The Tiger Prince (60 page)

Her eyes lifted to his face. “And how are you?”

“Sick, but I’m not numb.” His gaze shifted to her face. “I’m going to butcher the son of a bitch.”

She shivered as she saw the cold savagery in his expression. Then she thought of Ian and felt a surge of the same cold anger. “How?”

“I have a few ideas. Where’s Li Sung?”

She nodded across the clearing, where Li Sung was talking to a Cinnidan. “He sent Dilam to her village to bring back their warriors. They should be here soon.”

“Good. We’re going to need them. Medford has broken camp but he’s waiting until he sees Abdar’s forces start down the canyon trail before he retreats. His men don’t have more than twenty rifles among them.”

“And we have twelve.” Jane shrugged. “But the Cinnidans wouldn’t know how to use them if we had them.”

“After we have both Dilam’s and Medford’s people on this side of the river, we’ll burn the hanging bridge.”

She nodded. “It will take time for Abdar to build rafts for that size force, and we may need that time. How long do we have, do you think?”

“I have no idea. I don’t even know why Abdar didn’t follow Margaret and Kartauk immediately. Kartauk told me once he wasn’t sane. We’ll have to take advantage of his lunacy in any way we can.”

“Li Sung and I have been constructing brush barriers all along the shore. We’re out of range of their rifles from across the river, but we’ll need protection so they can’t pick us off once they start across.”

“Good idea.” His voice was abstracted as he started across the clearing toward Li Sung. He walked stiffly, carefully, as if he were made of glass and was afraid he would shatter and fly apart.

She wanted to be with him, to comfort him, to ease the aching rawness of the pain she sensed. She started to follow him and then stopped. She could feel the tears brimming and knew she would be no help to him now. They would both be better off keeping busy at their own tasks. She turned back and walked toward the barriers.

“I don’t like it,” Li Sung said. “It is too dangerous.”

“It’s the only way.” Ruel looked him in the eye. “You’re worried about losing what you’ve found here. Well, it could all be gone in a month if Abdar takes Cinnidar. He’s not going to have any mercy on either the Cinnidans or those elephants you love so much.”

“I know this,” Li Sung said. “But I do not like …” He shook his head. “And it is not only my own loss I worry about. There is Jane and you.”

“Me?” Ruel smiled in mirth. “I’m touched by your concern.”

“I am concerned.” Li Sung smiled gently. “Jane has
great dreams that could be toppled. And you are in pain.”

Ruel flinched. “I assure you the pain will go away when I’ve killed Abdar.” “Will it?”

“Try me and see. Help me.”

“I will think on it.” Li Sung wrinkled his nose. “It is true my natural aversion might be influencing my judgment in this instance.”

“My judgment isn’t impaired. This will work if we do it right.” Ruel turned away. “And we’ll do it right.”

“Dilam’s crossing the river.” Jane had come to stand beside them. “I counted about seventy warriors with her.”

“Then you’ll have to make a decision soon,” Ruel told Li Sung. “Abdar’s not going to give us much more time.”

“When Dilam comes we will discuss it.” Li Sung held up his hand as Ruel opened his lips to protest. “I will need her help if I decide your plan is wise.”

Darkness fell and Medford still had not come. When he failed to arrive by midnight, guards were posted and they went to their blankets to rest.

To rest but not to sleep, Jane thought wearily. She felt too worried and afraid to let go of awareness. She turned on her side to look at Ruel across the campfire. He was not sleeping either. He lay on his back, every muscle rigid, staring into the darkness, and she was again reminded of brittle crystal, ready to explode … or be shattered. He had barely spoken a word to any of them all evening, withdrawing into himself, withdrawing into his anger and sorrow. She should let him have his solitude. If he had wanted her help, he would have asked for it.

What was she thinking? Ruel had difficulty admitting he needed anything or anyone.

She threw aside the blanket, jumped to her feet, and moved around the fire.

She knelt beside Ruel and lifted his blanket. “Move over.”

He didn’t look at her. “No.”

She lay down beside him.

“Go away. I don’t want you here.”

“Too bad. I’m staying.” She drew the blanket around her. She lay there, not touching him, sensing his stiffness and resistance.

“I knew you’d come,” he said harshly. “It was bound to happen. You have to have something to mother. Well, I’m not a young boy with a crushed leg or a damn baby elephant. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

“I didn’t say you did.” She slid her arms around his taut, strained body. “I’m the one who needs you. I’m frightened of tomorrow, and I feel as if I have this wound inside that won’t stop bleeding.”

He was silent a moment. “You do?”

She nodded. “It would help if you would hold me. I don’t think I’d feel so alone.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, and then his arms slowly slid around her. “You’re not alone.”

“Neither are you,” she whispered. “If you want me, I’ll always be here.”

He stiffened even more. “Pity?”

“Love.”

“I find it strange you find it necessary to make this declaration now.”

“You once said you knew I loved you.”

“I also know you have a nature soft as mush.”

“Very well, there’s pity too.”

He swore beneath his breath.

“There’s nothing wrong with pity, Ruel.”

“The hell there isn’t.”

“Blast it, I won’t say I’m sorry for giving you pity. When I was ill, didn’t you pity me? When Zabrie hurt Li Sung, didn’t you want to help him?” Her arms tightened around him. “Now shut up and go to sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Then talk to me.” She paused. “Talk to me about Ian.”

She could feel the ripple of shock that went through him. “There’s nothing to say. He’s dead.”

“Then we’re just going to forget him?”

“Of course I’m not going to forget him.” He spoke through his teeth. “I’m going to kill Abdar.”

“And me? Are you going to kill me too? It would never have happened if Ian hadn’t been crippled. He would have been able to escape.”

“Be quiet,” he said hoarsely. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“A month ago you would have blamed me.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“And I won’t be silent about it. Say it. It’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault.” He suddenly exploded. “It’s mine.”

She looked at him, startled. “What?”

“It’s always been my fault. I blamed you, but I guess I always knew I was the one responsible. Ian would never have been in Kasanpore if it hadn’t been for me.”

“But he followed you from Scotland. You didn’t even want him there.”

It was as if he hadn’t heard her. “And I should have been more careful getting him out of the wreck.”

“You saved his life.”

“I crippled him,” Ruel said fiercely. “I ruined his life and then I brought him here to die.”

She had never dreamed he could harbor this agony of guilt. Yet she should have known. Ruel never did anything in half measures. His emotions and reactions were always stronger, deeper, and more intense than anyone else’s. And she was partially responsible for his guilt, she suddenly realized. He loved her and wanted to exonerate her, to shoulder her guilt himself. She had to do something. That was an easy decision, but what was she to do? Arguing would only make him more stubborn.

“All right, it is your fault.” She went on, feeling her way. “But it’s my fault too, and you forgave me. You have to forgive yourself.”

He shook his head.

“Listen to me. Ian loved you. He wanted you to be happy.”

He didn’t answer.

“He died to help you and Margaret and Kartauk have the good life he wanted for you all. Are you going to let him die for nothing?”

She thought she felt a slight easing in those painfully knotted muscles, but she couldn’t be sure.

“How can you be so stubborn? He wanted—” She stopped as she felt something warm and damp on her temple. “Ruel?”

“I love you,” he said unevenly. His arms tightened around her. “God, I love you.”

Now she could let her own tears come. Her last resistance to him flowed away with them. Life was too short to be afraid, love too precious not to risk everything to hold it. “I believe you.”

“You do? It’s about time,” he said huskily. He was silent for a long time. “It … hurts, Jane.”

“I know.” She brushed her lips along the line of his cheek. She knew his moment of weakness would not last, but she felt a surge of fierce maternal protectiveness. She wanted to shelter and keep him from all harm. For the first time she realized the true power Ian had wielded over Margaret. A man who needed you was the greatest mandarin of all. “But we’ll share it and soon it will get better for us. It has to get better.”

“Aye.” His arms tightened around her. “It will get better, love.”

Margaret, Kartauk, James Medford, and his people arrived at midafternoon the next day.

“Where’s Ruel?” Medford asked Jane as soon as he stepped off the bridge.

Jane nodded to the south. “Downriver with Li Sung and Dilam. Abdar?”

“We sighted him starting down the canyon trail before we left,” Medford said as he set off in the direction she had indicated. “Six hours.”

As usual, Medford’s conversation was blunt and sparing, Jane thought as she-turned back to watch Margaret,
closely followed by Kartauk, cross the final few yards to the bank. She had thought Margaret looked bad the night she had arrived at their camp, but now she was shocked at the tragic difference she saw. Strong, vibrant Margaret appeared almost fragile, her face pinched and pallid, great dark circles imprinted beneath her eyes.

“Hello, Jane.”

“You know how sorry I am,” Jane said gently. “Is there anything I can do?”

Margaret shook her head. “There’s nothing anyone can do.”

Jane gestured to the campfire in the middle of the encampment. “You must be tired. Why don’t you go sit down by the fire and get some rest?”

“If you like,” Margaret said dully.

Jane gazed worriedly after her as the other woman moved toward the campfire. Ruel had said Margaret was numb, but she had never dreamed to see her this lacking in vitality.

“Do not comfort her.”

She turned to see Kartauk gazing after Margaret.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “She’s suffered a great loss. Of course I’m going to comfort her.”

“She does not need time to dwell on it. Give her work to do. You have to make her come alive again.”

“I can’t perform miracles,” Jane said wearily. “If you know how to accomplish it, perhaps you should make the attempt.”

“She has said scarcely two sentences to me since I woke with a raging headache at Medford’s camp.” He smiled crookedly. “She cannot even look at me. I betrayed her.”

Her eyes widened. “How?”

“I told her to trust me and then I had the bad judgment to underestimate Ian. It’s not a mistake easily forgiven when it means a man’s life.”

“Margaret told me you meant to stay in his place.”

“But I didn’t.” He shrugged. “Which makes the situation complicated.”

“She would never have wanted you to sacrifice your life, Kartauk.”

“I know. But she has more conscience than is good for her and she’s not an easy woman.” His gaze lingered on Margaret for a moment longer before he looked away. “I cannot help her this time,” he said gruffly. “You will have to do it. Help her to heal. Keep her busy. Make her work so hard, she doesn’t have time to think.”

Why, he loved her, Jane realized suddenly. She remembered Margaret’s frantic anxiety about Kartauk’s safety. Love there too? How could they possibly sort out the guilt and love and sorrow. A complicated situation indeed, she thought sadly. Why could nothing in this world come easily?

“I’ll keep her busy,” she promised. “We need all the hands we can get to help form the barriers.” She changed the subject. “Ruel is downriver and wishes to speak to you right away. He has a plan and needs your help.”

“He has it.” Kartauk smiled crookedly as he started off along the riverbank. “God knows, I need to keep busy too.”

The last of the canoes and rafts were brought across the river to the new encampment, and Jane supervised the destruction of the hanging bridge. The brush barriers were completed by sundown and there was nothing further for them all to do but wait.

Near eight o’clock they saw the flare of torches of Abdar’s soldiers coming down the trail from the direction of the canyon wall.

“Well?” Ruel asked Li Sung. “Time’s run out. For God’s sake, give me an answer.”

“You have prepared the instruments?” Li Sung asked.

“Aye.”

“Dilam believes there is worth to your idea, but there will have to be a distraction.”

“Abdar will be distracted,” Ruel promised grimly. “I’ll take care of that.”

Li Sung smiled. “That is all I ask.”

“Ready?” Kartauk asked Ruel, his gaze on Abdar’s encampment across the river. During the past three hours a sprawling military camp had mushroomed with a multitude of tents dotting the bank. Torches on tall iron stands lined the shore, casting fiery reflections in the dark waters.

Ruel nodded as he walked around the brush barrier and strode to the edge of the riverbank. He sent his voice echoing over the expanse of water. “Abdar!”

No answer.

He shouted louder. “Abdar!”

It was Pachtal who appeared on the bank, illuminated by the pool of light formed by the torches.

“Give it up, MacClaren,” Pachtal called. “Cannot you see you are defeated?”

“I want to talk to Abdar.”

“He’s in the tent, meditating.”

“Get him.”

“Why should I disturb him when I can accept your surrender?”

“I am here, Scot.” Abdar suddenly appeared at Pachtal’s side.

Hatred rushed through Ruel as he stared at Abdar’s smooth, bland face. Control it, he told himself. Think. Don’t feel. “We have things to talk about. Will you honor a flag of truce if I come over to your encampment?”