Flames of Desire

by Vanessa Royall

  Their eyes met. For the space of a second, he stopped speaking. World and time passed between them in a glance, and the currents of loss and memory, the stunning electricity of surprise, came down about them. Sean Bloodwell, to whom she had been promised. Who would have been the first to have her, the day of the picnic on the banks of the river, had not family come hunting to tease them. Who had lost his fortune because of the MacPhersons. But in whose eyes—yes, it was there—love still shone, fierce and true as instant fire.

  And, she knew—she felt it in her heart—the love for him that had never died.

  “…establish trade with your rich and wealthy province, so that we may both profit thereby.”

  He was looking at the master again, still in command, the only sign that something had occurred a certain paleness high on his cheekbones. And Selena could gauge its meaning.

  The maharajah considered it, but he had already decided.

  “On those terms and under such conditions,” he said, “you may approach and state your business in greater detail.”

  The men came forward then and took up standing positions before the throne. Sean did not look at her. She saw that he wanted to—her eyes did not leave him for one instant—but that he wished to maintain full composure. To do what he had come to do as best he could. And save the greater problem for later, when there would be time to consider it. He was passionate still, but more in control of it than he had been. Selena could understand that very well. The last time he had given in to the impulsive side of his nature, by granting money to the Rob Roys, it had earned him divestiture and exile. And caused him the loss of the love that had originally inspired his gift.

  He looked fairly prosperous. He wore high riding boots, silver spurs, a tan riding suit, brown coat, and about his neck a yellow scarf, now streaked with dust from his trip. He held in his left hand a broad-brimmed hat, useful against sun and wind. With his right hand, he gestured easily as he put his proposition to the maharajah, who listened as if he understood.

  “What we propose, sir,” Sean said, combining at the same time a degree of respect with a courteous assumption of equality between the two of them, “is a threefold plan. One, we will purchase from you, at fair prices to be mutually determined, a quantity of your grain crops, for shipment to England and America, particularly England, which has a rising population and a fixed area of arable land. Second, we of the East India Company effect with you an exclusive contract, to be shared in no particular by any other country or company, which would allow us to market in your region any and ail products of your desire that we may supply…”

  Selena saw the maharajah nodding. He understood. The matter did not sound too disadvantageous, if the terms could be worked out right…

  “Why do you think I have need of you?” he asked suddenly, in his most bored, most self-assured tone. “I possess wealth in forms and proportions of which you have not dreamed.”

  The chest of jewels, Selena thought. He thinks his bragging will impress them.

  It did, but not in the way he had anticipated. Instead of inducing in Sean and the other merchants the kind of meek respect sought by the maharajah, it merely whetted their appetites.

  “Frankly, we are interested in that, too,” Sean said.“And, if you deal with us, your wealth might even be increased. Is the wherewithal of which you speak in liquid form?”

  For a moment the maharajah sat there on his fantastic throne, with nothing but a blank look on his face. Then he motioned for Selena.

  “What is this liquid of which he speaks?” he whispered to her.

  “It is not that,” she said, catching Sean’s eyes as she bent her head to the master’s. “He means do you have items of value that can be directly exchanged and maintain their same value. The jewels.”

  The maharajah nodded, feigning shrewdness.

  “Yes, I have liquid,” he said.

  Selena saw the momentary look of bafflement from Sean, and then a glint of amusement in his eyes. He thinks I rule this man, she thought, greatly alarmed. He thinks I rule him and that I am just as carefree and willful as I used to be.

  Nothing is as it appears to be! That was practically the first piece of advice she had received upon arriving in India, and nothing had occurred since then to prove it incorrect.

  Now, watching Sean, she saw that his original shock, which had mixed love and concern and even anguish, fell away. And in its place she saw something terribly distressing: a look of amused congratulations! As if he were saying to her: “Well, you’ve made your mark again, and if it’s what you want, more power to you.”

  Oh, God, he was slipping away already, and she hadn’t even spoken to him.

  “Our third proposal,” Sean was saying, “is long-term in nature.”

  “In nature?” the maharajah interjected, thinking perhaps of grass and flowers.

  “…and is to occur over a period of years,” Sean amended. “Beneath the ground there are often valuable materials, other than gold and silver, and so on, which are of use to us in the West. We wish to buy rights to these materials…”

  “You want to buy my land?” the maharajah yelled. “What is this? I will not tolerate such…”

  “They wish to pay money for metals beneath the earth,” Selena spoke up. “The land will still be yours.”

  Distressed by Sean’s reaction, she no longer cared about the protocol. Her voice was flat and even and dead. She caught Sean’s look of bewilderment. Admiration for her authority and knowledge, but a reappraisal of her role in this palace. He was in doubt again, and that at least was good. He would not leave without trying to learn the full nature of her situation. Or predicament.

  “The land will be mine, even after the money. So.” The maharajah nodded agreeably. “Gentlemen,” he continued, “I like what you say. Let me now provide you with rest and food, drink and shelter, and in the coming hours we shall discuss these things of which you speak. Perhaps you shall dine with me tonight? Yes, of course. And afterward, women. A gift to speed you into sleep. I have many.”

  His voice had hardened so imperceptibly that only Selena could have noticed. He pointed to her now, showing off a prize.

  “But you may not have this one,” he smiled. “She is mine. I do what I please with her, and she pleases me as well.”

  Had he seen her interest in Sean Bloodwell? The looks that had passed between them?

  “So, we shall dine and talk further in the evening,” he told them. “Now, go, and make known to my servants whatever it is you desire. I have everything.”

  Sean and his colleagues retreated, and were led out. The doors closed.

  “So, my darling,” the master said, “you served me well, and I will have further need of your mind. And your body,” he added. “From now on, each night, it is you I wish to have with me.”

  Because of Sean Bloodwell? she wondered.

  Yes, Davi answered her.

  Without thinking, she looked at him. The maharajah caught the glance and scowled. Selena saw that he had guessed. Davi could read his mind, and speak with Selena. His lower lids squinted up and death was the sentence that flashed in his eyes. In time, that sentence would be carried out.

  The master was twice jealous now.

  Alone, before the evening banquet, Selena looked at herself. At her face and her body, reflected back at her from the polished wall of glass in the maharajah’s bedchamber. Not so many minutes ago, that same revealing glass had shown her beneath the master himself, performing with art and cunning the exercises he had demanded of her. She had not been wrong about his reactions to the Europeans, and to Sean especially. He lost no time in asserting his ownership of her, his dominance over her. The lovemaking was quick and savage: its purpose had had nothing to do with love. Before leaving to dress for the banquet, he had bitten off a final order: “I want you to make sure those foreigners do not cheat me in these negotiations, especially regarding that strange lease of the underground. You will employ yourself this evening wit
h their spokesman. I believe he is susceptible to you. But you will be with me tonight, of course. And every night for some time.”

  But his object was not love!

  Then, standing before the mirror, she looked more deeply at herself. She looked into herself, and touched her soul, with the hopes and dreams dormant but still alive within. No one had ever escaped the harem, but then no one had enjoyed the possibility of receiving the aid of someone as resourceful as Sean Bloodwell. But would he help her? Certainly, he would. If he knew that she was being held here against her will. At this moment, though, he probably had the impression that she was here of her own volition. Hence his smile before the maharajah’s throne. But no true Scot would leave a compatriot, much less the woman he loved, in bondage, if there was anything at all that could be done to set her free.

  I will get out of here, she thought, her mind working furiously on a variety of plans.

  It was the best of times to escape, with Sean and his colleagues there. But, on the other hand, rumors of war had led the master to increase the palace guard. Still, the Hindu night could hide a thousand things, and it might just be possible to flee…

  But she always kept coming back to one inescapable fact: she would be, each night, with the maharajah himself. And he did not wish to let her go. Then, too, what about the child? She could not leave her here.

  Perhaps Sean would have an answer. Or Davi.

  She proceeded to dress with extraordinary care, selecting a sari of pale blue. The color reminded her of Royce Campbell’s eyes, and she felt hurt and guilty. Pulling her hair back, she bound it high with diamond-studded combs, in Rupal’s style, and then touched rose water to her neck and shoulders, to the place between her breasts. In the mirror, she looked stunning, but she felt anxious and afraid, and not a little contrite. The sudden turns of life no longer appeared to be tangential, sending one off on a new course to uncharted territory. No, they now seemed curved, vastly curved in time. You Would begin a journey to a far land, strange mountains, new people, but once you arrived there everything began to look familiar again, and you realized that leaving one’s own heart was an impossibility. In Scotland, she had not treated Sean with the respect and devotion he had clearly merited, not only as an outstanding and resilient man, but as her intended. That was her failure, and she accepted the culpability for it. Her passion for Royce had been as true as anything in her life, but now she saw—not too late, she hoped, for the lesson to do some good—what he had meant in telling her: “The plans that have been made for you and Sean will give you a life of meaning, rich with accomplishment. I held back from you because I did not wish to spoil that life.” Royce, as wise as he was wild. My problem, Selena decided, is that I lacked the will to shape my life even when I had the chance to do it. Now I must fight just to be free for a day. Well, so be it. I shall fight. And if heaven gives me a chance to undo the harm I have already done to Sean, I swear by all the stars in heaven I shan’t let him down again.

  There was, too, a quiet moment of reflection, and a tear formed in the corners of her eyes as she thought—a thought strangely like a prayer—of Royce Campbell. But that had been, and it was ended. Perhaps, in the great plan of time, she had been given to him only for a moment, to become wiser, more mature, so that later she would possess gifts of truth and trust and character, gifts to bring to a good man and become one with him.

  Davi appeared at the door. She could tell he was excited.

  “The master is calling for you now,” he said. “The guests are seated.”

  Selena took a deep breath and a last look into the mirror. She saw a beautiful young woman, whose eyes and face reflected fear and resolve, defiance and decision. And hope.

  The maharajah had spared nothing in order to give the appearance of opulence and luxury. Guests reclined on soft, intricately embroidered cushions, placed before low tables laden with fruit juices, wines, breads, cheeses, vegetables, fish, and the prime delicacy from the kitchens of Jabal-Mahal: tiny birds stuffed with sweet berries and basted in brown-sugar sauce. These were eaten whole, by holding the tiny talons, and severing the legs with one’s teeth. The six guests, dressed in robes provided by the maharajah, looked up as Selena entered with the master. She saw immediately how the evening had been arranged. There were seven of the low tables in the room, and a European alone at six of them. Harem concubines, attired in their best, stood about the room, waiting to serve as companions, should it be the master’s will. Those not selected for this task, would dance, make music, carry trays of dishes and food. And, along the walls, behind the six tables, were closed, tentlike canopies, to which the honored guests might retire at will with a woman. She guessed that the men were naked beneath their silk robes.

  The seventh table, slightly elevated, was for the maharajah. And for Selena.

  Davi guided them to it and seated them. The maharajah clapped his hands, and six of the concubines moved forward and seated themselves next to the guests. Selena saw their expressions, which ranged from surprise to amusement to outright delight. Sean Bloodwell, however, looked as if he had expected it, and she began to wonder—with a proprietary twinge of jealousy—how often this sort of thing had happened to him in his business dealings. His concubine was Ashina, who was sly and willowy and who knew how to captivate a man.

  “This is how I have arranged it,” the master told her quietly. “I myself will not deign to cavil and debate with them regarding mundane affairs. But, after the dinner is well begun, you will circulate, speak to each of them, and bring me news of their specific offers. Take your time. Do not appear anxious. And be cautious and detailed with the big fellow over there. I have given him Ashina, but he looks a man who would keep his head, even with the best of women.”

  She saved Sean for last. The music had already begun, and the visitors were heavy with food and drink when Selena approached Sean’s table. The five Englishmen had been eager to speak with her, to ask her questions—many of them highly personal—about her role in the palace, but she had turned them aside, making it appear to them that she was only a hostess asking after their pleasure. Thus, she had contrived to spend little time with them, in order to have as much time as possible with Sean.

  She caught Ashina’s pouty glance as the other woman moved off. Selena sat down across the table from Sean Bloodwell. Their eyes met for a long time, and her heart stuck in her throat. She could not think of a word to say. Initially reserved, amused, he saw her blinking back the tears. And, at that instant, she saw that he had understood her situation. He did not yet know how she had gotten there, and he did not need to know. That would come later. All that mattered now was that she was there against her will, and hated it, and had to escape.

  “I didn’t think it was in the Scottish blood to carry on so at the sight of an old acquaintance,” he said, with a slight smile, as if to say cheer up and hold on. Then he lapsed into the idiom to distract her while she got her emotions under control: “’O’d e’er a thought a future member o’ t’ ’Ouse o’ Lairds ’d be a sittin’ east o’ nowhere, naked as a jaybird in a body kilt an’ chewin’ off the heads o’ little birds…”

  “Oh, Sean!”

  “Careful, Selena. That rajah of yours is giving us the evil eye. I’ve known my share of them, and when the chips are down they’re all deadly as cobras. Almost like England, wouldn’t you say?” he added. Then, loudly, abruptly: “A lease is a lease, young lady. You drive too hard a bargain!”

  She was surprised for a moment, more at the sound of his voice than anything else. Then she grasped his ploy.

  “My master must retain control!” she said, loudly, too, and slightly angry, then looked around, as if embarrassed, and lowered her voice.

  “I must speak to you of…of personal things. But I need answers about the business things to take back to…him.”

  She inclined her head slightly and indicated the maharajah, who had called Ashina to his side, and was listening to music and stroking her hair, and whose attention, subt
ly concealed, was on his golden-haired mistress.

  “We must speak quickly,” she told him. “This may be our only chance.”

  “Do you want to get out of here?” was the first thing he asked, meanwhile bringing his fist down upon the table as if making an intractable merchant’s demand.

  “Oh, God,” she said.

  He smiled. “Well. I was just starting to make a bit of money, and I run into you again. Maybe I didn’t do so well in my last karma, as the natives say…”

  But he saw her face fall, and returned to the situation. He spoke fast. “All right, Selena. Jabalpur is only Jabalpur. There are other territories, as the drummer says. This is my situation. I can remain here for tonight, then two more days and nights. I might be able to return next year…”

  Next year!

  “…if I’ve made some real money by then, and try to buy your way out. But your best chance, if you can make it, is to get away now. My partners and I work for the East India Company. We’re adventurers, and doing quite well at it, though by no means as well as I did in Scotland…”

  His face darkened for a moment at the memory, but he shrugged it off.

  “…but that is my problem. If you can get outside the walls tonight or on the next two nights, we’ll leave right away. For Bombay. You see, Robert Clive, the former head of the company, blew his head off last year. The glory days of making a quick fortune are gone. Warren Hastings, the new head, is a splendid man, but too cautious, too political. The grand times are over in East India. My partners and I thought we’d just head down the Narbada River and see what we could open up in West India, and, you never know, I’d like to take the money I have and make a break for America. Once those rebels are brought under control and the situation is stabilized, well, there’s a continent that has a penny or two for a good man to make…”

  He read her expression.

  “Yes, Selena. I’m loyal to the Crown.” The steel was in his voice. “I’ll have that title yet. I’ll have it, and I’ll go back to Scotland and claim all that was taken from me!”