced anything remotely resembling a normal existence. The very normal things that Londoners did, theater, opera, balls, soirees seemed as foreign to her as her life did to them.
The mere thought of moving amongst such large crowds nearly sent her into a fit of panic. She couldn’t bear to be alone and in the dark, but the idea of so many people was equally discomfiting.
She was doomed never to fit in anywhere.
She opened the window and was rewarded by a cool breeze. Below her, the sounds of the night wafted up to her. The clip clop of horses’ hooves on the cobblestone streets. In the distance she could just hear the strains of an orchestra, no doubt from a neighboring residence.
As she stood watching, a carriage pulled to a stop in front of the viscount’s house and an elderly gentleman descended then strode rapidly up the walk. She quickly withdrew and closed the window.
After glancing back at the bed, she was almost tempted to take the laudanum that Udaya had tried to force on her a mere hour ago. It would ensure she would sleep this night. After a moment’s contemplation, she discarded the temptation and began to shed her trousers. She pulled on her only dress and quickly checked her appearance in the mirror. She smoothed the tendrils of hair behind her ears then reached over for the paper she had written the translation on. The viscount would be eager to see it. Even if it wasn’t the true account.
###
Ridge ate his dinner alone in the dining hall. Many evenings he took it in his study, but tonight he harbored the secret hope that India would join him. But he’d heard nothing from her since he left her to write down the contents of the journal.
A noise at the door brought his head up, but to his disappointment, Moreland entered.
“My Lord, the earl is here to see you.”
Ridge sighed. The earl could only mean his father. Otherwise Moreland would have specified which earl. He threw down his napkin in disgust as dread curled in his stomach.
He rose and followed Moreland to the drawing room where his father paced before the fireplace in agitation. As soon as Ridge entered the room, the earl whirled around, his face dark with anger.
“Tell me you haven’t done it. Tell me you haven’t.”
“Whatever are you referring to?” Ridge asked mildly as he stopped at the sideboard to pour himself a drink. He found a good stout brandy helped his tolerance of his father.
“Care for one?” he asked, throwing a glance in his father’s direction.
“No, I do not,” he bit out. He stopped pacing a few feet away from Ridge and stood glowering at him. “Robert tells me he is going with you on this far flung adventure.”
Ridge set his glass down then turned his full attention to his father. “Yes,” he said slowly. “That is true.”
“How could you?” the earl spat. His face purpled in rage and his cheeks puffed in and out with his obvious effort to control his anger.
“How could I what, sir?” Ridge asked mockingly. “Robby asked to go. I couldn’t very well say no.”
“You did this on purpose,” his father hissed, wagging a finger in Ridge’s face. “You did this to get back at me.”
“You give yourself far too much credit,” Ridge said, walking past him.
“Don’t you turn your back on me!”
Ridge froze then slowly turned around to face his father. “It is not I who have turned my back,” he said softly. “You on the other hand, turned your back to me the minute I chose my own way in life.”
“Poppycock! This is all part of your hair-brained scheme to further infuriate me. Robert is married for God’s sake. He has a duty to provide heirs since you seem incapable of doing so,” he sneered with a deriding look up and down Ridge. “How on earth can he see to heirs if he’s gadding about the world with you?”
“I suggest if you’re so interested in the state of Robert’s personal life that you ask him,” Ridge said in a barely controlled tone. His father’s words were purposely meant to goad him, and he’d be damned if he gave the bastard the satisfaction of knowing how they affected him.
“You couldn’t be satisfied to ruin your own life,” his father railed. “You had to take Robert from me as well. He was perfectly content to do his duty until you planted these absurd notions in his head.”
“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.” India’s soft voice sounded from the door.
Both men turned to survey the young woman in the doorway. Ridge’s humiliation was now complete. He could take his father’s rantings, but damned if he wanted the rest of the world to hear his shortcomings.
“Who the devil are you?” his father demanded.
“Someone who takes exception to the way you are speaking to Lord Ridgewood,” she said calmly, as she stepped farther into the room.
The earl’s eyes widened in surprise, then his face flushed a dull red. “Hear now, do you have any idea who I am?”
She studied him coolly, her eyes narrowing at his challenge. “I would have thought you a gentleman based upon your appearance, but then no true gentleman would rage at another as you have done. Your opinions appear to be based on that which you have no knowledge.”
A supreme sense of satisfaction tightened Ridge’s chest as he watched his father’s face contort with fury over the insult he’d been handed. That India had defended him gave him more pleasure than he would have imagined. It felt damned good.
“And who are you to question your betters?” his fa
ther demanded.
She arched an eyebrow and stood with her hands clenched at her side. “Betters? My good sir, if you are my better then I am in a sorry state indeed.”
“And who are you?”
She surveyed him calmly. “My name is India Ashton.”
Surprise lit the earl’s face then recognition dawned and his lip curled contemptuously. “So you are the chit responsible for both my sons jaunting off on some wild fool’s chase.”
Her brow creased in confusion. Then she looked at Ridge, her gray eyes apologetic. “He’s your father?”
Ridge nodded slowly, but he reached out to take her hand. He squeezed it and shook his head slightly hoping she would get the message that there was nothing to forgive.
She turned troubled eyes back on the earl. “How can you speak to your son in such a despicable fashion? Have you no consideration for what others want?”
His father’s mouth gaped open then it snapped shut. He glared openly at her and his hands shook at his side. “I’ll thank you to mind your own business, Miss Ashton. Not everyone indulges in your heathen ways. I rue the day my son ever met you.”
She chuckled softly. “If you think to insult me, my lord, you will have to dig deeper than that I’m afraid. I’ve been ridiculed by far more important people than yourself. I assure you, your opinion of me is as inconsequential as your preference of drink.”
Ridge felt her fingers shake ever so slightly in his hand, and he knew she wasn’t as unaffected as she let on. Damn his father. This had gone on long enough.
“I won’t allow you to insult Miss Ashton further in my home,” he said firmly, staring challengingly at his father. “I think you’ve said quite enough. Perhaps you should take your leave now.”
The earl stared at him in shock. “You’re going to allow this...this woman to ruin yours and Robert’s lives?”
“Indeed not,” India interjected, a small smile playing at her lips. “I assure you, they will quite enjoy being part of my harem.”
