Virginia Henley (45 page)

“That won’t be a problem. We’ll simply dress them in their brothers’ clothes and send them off to Eton,” he said with a straight face.

“Will you never let me live it down?” Tony demanded.

Adam raised his eyebrows to Rosalind and Mr. Burke. They all three looked at her and solemnly shook their heads.

The
Red Dragon
had been almost three months at sea when it dropped anchor in Madagascar. However, it had only taken Bernard Lamb three hours to conclude that it was Adam Savage who had given the orders to kidnap him. At first he thought he’d been removed because he was a rival for Angela Brown’s sexual favors, but common sense soon asserted itself. To a man with Savage’s wealth and power a trollop from the stage would mean nothing.

No, this little caper involved his pampered cousin, Lord Anthony Lamb. Savage must have finally realized Bernard’s intent and removed him from England.

Bernard thought back to the last time he’d seen his cousin. It had been the foggy night he had stalked him at Vauxhall Gardens. With his own hands he had pushed him beneath the horses of a hackney carriage. Bernard had been sure Tony could not survive the ordeal, yet no body had been found, no death notice had appeared in the newspapers.

Bernard smashed his fist into the heavy door of the hold as a thought gripped him. His cousin must have lingered before he died of his injuries. He was probably the rightful Lord Lamb and Savage had disposed of him so that he could not claim the title and the property!

The lure of the sea could become a powerful addiction to some men, but Bernard Lamb found it an abomination.
Kept in close quarters as the days stretched into weeks and the weeks into months made his hatred fester. Now, however, the focus of his hatred was Adam Savage.

Whenever the half-naked Lascar took him up on deck for a daily airing, Bernard was on his best behavior. The size of the Lascar’s muscles were terrifying and his dark eyes seemed to be watching for an excuse to toss him overboard.

In the hold, however, his revenge against Savage had already begun. In the dim light he had discovered boxes of Paris fashions. One by one he removed the gowns, slashed them to ribbons, then carefully repacked them in their boxes. When he discovered the expensive Venetian talc for powdering hair, he took particular pleasure in pissing in the barrels.

By the time the damage was detected, Bernard intended to be carrying out his plans for further destruction against the bastard who had sentenced him to three months of living hell aboard this hot, heaving hulk.

The
Red Dragon
freed its prisoner the moment it docked, but when Bernard Lamb realized he was on the island of Madagascar he almost went mad with frustration. All his plans had centered on Ceylon and he would not know a moment’s peace until he reached that fatal destination.

On the streets of Cape Amber it took Bernard Lamb less than an hour to learn that ships sailed every day for the Port of Colombo in Ceylon. It took him until nightfall, however, to acquire the money he would need for the
journey. By morning he had enough funds to purchase a stylish tropical wardrobe, a gun, and transportation to Ceylon. The hapless sailor he had robbed lay in an alley with his throat cut.

Bernard Lamb had learned at an early age how deceptive appearances could be. When he reached Colombo, his expensive clothes coupled with his polished manners and air of supreme confidence would get him anything he needed from these colonials. He bought a passage on the most impressive ship in port. It took only days to sail to Colombo, and when he disembarked he appeared to be a man of business. Without hesitation he walked into a small government office to hire a guide to take him to Leopard’s Leap.

The official was most impressed, however, by his name.

“You must be related to the late Lord Russell Lamb who administered the East India Company.”

“Yes, indeed. He was my uncle. As a matter of fact I am here on family business. Could you also supply me with directions to their plantation? My aunt, Lady Lamb, has begged me to come to her aid. It cannot be easy for a woman left widowed and alone here in the Indies.”

“I should say not,” agreed the government clerk. “When Lord Anthony arrived recently, it was a most touching reunion for mother and son.”

“Lord Anthony?” Bernard said doubtfully.

“He, too, needed directions to Government House, so I took him myself. Their plantation is the next one to Leopard’s Leap.”

“How very convenient,” Bernard said silkily. “My cousin Tony is in for quite a surprise.”
So, the young swine still lived and breathed He had more lives than a fucking cat
He had no idea how his cousin had reached Ceylon ahead of him, but it couldn’t have worked out better! Now he would be able to revenge himself on Savage and rid the world once and for all of the present Lord Lamb.

Bernard immediately agreed to accompany the two sepoys
who carried dispatches between Colombo and Government House. The horse he bought for the journey took the last of his money and he was obliged to rely upon the sepoys’ hospitality.

Bernard Lamb hated everything about the tropics with a vengeance. He hated the heat, the insects, the food, the smells, but mostly he hated the natives. The sepoys’ food and drink he was forced to consume were hard enough to swallow, but the thing he found almost intolerable was sharing their drinking cups and utensils. The men sensed his repugnance toward their color. They remained impeccably polite, but they silently marked him as another white bigot.

When Government House came into view on the third day, it was debatable who was more relieved, Bernard Lamb or the sepoys. They bade him good-bye once they passed through the front gates. As his covetous eyes took in the pale pink palatial house a seething resentment gripped him. Why was it some were born to luxury while others had to conspire with the devil himself for every crumb that fell from his table?

As he stood gazing at the splendor he was suddenly filled with a sense of destiny. He knew that his fate lay before him; all he had to do was seize the moment and take it into his own hands. It had been predestined that he come halfway across the world to confront his enemies and forge his future. Bernard Lamb felt fortune take his hand.

A groom came forward to take his horse. A servant bowed low and carried his new traveling bag up the steps. A guard on the front entrance opened the door for him. The turbaned majordomo inquired whom he wished to see.

“I am Lady Lamb’s nephew.” The words were like magic. He was ushered into an opulent receiving room. Two young wallahs in native dress entered the room. One offered a cool drink, the other worked the punkah fan.
Both servants lowered their eyes, then bowed their heads in abject obeisance. Like clockwork, the moment he finished his drink, an inner door swung open to admit a small blond woman. She had a cool elegance that easily made her the most self-possessed female he had ever encountered.

A trick of the light filtering through the jalousies prevented Eve from seeing the young man’s features until she was directly in front of him. Suddenly her coolness evaporated. “You must be Robert’s son. You are the image of your father!”

Bernard experienced a surge of power. For an unguarded moment her emotions had been transparent. Lady Lamb had clearly loved his father. He took immediate advantage. He stepped close, raised her elegant hand to his lips, and said huskily, “My father was madly in love with you until the day he died. Now I know the reason why.”

“Flatterer!” she reprimanded him playfully, but Bernard knew he held her in the palm of his hand. He felt potent enough to step into his sire’s shoes and resume Robert’s relationship with this woman where it had left off.

“My name is Bernard.”

For Eve the years fell away; she was sixteen again. She linked her arm through his intimately, as if they had known each other forever, and drew him into the inner sanctum. “It’s almost time for luncheon and I know how partial men are to food.”

A wallah appeared as if summoned by thought alone. “Put the sahib in the peacock suite.”

Bernard Lamb saw that the luxurious suite had got its name from the cool tiled floor decorated with a magnificent peacock in full display. Three more servants appeared. One drew his bath in the adjoining bathing room, another began to unpack his clothes, a young native girl brought a silver tray with a wine decanter and a crystal
goblet. The manservant who had brought him upstairs made obeisance, murmuring, “If there is anything more you are desiring, sahib, please use the bellpull.”

Bernard pointed a finger at the female. “Her,” he said with authority. The men withdrew, the girl stood motionless with downcast eyes.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

Slowly she raised her eyes. They were liquid with apprehension. Bernard licked his lips. She fulfilled a longtime fantasy. She was a slave girl to do his bidding.

“Take off the sari.”

With reluctant hands the girl obeyed. His gaze slid over the slim body, noting the budding breasts, the tiny mons. She was only just coming into pubescence. He beckoned her with an all-powerful finger.

The look of dread upon her face increased with each slow step. When she was directly in front of him, he lifted her long black hair and wrapped it once about his hand. Too late she realized she was trapped. The fear in her eyes turned to terror as his hand went to his belt and he withdrew his gun. He did not touch her directly, but used the gun as if it were his hand to trace along her cheek and down her throat. Her body began to tremble uncontrollably as he circled her budding breasts with the pistol barrel. When he trailed it down her belly, she pulled away from him in desperation, but he wrenched her back by her hair. She opened her mouth to scream, but the look he gave her made stark fear wedge in her throat, paralyzing her vocal cords.

Her mons was the gun’s final resting place. Bernard inserted the tip. Her eyes went glassy. He pulled the trigger. The gun clicked. It took an endless minute before she realized the gun was not loaded. Bernard began to laugh. When he removed his hand from her hair, she collapsed onto her knees in a huddled heap.

He looked down at her with glittering eyes and took the bullets from his pocket. “Little wog, I wouldn’t soil my
prick with you, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy fun and games.”

Eve gave instructions that luncheon must not be served until her guest came downstairs. Anthony arrived in the dining room at lunchtime and sat scribbling notes in a journal he had begun. The plantation’s crops fascinated him to the point where he had begun their serious study. Almost an hour elapsed before it dawned on him that no food had been served. He arose from the table to seek out his mother.

“There you are, Anthony. I have a wonderful surprise.”

At that moment their guest descended the stairs, heard Eve’s voice, and came into the salon.

“Your cousin Bernard has just arrived from England. Bernard, this is my son, Lord Anthony.”

Bernard’s eyes smiled at the familiar face before him. Everything about the tall young man was acutely familiar, from the clubbed-back dark curls to the wide green eyes, yet Bernard knew he had never set eyes on him before in his life.

Anthony stuck out a welcoming hand. “This is an unexpected pleasure. How ironic we meet halfway around the world.”

“It must be destiny,” Bernard replied smoothly. He was fascinated. Even the husky drawl was the same, yet not the same. “Forgive me for staring. Do you have a brother?”

“A sister,” Anthony replied, “a twin sister. People insist they can’t tell us apart.” It was a family joke, of course.

Bernard shared in mother and son’s friendly laughter, but his mind flashed about like quicksilver. Was it possible that the Lord Lamb he had stalked with the nine lives was a bitch impersonating her twin? He could only conclude that it was a distinct possibility. Women were devious enough for any deception. He added another name to the growing list of enemies he would take pleasure in eliminating.

“What brings you to Ceylon?” Anthony asked with genuine interest.

Bernard had had three months to weave plausible tales of why he was in the Indies. He had a facile tongue and quite enjoyed piling one lie on top of another. Living by one’s wit provided both excitement and satisfaction. “I’m thinking of investing in a plantation. A friend of mine, Adam Savage, has a place called Leopard’s Leap, on the market.”

“Oh, Lord, I wish I had the resources to buy the place. I’m over there nearly every day. It covers over twenty thousand acres and I swear every plant flourishes. The crops are abundant because it’s been nourished with love and care for a decade. It’s not just the things that are grown, even the people thrive at Leopard’s Leap.”

The expression upon Eve’s face did not change, but her mind raced about. So, Savage was selling the place after all. Obviously he must have decided his future lay in London. The question was, would he return for her? Actually, the longer he stayed away, the richer she became. In the months since he had departed she regularly used his ship to sell valuable cargoes in Canton. Her connection with Raja Singh and his whole household had proved invaluable. They were so addicted to hunting, they had five hundred beaters;

Eve found a ready market in Canton for almost anything they captured dead or alive. The jackal had a small horn on its skull covered by hair. It brought a high price because it was considered a magic charm that restored men’s potency. Birds, too, were a good source of income. Toucans and parrots were caged, peacocks and egrets were valuable only for their feathers. Even snakes brought in money; pythons for their exotic skins, cobras for snake and mongoose fights. Civet cats provided musk glands and leopard provided exotic spotted pelts. She did not hesitate to take ivory tusks from the Raja’s emissary. She simply marked the shipping crates
RATTAN.

On a recent visit to the mainland Eve had been introduced to Sir John Macpherson. England’s Prime Minister Pitt had appointed him to India after his invaluable service in America during the War of Independence. She had had him eating out of her hand and had invited him to come for a visit to Ceylon. She knew he would come. He was the sort of man who really appealed to her. He was predictable, he was also an earl. Eve smiled a secret smile. Second Earl Cornwallis. He had surrendered to Washington at Yorktown, and if she chose, he would surrender to Eve at Ceylon.

Her mind came back to her present guest and she found herself wondering what he would be like in bed. Not easily controlled, she thought shrewdly.

Anthony and Bernard were making plans to ride over to Leopard’s Leap.

“The man the Company put in charge is called Denville. I’ll introduce you to him. He’s really a decent fellow. He admitted freely I couldn’t learn much about tea and rubber from him, that it’s the Tamils who have the expertise, so I learn by watching them. It’s absolutely fascinating.”

Eve caught Bernard’s eye. “Enthusiasm is quite out of style, but my son doesn’t seem to care. One-day I expect him to take up residence over there.”

“Well, I must have caught his enthusiasm. I can’t wait to explore this legendary Leopard’s Leap and learn the secrets of its success.”

“It will take weeks to see it all, and then beyond the plantation there is the jungle to explore,” Anthony explained.

“This time, be sure to take your gun along, darling,” she reminded her son. She put down her napkin and a servant was at her elbow immediately, holding her chair so she could arise. She glanced at Bernard. “A man isn’t much
use in the Indies without a loaded gun.” The sexuality implicit in the remark was lost on Anthony as he gathered up his notes.