Monsoon Mists (16 page)

‘I am.’ Seeing her eyes, which were more peridot than turquoise today and flashing angrily, he held up his hands. ‘Very well, I’ll behave. We need to come up with a plan anyway. Dalliance will have to wait.’

‘There won’t be any,’ she insisted.

‘We’ll see.’ He smiled and ducked out of the way as she threatened to shake him again. ‘Now then, how shall we proceed?’

Zarmina pretended to ignore his teasing, but she was still blushing, which pleased Jamie. At least it proved she wasn’t entirely immune to his charm, despite her protests. ‘I think you must wait until your friend’s brother arrives,’ she said, ‘then try and contact the rightful owner via a third party.’

‘I agree. Perhaps the best thing would be to tell the owner when and where the handover to William—’ He caught the look of consternation on her face and amended his sentence. ‘I mean, to Mansukh or his agents is to take place. Then the owner’s men can ambush the merchant and take back what is theirs without involving us.’

Zarmina nodded. ‘Good idea. Shall I have Ali follow William some more to see if he can find out anything else?’

‘Well, I’d rather he didn’t follow me. I have enough trouble shaking off the other man.’

‘Fine, I’ll tell him, although I doubt the merchant will let William in on anything secret. He must know he’s a buffoon who can’t be trusted to keep his mouth shut.’

‘You may be right.’ Jamie stopped for a moment and took her hand, the one that wasn’t holding the parasol, and brought it up to his mouth. He brushed her fingers with his lips in a soft kiss. ‘Thank you. I promise you can trust me, as I will trust you.’

She lowered her long lashes, but didn’t snatch her hand away, like she’d done to poor Andrew the first time Jamie had met her. She looked up at him, her gaze searching his. ‘I do,’ she whispered.

Chapter Thirteen

‘Highness, I’m afraid I bring bad news. Very bad. Your brother …’

Bijal stood in a small alcove next to a pillar and listened as the Rajah’s most trusted servant brought his master the bad tidings, his voice breaking with obvious grief.

‘Ravi? What’s happened?’

‘One of your brother’s servants just came riding in. Dev
sahib
had an accident, trampled by an elephant. It was all very sudden. I’m so sorry, but … he’s dead.’

Ravi kneeled before his master, head bent and shoulders slumped. Dev may not have been universally liked, and Ravi always took his master’s side in any arguments of course, but for someone so young to die was still a great tragedy. Bijal regretted that it had been necessary, but there was no other way. Dev had been the only direct heir to the Rajah and now he was gone, the only thing that could save the dynasty was if the marriage to Indira produced offspring.

If there was no wedding, however … Bijal bowed his head to school his features into a sympathetic expression instead of the gloating one he’d prefer. He had to appear to be sincere in his condolences when he made his presence known. On the face of it, this was a tragedy, not just for the Rajah personally, but for the whole country.

‘I don’t understand. His safety was supposed to be paramount, as I’m sure his guards were aware.’ The Rajah’s voice shook with a mixture of grief and anger. ‘They will account to me for this. Bring them, Ravi.’

‘Very well, Highness. But please remember how headstrong Dev
sahib
is … was. He often disregarded even those who sought to protect him. And I believe some strong drink had been imbibed by all those present.’

‘I know, I know, he could be difficult, but I need to know what happened. Go and find his entourage, please.’

‘At once, Highness.’

While the Rajah went to stare out the window, his shoulders slumped in grief, Bijal stepped forward.

‘I’m so sorry, Highness. You have my deepest sympathy.’

‘Thank you. You may go now. I … would prefer to be alone for a while.’

‘Of course.’

‘But wait, what news of the talisman? Have you found it yet?’

Bijal shook his head. ‘No, I’m afraid not, but this is a vast country and it takes days to receive messages, so please don’t despair.’
Not yet.

‘Well, find it, damn you! I must have it back, you know that.’ The Rajah put his face in his hands and bowed his head. ‘We need the luck it brings. Just see what losing it has done already – I dread to think what other disasters its absence will cause.’

‘I’m doing my best, Highness, I assure you.’

‘Very well.’ The Rajah’s shoulders slumped and he waved his Grand Vizier away. ‘Go then, see to it.’

As he left the room, Bijal took a deep breath and smiled. Another bad omen before the wedding. That should make the Rajah think twice, even if the loss of the talisman didn’t. He was sure one of his advisors would point that out to him.

Excellent.

‘I’m not going near the blasted woman again, money or no money.’

William stared in surprise at Richardson, whose sulky expression resembled that of a small boy who’d been chastised by a stern parent.

‘Why? I thought you said nothing would stop you marrying her? I’m relying on you, Anthony, to take her off my hands. Seriously, I need to be rid of her, and fast.’

‘Well, you’ll have to find some other sap to enter parson’s trap with her. I’m not doing it, I tell you.’

‘But what’s happened to change your mind?’ William felt thoroughly confused. Just a day or two ago the man had been swearing vengeance for Zar’s impudence in poking him in the eye or some such. ‘Surely you can outwit one measly woman?’ He conveniently ignored the fact that Zar wasn’t just any woman, but a very canny one, as he knew to his cost.

‘Of course I can, but it’s not worth a knife blade between the shoulders. That’s what her escort threatened and damn me, I believed him.’

‘Escort? You mean one of the servants? Of all the … I’ll have him beaten for taking it upon himself to threaten you.’

‘No, I don’t think it was a servant. Maybe some relative of hers, or something? Seemed very possessive. Big fellow, native, but with lighter coloured eyes. Spoke excellent English. Yes, now I think of it, he must have been a Pathan or maybe Afghan. Very handy with his fists.’ William saw Richardson rub his jaw which sported a large bruise.

‘I’ve no idea who that is. She must have hired a personal guard then. A pox on her! Never mind though, I’ll get rid of him somehow. Then you can—’

‘No!’ Richardson shook his head. ‘I’m not interested. I’ll make my fortune some other way. Never really wanted a native bitch anyway, they’re only good for one thing. Couldn’t bring her back to London when I go home. As I said, find someone else, I’m done with her.’

William wanted to slap the man, but could see it probably wouldn’t make any difference.

‘Very well, if that’s your final word? I’m sure I can find plenty of others willing to wed her.’

But as he stormed out of Richardson’s room at the Factory, he knew there was no one quite as ruthless and Zar needed a firm hand. A very firm hand.

He gritted his teeth. If the stupid woman wouldn’t marry, perhaps he should dispose of her some other way? He may not have a choice.

What on earth made her say ‘I do’ to him?

Zarmina put her hands up to cheeks that felt overheated as she thought about her response to Jamie that afternoon. It had sounded like a marriage vow, which was the last thing she ever wanted to utter again. Wasn’t it?

She may not wish to marry the man, but her treacherous body definitely wanted him in other ways. Zar had no idea why as the mere thought of the act between a man and woman made her skin crawl. But somehow, being lifted and held close by Jamie had made her wonder if perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad after all. That not all men hurt you with their pawing and groping. He’d held her as if she was precious porcelain, and despite the opportunity he’d not tried to touch any part of her anatomy other than what was strictly necessary.

What if he was just holding back though? Waiting to pounce the moment she gave her consent?

She shivered.
I can’t take the chance.

Priya had told her men did whatever they wanted when you were their property, their chattel, and women just had to put up with it. Although sympathetic, she’d never understood Zar’s deep-rooted fear. But then she hadn’t told her
ayah
how vulnerable and exposed she felt, having to stand naked in front of Francis while he gloated over owning her. And then, when his rough fingers started to squeeze and pinch … She closed her eyes and willed the images away. Francis was dead, he couldn’t hurt her any longer.

And as for Jamie, he was probably just trying to lull her into a false sense of security. She wouldn’t fall for it.

On his return to the rented house, Jamie found that he had a visitor, but unfortunately it was only Andrew, not Sanjiv. And he brought something Jamie both wanted and feared – a letter from his mother.

‘A Swedish ship arrived this morning and they sent a lad round asking if we’d seen you. Lucky I was within earshot or they’d have taken it with them to China or some such. Didn’t seem to know where you were at the moment.’

Jamie shrugged. ‘They know I move around a lot so they probably instructed the crew to ask wherever they dock. Thank you for bringing it.’

‘My pleasure.’ Andrew looked around while taking a sip of the drink the ever thoughtful Kamal had provided. ‘So how are you settling in? Decided to stay for a bit?’

‘Yes, a few more weeks I think. I quite like it here.’

‘That wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with a certain widow, would it?’ Andrew sent him a sly glance, although it was accompanied by a twinkle so Jamie knew there was no malice in the comment.

‘Perhaps,’ he replied noncommittally, then changed the subject. ‘But tell me about yourself, what have you been up to? Found any ladies to entertain you?’

His friend seized on this subject and waxed lyrical about some Indian beauty he’d recently become acquainted with and Jamie let him ramble on until it was time for him to take his leave. Only after Andrew had gone did he open his mother’s letter and it made for uncomfortable reading, as he’d known it would.

My dear Jamie,

I hope this finds you well? I was happy to hear that you have found something to do which you enjoy, and your father was most interested in your accounts of the profits to be made in the jewel trade. Perhaps it is something you and he could develop here too when you return?

I don’t want to nag, but you are returning soon, are you not? Remember what I said to you when you left – fleeing was only a temporary solution. Little Margot is growing by the day, both in stature and inquisitiveness, and she has started to ask questions. She told me the other day that the other children were being unkind, teasing her about the fact that she looks different. Her hair is so dark – like a midwinter night – and her brown eyes unusual. And you would scarcely credit how her skin tans in the sun! Her heritage is there for anyone to see, I’m afraid, but I told her standing out in a crowd is a good thing and that she will grow to be more beautiful than anyone else, like her mother. She may well do.

The point is though that she needs you, Jamie. Whatever her true parentage, you are her father in name. I can only do so much to halt the cruel tongues of the gossips and you staying away gives them grist for their evil mills. Please think about this, I urge you. Consider the child’s needs before your own. And try to lay your demons to rest. It is all in the past and Margot is not to blame. You know this, as well as I do.

Everyone else is well, including Brice and his wife Marsaili. You know they have two children now? I hope my letter with that piece of news reached you. The little one, a boy, is named after his great-grandfather Kenelm (which would have pleased him). Their daughter Ailsa is thriving and according to her fond papa is growing up to be as wilful and headstrong as her mother. Since Brice is besotted with his wife, I take it that is a compliment. We shall be seeing them in the spring as your father and I are planning a trip to Scotland. He thinks it is safe for him to return now and he’s longing to see Rosyth and everyone there again, as am I.

Take care of yourself and stay safe. You are ever in my thoughts.

Much love,

Mama

Jamie leaned back on the cushions and covered his eyes with one hand. He felt his jaw clench as he fought to stem the tide of emotions threatening to swamp him. Damn it all, he didn’t want to go home. Didn’t want to see that little girl … But his mother was right, as always. Margot was innocent of blame and couldn’t be held to account for her mother’s misdeeds. But hell, how was he to cope with seeing her every day? And how could he ever answer her questions? He couldn’t possibly tell her the truth of how her mother had tricked him. It wasn’t something he ever wanted anyone to know …

As soon as he had helped Elisabet to mount, they had ridden swiftly through the forest, back the way Jamie had come earlier, towards the large farm, Granhult, where Elisabet lived with her widowed father.

‘Can we go in the back way, please?’ Elisabet said as they neared the main house. ‘Father is away, but my maid should still be awake. Karin said she’d wait up for me.’

‘Where were you? How did the Walloon manage to drag you away?’ Jamie had been puzzling over this and couldn’t stop the questions from tumbling out even though he wasn’t sure she was in any state to answer.

‘I was with the others in the village, dancing. I had my father’s grooms to escort me home, but we were set upon halfway there. He … Luc had his friends with him at first.’ She started to sob again and Jamie regretted having asked.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, pulling her back close against him. ‘We can talk about it later.’

She turned slightly and leaned her cheek on his chest. ‘Thank you, Jamie. I know you want to help, but don’t you think it would be better if no one found out about this? I mean, my reputation …’ She left the sentence hanging and Jamie caught her meaning.