by Maya Banks
“What happened?” he asked, his eyes examining her as if searching for some sign of injury.
She scrambled to sit up so as not to be at a disadvantage, and who wouldn’t be with him so close? “I went to see Artemis. I wanted to show him the bracelet. He gave me some information.”
She reached into her shirt and pulled out the papers. Her hands trembled as she smoothed the ruffled edges.
Ridge smoothed his hand over hers, picking up her fingers, caressing them softly.
She tried to ignore the sharp tingles that shot up her arm, just as she avoided his gaze. Instead, she concentrated on the papers in front of her, and hoped her voice came out normal. “When I left, the man who broke into my house was there. He called out to me, and I ran. He chased me, but I was able to escape.”
Ridge cursed then stood and began pacing in front of her.
“I know it was foolish,” she murmured. “I should have waited for you, but I didn’t think.”
“I’ll post more footmen around the perimeter of the house. Our man is rather determined, and he may try to break in again.”
India nodded.
“Are you all right?” he asked, as he bent over her again.
He cupped her cheek in his palm and forced her gaze upwards.
“I’m fine,” she said. And she was. Now that she was here. With him.
He stood and began pacing in front of her. He stopped and focused the full force of his stare on her. “That was the most bloody irresponsible thing I’ve ever encountered.”
Her eyes widened in shock.
“Aside from the fact that you took unnecessary risks with the only means we have of finding the city, you could have been killed.”
She bristled at his high-handed tone. “I am perfectly able to take care of myself. I’ve been doing so without you my entire life.”
He didn’t even address her comment. “Don’t leave without me again. We made an agreement to be partners. I can’t protect you if I’m not with you.”
He finished fiercely, and a warm curl bubbled in her stomach up into her chest quickly overriding her irritation.
She stared at him for a long moment. “Oh all right,” she grumbled.
“So, when do we leave?” a man drawled from the doorway.
Chapter Twelve
Ridge turned to see Robby standing in the doorway, hands stuffed into his pockets. He looked like hell, and his timing was rotten.
“Am I interrupting?” Robby asked, casting a curious glance at India.
“Not at all,” India said, rising from the settee and standing stiffly by Ridge.
She was obviously embarrassed.
“Are you unwell, Robby?” Ridge asked, ignoring the question.
His brother’s eyes were bloodshot, his hair in disarray, and he looked haggard. Tired. Desperately tired.
“Rough night at the gaming hell,” Robby said with a shrug. “So, when do we leave? My trunk is in the foyer.”
“Uh well, I haven’t yet discussed with India the final preparations, and in light of this morning’s events, I feel compelled to rearrange our plans.”
India’s eyes darted up to him, questions burning in their depths.
“Ahh, I am interrupting then,” Robby said with a lazy grin.
“Come in and sit down,” Ridge muttered, waving an irritated hand at his younger brother.
Robby sauntered over and slouched into an armchair. He stretched his hands over the arms and drummed his fingers over the material.
“So what events made you rearrange your plans?” Robby asked.
Ridge looked down at India, hoping to ease her tension. “Please, sit,” he murmured.
She looked fragile, as if she could break at the slightest touch, yet he knew there was a thread of steal underneath her skin. He wondered if her captivity had strengthened or weakened her.
He saw resolve. Unrelenting resolve. Each time he looked at her. She was more driven than any person he’d ever become acquainted with, and yet she was a mere wisp of a woman. Soft.
His hands ached to touch her, to offer comfort to her. He had the most irrational desire to shield her, protect her, and yet he knew she needed no such thing from him. Nor did she want it.
She sank back down on the settee, but he saw her legs still shook. The image of her running scared through the streets of London tightened his chest. He felt fear, and he was unaccustomed to that emotion.
Clenching his fingers into fists, he turned to Robby, needing the distraction his brother offered.
“A man tried to harm India today. It’s not the first time. He’s broken into both our residences.”
Robby’s eyebrows shot up. “The devil you say! What on earth does he want?”
“I believe he wants what information we have on Pagoria.”
“That city’s becoming a dreadful nuisance,” Robby grumbled.
Ridge sat down in the chair between the settee where India sat and the armchair where Robby was sprawled. “We can’t just waltz out of London on the first ship to Spain. He’s likely watching our every move.”
India nodded her agreement, her expression wry.
“What do you suggest then? It’s a bit of a swim if you don’t mind me saying,” Robby said dryly.
Ridge rolled his eyes at his brother’s attempt at wit. “We need a diversion. Someway to make our man think we’ve gone somewhere else.”
He rubbed his chin for a moment then eyed India. “It might delay our departure a bit, but I believe I might have an idea.”
She leaned forward, her eyes bright with interest.
“We send Robby, Udaya and Kavi ahead to Brighton to wait for us. You and I secure passage on a ship to America. Even board, in plain sight. Then somehow, we sneak off the ship and travel to Brighton where we take a ship to San Sebastian.
“It will appear as though we’ve sailed to America, and perhaps it will throw off our persistent attacker.”
“Why do I miss out on all the excitement?” Robby muttered. “And who is Udaya and Kavi?”
“They are my family,” India said quietly.
“What do you think?” Ridge asked India, ignoring Robby’s question.
“It could work,” she said slowly. “At this point, we must try something. Simply boarding a ship to San Sebastian is out of the question.”
Ridge eyed Robby. “Can you travel discreetly to Brighton with India’s companions?”
Robby gave him a mock hurt look. “As if I would do something that would bring you harm.”
“Are you sure you want to do this, Robby?”
Ridge wondered if Robby realized the magnitude of this journey or if he considered it a lark. He was inclined to believe the latter.
He glanced over at India who was regarding Robby doubtfully. She probably thought him careless for allowing Robby to go, but he couldn’t very well say no. There had been something in Robby’s eyes when he had asked to go. Something that struck a chord deep within Ridge. Something he was almost afraid to examine.
“I’m certain,” Robby said quietly. “I know how important this is to you, Ridge. To you both,” he quickly amended, looking apologetically at India. “I wouldn’t do anything to ruin it for either of you.”
Ridge nodded, satisfied with his answer. “Then we need to start planning. You will need to depart with Udaya and Kavi soon.”
“How soon?” Robby asked.
“Tomorrow.” He looked to India for confirmation. “Can Kavi and Udaya depart on such notice?”
She nodded. “I’ll speak to them tonight and tell them of our plan.”
“While I was at the docks today, I saw a ship set to sail to America in the morning. I’ll send a footman to purchase passage for us both immediately. In the meantime, we must take care not to leave ourselves open to attack.”
He looked pointedly at her, and her cheeks reddened.
“Now what did Artemis give you that was of such impor
t?”
She glanced down at the papers still clenched in her hand. An uneasy feeling swept over him, a niggling of doubt that he quickly shoved aside when she looked back at him, her eyes clear of any deception.
Why had she chosen to go alone to see the book seller when they had visited him just the day before? It was a question that had nagged him since her return.
“I haven’t had time to examine them,” she said huskily. “He said it was all his notes on Pagoria. He wanted me to have them rather than them fall in the wrong hands.”
“May I see them?”
He held out a hand, his question a silent test. But she leaned forward, scooting to the edge of the settee and handed them over without hesitation. He was being insensible. Clearly she was hiding nothing from him. It was a ridiculous assumption on his part.
Instead of looking at the scribbles, he directed his gaze at her. “Shall we go over them together?”
“You look. I’ll go inform Kavi and Udaya of our plan so that they make ready.”
She rose and gave him a half-smile then left the room.
Ridge watched her go, then turned his attention to the pages in his hand. He leaned back in his chair and thumbed through them, looking for anything of interest. If he hoped to scan over them quickly, he was disappointed. The script was small, barely legible. The pages were full, no space unwritten on. He pulled his spectacles from his pocket and put them on.
Robby cleared his throat and shifted restlessly in his chair. Ridge looked up at him.
“If you’re going to bury your nose in those, I’m going to retire. It appears I have a long journey ahead of me tomorrow.”
Without waiting for a reply, Robby rose awkwardly from his chair. His face paled and he wavered before regaining his balance.
Ridge was on his feet in a second. “Are you unwell, Robby? Perhaps it would be better if you remained behind.”
Robby forced a smile and drug a hand through his hair. “Just dove a little too deep into my cups last night. Nothing a good night’s rest won’t cure. I’ll see you in the morning?”
Ridge frowned but nodded. He watched as Robby shuffled to the door, his gait stiff and slow. His brother was obviously miserable, and he had no doubt Lucinda was to blame for that fact. Damn the woman. She was poison of the worst order.
His chest hurt over the pain he saw in his brother’s eyes. All the anger he had felt over what he perceived as Robby’s betrayal of him had evaporated the day in White’s where he had seen the full scope of Robby’s unhappiness.
Why had Lucinda jilted him for Robby if she didn’t love him? Was she merely playing a sick jest? Playing the brothers against each other? It was she who had come out the loser, because she had neither a title nor money, and she was a woman who needed much more than Robby could provide her.
It made no sense.
Clenching his fists around the pages, he sat back down in his chair. He read through the first page, confused by the jumble of thoughts, ideas, snippets of information. In random order. Impossible to sort out in a timely manner.
He sighed in frustration. Nothing was going according to plan. Not that he really had a plan, but he hadn’t envisioned it being this difficult. It was as if he had opened Pandora’s Box by embarking on this quest for Pagoria.
Pagoria. No way to explain why it ate at his soul. Why it called to him as it did. Had done since he was a child. Ever since he’d found a journal in his father’s library. The legend had come alive in his mind, fueled his imagination, and formed in him a dream that wouldn’t die.
“Find anything interesting?”
He looked up to see India standing in the doorway, her hand resting on the frame.
“I haven’t looked beyond the first page,” he admitted. “It’s quite the jumble.”
She walked forward and settled onto the settee, curling her feet underneath her. It was a decidedly unladylike pose, but it seemed entirely natural that she had done it. Her fingers went to the curls at her ears, and she cocked her head at an angle as she twirled a strand of midnight hair.
He watched in fascination. Everything about her was attention getting. He could no more explain his attraction to her than he could his passion for Pagoria, but the two seemed so wildly intermixed now that he hadn’t a hope of disentangling himself.
“Shall I sit beside you so we may look over your book seller’s notes?”
He cursed the odd catch in his voice. She reduced him to a school boy, nervous and awkward. His hand reached automatically for his spectacles, and he slid them off as he rose.
“Why do you do that?” she asked, her expression curious.
“Do what?” he asked, as he settled beside her.
He forced himself to relax, fighting the urge to fidget.
“Remove your spectacles every time I’m around.”
He swallowed. “Habit, I suppose. I hadn’t realized I did so.”
Liar.
“I like them,” she said simply. “They make you look very distinguished.”
She reached for his hand and gently took the spectacles from his grasp. She unfolded them and carefully placed them on his nose, making sure the arms tucked behind his ears. Then she smiled. A gorgeous, breath taking smile.
He groaned deep and low in his chest and swallowed again to keep the sound from escaping. Her lips danced in his direct line of vision, temptation, ripe and succulent. He now knew how Adam must have felt in the Garden of Eden.
“You’ve never told me how you became so interested in Pagoria,” she said, breaking silence.
He cleared his throat and shifted slightly away from her.
“I gather it’s not something your family was interested in.”
He snorted. “You could say that. My father has made it his mission in life to castigate me at every turn because my interest lies somewhere other than the earldom.”
“You don’t want to be the next earl?” she asked with a raised brow.
He shoved his hand in his hair in agitation. “I am well aware of my duty. Of my birthright. It is not something I would ever shirk, though my father seems to believe otherwise. And as much as I like to needle him, I am well aware of my responsibilities. I merely happen to believe that my interests do not conflict with my future as the Earl of Dryesdale. My father does not agree.”
India took the papers from his hand and shuffled through them. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“I am too.”
Silence fell once more. Then the sounds of rustling as India sorted through the book seller’s notes.
“Interesting.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “What’s interesting?”
“Some of the ideas on Pagoria’s origins.”
“What does it say?” he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. He leaned over so he could see over her shoulder.
“What do you know about Pagoria?” she asked. “Or what do you believe? Perhaps that is a better question.”
“Perhaps they are two very separate questions,” he offered.
He felt a familiar surge of excitement as his thoughts turned to the lost city. It was rare indeed to have someone to discuss his views with, and even if India disagreed with him, he knew she was at least interested.
She nodded. “All right. Then what do you know about Pagoria?”
“Not much,” he said ruefully. “As I’m sure you’re aware, there is frightfully little in the way of information. There is plenty of speculation, but to the best of my knowledge, the only things I can discern is that the city probably existed a thousand or so years before the birth of Christ. Their language is obscure, known only to them. It is unclear how it is spoken since their written language is pictorial in nature. It was a small city, dependant largely on localized agriculture. No known trade partners. The few artifacts that have been uncovered all have one thing in common. Their color.”
She nodded. “Blue.”
“Yes.”
“And what do you believe about Pagoria?”
He drew in a breath, wondering just how much he should share with her. The last thing he wanted was for her to think him daft. She’d likely take the next coach home and forget all about helping him find the city.
“I believe there was something special about it,” he began.
Her gaze sharpened, her eyes focusing harder on his face. “How so?”
“I don’t know exactly. There is so much mystery surrounding it. And why? What makes it different than any other ancient city?”
He paused for a moment to slow down, his passion for the subject tumbling out as he warmed to the subject.
“There is much written about the great cities in history. And the smaller, more insignificant ones. But nothing to lead us to believe Pagoria ever existed. And yet, stories of its existence have lived for centuries. Actual artifacts uncovered, in several countries. Spread out across the world. Their language deciphered.” He cast her an admiring glance. “I’ve yet to know how you managed it.”
A small smile turned the corners of her lips up. “I fear I cannot claim brilliance. My father found a primer some years ago.”
He gazed at her in astonishment. “A primer? You actually found a primer? How is it no one knows? This might single handedly authenticate Pagoria’s existence, and yet your father did nothing?”
She raised a brow at his vehemence. “Tell me, Lord Ridgewood. Would your opinion change much if my father had produced this primer? Would those of your colleagues change? Or would they attribute it to a man obsessed with proving himself, so much so that he might produce a false artifact?”
“Would it matter?” He asked the question before he could call it back.
“Yes, I’m afraid it would. To him,” she amended. “He is—was a very proud man. He wanted to find the city, not produce a primer that many would say was an effort of a desperate man.”
Ridge shook his head. “And this primer? Do you have it?”
“No,” she said softly. “I can only assume it disappeared when he died.”
She averted her eyes, and he felt a twinge of guilt for berating a dead man. Her father. A man she obviously loved very much.
“But back to your thoughts,” she spoke up. “You were saying what you believed about Pagoria.”