Her discomposure must be blatantly evident if Patrick, who never noticed anything about her, commented on it, she thought in exasperation. "No, I'm just feeling the heat. It seems worse since the rains came." She jumped up from her chair and bid Patrick good night.
She would get over this craving, she thought desperately. She was not an animal.
Yet her body's response to Ruel was like that of an animal in heat. There was not a moment in his presence she was not aware of him. When she had met his gaze in the temple she had felt a melting, a yielding that had frightened her.
She would ignore it and eventually this hunger would go away.
Dear God, it had to go away.
. . .
Ruel carefully placed the toy in a large box and then wrapped the package in bright crimson velvet and tied it with a flamboyant white satin bow.
An hour later he handed the package to the head footman at the palace, together with an extravagant bribe and the promise of an even bigger one if the maharajah received the gift at once.
He then went back to the hotel to wait for events to take their course.
The message came the next morning in the form of a summons from the palace to appear immediately for an audience with the Maharajah Dulai Savitsar.
An hour later he was ushered into the reception chamber to find the maharajah kneeling on the floor, the toy board on the carpet before him. The maharajah's small, plump frame was garbed in a brilliant red brocade tunic and white silk trousers, and he bore little resemblance to his son, Abdar. Gray peppered the ruler's bushy mustache and sleek black hair and, at that moment, there was no trace of Abdar's blank impassiveness about his father's demeanor. He was clearly displeased.
"You're this Ruel MacClaren?" The maharajah didn't wait for an answer but went on peevishly. "I'm very angry with you. It does not work There's something wrong with it."
The four-foot board at which he was staring was a representation of a jungle with each tree, bush, flower, and animal exquisitely crafted and amazingly lifelike. The central figure on the board was a tiny maharajah wearing a gold tunic and tiny bejeweled crown. Ian had told Ruel that Namir had worked a year creating this elaborate toy and had found it necessary to substitute only a few of the figures to suit Ruel's requirements.
"You see?" The maharajah pressed the mechanism.
A lion sprang at the tiny crowned figure, appeared to just miss him, but really triggered another mechanism, causing the maharajah to rise in the air and be lost to view behind the foliage of the branches of a tree. This action in turn triggered another mechanism that caused a figure identical to the first maharajah to spring down on the other side of the tree to stand before a rhinoceros. The rhinoceros charged and the second royal figure rose to be lost to view in the next tree. The motion of attack and evasion continued across the board, using various animals and reptiles with the tiny maharajah always evading the threat until he reached the edge of the board which resembled a high cliff. The final mechanism sent the maharajah hurtling into the air and then stopped, suspended over the abyss.
"Look at that. He just hangs there like an overripe pomegranate," the maharajah complained. "Everyone knows a maharajah must always triumph against fate. It is most unsatisfying."
"That's because you don't have the other part of the toy."
The maharajah looked up quickly. "What other part?"
Ruel pointed to the almost invisible slots in the side of the toy. "The second half of the toy slides in here. The maharajah survives the fall from the cliff and lands before a tiger, then springs into another tree and then lands on the back of a magnificent white elephant, where he is safe at last."
The maharajah's eyes brightened. "An elephant?"
"A white elephant. What other animal is worthy to bear a maharajah?"
"That's what I told my High Adviser, but they cannot find a real one for me. They keep making excuses." He frowned with dissatisfaction at the figure hanging over the cliff. "I must have the other part of the toy. What kind of man are you to give me only half a gift?"
"But an extraordinary gift, one worthy of Your Majesty's cleverness. I saw it in the shop and knew instantly it was fit only for a man of your taste and intelligence."
"But I need the other part."
"I'm searching for it now. Unfortunately, I seem to have misplaced it."
The maharajah's gaze narrowed on Ruel's face. "And what would it take to help you find it?" He sighed. "I suppose you wish me to give you a present in return? Everyone wants something from me. What do you want me to give you?"
"Sell, not give. You own a small island in the Indian Ocean called Cinnidar I wish to purchase. I'll give you forty thousand pounds for it."
"Cinnidar? I do not recall . . ." He impatiently waved a plump, dimpled hand. "It cannot be very important if I don't remember the place. I will ask my adviser if you offer a fair price. Meanwhile, you will continue to look for the other half of the toy?"
"Diligently. May I call on you tomorrow with word of my progress?"
"Yes, yes." The maharajah turned back to the jungle board, pressed the button to reset the mechanism, and watched enraptured as the lion rose in the air. "Tomorrow."
Hallelujah, Ruel thought jubilantly as he walked down the palace steps. It was only the first step but a damn big one. All the prospects looked bright. Even the rain that had been pouring down when he entered the palace had temporarily stopped. The murky sky would no doubt soon open up again, but it was still a good sign.
"The hotel, sahib?" the bearer asked as he climbed into the ricksha.
"Yes." Then on impulse he said, "No." He was brimming with hope he wanted to share but suddenly he knew it was not with Ian he wanted to share it. "Take me to the bungalow of Sahib Reilly."
The cobra wove back and forth, his onyx eyes fixed malevolently on the dog excitedly darting back and forth directly in front of him.
Dear God, don't let him strike, Jane prayed as she edged inside the stable door. She carefully set the bowl of scraps she'd brought for Sam on the floor and reached for the knife in her boot.
The snake was coiled in the middle of the stable directly in front of Bedelia's stall. If he didn't strike at the yapping dog dancing in front of him, he might turn on the mare.
"For God's sake, hush, Sam," she breathed.
The idiotic dog paid no attention to her, of course. His barking grew more shrill as the snake suddenly arched to a height of nearly four feet.
The blasted cobra must be at least ten feet long. If he launched that length at Sam, the dog would never be able to evade him. She glanced impatiently down at the knife in her hand and tossed it aside. A dagger would be no good as a weapon against the snake. To use it she would have to be too close. That pitchfork propped against the wall would be much more effective.
She froze as the snake's head swiveled in her direction. Her heart was thundering so hard it seemed louder than the uproar Sam was making. Though she was beyond the cobra's reach, fear still iced through her as she was pinned by those beady eyes.
Sam bounced to one side and the cobra's head swung toward him.