Chapter 4
e didn’t give up.
The only reason her gaze was drawn to him so constantly during the day, Jane assured herself, was her concern for his hurt shoulder. But the wound didn’t seem to hamper him, for with every blow of the hammer the muscles of his back and abdomen slid as smoothly as the gears of a locomotive. The rhythmic force with which he struck each wedge-shaped spike sank it deep and true. At the end of the day he was still swinging the huge hammer with the same strength and determination he exhibited when he had started ten hours before.
“You can stop now.” She walked over to him. “Didn’t you hear Robinson call a halt? The others left five minutes ago.”
“I heard him.” He swung the hammer and the spike plunged deeper. “But I’m not like the others. I had to prove myself, didn’t I?” He tossed the hammer aside. “Do I come back tomorrow?
She gazed at him, baffled. “I can’t understand why you’d want to.”
“Sometimes I like this kind of work. You don’t have to think, you just feel.”
He had shed his shirt only minutes after he had accepted the hammer from Robinson. His golden skin now gleamed with a patina of sweat and dust, and his chest was moving harshly with his labored breathing. She felt a tingling in the palms of her hands, and she realized with astonishment that she wanted to reach out and touch him to see if the ridged muscles were as hard as they looked. She quickly clenched her hands into fists and stepped back.
He picked up his shirt from the ground beside the track and slipped it on. “Invite me to your bungalow for dinner.”
“What for?”
“I want to meet your Patrick Reilly.” He started up the track across Sikor Gorge. “I want to see you together.”
She started to put another question to him, but his expression had taken on the shuttered look she was beginning to recognize. “You wouldn’t get along. You’re not at all alike.”
“Invite me.”
She hesitated and then said formally, “Will you be so kind as to join us for dinner?”
“Delighted. I’ll go to the hotel first and wash off this sweat and be at your bungalow at eight.” He shot her a shrewd look. “And don’t worry, you won’t have to be protective of your friend Reilly. I’m no threat to him.”
She had a sudden memory of the bulging eyes of the man lying dead in the alley. Ruel MacClaren might not be a threat to her or Patrick, but there was no doubt he could be extremely dangerous when aroused.
“He deserved it.” Ruel’s gaze was fixed on her face and she had the uncanny impression he had read her thoughts. “I always return what’s given to me, Jane.”
“Well, then I have nothing to worry about.” She smiled with an effort. “Once you’re convinced I’m quite well again, you’ll be about your own business.” She turned to look at him. “By the way, what is your business?”
“At the moment I’m involved in investing.” He laughed at her incredulous expression. “Do I look too rough to be a man of commerce? It’s true I’m not comfortable with the business world, but I learned a long time ago everything is forgiven royalty.”
“Royalty?”
“With enough money a man can make himself a king.”
“Is that what you want to be?”
His eyes twinkled. “Well, perhaps I’d be satisfied with being crown prince as long as I had prospects. Isn’t that what everyone wants? It’s a hell of a lot better than being crushed under someone else’s heels.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I’d be comfortable in a life like that. It would be … strange.”
“You’d rather slave on your railroad?”
“It’s not always like this. It’s been bad here, but sometimes the work is easier.”
“And worthwhile?”
She nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes.”
“Why?”
“I can’t explain.” She thought for a moment. “A train is … freedom. You step on a train and it takes you away and lets you leave all the bad things behind.”
“And what if the track leads you somewhere that’s worse than what you left behind?”
“Then you get off before you get to that somewhere. It gives you a choice.”
“And escape.” His gaze narrowed on her face. “What are you trying to escape from, Jane?”
“I’ve already escaped and I’m never going back,” she said quietly.
“And your Patrick helped you make your escape?” She smiled. “Yes, Patrick helped me.”
“Another whiskey, Mr. MacClaren?” Patrick asked.
“I don’t believe so, thank you.”
“I believe I’ll have a dollop.” Patrick poured the last of the whiskey in the bottle into his glass. “I know they’re putting less in these bottles. I think that servant at the club is shortchanging me. You know you can’t trust these Indians, MacClaren.”
“Has that been your experience?” Ruel asked politely.
“Sula!” Patrick called. “Where is that woman? Jane, run to the kitchen and tell her we need another bottle.”
“I took the last one from the kitchen cabinet last night,” Jane said.
Patrick scowled. “She’s probably been selling the liquor to someone in the bazaar. It was never like this when Li Sung was handling my whiskey. I want you to get him back here where he belongs, Jane.”
Jane looked quickly down at her plate. “I told you I needed Li Sung in Narinth.”
“This is the Li Sung you mentioned to me?” Ruel asked.
She glanced up to see his gaze narrowed on her face and anger flared through her. It wasn’t enough that Patrick was under that merciless scrutiny all evening. Now it seemed it was her turn. “Yes, Li Sung works for us.”
“Good man for a chink. Not like these cheating Indians.” Patrick rose to his feet and weaved toward the door leading to the veranda. “Be right back, MacClaren. I think I left a full bottle on the table on the veranda.”
“Pleasant fellow,” Ruel commented as Patrick disappeared from view.
Jane whirled fiercely on him. “Why don’t you leave?”
Ruel’s brows rose. “Have I done something to offend you?”
“You sat there all through dinner and watched him, taking him apart with—” She stopped and drew a deep breath. “You watched both of us. I didn’t like it.”
“I like watching you.” He smiled slightly. “I thought I knew everything about you, but I’m finding out new things all the time.”
“You don’t know me at all and you have no business judging Patrick when you know nothing about him,”
“You wound me.” His blue eyes gleamed in the lamplight. “And I thought I was being both charming and informative. I’m sure Reilly thought so. Providing he could think at all through that haze of spirits surrounding him. Is he always drunk by the time you come home from laboring on his behalf?”
“It’s the heat.”
“Indeed?” He rose to his feet and placed his napkin on the table. “Since I seem to have overstayed my welcome, I will take my leave.” He bowed slightly. “Thank you for dinner. I trust the presence of this Sula assures you don’t have to act as a kitchen skivvy as well as day laborer?”
Her hands clenched into fists beneath the table. “Good night.”
Abruptly the mockery vanished from his expression. “For God’s sake, go to bed,” he said roughly. “You’re dead tired and he won’t miss you. I’ll see you tomorrow on the site.”
“You’re coming back?”
“Oh, yes, I found it a most interesting experience.” He moved toward the door. “It’s always intriguing learning new things. That’s why I had such an enjoyable dinner.”
“And what new things did you learn here tonight?” she asked warily.
He slanted her a glance over his shoulder. “That you’re incredibly loyal and genuinely willing to work yourself to exhaustion for that likable sot.”
“He’s not a sot. I told you—”
“It’s the heat,” he finished. “I’ve met any number of men out here who blame their self-indulgence on the weather. The heat makes them thirsty, the monsoons make them depressed, and the sandstorms give them headaches. But I’m not really interested in Patrick Reilly now that I’ve found out what I want to know about him.”
“And what,” she asked scathingly, “would that be?” He met her gaze. “That whatever lies between you, the rumors are wrong. He doesn’t share your bed.”
“Well?” Ian asked as Ruel walked into his hotel room an hour later. “Was your day productive?”
“Productive enough.” Ruel stripped off his coat and shirt and strode across the room toward the washstand. “I met Patrick Reilly.”
“And?”
“He’s not involved with Kartauk. I’d judge he isn’t involved with anything but his bottle.” “Poor lass.”
“She wouldn’t appreciate your sympathy.” He poured water into the bowl and began splashing his face. “And anyone who can take on Abdar is too strong to deserve it.”
“I still feel sorry for her. She reminds me a little of Margaret.”
“Our pure and proper Maggie would not be pleased at the comparison with a woman who frequents brothels and struts around wearing men’s clothes.” He grabbed a towel and dried his face. “Believe me, they’re nothing alike.”
“You never really knew Margaret.” Ian smiled. “And I don’t believe you know that child.”
“I’ll know her soon.” He cast him a glance over his shoulder. “And Kartauk.” He began unbuckling his belt. “This Li Sung she mentioned is supposedly in Narinth. Why don’t you take a ride tomorrow and see if he’s really there?”
“You think he has something to do with Kartauk?”
“Maybe. I know she lied about where he is.” He threw his belt on the chair and began unbuttoning his trousers. “She doesn’t lie well.”
“Which means she’s an honest lass.”
“Suppose you get out of here so I can get some sleep?”
“You’re going to work on the track tomorrow too?”
“As long as it takes.” He began to strip off his trousers. “Good night, Ian.”
“I get the feeling I’m being dismissed.” Ian rose leisurely to his feet and moved toward the door. “If I can help with anything else, let me know.”
“You’d help me deceive that ‘poor child’?” Ruel asked mockingly.
“You won’t deceive her. You’re a decent man and you’re already softening toward the lass,” Ian said tranquilly. “But the sooner we get this Kartauk business out of your system, the sooner we can go home.”
“I’m not soft—” Ruel stopped in midsentence as Ian closed the door behind him.
Five minutes later Ruel blew out the oil lamp on the nightstand beside the bed and lay back, staring into the darkness. He should be tired but he was too tense to sleep, and Ian’s words hadn’t put him in any more gentle mood.
He was not softening toward Jane Barnaby, dammit. The fact that he had a debt to pay complicated matters, but he still had every intention of using her to find Kartauk. After he had accomplished his aim, he would make the decision whether to turn Kartauk over to Abdar or kill the bastard himself and—
Kill Kartauk? The violence of the thought had come out of nowhere. He didn’t even know John Kartauk and certainly had no reason to kill him.
But he knew Jane Barnaby cared enough about the son of a bitch to risk her life for him.
And he knew enough to know she had probably taken him for her lover.
The fury the thought brought sent a shock through him.
Lust. Not casual lust but obsessive, overwhelming desire for possession. He had allowed himself to fall into the trap of becoming intrigued and admiring even before his body had responded to her at Zabrie’s. Now it was all tied together in some twisted, painful fashion.
He had to rid himself of emotion and think coldly and clearly. There was no reason to let this feeling he had for Jane interfere with his pursuit of Cinnidar. He must keep the two goals entirely separate and find a way to accomplish both of them. She had shown a response to him at Zabrie’s, and he would play on that response. He was not unskilled, and if he could show her more pleasure in bed than Kartauk, perhaps—
Jane in bed with Kartauk, writhing beneath him as he plunged in and out of her body …
Rage tore through him. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. God, what was happening to him? He had never felt jealousy over any woman. Passion had always been a pleasant game to be indulged and then forgotten. Yet now he was in a fever over the thought of a faceless stranger plundering the body of a woman he had never even possessed.
Perhaps he would kill the bastard.
“Colonel Pickering told Ian the maharajah’s private railway car is supposed to be quite something to see,” Ruel said casually as he helped Jane onto Bedelia. “Will you show it to me?”
She looked at him in surprise. She was nearly stumbling with weariness, and she had not been pounding spikes all day as Ruel had done. Yet he appeared as tough and energetic as when he had started work that morning. “Now? Aren’t you tired?”
“I’ve been more tired.” His eyes twinkled as he mounted his horse. “As someone recently told me, if you don’t think about it, it goes away. Will you show me the car? The new station is on the way to the bungalow, isn’t it?”
“Yes, there are two cars at the station. One is the maharajah’s private car and the other is a passenger car for his guests.”
“But it’s the private car that has the golden door?”
Her gaze flew to his face. “You’ve heard about the door?”
“I’d have to be deaf not to have heard about the door that’s the talk of Kasanpore. You don’t run across golden doors every day.”
“I guess not.” She hesitated. “Wouldn’t you rather wait? I received word last night the locomotive is on its way downriver and should be delivered tomorrow afternoon. You could see them both.”
“The locomotive doesn’t interest me.” He raised a brow. “Unless it has a golden boiler?”
She laughed. “No, though we made sure it has plenty of flash.” She paused. “The maharajah will be there and has invited practically everyone in Kasanpore to see it.”
“That changes the situation. Will you be able to introduce me to the maharajah?”
She shook her head. “I can’t risk annoying him. He’s not going to want to concentrate on anything but his new locomotive.”
“Too bad. Then I’d rather see the door now, when I have leisure to study it. I have a great fondness for gold in any shape or form.”
“I know someone else who feels the same way.” Her smile faded. “Actually, I know two people who—” She kicked her horse, and the mare sprang forward. “If you want to see it, let’s hurry and get it over with.”
The sun had almost gone down by the time they came within sight of the station, but the last weak rays caught the brightly burnished brass adorning the two scarlet railway cars and set them ablaze.
“The maharajah is clearly not a retiring man,” Ruel said as he reined in before the station and dismounted. “I imagine all that brass is fairly blinding in full sunlight.”
“Yes.” She got off Bedelia and followed him across the platform toward the cars. “As I said, he likes a bit of flash.”
“And where is this famous golden door?”
She gestured toward the second car.
He moved quickly past the first car and up the four metal steps of the second car. “The sun’s almost gone down. I can’t see it properly….” He took down the lantern hanging on the hook beside the door, lit it, and held it high. He gazed at the door in silence for a moment. “Magnificent.”
“It’s supposed to represent the Garden of Paradise. The door itself is bronze that’s been heavily gilded with gold.” She frowned. “But it still cost us far too much money.”
The blasted door had caused her a mountain of trouble as well as money, and lately she had not been able to look at it with the appreciation it deserved. Now she found herself seeing it through Ruel’s eyes.
Two flowering trees framed either side of the door on which intricately carved tropical blossoms draped the branches and burst in luxuriant profusion over the entire golden surface. Through the screen of flowers glimpses could be caught of a tiger and gazelle romping playfully together before a sari-clothed woman. The woman was gazing at herself in a hand mirror and completely ignoring the beasts.
“The workmanship is superb. Who did it?”
“Just a local craftsman.” She asked quickly, “Have you seen enough?”
“No.” His gaze suddenly focused on the bole of the tree on the left side of the door. “What’s this?” He started to laugh. “Good God, it’s a serpent.”
She had hoped he wouldn’t notice the serpent coiled around the bole of the tree. “Isn’t there always a serpent in paradise?”
“So I’ve heard.” He smiled curiously. “But never one this cleverly presented.”
His absorption in the snake made her uneasy, and she tried to distract him. “I thought the tiger was done quite beautifully.”
“Very nice.” His gaze was still on the serpent. “An exquisite abomination,” he murmured.
“What?”
“Nothing.” To her relief, his stare finally left the serpent and shifted to her face. “May I see inside the car?”
“Of course.” She quickly pulled out the ring of keys from her pocket, then hesitated as she remembered what lay beyond that door. “There’s nothing unusual about the furnishings. Haven’t you seen enough?”
He studied her. “What’s in there that you don’t want me to see?”
“I’m tired and hungry.” She gestured impatiently. “You wished to see the door and you’ve seen it. This is a waste of time.”
“Why?” he asked again.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She unlocked the heavy door and flung it open. “Look, if you like. I don’t care.”
“Thank you, I shall.” He entered the car. “Coming?”
“I’ve seen it all before.” When he merely stood looking at her, she moved reluctantly forward to stand beside him. “Hurry.”
“Oh yes, I remember, you’re hungry.” He lifted the lantern and glanced around the car. The light played over crimson-velvet-cushioned divans, polished teak-wood tables, tasseled curtains draping mother-of-pearl inlaid windowsills. He lifted the lantern higher, and his gaze fell on the eight pictures gracing the walls. He whistled long and low. “I think I’m beginning to develop an appetite myself.”
“They were the maharajah’s choice,” she said quickly. “He had the paintings brought from the palace.”
“The concubine quarters, no doubt. Kama Sutra …”
“Kama what?”
He stepped closer, examining the painting directly in front of him. “These are really quite well done. Zabrie showed me some paintings in a book, but they were all concerned more with inciting than depicting emotion. Notice the tender expression on the man’s face?” He raised the lantern nearer to the painting. “And the texture of the woman’s buttocks looks as smooth and plump as peach halves. This position is fairly pleasurable if the angle is done right….”
She found she wasn’t looking at the painting but at the play of light on the finely molded line of his cheekbones. Though they weren’t touching, she could feel the heat of his body and was acutely aware of the earthy fragrance of salt, soap, and sweat surrounding him. She was finding it hard to breathe. The intimacy of the car seemed to be smothering her, weakening her. “Shall we go now?”
He glanced curiously at her. “Are you blushing? I wouldn’t think a woman who frequents Zabrie’s would find anything shocking in these paintings.”
“I’m not blushing.” She knew the heat in her cheeks belied the words and deliberately made her tone brusque. “I don’t find them shocking, merely unbelievable. Men don’t … There’s no gentleness. It’s not like that picture.”
His gaze narrowed on her face. “No? What is it like?”
“Hard and fast,” she said baldly.
He chuckled. “I can’t deny it’s hard. You should—” “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why not? I’m finding the discussion fascinating. Tell me more.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“Perhaps. Your experience must be somewhat limited.”
“You’re wrong,” she said fiercely. “I spent the first twelve years of my life in a whorehouse. I know all about—” She stopped abruptly. Then she turned on her heel and strode toward the door. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense.”
“A whorehouse?” The strange thickness in his voice caused her to glance at him over her shoulder. All humor had disappeared from his expression and he was tensed, arched like a cat about to spring. “Is that where Reilly found you?”
“Yes.”
“It seems I misjudged him. I wouldn’t have guessed his tastes run to children. I’m beginning to find the sot not quite so tolerable.”
“It wasn’t like that— I have to get back to the bungalow.”
“That’s right, you mustn’t be late.” Stinging ferocity underlay the silken tone, and his light eyes glittered through half-closed lids. “I’m sure your Patrick is desolate if you keep him waiting for even a moment.”
“Be quiet!” Her hands clenched into fists. “Patrick may not always be sober, but he doesn’t mock or try to hurt people. He’s not cruel like you are.” She turned and threw open the door.
“Jane!” He muttered a curse and was suddenly beside her, his hand grasping her arm.
She tried to pry his fingers from her arm. “Damn you, let me go.”
He immediately released her and held up his hands. “See, I’m not touching you. Now may I say something?”
She glared at him.
“I admit I did try to hurt you. I felt the flick of the whip and instinctively struck back.”
“I wasn’t striking out at you. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m trying to apologize.” He grimaced. “And obviously doing it very badly. I suppose that’s to be expected since I can’t remember the last time I so humbled myself. God knows, we all have to do what we must to survive. I had no right to judge you. Will you forgive me?”
She felt her anger ebbing away. “You’re a strange man.”
“Without doubt.” He took a step back and gestured for her to precede him. “Go on. I’m feeling a little savage at the moment and it would be better if you weren’t around me. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Is there any point in suggesting once again that you give up on laying track for the railroad?” she asked haltingly.
“None.” He didn’t look at her as he moved past her and down the steps to the platform. “It’s too late for that. We have to get on with it and finish it.”
“On with what?”
“I used to know,” he said harshly. “Now I’m not so sure anymore.”
A moment later he had mounted his horse and trotted off toward town.
“Li Sung isn’t in Narinth,” Ian said. “He hasn’t been there since he visited the town some two months ago with Jane Barnaby.”
“Then the next question we ask is why she lied?” Ruel murmured. “And where the gentleman is at present.”
“And why you’ve had three whiskeys in a row since you walked in the door,” Ian added mildly.
“I was thirsty.” He smiled recklessly. “And it’s good Scotch Whiskey. You should approve. Isn’t everything even remotely touching on Glenclaren worthwhile?” He threw himself in the chair. “Wonderful, splendid Glenclaren. Tell me, have you heard from Maggie lately?”
“You know I have not.”
Ruel lifted his glass to his lips. “No doubt she’s still nursing her father and being the dutiful daughter. As I remember, MacDonald made Maggie’s life hell on earth. I always thought he was malingering just to tie Maggie to his bedposts and keep her slaving.”
“So did I. He has no liking for the idea of giving Margaret to a man with little means.”
“Haven’t you ever been tempted to push the old bastard over the edge?”
“Frequently.”
“And?”
“It’s a mortal sin. We can wait.”
“Shall I do it for you?”
Ian’s eyes widened.
“Shall I?” Ruel repeated.
“You’re joking.”
“Am I?” Ruel wondered himself if he had made the offer only to shock Ian or if he actually meant it. He was in a mood for violence, and MacDonald’s nagging, torturous enslavement of his daughter seemed to him to be far worse than the mortal sin of which his brother spoke. “How do you know?”
“I know you.”
“Not anymore.”
“It’s only the liquor speaking.” Ian shifted his shoulders uneasily. “Now, stop talking nonsense.”
“As you like.” Ruel took another drink. “Tell me if you change your mind.”
“Why are you like this tonight?”
“Like what?”
“Wild.”
“It’s the nature of the beast.”
Ian shook his head. “You’re on edge. Why?”
“I’m not on—” Why deny it when Ian wouldn’t believe him anyway? He had hoped the liquor would dull the sharpness of the jealousy, anger, and pity Jane’s words had aroused and had not lessened since he left her. He wanted to strangle—who, for God’s sake? Patrick, Kartauk, those men who had made her childhood a nightmare? Oh, what the hell. He poured another drink. “I saw the gold door tonight.”
“And?”
“It’s a splendid depiction of the Garden of Paradise … with Abdar’s face as the head of the serpent.” “What? Are you sure?”
“It’s very subtly done, but you can’t miss the resemblance.”
“An exquisite abomination.” Ian chuckled. “I believe I’m beginning to like this Kartauk. The man has a sense of humor.”
Ruel’s reaction had been the same, and he had been fighting it since the instant he had seen that devilishly sly serpent. “The maharajah must not be overly fond of his son if he permitted that particular bit of humor.”
“That was Colonel Pickering’s opinion, if you remember.”
“They’re delivering the locomotive to the station tomorrow, and Jane said the maharajah will be there. Why don’t you go down with the colonel and see if you can’t get an introduction?”
“An excellent idea. You’re giving up looking for Kartauk?”
“I didn’t say that, but it’s always wise to explore every avenue.” He started toward the door, taking his glass with him. “Though, from what I saw of his taste in art in his car tonight, I sincerely doubt if the maharajah and you will have much in common.”
“This must be a great day for you.”