Tea and Spices (An Erotic Novel of Colonial India) (22 page)

 
Gasping, they both remained locked together for a long moment. Devora straightened slowly, her limbs both shaky and weak from the overflow of such intense carnality. She turned to look at Rohan, whose expression was sated and filled with lingering hints of passion. His chest still heaved as he tried to catch his breath.

 
He reached out to run his finger down her cheek.

 
“That is not an adverse physical urge,” he said.

 
Devora smiled slightly and shook her head.

 
“No,” she agreed. “Not at all.”

 
She bent and picked up her shift, slipping it over her head. She suspected she would be entirely confused about this tomorrow, but right now she felt nothing but pure contentment.

 
Rohan tugged on his loose trousers and sank down into a chair. “You will regret this,” he remarked.

 
Devora shook her head again and sat down across from him, pressing her thighs together to urge every last sensation from her body. “Will I? What makes you so certain of that?”

 
“I am still a servant.”

 
“You’re also a man.”

 
“An Indian man.”

 
Devora frowned. “Now, don’t you start acting the part of a martyr with me. For all I know, you might be the one to regret it. Either that, or you’ll think it’s something to be proud of. Screwing a
memsahib
.”

 
Amusement lit in Rohan’s eyes. “Proud of or ashamed of?”

 
Devora couldn’t help chuckling. “Well, even I find the idea of screwing a
memsahib
to be rather hideous.”

 
“However, you claim not to be a
memsahib
,” Rohan said.

 
“Yes.” Devora wrapped her arms around herself, thinking she had never felt quite so replete. “Do you think I’m a
memsahib
like all the others?”

 
“No. Not like all the others. Not at all.”

 
Devora knew that his words were a compliment. And for now, they would have to suffice. “Goodnight, Rohan.”

 
“Goodnight,
memsahib
.”

 
Devora went back into the stifling bungalow, closing the door against the relieving coolness of rain-drenched air.

***

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 
“Really, darling, you must at least take the carriage if you’re going into that god-awful village,” Gerald said. He sipped his lemonade and looked out at the vast expanse of the lawn where a number of men were engaged in a spirited cricket match.

 
“Yes, Devora, you never know when riots are going to break out,” Mrs. Thompson added. “And certainly a
tonga wallah
couldn’t get you out of the mayhem in time.”

 
Devora didn’t even bother replying. She poured herself another cup of tea and gazed at the properly-dressed British men and women who roamed about the gardens of the club.

A number of tables with large umbrellas had been set up around the cricket field so that people could sit in the shade, drinking, gossiping, and watching the game. If it weren’t for the turban-wearing, Indian servants and the scorching heat of the sun, one wouldn’t have known they were even in India.

 
“Besides, it’s not proper for a British woman to simply walk around the villages like that,” Gerald continued.

 
“Rohan was with me. I thought you didn’t worry about me if he was around as a watchdog.”

 
“Of course I’m glad he was with you, but even Rohan couldn’t have helped you if something happened. You must exercise more caution.”

 
“I can’t imagine why you’d want to walk around that filthy village anyway,” Mrs. Thompson declared. “The smells alone make me feel faint.”

 
“I think it’s fascinating,” Devora said. “I even had a
paan
.”

 
“Devora,
paan
is for men.” Gerald was beginning to look exasperated. “And occasionally for Indian women. Certainly not for the British.”

 
“Gerald, I was only trying something different.”

 
“You’re looking well, anyhow,” Mrs. Thompson said, her pale eyes glancing over Devora’s relaxed figure. “How are you feeling? Adele said you were ill last week.”

 
Gerald looked at Devora. “You were ill? Why didn’t you tell me?”

 
“Oh, it was just a bit of stomach flu or something.” Devora waved her hand dismissingly. “I’m fine, really.”

 
“Adele said that you arrived at the club, only to turn and leave again,” Mrs. Thompson went on.

 
“Yes, it came upon me rather suddenly,” Devora replied.

 
“Darling, I wish you’d told me.” Concern darkened Gerald’s expression. “Did you go and see Dr. Waterford?”

 
“No, it wasn’t necessary,” Devora said. “I was fine by the following morning. Do stop worrying, Gerald.”

 
“I hate leaving you alone in that house,” Gerald said. He took out his handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. “I wish I didn’t have to go on tour so often.”

 
“My dear, you’ll have to come stay with me and Reginald the next time Gerald leaves.” Mrs. Thompson patted Devora’s hand. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

 
“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Thompson,” Gerald said. “I can’t help worrying about her.”

 
“As well you should,” Mrs. Thompson said. “One never knows what could happen with all this talk of violent gangs running about the countryside.”

 
“And what about that rumor that the maharaja was involved with them?” Devora asked, purposely shifting the tide of the conversation. She had no intentions whatsoever of staying with the Thompsons at any point in time, but she would wait until Gerald left again before making her feelings clear.

 
“With the gangs?” Gerald asked. “I dare say he’s funding them himself.”

 
“Have you had lunch with him again, Devora?” Mrs. Thompson asked, glancing quickly at Gerald.

 
Gerald’s mouth tightened as he looked at his wife and waited for her response.

 
Devora shook her head. “Oh, no. We had very pleasant lunches, but I believe he has other matters to attend to.”

 
“Good,” Mrs. Thompson said. “As I’ve told you, it’s quite improper to dine alone with an Indian man, even if he is a maharaja.”

 
Devora stifled a chuckle. She’d done so much more than simply dine alone with an Indian man.

 
“Quite right,” Gerald agreed.

 
“Oh, you know, there’s a polo match this coming Saturday,” Mrs. Thompson said, snapping open her fan. “I do hope you’ll both attend.”

 
“Of course, we’ll be delighted,” Gerald said. He gave Devora a smile. “Won’t we, darling?”

“Utterly delighted.”

 
A sudden barrage of gunshots broke the air, startling them all.

 
“What on earth?” Mrs. Thompson sat up and clutched her chest as a number of British officers began making their way out of the club grounds.

 
“That’s from the village,” Gerald said. “The damned anti-British riots. Bloody hell.”

 
He stood, pushing his chair back. “I’d better go see what’s happening. Lord knows we’ll probably have to make some arrests.” He bent to kiss Devora. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

 
“Be careful.” Devora and Mrs. Thompson watched Gerald stride off with the other men.

 
“You know, you’re very lucky to have him,” Mrs. Thompson remarked, working her fan rapidly to stir up some cool air. “Ambitious fellow, he is, and intent on preserving the British way of life in India. He will become very successful in the civil lines.”

 
“Yes,” Devora murmured. “That’s what worries me.”

 
“Have a good day, darling.” Devora gave Gerald a perfunctory kiss and patted his lapels. “You look quite spiffy.”

 
“I don’t think I’ve told you how pleased I am that you seem to be adapting so well to India,” Gerald said, reaching for his hat. “At least, now that you understand the customs. I told you that you would adjust just fine.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve adjusted,” Devora murmured.

 
“And what are your plans for the day?”

They walked outside onto the sun-baked steps of the bungalow. Rohan stood at the bottom, holding the reins of Gerald’s horse.

 
“Mostly painting,” Devora replied. “I might call on Louise later this afternoon.”

 
“Very good. I’ll be back later this evening. As you know, there’s been some trouble in the village.”

 
“Is everything all right?” Devora asked. “With the rioting, I mean.”

 
“Well, we had to make a number of arrests,” Gerald replied as he descended the steps. “We’re expecting a demonstration today at the city jail. Of course, we’ll have to make an example out of those we arrested.”

 
“An example how?”

“Why, by keeping them in jail, of course. The magistrate has also ordered several of the rioters to be publicly flogged. That will undoubtedly make a point.”

 
“Publicly flogged? Why, that’s barbaric!”

“You forget, darling, that we are dealing with barbarians.” Gerald swung up into the saddle of his horse.

 
Devora watched him go until he was no longer visible. Then, she looked at Rohan, who still stood at the bottom of the steps. Even the mere sight of him elicited a rush of desire in her, particularly now that she knew how unbearably passionate he could be. He was wearing his knee-length, white jacket, sash, and black trousers again, appearing every inch the proper, Indian servant. If her night with him hadn’t been so terribly vivid, Devora might have believed that it hadn’t even happened. But vivid it had been. So vivid.

 
“What are you doing today?” she asked.

 
“I will go into town to make some purchases,” Rohan replied. “Then I must find another stablehand, as the one who has been caring for the horses is returning to his village.”

 
“I see.” Devora glanced up at the sun, which hung halfway to the summit of the sky. “You’d better go into town now. It’s going to be terribly hot later this afternoon.”

 
“Yes,
memsahib
.” Rohan climbed the steps, not glancing at her as he passed to enter the house.

 
Devora followed him inside. They had reverted back to their roles as mistress and servant, although of course neither one of them could deny what had taken place. At least, Devora couldn’t.

 
“Rohan.”

 
He paused on his way towards the back of the house and turned to look at her. His expression had once again taken on that impassivity that Devora so disliked.

 
“You know, I don’t blame you for anything,” Devora said. “You don’t have to avoid me.”

 
“I apologize. I was not aware that I was doing so.”

 
Devora sighed. “Oh, stop talking to me as if we didn’t fuck each other just last week.”

 
“
Memsahib
, that was my mistake. I have dishonored my position in this household by taking advantage of you in such a manner.”

 
“You didn’t take advantage of me,” Devora snapped. “I was perfectly willing, in case you didn’t realize it at the time.”

 
He didn’t reply, but an emotion flickered in the depths of his dark eyes that made Devora realize he wasn’t as immune to their attraction as he would have her believe. She crossed the room and stopped right in front of him, folding her arms over her chest.

 
“You know, I can understand your coldness when it comes to your role as head servant,” she said. “You have a job to do, and you do it extremely well. However, given what I recently experienced with you, I know for a fact that you’re not a cold man all the time. And it’s foolish of you to think that you can treat me the same way you did before.”

 
“How would you have me treat you differently?” Rohan asked. “I am certain you do not want your husband to know what has transpired between us. Treating you differently would give him cause for suspicion.”