Home.
Though he constantly held Glenclaren up before Ruel as a beacon, when he was alone he tried not to think of it. It made the yearning for home only deeper and more hurtful.
Instead, he would think of Margaret. Margaret was not his own in the same way Glenclaren belonged to him, and he had waited so long for her, the anticipation had lost all bitterness and become sweetly wistful. Margaret, cool and brisk, yet with a heart as warm as a winter bonfire.
Yes, he would think of Margaret. . . .
"He's dead." Zabrie looked up at Pachtal from where she knelt beside the body. "From the bruises on his throat it looks as if he was strangled. Will this interfere with your plans?"
"Not at all," Pachtal said. "Resard's death is of no importance." He gazed without expression into the staring eyes of his servant. "Not if he first accomplished his task."
"There's blood on the knife and more drops leading across the street. You wished the Scot only wounded?"
Pachtal nodded. "Events were moving too slowly for His Highness. He wished the Scot placed in a position of intimacy with the girl." A faint smile touched his lips as he gazed down at the bloody knife on the pavement. "I believe I can tell him his wish has been granted."
Zabrie suppressed a shiver as she looked down at the dead man. It should not have surprised her that Pachtal regarded the man's death as weighing nothing against Abdar's whims. She had known from the first time she had met Pachtal he could be either a danger or a boon to her, depending on how she handled him.
She rose to her feet, picked up the lantern, and moved toward the arched door. "Then His Highness should be pleased with us both. Did I not send for you the moment the girl crossed my threshold? How did you know he would follow and ask for a white woman?"
"We could not be sure, but we knew he was watching her." He smiled. "And the Scot is not a patient man. It was only a matter of time until he made his move."
"So, I set the trap and you sprang it."
"You set the trap, but the Scot did not respond as you thought he would. You said he wouldn't trust the word of the girl and would try the door leading to the hall, find you hadn't really locked it, and take the girl to the alley that way. Yet no one was seen going out this alley door. How did they get out?"
"How do I know? The Scot is not predictable." She experienced a moment of regret as she remembered how delightfully unpredictable he had proved in their bouts together. Then she dismissed the emotion and asked, "What difference does it make as long as the end was accomplished?"
"No difference. You'll be adequately rewarded for your services. The bitch made no mention of Kartauk?"
"I told you she had not. She was concerned only about her friend Li Sung." She had learned it was always better to tell a little bit of the truth when you told a lie and she had decided it would not be wise to reveal all she knew to Abdar. "She's afraid he comes here too often and will anger Reilly by neglecting his duties in Narinth."
His lips curled. "How can you bear to bed that mongrel Chinese dog?"
Mongrel. Pachtal regarded all but his own caste as unclean. She had to smother the sting of rage his words brought. "I must earn food for my table, and all men do not bring me as much pleasure as you and His Highness. I hope you found me skillful?"
"Adequate. His Highness told me he found you very pleasant to look upon."
"He did?"
He smiled. "He also said when we found Kartauk perhaps he would have a golden mask made of your face."
"I am honored."
"But you would be more honored if he made you one of his concubines at the palace," he said softly. "His women have fabulous jewels and rich golden trinkets that would make your eyes shimmer with delight."
She felt a leap of hope. "Has he spoken of this?"
"No, but I have great influence on His Highness. I could remind him how talented you were the one time we both enjoyed you."
"And would you be so generous as to do this for me?"
"It's a possibility." He paused. "If you please me."
It was the answer she had expected. "I will please you." She smiled at him. "Come along to my chamber and I will show you what we experienced before was only the beginning."
He shook his head. "No, here."
Her eyes widened as she looked around the alley and then to the dead man a few yards away. "You jest. There is stink here and your servant . . ."
"It excites me," he murmured. "Turn around and lean your hands against the wall."
"We would both be more comfortable in my bed. I have cool silken sheets that feel wonderful against your skin."
"I don't want comfort." He took the lantern from her hand and carefully positioned it on the ground beside the dead man's head. "I want to take you while he lies there staring at us. I want to show him how good it is to be alive." His nostrils flared, his eyes glittered wildly. "But perhaps you do not wish to please me, whore?"
She swallowed and then turned around and leaned her palms against the rough sod wall. It did not matter, she told herself. She had performed many acts almost as twisted as this with less to gain.
Her skirt was pushed up and the next moment she felt him plunge deep within her. He grunted, his breathing quick, heavy, excited as he began to rut with brutal animal ferocity.
It did matter. He was taking her as if she were of no more value than a bitch in heat. The smell of garbage and refuse churned her stomach, and she was horribly conscious of the dead man staring at them only a few feet away.
But she was no mongrel and, when she had the riches and power Abdar would heap on her, she would show them all.
Jane stopped in surprise as she and Ruel were walking out of the hotel the next morning?
Her mare, Bedelia, was tied to the hitching rail beside a chestnut stallion.
"How did you get Bedelia?"
"I couldn't sleep, so I found out from the desk clerk where the Sahib Reilly's bungalow was located and rode Nugget over to fetch her. By the way, that dog you have at the stable is less than useless. The only threat he could pose is if he licked you to death."
"I know, I tried to teach Sam to be a guard dog, but he's not too bright and much too friendly. I keep him in the stable only because Patrick won't have him in the bungalow." She spoke absently as she stroked Bedelia's nose. "But how did you know which horse was mine?"
For an instant an indefinable expression flickered over Ruel's face. "It wasn't difficult. There were only two horses in the stable and the other one was larger, not in good condition, and showed a lack of exercise. I thought you'd probably work your horse as hard as you do yourself. I'm glad I chose correctly." He moved to the mare's left side. "We'd better get on our way. Let me help you up."
She hesitated before allowing him to boost her onto the mare. She couldn't remember the last time she had been given this courtesy, and it felt odd and vaguely pleasant. She watched him mount. "Why couldn't you sleep?"
"It was a stimulating evening." He smiled sardonically as he turned his horse, Nugget, and kicked him into a fast trot. "I trust you had no problem sleeping."