The Tiger Prince (12 page)

“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.