Star Crossed Seduction (20 page)

“Most definitely not. I am attached to Miss Smith and would not stand for it.”

“What a pity,” Sir Humphrey replied, still mangling the grammar of his adopted language. “Though I can understand why you would be reluctant to give her up. But you needn’t fear I would deprive you of such a gem without making restitution. You could take your choice of my harem, and let me assure you, you will not suffer in the exchange. My women are skilled as no English girl could be.” He made a suggestive gesture. Temperance’s eyes widened with shock.

Trev resisted the urge to plant the man a facer. He must not jeopardize the mission. But there were limits as to how far he would go to humor the nabob’s mad delusions, and he must make those limits clear. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, and said, still in Hindustani, “Honor requires me to ask you to forget you ever made such an offer.”

Sir Humphrey’s beady eyes narrowed. Isolated here in his domain, he was probably not used to being thwarted. But he quickly recovered himself. “Apologies, Captain. I sometimes forget I am no longer in Hyderabad.” He touched his brow with two fingers, as if trying to rub out the mental error he’d just made. But the look in his eyes was not that of a man apologizing. Trev began to understand why it had been necessary to send a man with his skills on what had been made to sound like an innocuous errand. Nothing that involved the Mad Nabob could be simple.

Sir Humphrey turned again toward Temperance, and, switching to English, said, “Allow me, my fair one, to welcome you to my little corner of India. Whatever I can do to give you pleasure, just ask and it shall be done.” His insolent gaze lingered for one last moment on the soft curve of her breast. Then he turned back to Trev. “It is late, and you must be fatigued with your journey. We will postpone the work that brought you here until the morrow. I will have my servants show you to your quarters. Until we meet again—” He clapped his hands twice, and they were whisked out of his presence.

A
servant led Temperance and her companion to a luxurious chamber, which, like the rest of the Mad Nabob’s domain, was furnished in a style of oriental splendor far more fervid than the room they had dined in at Rajiv’s. The walls were hung with intricate tapestries, richly embroidered with golden threads that sparkled in the light of the oil lamps that stood on tall iron stands placed around the room. A low table held plates of saffron-colored rice, flat breads, and dishes of what she supposed were curries. One corner was taken up by a huge pile of cushions, which she assumed must be a bed in the oriental style, but in the wake of the scene that had just concluded, she could only view it with distaste.

“Is
that
how Englishmen treat women in India?” she demanded.

“Most certainly not,” Trev assured her. “I begin to see now why they call him the Mad Nabob. But don’t let his odd behavior worry you. Despite his eccentricities, I’ve been assured he’s harmless.”

“By whom?”

Trev’s eyes shifted. “It is generally known.” He hadn’t answered her question.

“Harmless or not, he appears to expect you to share me with him.”

His raised eyebrows betrayed his surprise. “Surely you don’t speak Hindustani?”

“I didn’t need to know Hindustani to understand his meaning. His crude gesture said it all, and, besides, the word ‘harem’ is good English.”

“You can’t think I meant to give you to him?”

“His actions made it clear
he
thought so.”

“You have nothing to fear from him. I would make him pay the ultimate price should he show you anything but total respect. He may be mad, Tem, but I’m not.”

Her pulse slowed a bit, but she couldn’t help asking, “If he’s that mad, why are you here?”

“To help him interpret a valuable manuscript. He pays me exceedingly well. Enough to tempt even a man of my estate. And, truth be told, I had heard so much about his hoard of Indian treasures that I wished to see them myself.”

He was lying.
She could see it in the way his eyes avoided hers, and it infuriated her. Why couldn’t he give her the same honesty he demanded from her? Rounding on him, she demanded, “Who is this Mr. Fanshawe he kept mentioning?”

He waited a second too long before delivering his answer. “No one important. Just a man familiar with such matters who suggested I might be able to help him. I’m known for my ability in parsing Sanskrit.”

Another lie.

He turned away from her and busied himself preparing a plate of food. When it was ready, he brought it to her, and said in a more tender tone, “Have patience,
Priya.
If all goes well, we’ll be on our way to Chatham tomorrow evening to board the ship that will take us to India.”

“So soon?” She couldn’t hide her surprise. “I had thought we weren’t going to embark until after the Coronation.”

“That had been the original plan, but my orders have changed. We must leave tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? And he’d said nothing about it until now? A horrifying thought invaded her mind. Was he telling the truth when he said
they
would embark? Did he really mean to take her along? He must have known about this change in plan for some time, for he would have had to make his own arrangements before he could depart. But if he’d known, why had he kept it secret from her? He’d given her no time to prepare, to pack her things, or to say good-bye to the people she would be leaving behind. Could this omission be a sign that he’d never really intended to bring her with him?

She took the plate of food he offered and settled herself on the cushions to eat it, but she couldn’t take a single bite. Her stomach was churning.

“If you find you hate the real India when we arrive there,” he said quietly, “I won’t force you to remain with me. I will never ask you to sacrifice your happiness to ensure mine.”

The kindness in his voice told her he was trying to reach her through the cloud of distrust that had just enveloped them. But she found it difficult to connect. He seemed to have shut himself off from her ever since he’d come to get her at her lodging when they began their journey.

He was no longer the man who had shown her his soul in those hours they’d spent wrapped in joy in her humble chamber at the lodging house. He seemed distracted, as if he had put his love for her to one side and moved on to something else. Had their love been nothing more than the dalliance he had originally offered her? Had he pretended all that love, to squeeze the most pleasure out of their time together?

She must be overreacting. She couldn’t have felt what she had when they had joined their souls together if he were deceiving her. And she hadn’t missed the emotion underlying the rigid calm with which he had told her she might leave him if she found the real India intolerable.

Perhaps Trev was worried that the nabob’s crudity would make her change her mind about accompanying him. Perhaps the barrier she felt rising between them was due to his fear that he would lose her. Even with what they had shared, she should not expect him to get over his fear of abandonment any more quickly than she could get over her fear of being used and betrayed.

She must not let her doubts sweep her away. Gathering up her courage, she said, “It will take far more than the sick fantasies of one deluded old man to make me leave you, Trev.”

His eyes glowed, and he blinked a couple of times. “You are more than I deserve,
Priya,
” he said in a whisper. “I am asking so much of you, in demanding that you trust yourself to me in a new and alien land. I can’t help but worry that it may be too much. If you must leave me, remember, you have promised to tell me before you go.”

The emotion in his voice seemed so real. How could she imagine he had been simulating his love for her? “I will keep my promise,” she answered. “I have given you no reason to doubt me.”

“Enough talk,” he said gruffly. “It’s late, and we both are tired.”

He drew her to the divan, and they curled up together, seeking the comfort they usually found in each other’s arms. But he did not make love to her. She didn’t know whether to feel gratitude or despair. She felt too disturbed by all the things she sensed he was keeping from her, to be able to meet him in the honest place they soared to in their lovemaking, as much as she longed for the reassurance she had always found in his arms. But without that reassurance, she felt bereft. How could she trust that she wasn’t deluded again?

She must be patient. She must have more faith in their love. But it would take enormous effort. Trev wasn’t the only one contending against the lifelong habits of a suspicious nature.

Chapter 17

T
he next morning, the servants brought them a luxurious breakfast of slices of mangoes grown in Sir Humphrey’s hothouse and smooth, tangy
raita
made by his dairywomen. As they ate, Trev struggled to recapture his certainty that he wasn’t asking too much of his intended. Though Srinagar Mahal bore little resemblance to the real India, Temperance would find much on the subcontinent that would be unsettling. Had he made a fatal mistake in asking this woman whose soul thrilled with the spirit of liberty to come with him to a land where she would have to play a role so different from what she was used to?

It was possible. The way she’d withdrawn from him the previous night after being subjected to Sir Humphrey’s crudity had been profoundly disquieting, and as much as he’d longed to make love with her afterward, he had not been able to do it. The painful silence that had stretched out after he’d told her he would not demand she remain with him if she found India intolerable had chilled his heart.

But too much was at stake at the moment for him to wallow in personal emotion. He must turn his attention to the vital matter that had brought him here. The Weaver’s real agent must be hiding somewhere in the Mad Nabob’s domain, eager to get his hands on the jewel, and ready to pounce if Trev dropped his guard. But so far, he had been unable to find a clue as to his identity.

He’d charged his man with the task of determining whether any new servants had been introduced into Sir Humphrey’s household within the past few weeks, but he must not assume the Weaver’s agent would appear in the guise of a servant. The thief might be anybody. Trev must make no assumptions as to who the Weaver had sent to steal the jewel.

This uncertainty strengthened his resolve to conclude his business with the nabob as fast as possible. Once he had taken possession of the jewel, they would leave immediately. The less time they spent here, the less chance there was of the Weaver’s agent making mischief.

But as they must make a speedy exit, he must ensure that Temperance didn’t wander off somewhere. He couldn’t afford to waste precious time tracking her down when it was time to leave. So when he was done dressing, he said, “I must ask that you remain in this chamber while I conduct my business with Sir Humphrey this morning.”

“Why?” Her surly expression left no doubt how she felt about his attempt to limit her freedom. “I had hoped to explore on my own some of the wonders that you told me were what tempted you here.”

He sighed. Once again, he could not be frank with her. As much as he might wish he could be, as long as there was an iota of doubt about her real connection with the Weaver, he must keep her from knowing his plans. He had already erred badly in mentioning that they would be leaving for India so soon. It had just slipped out. He would not make a similar mistake again.

So he said merely, “It’s for your own safety. I don’t wish to expose you to any more unpleasantness.”

“I can take care of myself,” she replied. “You don’t need to wrap me in cotton wool.”

“I know you can,” he said soothingly. “But humor me now. Stay in the room until I come back for you.”

The set of her lip told him she didn’t entirely believe his explanation, but he didn’t have the time to stand here arguing. It wouldn’t be long until he would be able to explain everything to her, once the jewel was safely locked in the heavily guarded casket the under secretary had provided for it aboard their ship.

He gave her a perfunctory kiss and set forth for his meeting. As he closed the chamber door behind him, he felt an irrational urge to lock it and take the key away with him but dismissed it. He could just imagine the fury with which Temperance would react to such a gesture. And she would have every right to be furious. As it was, in subjecting her to Sir Humphrey’s rudeness, he had already exposed her to more than she should have had to endure.

H
e found Sir Humphrey in his study, where he sat cross-legged on the floor puffing contentedly on a large silver hookah decorated with arabesques. It gave off the sweet scent of ganja. Trev wondered if that, too, grew in Sir Humphrey’s hothouse.

“I trust you slept well,” the nabob began. “Though with such a houri to delight you, I should wonder if you wasted much time on sleeping.”

“I slept very well, thank you. But I would caution you against making any further comments about my connection with Miss Smith. I would find them offensive.”

“Have no fear, my brave Captain. I shan’t poach your game. I have plenty of women of my own and have no need to steal yours.”

“You don’t understand. I intend to make Miss Smith my bride.”

Sir Humphrey fixed him with a hard stare and arranged his features into a formal smile. “Then I must offer you my congratulations and my hopes that the two of you may be happy.” He was clearly struggling to be polite, but his next words revealed he had lost the battle. “I wonder that any man would wish to yoke himself in marriage now, knowing that even a king cannot rid himself of an unfaithful wife. Look at how Princess Caroline gave our new king a cuckold’s horns with that Italian fellow, Pergami, and there’s not a thing he can do about it. Henry VIII could lop off a wife’s head for disporting herself with a lover, but those days are long gone—” He paused. “You know, of course, of
his
connection with the Jewel of Vadha?

“Who?”

“King Henry. It was his jewel. You can see it in those portraits of him by Holbein. It’s the large brownish stone you see in his ring, an oriental topaz.”

“All I know about this jewel is that if you don’t hand it over, and quickly, so I can return it to its rightful owner, it will propel us into a costly war with the Nawab of Bundilore.”

“Quite so, quite so.” Sir Humphrey nodded, with an expression a little too much like that of the crafty Mughal prince he pretended to be. “But it is
because
of the jewel’s connection with Henry VIII that the Nawab is so determined upon recovering it.”

“I was told he wanted it because it was a family heirloom.”

“That may be what you were told, but his real motivation is that he believes it has magical properties. Ones Henry found most useful.”

Trev stood up. “Fascinating as it might be to speculate about such matters, our time runs short. I must take possession of this gem at once. The faster I get it to India, the safer our forces will be.”

Sir Humphrey reached for his hookah and took another long draught. Then he slowly released the smoke in a narrow stream directed toward Trev’s face. The insult was obvious, but Trev ignored it.

“You will have your jewel this afternoon,” the nabob said at length. “I have no desire to stand in the way of the progress of our glorious Empire. But before I hand it over, I will demand something from you, in return.” Responding to Trev’s expression, he added, “Not that. I know you begrudge me the gift Mr. Fanshawe promised me, but he also told me you are an excellent judge of horseflesh. So before I give you the jewel, I should like you to have a look at the new Arabian stallion I’ve just added to my stable. I paid a fortune for him. Take him out for a gallop and tell me if he’s as good as I thought he was, or if the fellow who sold him to me rooked me.”

T
emperance considered ignoring Trev’s command that she stay in the room while he attended to his business with the nabob but decided against it. If she were to make herself into a good wife, she must obey at least some of her husband’s commands, as much as it rubbed her the wrong way to do so. So to divert herself during his absence, she leafed through the book he had brought her, the
Journal of a Residence in India, Written by an English Lady,
looking for confirmation that she was not making a disastrous error in thinking she could be happy as an Indian officer’s wife.

The authoress, Mrs. Graham, described with enthusiasm the rides she had taken on the backs of elephants, as well as tiger hunts, visits to ancient temples, and the warm hospitality of the English who had settled in India. Temperance must hope she would find them as satisfying.

Her reading was interrupted by a knock on the door. She put down her book and called out, “Come in,” expecting it to be servant.

But her caller was not a servant but the nabob himself, clad in a long, silken robe of a brilliant saffron hue. It was belted at the waist with a gold girdle from which dangled a huge, deep red ruby. He shut the door behind him with a decisive click.

Instantly, all her senses went on the alert. Sir Humphrey was eying her with a look that reminded her of the way he’d let his insolent eyes caress her during his conversation with Trev the previous evening.

“You fascinate me,” he said. “You have such beauty and such cunning. Why do you throw yourself away on a nonentity like the captain? I have so much more to offer you.”

Temperance glared at him. “It is a strange form of hospitality to try to win away your guest’s intended bride. Or is this some Indian custom I’m not familiar with.”

“He promised to make you his bride, did he?” Sir Humphrey laughed. It was an ugly sound. “Surely you didn’t fall for such a transparent lie as that. No officer of his rank could marry a woman like you without destroying his career. I confess myself surprised you should have let yourself be so taken in.”

“I was not taken in. He loves me.” She spoke quickly, fighting off her dismay at hearing her deepest fear put into words.

“Nonsense.” The nabob sneered. “He brought you here as he was ordered to do by his superior. Whatever he told you, he said it only to convince you to come here with him. I have something his commander wishes very much to obtain. As part of the price I asked for it, I demanded they give me a woman to add to my harem. Fanshawe and I have been negotiating terms for the past several weeks. Your captain was detailed to bring you to me.”

“You lie,” she spat. “It isn’t possible.”

“Pish,” Sir Humphrey said. “Of course it’s possible. But let me hasten to assure you, though he brought you to fulfill his superior’s command, you won’t lose out by the arrangement. The woman who pleases me can expect to profit considerably from our connection.” His chubby hand seized the huge ruby that hung from his belt, and he held it up to her. “Take this, for example. It is a very valuable jewel. It could be yours, my dear, were you to agree to dally with me.”

“Get out!” she shouted. “When Trev learns of the insult you offered me, he will kill you.”

She must believe it. She could not allow herself to think the nabob’s poisonous claim could be true. But a treacherous voice within her whispered that if it wasn’t, why had Trev been so evasive about his reasons for visiting the nabob, why hadn’t he given her a chance to prepare for the journey to India, and why, this very morning, had he been so insistent she stay in the room?

“Your faith in your lover is touching, but misplaced,” Sir Humphrey continued. “It was only this morning he described to me the pleasure I could look forward to in your arms. He says you’re a devilish good lover. Is it true, as he told me, that you bear the mark of Satan on your thigh?”

She struggled against the sickness that welled up within her. “He told you that?”

“Why yes. It’s the shape of a cloven hoof, isn’t it. As he had intended, it stimulated my desire to enjoy you.”

“You lie,” she repeated, but this time she could barely get out the words. How else could the nabob have known of her cursed mark unless Trev had told him?

“Believe what you like.” Sir Humphrey smirked. “But I was promised you as part of the bargain I negotiated with Mr. Fanshawe, and I will have you, whether you wish it or not. You can come to me willingly, in return for a substantial reward, or you can fight me. But depend upon it, your captain will not protect you. Now that he’s delivered you to me, he will claim the reward he was promised, his choice of the women of my harem. Even without the mark of the devil on their hinder parts, they will make him forget whatever delights you shared with him. My girls are exceedingly well trained.”

He clapped loudly, twice, and two large turbaned men glided into the room.

“You need not use force,” she said, grasping the ring her betrayer had given her and wrenching it off her hand. She threw it on the floor and stomped on it. Then, head held high, she turned to the nabob and let him lead her silently out of the chamber.

I
t was good to be astride a horse again and feel the powerful muscles of such a fine animal propelling him along. As he rode the nabob’s magnificent stallion, Trev realized that the necessity of leaving his own mounts behind in India was yet another factor that had kept him from enjoying his leave. At least he’d be able to tell Sir Humphrey he had got good value for his money, whatever he had paid, though it was a damned shame such a prime bit of horseflesh should be wasted on such a man.

He’d be glad to see the last of him, especially after their interview this morning, though the other man’s undisguised jealousy had taught him he’d have to get used to other men lusting after his wife—she was too beautiful not to attract attention. But he’d lost all patience with the way the Mad Nabob used his eccentricity to get away with outrageous behavior. The sooner he got Temperance away from him, the happier he’d be.

He rode the stallion back to the stables, taking care to slow his pace to a comfortable walk before turning him over to the stableboy. Then he turned his steps toward Sir Humphrey’s office to make his report.