Текст книги "Tiger Prince "
Автор книги: Iris Johansen
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Ruel stared at Ian with exasperation mixed with helplessness. Ian had always felt guilty about their father's treatment of Ruel, and now it seemed he was determined to put things right. Ruel was too familiar with his brother's dogged obstinacy not to realize Ian, once set on a course, would not give up. "Why should I go back? There's nothing I want there." He could see no softening in the resolution hardening Ian's features, and for the first time realized Ian might actually become a problem. Christ, he had a hell of a lot to do in the next few months, and he didn't need Ian plodding behind him, trying to lure him away from his goal. "Dammit, I don't want you here."
"Unfortunate."
"You'll get in my way."
"Only until we board the ship. I'll leave you alone once we're on our way home."
"I'm not going to Glenclaren. When I'm well enough to travel I'm going to Kasanpore."
"Not to this Cinnidar?"
"Let's say Kasanpore is a way station on the way to Cinnidar."
Ian frowned. "I don't believe I've ever heard of this Kasanpore."
"India. The city of Kasanpore is the primary residence of the province ruled by the Maharajah of Savitsar."
Ian shook his head. "You'll be much better off at Glenclaren than traipsing off to another heathen country."
"I'm going to Kasanpore," Ruel said through his teeth.
Ian gazed at him for a moment before sighing in resignation. "You have sufficient funds for this journey?"
"The claim produced exceptionally well for over three months. After I give a small nest egg to Mila, I'll still have enough for my purposes."
"Good, then you can afford my company. Unfortunately, Glenclaren is still as land-rich and pound-poor as it was when you were there. I'll go with you and wait until you tire of this foolishness."
"And if I don't?"
"I'll wait some more."
"Ian, dammit, I have something important to do in Kasanpore. I don't have time to—"
"God will provide the time," Ian said tranquilly as he stood up and moved toward the stove. "But you can tell me all about your business in Kasanpore later. I'll get you a bowl of stew and you must stop this arguing and eat. As I said, you'll need your strength for the journey."
Kasanpore, India
May 6, 1876
"A good evening to you, Miss Barnaby. Has no one told you that foreign ladies should not be in this section of town after dark without protection?"
The tone was low, smooth, but an underlying menace darkened the words. Jane's heart lurched and then sped to breakneck pace as she glanced over her shoulder. Only a few yards behind her she saw Prince Abdar and the beautiful young man, Pachtal, who had accompanied him when he had come to question her at the site. Dear God, she had thought she was being so careful, and yet tonight she hadn't even realized she was being followed!
She responded instinctively, breaking into a run, flying down the dark, deserted street.
It was too late. They'd been too close. Before she reached the corner, a powerful hand gripped her shoulder and spun her around.
Abdar stood before her. His handsome young companion moved behind her and grabbed her arms, forcing her to drop the knapsack she carried as he pulled both her arms up behind her.
"It's not courteous to run away when I wish to speak to you," Abdar said as he set the lantern he carried down on the ground. "I think we must chastise her for that discourtesy, Pachtal."
Jane bit her lower lip to keep back a scream of agony as Pachtal lifted her left arm and twisted it. Prince Abdar's smooth, childlike face framed beneath the white turban swam through the tears stinging her eyes.
"You were most uncommunicative when we had our little discussion a few days ago. I thought it best we have a more private interview. Now, where is Kartauk?"
"I don't know any Kar—" She broke off as her arm was thrust still higher.
"You can see Pachtal is growing impatient," Abdar said softly. "He prefers the joys of the palace and was not at all amused to spend these last three evenings trying to follow you. Particularly when his efforts proved of no avail."
She tried desperately to think of a way to reach the dagger sheathed in her boot. "Which should have proved to him I can't give you what you wish."
"It proved only that you know our bazaar quite well for a foreigner and can be very elusive. Where is he?"
"I don't know. I told you—" She gasped as Pachtal thrust her arm higher, at the same, time giving it a sharp twist that sent another bolt of agony through her. The flame of the lantern in Abdar's hand seemed to waver and dim. Why, she was going to faint, she realized with a dim sense of outrage. No! She had never fainted in her life, and this bastard would not be the one to make her start.
"Again," Abdar ordered the man behind her.
For a long moment, Jane's whole world was pain.
"Why are you so stubborn?" Abdar asked. "You will tell me anyway. You are only a woman and too weak and stupid to resist for long."
Even through the haze of anguish she felt a vague sense of resentment at his words. Though she had been stupid not to realize she had been followed from the bungalow, she was not weak.
"Why suffer like this? What is Kartauk to you?" Pachtal whispered in her ear as his grip tightened on her forearms. "You've gotten what you want from him. Now give him back to His Highness."
"I don't know any Kartauk."
"Is he your lover?" Pachtal whispered. "His Highness believes he must give you great pleasure for you to risk so much. But you will have to give him up. His Highness has need of him."
Abdar's well-shaped hand reached out and cupped her breast through her cotton shirt. "You are not uncomely and will find another man to please you. I would not even be averse to letting you come to my couch."
She wondered what he would do if she spat in his blank, childlike face.
The prince leisurely studied her features. "Yes, she is not all bad. The cheekbones are too high, but the mouth is quite lovely. Let's have a look at her body, Pachtal." He unbuttoned the loose shirt and spread the edges back to reveal her breasts. "Ah, those grotesque mannish garments hide treasures. You are so thin, I would never have guessed these would be so beautifully full." He cupped her naked breasts, weighing them as if they were melons. "She reminds me a little of Mirad, Pachtal."
"Let—me—go," she said through her teeth.
"Very nice." Pachtal ignored her command as he drew closer and peered over her shoulder at Abdar's hands cradling her breasts. "It's difficult to tell in this light, but the nipples are rosier, I think. Mirad's were like huge purple grapes."
She started to struggle.
"No!" Pachtal's grip tightened with bruising force on her arms. "You will not refuse His Highness when he honors you with his touch."
"I have never had a foreign woman in my bed. I believe you could amuse me for quite a long time." Abdar smiled as he brought her single thick braid over her shoulder and quickly unfastened it. "Of course, these hideous trousers and shirt will not be permitted. I will have you perfumed and given proper womanly garments." He ran his fingers through her loosened hair that now flowed halfway down her back in a wild stream. "Dark red. It looked closer to brown when in the braid. Interesting." His hands returned to her breasts as his voice lowered to honey softness. "I would like to see you bound naked and helpless in my bedchamber at the palace. And why not? No one would ever know if I decided to take you back to my palace and teach you the submission due me."
A chill went through her as she remembered the tales Kartauk had told her of Abdar. "I'm not one of your subjects. I would be missed. Your father will not permit this."
Abdar raised his brows. "He will not object to my amusing myself. Women have little value for my father."
She had no argument to give him on that score. In his own way, the maharajah was as arrogant and self-serving as his son. She said quickly, "But his railroad does have value for him. And my father needs my help to complete the railroad."
"I have observed that you seem to aid him. Perhaps I will reconsider." He lifted his gaze to meet her own. "If you give me your lover, Kartauk."
The combination of pain and revulsion at his touch was making her stomach churn. "I don't know any Kartauk."
He nodded at Pachtal, and she had to grit her teeth to keep from crying out as another agonizing pain shot through her.
"You're beginning to anger me. I have waited too long already, and I want Kartauk tonight. Now, tell me the truth."
She tried to block out the pain and panic and think. Obviously it would be useless to continue to deny any knowledge of Kartauk. Abdar would continue to torture her until he got what he wanted. "Very well. What do you want to know?"
"That is sensible. You admit you know Kartauk?"
She nodded jerkily.
He nodded to the man behind her and she was suddenly released. "Better and better. You see how we reward cooperation? We have no desire to cause you discomfort."
He was lying. She had seen too many men who liked to prove their power over women with pain and subjugation when she was at Frenchie's not to recognize the breed when she encountered it.
"You've left your bungalow three nights in a row to come into the city. You've been meeting Kartauk?"
"Yes."
He glanced down at the knapsack she had dropped on the ground. "And taking him food?"
She nodded again.
"That is good. It would displease me if Kartauk suffered harm or deprivation." He reached out and gently grasped her throat. "Now, you will tell me where he is so that I may place him again under my protection."
"He's hiding in one of the shops that border the river."
"Which house?"
"Yellow sod. With a dirty striped awning."
"You describe half the shops in Kasanpore." He frowned. "You will take me there."
"You don't need me. I've told you what you wanted to know."
"But is it the truth? I think I will make certain before I permit you to leave us. You carry the lantern, Pachtal. I will escort the lady."
Pachtal released her arms and moved around to stand beside Abdar before reaching down to pick up the lantern from the street.
Jane's lids lowered swiftly to veil her eyes as sudden hope spiraled through her. Pachtal's action left her back unguarded, and she doubted if she would get a better opportunity to escape.
She meekly dropped her eyes as she whimpered, "Why won't you let me go back to my bungalow? I've told you what—" In midsentence she lowered her head and launched herself at Abdar.
The top of her head crashed into his mouth.
He screamed in pain, his hand releasing her throat and flying to his bleeding lower lip.
She whirled and tore down the twisting, cobbled street.
"Get her!"
She heard the pounding of running steps behind her and Abdar's venomous cursing.
She turned left at the corner, almost tripping over a beggar huddled in the shadows.
She caught her balance, avoided the beggar's outstretched grasping hands, and ran on.
The beggar hurled obscenities after her and then let out a shrill screech of pain. She risked a glance over her shoulder and saw the beggar doubled over in the street, clutching his stomach as Pachtal and Abdar ran past him. They were gaining on her, swiftly closing the distance between them.
Panic choked her, and for an instant she couldn't remember which way to turn. Left. Right led to the river. She must go left and try to lose herself in the bazaar. The day after she had decided to help Kartauk she had spent the entire morning in the bazaar, familiarizing herself with every stall and corner of the huge marketplace. Darkness had just fallen, arid the bazaar would still be crowded. She could hide among the stalls until Abdar gave up the chase.
She turned the corner and burst into the crowd of people in the large square.
The bazaar.
Copper lanterns hanging on awning-covered booths. A camel burdened with rolled carpets moving with ponderous gait through the throng.
Noise. Beggars whining. Merchants calling out their wares.
She heard Abdar cursing behind her, but she was already darting through the throng and between the stalls. She passed a leather vendor, a pink-turbaned cleaner of ears wielding his small silver spoon in the orifice of a customer seated on a low stool, a gold merchant, a kiosk hung with wicker cages containing raucously squawking parrots. She glanced behind her again and her heart sank. As people recognized Abdar, they were making way for him.
Then, to her relief, she saw a small female elephant burdened with copper pots and pans and her master on the aisle that bordered the western edge of the bazaar. It was common knowledge Abdar hated elephants and avoided them at all cost. If given a choice of direction, he would surely choose another aisle. She ran ahead into the thick crowd of people gathered around a vegetable booth to lose herself from Abdar's view, turned left at the next booth, ran past the elephant, and then dove behind a fishmonger's stall. She crouched low, moving far back into the shadows.
The overpowering stench of fish, elephant dung, garbage, and a heavy Oriental perfume drifting from the stall next to the fishmonger's nearly gagged her. She tried to hold her breath, her eyes straining as she peered through the small opening between the stalls. She could see only the lower portion of bodies and tried frantically to remember what Abdar and Pachtal had been wearing. Dear God, all she could recall was Abdar's smiling, childlike face and the vicious beauty of Pachtal's well-shaped lips as he twisted her arm. The memory started her heart pounding so hard, she was sure it could be heard even above the clamor of the bazaar.
"Would you care to enlighten me why we are both in this extremely uncomfortable position?"
She whirled to peer into the shadows to the left of her.
Li Sung sat a few yards away with one leg folded beneath him and his bad leg stretched before him.
"What are you doing here?" she whispered.
"I saw you dart behind this disgustingly aromatic stall and thought it best to join you."
"I told you to wait at the city gate."
"And I chose to wait at the mouth of the street from which I knew you generally entered the bazaar. I decided I was too conspicuous at the gate. You know they do not like the Chinese here in Kasanpore, and I believe my pigtail was in great danger of being lifted from my—"
"Hush." She turned back to scan the street. "Abdar."
Li Sung went still. "Himself?"
She nodded, her gaze searching the flow of people passing the small opening. "With the same man who came to the site three days ago. They followed me from the bungalow, but I think we're safe. If he'd seen me run back here, he would have come by now." She scowled as she settled back on her heels. "But I lost the knapsack with the food."
Li Sung's gaze wandered over her wild, tousled hair and the glimpse of pale breasts revealed by her unbuttoned shirt. His mouth tightened grimly. "And is that all you lost?"
She knew that expression very well. If she wasn't careful, Li Sung's protective instincts would be aroused, and that must be avoided at all costs. "No." She grinned. "I also lost my temper. I butted my head against Abdar's lip and split it like a walnut and then ran like the wind." She quickly buttoned her shirt before reaching into the deep pocket of her denim trousers and pulling out a small chisel. "Give this to Kartauk. I bought it in the bazaar yesterday, and I'll bet he'll like it better than food anyway. I'll try to get another knapsack to you tomorrow."
Li Sung shook his head. "From now on, stay close to either the site or the bungalow. It's too dangerous now that Abdar suspects you. We still have a little bread and cheese left, and I'll come and get the supplies from now on."
"Very well, I'll leave a knapsack behind the pile of rails at the supply yard every other evening." She reached into her pocket and slipped a key from a small brass ring. "I'll keep the gate of the supply yard locked from now on to make it safer for you. Be careful."
"And you also." Li Sung took the key before rising with difficulty and limping toward her. "Turn around."
"Why?"
"I'm going to rebraid your hair. This disarray displeases me."
"Here?"
"You do not want to call any more attention to yourself than you already have. If you had a fine black mane like my own, there would be no problem, but your hair is too gaudy not to be noticed."
"It's not gaudy," she protested.
"Ugly, then. Hair was meant to be black, not red. God clearly made the Chinese and then grew weary and careless with his palette. I cannot see why he lacked the discrimination as to experiment with yellow and red and . . ." He trailed off, his fingers quickly plaiting the bright strands into their usual thick single braid.
Over the years Li Sung had performed this task a thousand times, and the familiar ritual calmed her. She could feel her heartbeat steadying and the panic gradually leaving her.
"Have you been well?" Li Sung asked. "No more fever?"
"Not for over two weeks."
"But you're still taking the quinghao I gave you?"
"I'm not a foolish child, Li Sung. I know I have to keep well. I lost almost a month of work when I was ill."
"And almost died. You forgot to add that unimportant detail." He paused. "You are foolish to protect this man, you know. He is no stray puppy." ,
"You know you like him."
He thought about it. "He is amusing, but it is dangerous to like Kartauk."
"Well, I like him."
"Because you think him without defense, but he is not without weapons. Get in his way and he'll pass over you like a runaway locomotive."
He was probably right, but she knew she still could not give Kartauk up to Abdar. "He did me a favor. You know I was desperate."
"He did himself a favor. He was hungry and you fed him." He finished the braid and then took a scrap of string from his denim trousers and secured it. "If Patrick finds out about Kartauk, he will be angry."
She tensed. "He won't know."
"Unless Abdar decides he wishes to involve him."
"He won't do that. Kartauk said Abdar doesn't want his father to know he's looking for him." Jane tossed back her braid. "And Patrick won't ask questions. He's too busy building this blasted railroad."
"You mean he is too busy drinking and whoring and letting you build his railroad."
She didn't bother to deny the charge as she would have done with anyone else. "He'll be better once we've left Kasanpore."
"You said that about Yorkshire." He turned her around and began to button her blouse. "And with every passing day you grow thinner and more weary and Patrick grows lazier and does not see." He added softly, "Or does not care."
"He does care." She jerked away from him. "He just doesn't know what to—the heat affects him."
"It certainly gives him a great thirst."
She could not deny that fact either, she thought wearily. These days Patrick started drinking in the afternoon and didn't stop until he staggered off to bed at midnight. But surely his escalating drinking was being caused by this inferno of a country. Heaven knows, the difficulties they had faced in England seemed minor compared to suffocating heat, unskilled workers, and a maharajah whose impossible demands and pettish threats had driven them to the brink of bankruptcy. "I don't want to talk about it." She glanced cautiously out into the aisle before rising to her feet. "I have to get back to the bungalow and get some sleep. We're starting to lay the track on the bridge over Sikor Gorge tomorrow."
"And Patrick will be nowhere within a mile of the site."
"He will. He promised me that—" She stopped as she met Li Sung's steady gaze and then burst out, "And if he's not, I won't care. It's no hardship. I like it."
"You like doing the work and Patrick getting the credit?"
"He needs me."
"So you give and give until there is no more to give." Li Sung raised his hand as she started to speak. "But why should I complain? I take as much as Patrick."
"Nonsense. You've always worked harder than anyone on the line." She stood up and moved cautiously out of the shadows toward the aisle.
"What if Abdar is waiting for you at the bungalow?"
"I'll circle and go in the back way." She paused to smile gently at him over her shoulder. "Stop worrying about me. Just keep Kartauk safe and tell him I'm trying to find a way to slip him out of Kasanpore."
"He is not impatient." He looked down at the chisel she had given him. "Sometimes I wonder if he is even conscious of the passage of time."
She knew what he meant. She had also seen Kartauk in that oblivious state. "He can't stay here forever with Abdar searching for him. We'll have to get him away." She hesitated as a sudden thought occurred to her. "You weren't waiting here in the bazaar because you'd just come from Zabrie?"
Li Sung gazed at her impassively. "Why would you assume that?"
She persisted. "Did you?"
He shrugged. "A man has needs."
"Abdar saw you at the site with me. It's not safe for you to be seen in the city."
"I will make sure I do not lead him to Kartauk."
"That's not the question. It's not safe for you to—"
"It is not your concern."
She could feel him closing against her, drawing back into himself, and felt a surge of helplessness and frustration. Sometimes Li Sung appeared as old as Buddha and at other times he was only a sensitive, prickly, proud young man. She could not tell him it was very much her concern and that what had started as an act of compassion might now be a magnet drawing him into a net. "Will you at least promise to be careful?"
He smiled. "Always."
It was the only concession she was going to be able to wrest from him, but if the danger continued, she knew she would have to do something about Zabrie. "See that you are." She didn't wait for an answer as she glided from behind the stall, looking cautiously both ways before beginning to make her way swiftly through the bazaar.
Chapter 2
Savitsar Palace
Kasanpore, India
May 30, 1876
I’ve never seen anything like it." Ian stared in revulsion at the four-foot statue on the carved teakwood table. "What the hell is it?"
"A superb work of art." Ruel reverently touched the golden drops of blood dripping from the dagger brandished by the sari-clad woman who was the central figure before he circled the table to view the statue from every angle. "By God, look at her expression. I wonder how he caught the malevolence. ..."
"I have no desire to look any longer at that heathen idol. This Prince Abdar must be a very peculiar man to have such an object in his reception room, and I cannot see how you can call it—" Ian broke off and grimaced ruefully. "Yes, I do. Gold. You would think Satan himself beautiful if he wore a cloak of gold."
Ruel grinned over his shoulder at him. "Not just a cloak, but perhaps if he were fashioned as splendidly as this fascinating lady." His gaze returned to the statue. "I wonder who the artist was."
"Probably some twisted soul dead these many centuries." Ian suddenly frowned. "And you're not to ask Prince Abdar about this atrocity. I've heard these heathens are a bit sensitive about their gods and goddesses, and I have no desire to be thrown to the crocodiles."
"You'd have nothing to worry about. They'd choke on you," Ruel murmured. "That stiff backbone and rigid moral fiber would strangle them." He squatted to get a better view of the statue. "Now, me they'd gulp down with no trouble. Sin is always more appetizing than virtue."
"Stop mouthing nonsense," Ian said gruffly. "You're not as wicked as you—"
"Oh, but I am." Ruel smiled mockingly. "As you should know, considering that hellhole you dug me out of a few months ago. I have no more moral fiber than a tomcat and no desire to develop it. You'd best leave me and go back to Maggie and bonnie Scotland."
"Margaret." Ian's correction was automatic. "You know she hates to be called Maggie."
"Margaret," Ruel substituted solemnly. "You really should go back to Margaret, cool misty hills, and sanity. You don't belong here, Ian."
"Neither do you." Ian paused. "This heathen country isn't a decent place for any civilized man to live."
"It's more civilized than most of the places I've lived for the past twelve years. You should have been at the gold camp at Zwanigar." He shook his head. "On second thought, you probably shouldn't. The crocodiles there were human, and you're much too honorable to have survived it."
"You survived it."
"Only because I became king of the crocodiles." His smile gleamed white. "And learned how to use my teeth."
"All the more reason for you to come home. This damnable Eastern savagery isn't good for you."
"It's only a place like any other." Ruel's smile faded as he saw Ian's unhappy expression. He knew Ian hated being away from Glenclaren, but his brother had been surprisingly patient and helpful since they had arrived in Kasanpore. He said quietly, "But I promise I won't offend his royal highness with flippant remarks after all your trouble to obtain this audience for me."
"I have no faith you will get what you wish from this prince, but I knew you wouldn't give up without at least an interview."
"You're right, I wouldn't."
"Besides, my efforts will probably be of no help," Ian said. "The colonel said Prince Abdar has no fondness and little to do with his father, the maharajah."
The last trace of mockery faded from Ruel's expression. "You still have my gratitude for making the attempt. I know you think this venture is foolishness."
"Gratitude?" Ian looked startled, and then a slow smile lit his craggy, homely features. "Careful, Ruel, gratitude is one of the softer emotions. Therein lies the path to virtue."
"I'm in no danger." Ruel's stare returned to the statue. Something about it was making him uneasy. No, it wasn't the statue itself, he realized, but its place of prominence in this chamber of the palace, a position that indicated its importance to the man who possessed it. He said impulsively, "You've done your part. I can handle the matter now. Why don't you go back to the hotel and wait for me?"
"You may need me."
"Look, I've been batting around this part of the world for a hell of a lot longer than you have. I know how—"
"We'll see."
"I promise I won't let Abdar feed me to the crocodiles, dammit."
Ian didn't answer.
"All right, stay, but let me do the talking. I have an idea Abdar and I will have no problem understanding each other."
"I'm the elder. It's only fitting I put through the request."
Dear God, he actually meant it, Ruel realized. Ian didn't realize those seven years meant nothing. Ian's life at Glenclaren had plodded steadily on its tranquil course while his own had whirled as if caught up in a monsoon.
"God forbid you do anything that isn't fitting." He reached out and followed the dagger with his index finger. "And me from doing anything that is. Have it your own way. It was just a fleeting thought."
"A kind, protective thought." Ian's stern expression softened. "Another step."
"It wasn't a prot—" Ruel threw back his head and laughed. "Dear God, you'll not to be satisfied until you have me wearing a halo. How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not—"
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I see you're admiring my statue. Is she not a thing of beauty?"
Ian and Ruel turned to see an Indian dressed in a knee-length dark blue silk jacket, white silk trousers, and white turban. Tall, slim, graceful, the man moved lithely across the mosaic floor toward them. "I am very proud of my goddess. She is very dear to me." He stopped before them. "I am Abdar Savitsar."
The prince's face was plump, unlined, almost boyish, but his large dark eyes gave a curious impression of flat blankness, like an onyx that has never been faceted.
"Your Highness." Ian bowed slightly. "It is very kind of you to receive us. I am Ian MacClaren, Earl of Glenclaren, and this is my brother, Ruel."
"English?"
"Scottish."
Abdar waved a casual hand. "It is all the same."
"Not to a Scotsman," Ruel murmured blandly.
Abdar turned to face him and Ruel stiffened with sudden wariness. In spite of the childishness of that face, he felt the same uneasiness as when he had regarded the statue.
After studying Ruel for a moment, the prince returned his gaze to Ian. "You do not look like brothers. I see no resemblance."
"We are only half brothers," Ian said.
Abdar's glance dropped to Ruel's hand resting on the golden dagger of the statue. "You should not touch her. For a foreigner to touch the goddess is sacrilege."
Ruel's hand fell away from the statue. "My apologies. The texture of gold begs to be touched, and I've always found the temptation irresistible."
Abdar's gaze suddenly narrowed on Ruel. "You have a fondness for gold?"
"It's more of a passion."
Abdar nodded. "Then we have found a meeting ground. I, too, have such a passion." He moved across the room and seated himself on the turquoise cushions of a finely carved peacock chair. "Colonel Pickering told my secretary you wish to ask a boon of me. I have little time. State your request."
"We wish an audience with your father, the maharajah," Ian said. "We've been in Kasanpore over two weeks trying to secure a meeting with him."
"He sees few people these days. All he cares about is his new toy of a railroad." Abdar's lips curled in a bitter smile. "But I am surprised you did not succeed in your quest. My father believes the British are his true brothers and even sent me to Oxford to be educated. He cannot see how the British queen seeks to make a puppet of him and Kasanpore."
"We have a business proposition for your father that has nothing to do with the politics of either India or England," Ian said. "All we ask is ten minutes of his time."
"It is still too much." Abdar stood up. "I cannot help you."
Disappointment rushed through Ruel before he caught a flicker of expression on Abdar's face that caused his disappointment to vanish. He was too good a poker player himself not to realize this was no dismissal but an attempt to intimidate them. "Cannot or will not?" he asked softly.
"Insolence," Abdar said. "You are very arrogant for a second son."
"Forgive me, Your Highness, but it has always been my philosophy that a man shouldn't be afraid to lose what he doesn't have." He paused. "And that he shouldn't ask for anything he isn't willing to pay for."
