Her Master's Touch (30 page)

Damon's voice came from behind.

"What is it you want, Elizabeth?"

"I don't know," she said. "I thought..."

"What? That I'd have a woman here?"

"Well... yes... no. That is..." She stared at
the empty bed. "Then Mara is not still your mistress?" she asked,
wondering how long the woman had been gone.

Damon put his hands on her shoulders and
turned her around. "She left two years ago and hasn't been back. Or
any other woman. True, you complicate my life in ways I could not
even dream up, but it's only you I want, only you since the moment
I saw you at the horse fair, and nothing's changed. Can you
possibly believe me, Elizabeth? Is it so hard for you to understand
that I love you and want you for my wife? Not my mistress. Never my
mistress. My wife."

Elizabeth was still trying to adjust to the
fact that all this time there had been no other woman. And she'd
put Damon through hell thinking there was. She looked up at him.
"But the things you said on the steamer..."

"Angry, hateful things said by a man who was
frustrated to be in love with a woman who'd turned his world upside
down and was helpless to do anything about it. I love you,
Elizabeth. In spite of the unforgivable things I said, all I want
is to have you as my wife. I've wanted you as my wife ever since we
repeated our vows on the steamer, but I only recently came to
realize it. And if it means selling Westwendham and living here at
Shanti Bhavan
with you, then that's what I'll do, as long as
I have you for my wife."

"But all I want is to be with you," she
replied, while trying to absorb the words that Damon said. Words of
love... of loving her... and wanting her for his wife. And she knew
this time the words had come from his heart. She reached up and
touched his face. "And no, you don't have to sell Westwendham," she
said, "I'm ready to leave this intolerable place. As long as I can
leave it with you." She looked up at him then, and felt a pang of
regret.

It must have shown on her face, because Damon
trailed a finger over her cheek, and said, "What is it, love? I can
tell something's still bothering you."

Eyes stinging with tears of remorse, she
replied, "I know it's not my fault that the opal is gone this
second time, but if I hadn't stolen it from you in the first place,
you would have long since returned to England as a very wealthy
man. I don't know how you can ever forgive me for that when I can't
even forgive myself."

Damon looked at her soberly. "If you hadn't
stolen my opal," he said, "I would never have met a spirited gypsy
girl who also stole my heart. I love you Elizabeth. It never
occurred to me to want a wife until I met you. Now I can't imagine
my life without you. So if the
Burning of Troy
brought you
to me, then it served its purpose in my life. Now, I'll hear no
more about it... Ever again." He smiled then, a slow smile that let
her know that everything would be alright.

Elizabeth looked at his lips and wondered how
long it would be before he kissed her. The thought had barely come
when he pulled her into his arms and claimed her lips in a deep,
heartfelt kiss that lasted until they had to break for air. "Now
that we've sorted through that," he said, "I have one question." He
untied the lacings on her hat and tossed it aside. "What did you
intend to do if you found me in bed with Mara?"

Elizabeth lifted her chin. "I don't know,"
she said, irritated. "Maybe rip off the covers and see what Mara
had that I don't."

"My sweet, exasperating, exotic, little
bird," Damon said, pecking at her lips. "Mara has nothing."

"But... could you be happy living in England
with a gypsy hoyden?" she asked. "Even I can't predict what I might
do." She tipped her head back, allowing him access to her throat
and the trail of kisses she knew he'd place there.

"That's precisely why I want you for my
wife," Damon said, his fingers moving to the top button of her
blouse. "I like living on the edge."

Elizabeth gave him a sultry smile. "Does that
mean you're giving me permission to behave like a gypsy queen
again?"

"Only if I'm allowed to behave like a pirate
king and haul you off to my quarters and claim you as booty," Damon
said.

Elizabeth placed her palms on his chest, and
said between kisses, "It just so happens that this gypsy queen is
ready to be claimed." She glanced down, and added in a silky voice,
"And I see the dragon has raised his sleepy head."

Damon laughed. "Not only has he raised his
sleepy head, but his eyes are wide open, his nostrils are flaring,
and he's breathing fire, and he'll need a dragon tamer to put the
fire out," he said, scooping her up in his arms.

Elizabeth curved her hands around his neck.
"If this dragon tamer doesn't get the fire put out the first time—"
she sent a trail of kisses across his jaw "—she'll keep trying
until she succeeds. Practice makes perfect, they say."

Damon lowered her to the bed. "I completely
agree."

Elizabeth rolled onto her back and sighed
dreamily. "But there's one little requirement," she said, as his
fingers negotiated the buttons on her blouse. "Since you are the
keeper of my dragon, I will expect you to keep him confined when
I'm not present."

"And when you are present?" Damon said. "What
then?"

"You may turn the dragon completely loose,"
Elizabeth said, a chill rippling through her as Damon toyed with
the silk lacings on her chemise. "In fact, this dragon tamer is
already dreaming up new and unique ways to subdue the unmanageable
fellow. She's clever like that. She's also anxious to get started
with his first obedience lesson."

Damon removed her blouse and tossed it to the
floor. "That may be," he said, slipping the chemise from around her
and dropping it on top of her blouse. "But first, the keeper of
your dragon is going to thoroughly and methodically introduce the
dragon mistress to his touch. Then she can tame her dragon." He
stripped off her riding pants and under drawers and tossed them to
the floor, then added his drawers to the pile.

Elizabeth smiled. "Now that you've relieved
me of my protective armor, Mister Dragon Keeper, please get on with
the touching so I can get on with the taming."

And he did. With his hands, with his lips,
with his words of love...

It took several tries to put the fire out
though—embers kept flaring. But ultimately the job was done. At
least for a little while.

High on a rooftop in Calcutta - two weeks
later

A Bengal monkey held between his tiny
wrinkled palms the treasure he'd taken from his master's pocket.
Studying it with curious eyes, he tested it with his teeth and
flicked his tongue over its smooth surface. Inclining his head to
one side, he turned the thing over and inspected it thoroughly,
then raised it with delicate dun-colored fingers. Catching the
light, the thing came alive with flashes of fiery reds and
iridescent blues and glittering golds. He let out a screech of pure
delight and jumped up and down on the roof.

"
Hanuman
! Come! Bring!" his master
bellowed the sharp words in Hindustani from the piazza far below.
Hanuman saw the movement of fingers, but the snap they should bring
did not reach his ears. Or if it did, Hanuman did not acknowledge
it, so focused was his attention on the thing he held in his
palms.

"Hanuman!"
the word came again, but
with a sharper sting. A small crowd gathered around the master,
faces tipped up. Still, the master was evident among them from the
twist of red about his head. "
Hanuman! Come! Bring!"
the
words came again.

Angry words. Fighting words. Fists
shaking.

Hanuman looked at his treasure, then at his
master. And back at this treasure, which caught the waning sun and
exploded into dazzling colors.

A screech of pure pleasure burst from his
throat.

"Hanuman!" The word was harsh. Biting.

Hanuman screeched a shrill reprimand.

The master shook a fist. Both fists. And let
loose with a string of Hindustani expletives that leapt to
Hanuman's ears with the fury of a raging fire.

Tucking his treasure to his chest, Hanuman
peered down at the master one last time. Then he launched himself
from the building, his piercing reproach trailing behind as he
sprang from rooftop to rooftop, moving across porticos and
verandahs and colonnaded mansions, and through bazaars crowded with
knaves and whores and beggars as numerous as flies, and disappeared
into the milieu of
palki-gharries
and landaulets and
carriages and masses of humanity that together made up the rhythm
of life, and the pulsing, vibrating, heartbeat that was
Calcutta.

###

AUTHOR'S FINAL NOTE
: Immediately
following World War I, when the Austrian capital city of Vienna was
experiencing severe financial distress, officials there valued the
Burning of Troy
so highly that they refused to sell the
stone for any price. At the outbreak of World War II, however, the
opal once belonging to Empress Josephine disappeared yet again, and
has never resurfaced. Perhaps, in time, it will again make itself
known

BOOKS BY PATRICIA
WATTERS

HISTORICAL ROMANCES

Colby's Child

Her Master's Touch

Day of Reckoning

Miss Phipps and the Cattle Baron

CONTEMPORARY ROMANCES

Adversaries and Lovers

Suddenly Single

Justified Deception

Unwelcome Legacy

A Dolphin's Gift

BOOKS SOON TO BE RELEASED

Come Be My Love

Touch Me With Love

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