SILK AND SECRETS (9 page)

“No, I haven’t changed my mind.” He sighed, then gave her a wry half-smile. “You were the only person who ever understood. When other people hear that I’m now Lord Kilburn, they react to the news with congratulations, as if surviving my brother is some great achievement on my part.”

“It’s ironic that now everything will come to you, even though you don’t want it. Still, you will use the Windermere wealth and influence better than your brother would have. He had a small soul.” After a fractional pause Juliet continued, “Of course, now it is much more important that you have an heir. I don’t blame you for wanting to avoid the notoriety of divorce. Still, if you want to take another wife, I swear that I will never come to England or cause trouble in any way.”

“You’ve been in the East too long, Juliet.” Ross’s brows arched. “While Muslims may have several wives, in England such behavior is called bigamy and it’s quite illegal.”

“I didn’t mean that!” she said with exasperation. “You can have me declared dead. It wouldn’t be hard to produce some kind of proof for the English authorities. Then you would officially be a widower and could marry again without scandal.”

He regarded her thoughtfully. “My father always said that the female of the species is ruthlessly practical, and he was right. Frankly, even if I were free to remarry, I would not do so, for I have neither the stamina nor the optimism to take another wife. The ancient Windermere title and extravagant Windermere fortune can go to one of my second cousins when the time comes.” He chuckled suddenly. “Still, thank you for making the offer. While wrong-headed, it was generous of you.”

Juliet felt foolish when she realized all the implications of her impulsive suggestion, such as her own family thinking her dead. But at least Ross was amused again. Getting the coffee pot, she poured more for both of them. “What are your plans now? Are you going back to Teheran? Not Herat, I hope. Afghanistan is even more than usually dangerous just now.”

“Neither.” He chose a flaky cardamom-flavored pastry from the plate and took a bite. “Delicious. You really have a fine kitchen here.” He finished the pastry with a second bite. “In fact, my destination is Bokhara.”

She stared at him. “I hope you’re joking. That is the most dangerous place in Asia for Europeans. If you absolutely must travel farther into Central Asia, go to Kokand or Khiva, where you have a reasonably good chance of leaving again.”

“Unfortunately, only Bokhara will do.” He wiped his fingers on the napkin. “This is not a pleasure trip, Juliet. Have you heard that the amir is holding a British army officer prisoner?”

“I’ve heard rumors to that effect, but I’ve also heard that the officer was executed.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. At any rate, I intend to learn the truth of the situation, then see if I can do something about it.”

Juliet bit her lip with concern. “It is the British government’s place to act, not yours. You don’t have any official status, do you?”

“None whatsoever—I am going as a private citizen.”

“You’re mad,” she said flatly. “If you just march into the amir’s palace and ask him to let the officer go, you’ll end up imprisoned or dead yourself.”

“You’re undoubtedly right,” Ross agreed. “However, I am still going to try. The officer’s mother asked me to, and I found I could not refuse.”

“Well, you should have,” she snapped, appalled at how blithely he brushed aside the dangers. “This afternoon you said there was no point in your servants sacrificing their lives in a futile attempt to save you from the Turkomans. This is the same thing, only worse. At least the Turkomans would have only made slaves of the Persians—if you go to Bokhara, you’re a dead man. The only question is whether you will be killed quickly or spend years rotting in the Black Well first. There is no point in taking that risk on behalf of a man who is already dead.”

“The situations are not comparable,” he said mildly. “For one thing, it isn’t clear if the British officer has been executed. And if he is dead, perhaps I will be able to persuade the amir to release the major’s body so I can return it to his family for burial.”

“No doubt his family would appreciate that, but it isn’t worth you risking your life.”

His level gaze met hers. “Not even though the officer in question is your brother Ian?”

Juliet caught her breath, feeling as if she had been struck a physical blow. “Dear God, not Ian,” she whispered. It was too much. Shaking, she buried her face in her hands. Perhaps this whole day was just a nightmare and she would wake in the morning to find her life at Serevan unchanged. Or better yet, the last dozen years had been a fever dream and she was still at Chapelgate, sleeping safe and warm in her husband’s embrace.

“Oh, damnation,” Ross said helplessly.

She heard him get up from his chair and come around the table. Gently he touched her hair, saying, “I’m sorry, Juliet, I should not have told you like that.”

Instinctively she turned toward him and he put his arms around her as she buried her face against his side. For a few moments, as she battled tears, she allowed herself to accept the dangerous comfort of his embrace. For so long she had hungered for a man’s touch. For Ross’s touch.

Finally she pulled away, though not so quickly that he would interpret her movement as rejection. “You needn’t apologize,” she said, her voice unsteady. “There is no way to break such news gently.” She drew the back of her hand across her eyes. “It seems impossible to believe that Ian is gone. He was always so alive. I used to think that if anyone was going to turn out to be immortal, it would be Ian.”

Ross retreated to his own chair. “While I don’t want to give you false hope, there is a chance that he is still alive.”

“Do you honestly think so?”

He shrugged. “As I said, there is a chance. All the way from Constantinople, I’ve talked to anyone who claimed to have information. The results were inconclusive, mostly third-and fourth-hand reports. In Teheran I did meet a man who claimed to have witnessed the execution of a ferengi several months ago, but the description could have fitted almost any European.”

“Even if that wasn’t Ian, it doesn’t mean that my brother is still alive,” she said bleakly. “He could have died in prison, or been executed since then. And if, by some remote chance, you reach Bokhara and find Ian alive, there is no reason to suppose that the amir will release him—or you.”

“Nonetheless, I promised to try my best, and I will.”

Remembering what else he had said, Juliet said with an edge in her voice, “This is all my mother’s doing, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “I met her at the British embassy in Constantinople. She had been trying unsuccessfully to persuade Sir Stratford Canning to do something through official channels.”

“If Canning refused, the government is convinced Ian is dead.” Juliet’s mouth tightened. “Blast it, my mother had no right to ask you to risk your life on a futile mission.”

“She had a feeling that Ian was alive and that we would both return safely,” he explained, faint amusement in his eyes. “So who am I to argue with female intuition?”

“I sincerely hope you did not place any faith in my mother’s dubious intuition,” Juliet snapped. “For God’s sake, Ross, give up this mad scheme! There is no virtue in noble suicide.”

“Be that as it may, the subject is not open to discussion,” he said with finality. “I’ve been to Bokhara once and survived. Perhaps I’ll be lucky again. If not”—he shrugged with a fatalism worthy of an Asiatic—“so be it.”

“You’ve been to Bokhara already? But…”

When her voice trailed off, he said dryly, “Surprised that someone so scholarly and unadventurous would dare such a journey?”

Juliet colored, knowing that she could start a whole new argument by pursuing his remark; perhaps that was why he had made it. Refusing to let herself be distracted, she considered the possibilities. She would never be able to change his mind, not when he had that damned “word-of-a-gentleman” expression on his face. And though she was tempted, she really could not lock Ross up for his own good.

She muttered a Persian curse of whisker-singeing intensity. There was only one thing she could do that might increase his chances of surviving the journey. “Very well,” she said with a calm implacability that was the equal of his. “If you insist on going to Bokhara, then I’m going with you.”

Damn and blast and damn again. Ross stared at his wife, thinking that he should have seen this coming. “Absolutely not.”

She raised her brows. “I wasn’t asking for your permission, Ross. I’m going and there is no way you can stop me. You may have traveled through Central Asia, but I’ve lived here for nine years. I know the customs and people better than you do, and have more resources at my command.”

“Don’t be absurd,” he said forcefully. “You know that women have no status in this part of the world. On your own, you would be able to do nothing, and as my companion, your presence would make the situation worse. My task will be much harder if I must worry about your safety as well as my own.”

“Save your worry for yourself,” Juliet retorted. “You will be in much more jeopardy than I, for I am not going as a woman.”

Ross opened his mouth, then closed it again. “With your height, wearing Tuareg robes and veil, I suppose you can pass for a Targui if you don’t make any major errors in behavior,” he admitted reluctantly. “Though the costume is somewhat conspicuous in Central Asia, you would still be safer than if you traveled as a ferengi woman. But that is beside the point. I see no advantage in your presence, and considerable disadvantage. To use an argument that we have both overworked today, you would be going into danger for no good reason.”

“They say that Bokhara is a snake den of spies and informers. If I go there as a Muslim man, I will have much more freedom of movement than you, and will be able to learn things a ferengi never could.” She nibbled her lower lip as she thought. “I suppose I should go as your servant, so that I can get information to you without arousing further suspicions.”

He almost choked on the last of his coffee. “You, a servant?” he said incredulously. “It is easier to believe that you can pass as a man than that you will ever do what anyone tells you to do.”

Juliet gave an unexpected grin. “Touche. I’ll admit that taking orders is not my strong point, but I am not a fool. With our lives in the balance, I will be a model of obedience.”

Why did she have to have such flashes of unexpected, irresistible charm? It would be so much easier if Juliet was a bitch. But Ross never would have married her if she were; instead, she was merely impossible. “I don’t care if you can follow orders like a trained gun dog. Under no circumstances will I take you to Bokhara as my servant.”

“You are being unreasonable,” she said patiently. “The men you hired in Teheran may be saints and heroes, but they have known you for only a few weeks and there is no way you can be sure of their loyalty. Certainly they did not distinguish themselves today when they abandoned you to the Turkomans. At least you can trust me not to betray you if danger threatens.”

With deliberate cruelty he said, “Trust you not to betray me? Based on your past record, I would be mad to do that.”

Juliet’s skin went bone white against her red hair as blood drained from her face, revealing a pale ghost of freckles across her cheekbones. “Obviously it was a mistake to entrust me with your honor,” she said, her voice almost inaudible, “but you can trust me with your life, and you know it.”

In spite of what he had said, Ross believed Juliet’s statement. She might have betrayed her marriage vows, but she would never be cowardly or treacherous, especially not if her brother’s life was at stake. And, for honor’s sake if not affection, she would do nothing that might endanger her husband.

Nonetheless, to accept her proposal was unthinkable. Ross had never thought much about the afterlife, but he knew that spending several months in close proximity to his wife would be a fair approximation of hell. “I can’t stop you from coming,” he said wearily, “but neither can you force me to take you as my servant.”

“Then I’ll go instead of you,” she said, undeterred by his attitude. “In fact, that is the way it should be. Ian is my brother, not yours, and you have suffered quite enough because of the Camerons.”

As her challenging gaze met his, the atmosphere changed, the center shifting from the mission to Bokhara to Ross and Juliet. The anger and tension that pulsed between them tonight stemmed from one raw, unresolved wound: their failed marriage. It was time to address it directly.

“If we are both determined to go to Bokhara, there is probably a better chance of survival if we work together,” Ross said, his voice harsh. “But we can’t do that unless we stop trying to provoke each other. Ever since we met, we’ve been dueling, looking for changes and weaknesses.”

“You’re right.” She sighed. “I’m not particularly proud of my behavior, and you haven’t been at your best either. It’s time to declare a truce.”

But before that could happen, Ross must find an answer to the question that had tormented him for a dozen years. “Why did you leave me, Juliet?” he asked quietly. “Were you in love with another man?”

She looked away. “No,” she said, her voice equally low. “There was no one else.”

He waited for her to say more. When she did not, he said reflectively, “Since we were together constantly, I suppose that you would scarcely have had time to fall in love with someone else. Very well, if you did not run away to be with a lover, was it because you could not bear to confine yourself to one man and one bed forever and were too honest to stay and become an adulteress?” Given Juliet’s passionate nature and subsequent activities, he had thought that was the likeliest explanation.

“I don’t know whether to feel complimented by your opinion of my honesty or insulted by your appraisal of my morals,” she said in a tight voice. “No, Ross, there are other reasons for ending a marriage besides sex. I did not leave you to follow the siren call of promiscuity.”

“Then why
did
you leave?” Trying to sound detached, as if the subject had nothing to do with him, he continued, “I was happy, and you seemed to be also. We had only a few disagreements, and to me, at least, they did not seem serious. What did I do that was so unforgivable?”