Danger at Dahlkari (23 page)

The two men argued vociferously. I was extremely embarrassed, even though I knew such arguments were customary, a sale rarely being made without some kind of verbal bout. Burke appeared to be threatening the proprietor's life, and the plump native shrieked and waved his hands and seemed to be calling on Allah to protect him from such villainy. It was as this was going on that I first had the feeling that someone was watching me. As I stood there beside the stall I could feel a pair of eyes directed on me, a sensation so strong it was almost like physical touch. I turned around to see a tall, slender Indian youth in a jade silk tunic and white trousers standing by one of the stalls at the end of the aisles. He quickly dropped his eyes and, melting into the crowd, turned the corner before I could get a look at his face. Why had he been staring at me so intently? There had been something vaguely familiar about him, I thought. Where had I seen him before?

“Here we are, Miss Gray,” Burke said, handing me a neatly wrapped package. “I knocked the bugger down to almost half what he was asking in the first place.”

I took the money out of my reticule and gave it to Burke. He handed it to the proprietor with a satisfied grin. The proprietor made an ugly gesture and muttered something under his breath. Burke chuckled, pleased with himself.

“My friend Sally will be terribly pleased,” I remarked.

“It's for her, is it? I reckon she will be.”

“You've met Sally?”

“I met her the day she arrived,” Burke confessed. “I was hoping I might have a chance with her, and I had my eye on her, just like all the other enlisted men. Then she met Bill Norman, and the rest of us gave up. Norman's a great pal of mine. If he weren't.…”

Burke shook his head, and I smiled, warming to him considerably. We continued to move along the aisles, viewing the merchandise, listening to the incredible uproar. Burke nodded grimly when we happened to meet any of the other English soldiers, but I could tell that he was pleased that they had seen him with me. I had almost forgotten the Indian youth when I felt someone staring again. I didn't turn around. I told myself that I must be imagining it. The sensation persisted, even after we had turned a corner and started up another aisle. I stopped in front of a stall covered with brilliantly hued carpets, and when Burke saw the expression on my face he immediately sensed that something was wrong.

“What is it, Miss Gray?”

“Don't—don't turn around, but I—I'm sure someone is following us. While you were arguing over the bag I felt someone staring, and I saw an Indian youth.”

Burke pretended to examine one of the carpets, frowning, fingering the weave, and he glanced ever so casually in the direction we had come. “What was he wearing?” he asked under his breath.

“White turban and trousers,” I said, “and a jade green tunic. I think it was silk.”

The words had hardly left my lips before he was charging back down the aisle like an angry bull, heading for the Indian youth who stood paralyzed, apparently too startled to move. I saw his face clearly, and I could feel my cheeks turn pale as I recognized him. Corporal Burke shoved a native out of his way, knocking over a pile of woven baskets, and it was then that the handsome Indian youth darted away like a frightened deer, racing down the aisle with Sergeant Burke in close pursuit. I heard Burke yell, saw him make a flying tackle, bringing the boy down. They rolled and tumbled on the ground between the stalls, punching, jabbing, quickly surrounded by a crowd of shrieking natives. The boy fought viciously, but he was no match for the corporal's superior strength. Burke pulled him to his feet, thrusting his left arm up between his shoulder blades in a brutal twist. I heard the lad cry out, and then the crowd of native men closed around them, shoving and pushing. A moment later I saw the youth tearing through the crowd. Racing around the corner of the aisle, he disappeared from sight.

The natives crowding around Burke quickly moved off in different directions, leaving him standing there between the stalls with a look of amazement on his face. Stunned, he shook his head, unable to understand what had happened. There was a cut on his jaw, and the skin on his right cheekbone had been scraped. I hurried toward him, afraid he might have been seriously hurt. He looked at me with confused gray eyes.

“I had him,” he said. “I had his arm twisted up behind his back, and then I wrapped my arm around his throat to make sure he couldn't get loose. I was just getting ready to question him when—” He shook his head again, his brows pressing together in a frown. “I don't know what happened. Three or four natives seemed to pounce on me at once, and then the little bugger was free and tearing off into the crowd. It all happened so fast I couldn't even tell which of those yammering heathens were on me.”

“Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” he growled. “I just feel so bloody clumsy, losing him like that. Once Ted Burke has someone, he doesn't usually get lose.”

“It—it isn't important,” I told him. “He just seemed to be following us. I don't suppose it meant anything.”

“That lad was guilty as hell of something. I could see it on his face. He wouldn'ta put up a fight like that if he hadn't been up to something. Damn it, I had him, had him good and proper.”

“Don't worry about it, Corporal. You—you did your best.”

“I'm sorry, Miss Gray. If those natives hadn't fallen on me like that I woulda been able to squeeze a few answers out of him. There wouldn't be any point in trying to find him now.”

I pulled a clean handkerchief out of my reticule and handed it to him. He dabbed at the cut on his jaw. I was relieved to see that it was very minor, hardly a scratch. I suggested that we go on back to the carriage, and Burke sullenly agreed, disgruntled with himself for his failure to hold on to the boy. On the way back to Blossom's house I told him it might be better if we didn't mention the incident to anyone, as it really wasn't of any consequence. Burke nodded, maintaining his brooding silence. When Dollie came out he climbed up on his seat without a word. She didn't notice anything unusual, and I was thankful for that. I showed her the bag I had purchased for Sally. Dollie exclaimed over it and twirled her purple parasol and chattered pleasantly as the carriage moved slowly through the congested streets and out of the village.

I hardly heard a word she said. I nodded now and then, and I pretended to listen, but Dollie might as well have been talking to the wind. Although I was careful to conceal it, I was still thoroughly shaken by what had happened. Ahmed. The youth Burke had tackled was Ahmed. It couldn't have been him, I told myself. It couldn't have been. Ahmed was dead. He had been murdered by the Thugs along with Yasmin Singh and all the others. I recalled that handsome, arrogant young face, that slender physique, and I knew I hadn't been mistaken. He had even been wearing the same clothes he had worn that last day, the jade silk tunic, the white trousers. Ahmed was very much alive, and he had been spying on me this afternoon in the bazaar. What could it mean? What on earth could it mean?

Nine

I knew I shouldn't have gone out riding without an escort, but there was so much on my mind that I had felt I simply had to get away by myself for just a little while. I had left the house immediately after breakfast without telling anyone of my plans, had gone directly to the stables and asked the groom to saddle the chestnut mare. For over an hour I had been riding wildly over the grassy plains with the wind tearing at my hair and stinging my cheeks. Exhausted now, I dismounted and led the mare toward a cluster of large rocks with a gnarled tree growing beside them, spreading a thin patch of shade. The sky was a pale yellow-white, and from the position of the sun I figured it must be after ten.

“There, girl,” I said, tethering the mare to the tree. “We'll rest for a while.”

I stroked her jaw and gave her a lump of sugar I had brought along for her. She whinnied in delight, stretching her neck. The vigorous exercise had stimulated me, and I felt keenly alive, all lethargy vanished. I sat down on one of the tannish-gray rocks, relishing the solitude. All around me the land stretched in bleak monotony broken only by an occasional twisted tree or a pile of boulders like this one. I could see the line of hills in the distance, and the heat waves were already beginning to shimmer visibly. I might have been the only person in the world.

I thought about what had happened yesterday in the bazaar. I had discussed it with Sally, and she had been incredulous. If Ahmed had escaped the massacre, why hadn't we seen him the next morning? I must have been mistaken, she assured me, and I had finally had to agree with her. The Indian youth I had seen had borne a striking resemblance to Ahmed, true, and he had been wearing similar clothes, but it simply couldn't have been him. I had never seen him close up. He had been built like Ahmed, had had the same handsome, arrogant features, but he had probably been some sly village youth who had been watching me hoping he might have an opportunity to snatch my bag, afraid to come too close because of Corporal Burke. I realized that was the only explanation, and Sally agreed.

I spread out my blue riding skirt and leaned back against the rock. It was so peaceful here, so calm. It was good to be away from everyone. Breakfast had been uncomfortable, Reggie complaining vehemently about having to go on the tiger hunt, Dollie trying to soothe him, telling him it would be an exciting experience for “the girls” and adding that the relaxation would do him a world of good. Reggie snapped that he wouldn't be able to relax a minute and complained that Michael should have been able to find some way to put the rajah off. Sally said she was personally looking forward to it. I kept silent, remembering my experience with the rajah and, like Reggie, not at all enthusiastic about going. Dollie asked Reggie if he had decided who would be included in the party. He grumbled and fussed, saying he would think about that later. Dollie said she certainly hoped Michael would have returned in time to go along, as his presence would help considerably.

I brushed a strand of hair from my temple, thinking about Michael and that passionate kiss he had given me yesterday morning. I remembered those fervent lips covering mine, those strong arms crushing me against his hard, powerful body. There had been nothing gentle about that kiss. It had been decidedly ardent, and it had proved that the cool, rather reserved officer could be as exciting a lover as any of those I had encountered in the pages of novels. He had been charming and gallant that first night at the dance, but it had been all on the surface, automatic, a role he played because it was expected. He had been preoccupied at the time and, with the exception of that afternoon by the stream, had treated me ever since with a warm, polite courtesy that was pleasant but hardly stirring. He had been holding back, but he hadn't held back yesterday. I had glimpsed a different Michael, bold, reckless, determined to take what he wanted.

I could never be happy as an army officer's wife. Michael knew that. He intended to leave the military. He told me he had plans, that he wasn't yet prepared to discuss them. I had sensed an undercurrent of excitement when he spoke about them. They were big plans, he had said, and I wondered what they could be, why he had been so evasive. He had said he could make me happy. I was beginning to believe he could. I missed him already. I missed that warm smile, that quiet manner, that attentiveness that made me feel so important. Having glimpsed a new side of him, I wanted to discover more. He was an enigma, complex, full of hidden depths that were vastly intriguing. I knew that when he returned our relationship was going to take on a whole new dimension. That rough, impassioned kiss had proved it. Michael was no longer going to hold back out of consideration of my feelings. He wanted me, and he was going to employ a dynamic approach to try and win me. I still wasn't certain about my feelings, but I was already anticipating his return, just as he had intended.

The horse began to neigh and move about restlessly. I looked up to see what had disturbed her. On every side the brownish-green grass waved in the breeze like a moving sea, and there was nothing else in sight but the occasional tree, the clusters of rock. Then I saw the horseman on the horizon, silhouetted against the yellow-white sky. I stood up, alarmed. As he drew nearer I recognized the magnificent black stallion. Robert Gordon tugged on the reins, slowing the horse to a walk. He stopped a few yards away, looking at me with dark, angry eyes, his mouth a severe line.

“What if I were a Thug?” he asked harshly.

“But you're not,” I replied.

“What if I were a thief, a villain, a cutthroat?”

“Are you?” I asked sweetly.

“You're a bloody little fool, Miss Gray. I thought you had more sense. After all that's happened you come riding out here all alone. I suppose you didn't give a thought to what might happen.”

“What I do is none of your business, Mr. Gordon.”

“The commander must have been out of his mind letting you do something like this.”

“Reggie knew nothing about it. I—I slipped off.”

“I just happened to go by the stables to check my horse. I noticed the mare you always ride was missing, so I questioned the groom. When he told me you'd gone off without an escort, I could hardly believe it. I've been riding all over these bloody plains looking for you, imagining God knows what.”

“Here I am, safe and sound.”

“It's no joking matter!”

He was seething with anger. I could see him fighting to control it. He glared at me for a long moment, and finally he shook his head in exasperation. Swinging one leg over the saddle, he slipped off the horse with that pantherlike grace I had noticed when he was in his native disguise. He was wearing brown leather knee boots and a suit of corded tan tweed, the jacket hanging open to reveal a white shirt and the dull orange scarf tied loosely about his neck. A dark brown hat with a wide brim protected his face from the sun. As he moved slowly toward me he seemed to emanate power and authority, his presence so vital and commanding it was like an invisible force crackling in the air around him. He stopped a few feet away from me, resting his hands on his thighs.