The Tiger Prince

by Iris Johansen

She didn’t answer as she struggled out of bed to her feet.

  Dizziness. The room swung around her.

  “Dammit, what are you trying to do to yourself?” Ruel took two steps, reached out, and grabbed her arms, steadying her. “Lie down.”

  “No, it’s better now.” She spoke the truth. She still felt weak, but the room was no longer swaying. “I have to get—”

  “Back to your blasted railroad,” he finished. “The hell you will.”

  “You shouldn’t curse in the presence of a lady,” Ian said reprovingly. “But I admit the sentiment is valid. You should rest, lass.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She backed away from Ruel. “Thank you for your concern.”

  “Concern?” Ruel exploded in exasperation. “Why should I be concerned just because you were stupid enough to jump in front of a dagger meant for me?”

  “It couldn’t have been meant for you. It must have been a mistake.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand. You’re not involved in this.”

  “I appear to be very much involved,” he said grimly. “I owe you a debt, and I pay my debts.”

  “You don’t owe me anything.”

  A sudden smile lit his face, melting away the grimness as if it had never been. “I’ve heard the Chinese believe if you save a man’s life, it belongs to you.” His voice was velvet-deep, the tone wheedling. “Now, you can’t just toss me away, lass.”

  Dear heaven, he was as beautiful and seductive as the whistle of a train in the night traveling to wondrous places. “Li Sung says that proverb is a fallacy made up by white men.”

  “And who is Li Sung?”

  “My friend.”

  “I prefer my own version of the Oriental philosophy,” he said, that radiant smile basking her once more. “Won’t you do as I ask?”

  He knew exactly what he was doing, she realized suddenly. He knew down to the last glowing ounce of that strong, beautiful body how to seduce and persuade and bend a woman to his way of thinking and had probably learned it through a thousand encounters such as the one that had taken place at Zabrie’s.

  “No.” She felt an instant of satisfaction as she saw the flicker of surprise on his face, but she knew she hadn’t the strength to argue with him any longer. She must put an end to this discussion. “Thank you for taking care of my arm. You needn’t worry anymore about this. I’m sure you won’t get in trouble for—”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Ruel moved in front of her, blocking her passage to the door. The grimness had returned to his expression. “Get back in that bed.” When she didn’t move but stood there looking at him, he said impatiently, “All right, blast it, I’ll let you go slave on your wonderful railroad, but a few hours rest won’t hurt. Get some sleep and we’ll be on our way at first light.”

  “We?”

  “Your railroad’s hired nearly everyone else in Kasanpore. Why not me? After tonight, I’d say you need someone to guard your back.”

  “I don’t need anyone to protect me. I can take care of myself.”

  “Then, at least, I can watch over you and see you don’t kill yourself with overwork.”

  Watch over you.

  The phrase held a sweet, wistful fascination for her. Not that she needed anyone to watch over her, she thought quickly. “Laying tracks isn’t the kind of work you’d want to do.”

  “A few days of it won’t hurt me.”

  She glanced around the tastefully furnished hotel room. “You’d be of no use to me.”

  “Because I don’t occupy a hovel? Ask Ian where he found me in Krugerville. When you’re seeking an audience with a maharajah, you don’t spare the rupees. I assure you I can make myself useful in most circumstances and I’m not afraid of hard labor.”

  She recalled the hard roughness of the calluses on the hand that had stroked hers.

  “Lie down,” Ruel repeated. “I’ll wake you at dawn and we’ll ride out to the site together.”

  She turned and lay back down on the bed, drawing the covers over her. She was accomplishing nothing but draining her strength by fighting him. One day of pounding spikes should assuage his conscience. “I’ll need a clean shirt to cover this bandage. No one must know I’ve been hurt.”

  “I believe I can supply one.”

  “No.” She nodded at Ian. “Him. He’s bigger and I want it loose.”

  Ian smiled. “It will be my pleasure.”

  “And be sure to wake me at dawn.” She closed her eyes.

  “Should I send word to Reilly that you’re here?” Ruel asked.

  “No, he won’t miss me. I’m usually gone by the time he wakes up in the morning.”

  “How charming,” Ruel said caustically. “I must remember to—”

  “Go away,” she said without opening her eyes “You’re keeping me awake.”

  She heard Ian’s delighted chuckle. “Are you properly put in your place, Ruel? Let’s retire to my room and have a glass of whiskey. I’ve had enough of this soggy air for one night. I’ll be glad to get home to Glenclaren.”

  “So you tell me every day.”

  “I decided it would do no harm to remind you. I’ve always believed in fortifying my position.”

  Her eyes remained shut after the door closed behind them. What a strange contrast the two men made, Ruel as volatile and glittering as quicksilver, and his brother sturdy and homely as raw granite. Yet, in spite of their differences, she could sense a strong bond between them.

  She must stop thinking of Ruel or his brother. Scottish lords and beautiful exotic young men had nothing to do with what was important in her life. She must get to sleep and gain strength to fight off this weakness.

  “I like her.” Ian handed the glass of whiskey he had just poured to Ruel. “She’s a brae lass.”

  “You like her because she’s just as obstinate as you are.”

  “I admit I enjoyed seeing a woman say no to you. I’m sure it’s very good for your character.” Ian took his own glass and moved to the window. “It appears the threat to the girl Abdar spoke about is more than the maharajah’s displeasure.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you always suspected that, didn’t you?”

  “I told you I was familiar with crocodiles.”

  A few moments passed before Ian spoke again. “You were gone a long time. Did you—” He hesitated.

  “Are you trying to ask if I had a carnal romp with our guest?”

  “I suppose I am.”

  “I have not.” Ruel took a sip of whiskey. “Yet.”

  “You still believe this Kartauk is her lover?”

  Ruel’s lashes lowered to veil his eyes. “Why should I have changed my mind? She’s risking a good deal for him.”

  “You think the assassin in the alley was waiting for her?”

  “It makes sense. When I showed up with her, he decided the first blow should be for the more dangerous target.”

  “But you’re not certain, are you?”

  “You’re beginning to read me too well. No, I’m not sure. This particular crocodile may have cunning as well as teeth.” He shrugged. “But it does make the search more interesting.”

  “The lass could have lost her life tonight.” He frowned, troubled. “Everything is changing. I want you to give up this nonsense of using her to find Kartauk.”

  Ruel didn’t answer.

  “Ruel?”

  “Nothing has changed except I’m now in a far better position to receive confidences and find out information than I was earlier this evening.” He smiled sardonically. “Don’t look so appalled. I tried to tell you what I am.”

  “You just like to shock me.” Ian added quietly, “She saved your life. You won’t betray her trust.”

  “She doesn’t trust me. She probably doesn’t trust anyone, unless it’s this Kartauk.”

  “And that bothers you, doesn’t it?”

  “Goddammit, it doesn’t bother me!” Ruel crashed his glass down on the table and sprang to his feet. “The only thing that bot
hers me is your infernal probing. I’ve had a bellyful of it.” He strode toward the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need some air. I’m suffocating in here.” He glared back at Ian. “And I don’t give a damn about you, or Glenclaren, or that blasted girl. All I want is Cinnidar.”

  The door slammed behind him.

  Ian smiled slightly as he lifted his glass to his lips.

  Tiger pad softly, tiger burn bright …

  At the moment, the tiger was not padding at all softly but he was definitely burning. Even in that moment in the barroom when Ruel had been goading Barak, Ian had not seen him this savage. Still, it was not a bad sign. Sometimes a flame could purify as well as destroy. He could only hope all those nonsensical dreams of Cinnidar would be burned away in its wake so they could go home.

  Home.

  Though he constantly held Glenclaren up before Ruel as a beacon, when he was alone he tried not to think of it. It made the yearning for home only deeper and more hurtful.

  Instead, he would think of Margaret. Margaret was not his own in the same way Glenclaren belonged to him, and he had waited so long for her, the anticipation had lost all bitterness and become sweetly wistful. Margaret, cool and brisk, yet with a heart as warm as a winter bonfire.

  Yes, he would think of Margaret….

  “He’s dead.” Zabrie looked up at Pachtal from where she knelt beside the body. “From the bruises on his throat it looks as if he was strangled. Will this interfere with your plans?”

  “Not at all,” Pachtal said. “Resard’s death is of no importance.” He gazed without expression into the staring eyes of his servant. “Not if he first accomplished his task.”

  “There’s blood on the knife and more drops leading across the street. You wished the Scot only wounded?”

  Pachtal nodded. “Events were moving too slowly for His Highness. He wished the Scot placed in a position of intimacy with the girl.” A faint smile touched his lips as he gazed down at the bloody knife on the pavement. “I believe I can tell him his wish has been granted.”

  Zabrie suppressed a shiver as she looked down at the dead man. It should not have surprised her that Pachtal regarded the man’s death as weighing nothing against Abdar’s whims. She had known from the first time she had met Pachtal he could be either a danger or a boon to her, depending on how she handled him.

  She rose to her feet, picked up the lantern, and moved toward the arched door. “Then His Highness should be pleased with us both. Did I not send for you the moment the girl crossed my threshold? How did you know he would follow and ask for a white woman?”

  “We could not be sure, but we knew he was watching her.” He smiled. “And the Scot is not a patient man. It was only a matter of time until he made his move.”

  “So, I set the trap and you sprang it.”

  “You set the trap, but the Scot did not respond as you thought he would. You said he wouldn’t trust the word of the girl and would try the door leading to the hall, find you hadn’t really locked it, and take the girl to the alley that way. Yet no one was seen going out this alley door. How did they get out?”

  “How do I know? The Scot is not predictable.” She experienced a moment of regret as she remembered how delightfully unpredictable he had proved in their bouts together. Then she dismissed the emotion and asked, “What difference does it make as long as the end was accomplished?”

  “No difference. You’ll be adequately rewarded for your services. The bitch made no mention of Kartauk?”

  “I told you she had not. She was concerned only about her friend Li Sung.” She had learned it was always better to tell a little bit of the truth when you told a lie and she had decided it would not be wise to reveal all she knew to Abdar. “She’s afraid he comes here too often and will anger Reilly by neglecting his duties in Narinth.”

  His lips curled. “How can you bear to bed that mongrel Chinese dog?”

  Mongrel. Pachtal regarded all but his own caste as unclean. She had to smother the sting of rage his words brought. “I must earn food for my table, and all men do not bring me as much pleasure as you and His Highness. I hope you found me skillful?”

  “Adequate. His Highness told me he found you very pleasant to look upon.”

  “He did?”

  He smiled. “He also said when we found Kartauk perhaps he would have a golden mask made of your face.”

  “I am honored.”

  “But you would be more honored if he made you one of his concubines at the palace,” he said softly. “His women have fabulous jewels and rich golden trinkets that would make your eyes shimmer with delight.”

  She felt a leap of hope. “Has he spoken of this?”

  “No, but I have great influence on His Highness. I could remind him how talented you were the one time we both enjoyed you.”

  “And would you be so generous as to do this for me?”

  “It’s a possibility.” He paused. “If you please me.”

  It was the answer she had expected. “I will please you.” She smiled at him. “Come along to my chamber and I will show you what we experienced before was only the beginning.”

  He shook his head. “No, here.”

  Her eyes widened as she looked around the alley and then to the dead man a few yards away. “You jest. There is stink here and your servant …”

  “It excites me,” he murmured. “Turn around and lean your hands against the wall.”

  “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.”