“I thought you might,” Julian gestured with his glass. “Miss Phillips and Mrs. Fairmonte have both endured quite enough without having to trek deeper into the wilds of India.”
Simon found himself warming up to Professor Julian Thorne rather quickly.
“Go on,” Simon said.
“You seem to be an intelligent, able chap,” Thorne said with his characteristic frankness. “What do you think of Sir Jon’s expedition?”
Simon considered his next words carefully, acutely aware that Professor Julian Thorne, as a prominent member of the Asiatic Society and the scholarly community, had the potential to destroy Sir Jon’s career with little more than pen and paper.
“I think the Black Pagoda is nothing more than local legend,” Simon started. “And while legends frequently have tenuous roots in fact, I have little reason to believe we’ll find more than mosquitoes and mud in Konark.”
Julian rose and began pacing. “But what if it’s not just a legend, Ashford? What if something really is there?”
Simon grimaced to himself. The man was as touched in the head as Sir Jon. “If we find something, it’d take an army to dig it up.”
“Yes,” Julian’s expression danced. “I have an associate here in Puri—a wonderful Hindi gentleman who is an invaluable resource when it comes to the delightful details of Indian folklore. According to him, the temple rumored to lie beneath Konark was a giant chariot standing aloft twenty-four wheels and pulled by seven great horses.
“Imagine, Ashford, friezes and statues so perfectly carved, so detailed, that they look ready to come alive and greet you. A find like that would take decades just to uncover and catalog.”
Simon was still not convinced. “I don’t know many scholars and diggers who want to spend a lifetime in search of what might be little more than a fairytale.”
“If there was something there...I think I could convince the Asiatic Society to secure the location and safeguard the research,” Julian said simply.
“You mean they’d call on the East India Company’s troops to clean out the pirates and smugglers residing in Konark,” Simon stated frankly.
Julian nodded. “Yes. And even then it would be a major undertaking—we would need investors, the right scholars, local workers, etcetera...” he looked at Simon, his gaze clear and direct, “...Sir Jon is in no condition to head an expedition of that size.”
Simon took a handful of grapes and considered how much he wanted to share with Professor Thorne. “Sir Jon is a celebrated scholar,” he said coolly. “I see no reason to doubt his capabilities.”
Julian scoffed. “I pegged you as loyal,” he said. “I like that. But it’s clear that the man, for all his brilliance, lives in a bottle. He’s dry for the moment, since he was worried over you and Miss Phillips, but I suspect neither of us would wager money on it lasting.”
“You don’t miss much, do you?” Simon said.
Professor Thorne shook off the compliment. “If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say those two lovely granddaughters of his have been responsible for his scholarly endeavors for at least a couple of years now.”
“Assuming you’re correct...” Simon nodded carefully, “...why are you telling me this?”
Julian Thorne exhaled sharply and crossed the room to a trunk in the corner. He lifted the lid and rummaged around, an excited energy charging his movements. He pulled out an item swathed in plain, sturdy cotton.
“I know a man,” Julian said. “He sells curiosities—probably stolen, mind you. Anytime he finds something, let’s say unusual, he brings it to me. Lately he’s mentioned a site near Konark where he’s found some most interesting pieces. This is one of them.
“I don’t think Sir Jon is chasing a legend,” he said, placing the item on the desk and gesturing for Simon to open the bundle. “I think there’s something there.”
Simon worked at the knots. “But you don’t believe he’s up to the task,” he said.
“He’s not,” Julian agreed. “But we are.”
Simon gaped at the figure he unwrapped. It was large enough to fill both his hands, the heavy, thick sandstone polished so perfectly that it glowed in the dubious light of the study. The carving was of an elephant—its ears flopped wide and its front leg turned so perfectly Simon had to marvel at the talent of its maker. In fact, it was so expertly sculpted that it seemed as though it might trumpet in delight and start parading about the study.
Simon felt his breath catch. “I’ve never seen its kind,” he murmured. “It’s exquisite. But that doesn’t mean—”
Julian wagged a finger as though he’d anticipated the skepticism. “True.” He rose and retrieved another bundle, this one secreted behind the large settee in the corner.
Simon gingerly set the elephant down and took the heavy bundle Julian handed him. Wrapped as tightly as the first, it held a dancing girl, expertly rendered. The details of her dress, the rings on her toes, were utterly breathtaking. Her hip jutted out coquettishly and a coy smile played on her lips, challenging Simon to deny her beauty.
“They were found near each other,” Julian mused, sipping his brandy. “In the jungle surrounding Konark. There’s no one in Puri or Pipli crafting at this level, and no modern craftsman would bother fashioning such masterpieces in the middle of nowhere. These were made for a king. For a shrine.”
Simon sighed and set the dancing girl by the elephant. “This proves nothing,” he argued. “We both know ancient statues pop up from time to time—funeral art in Egypt, gold masks in Greece, elephants and dancing girls in India. I don’t think we can assume that they come from a legendary temple.”
“You haven’t seen the best one yet,” Julian said excitedly. He moved his chair and kicked up the edge of the rug to reveal a door hidden in the floorboards. “The Portuguese who settled here long ago kept all sorts of little hidey holes,” he commented absently. “Very convenient.”
He pulled out yet another bundle and presented it to Simon with a flourish. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said, as he busied himself straightening the rug.
Simon shook his head but began unwrapping. Clearly Professor Julian Thorne was as determined as Sir Jon to hunt down a myth. As the rough cotton fell away, however, Simon felt his protests fading. The stone carving was clearly part of a frieze—there was no doubt that this was meant as part of a larger work—and it was...it was...
“Obscene,” Simon said softly. Two figures, a man and a woman, were engaged in the act of lovemaking. In a very imaginative position.
Julian nodded eagerly. “It’s an image from the Kama Sutra. This was found near the other two pieces, all within a kilometer of each other, and all near Konark.”
Simon couldn’t take his eyes off the naughty couple. There was no denying that this level of artistry would only have been commissioned by the wealthiest patrons, possibly nobility, and for display in a shrine or a temple. The graphic, erotic imagery reminded him of the sculptures he’d seen at Muketsvara Temple in Bhubaneswar.
But Thorne wasn’t done. “As recently as the fifteenth century, Portuguese traders sailing the Bay of Bengal mention in their ship logs that a great temple stood at what must be present-day Konark,” he said excitedly. “It was visible from the water and was sometimes used as a navigational point. The dark color of the stone led sailors to name it ‘Black Pagoda.’”
“If,” Simon said slowly, still not ready to believe it, “...if the Black Pagoda is there...what are your intentions regarding Sir Jon? Few scholars would be willing to share the fame and fortune that would come with a discovery this big.”
“Sir Jon has the prestige that a man can only get over years of study,” Julian said without malice. “While my own reputation is healthy, it still lacks the influence that someone of Sir Jon’s experience is granted.”
Simon picked up on Thorne
’s train of thought. “Sir Jon would need only a few quality pieces to get the Asiatic Society behind him. Whereas a lesser known scholar would need...the entire temple?”
“Exactly,” Julian agreed heartily. “And while I’d like him to be my mentor, to study the site under his tutelage—thereby solidifying my own standing—I hardly feel compelled to follow an aged drunkard into the jungle.”
“Which is why we are having this very frank discussion,” Simon finished.
“Yes. And it’s not merely my own safety I’m considering,” Thorne said simply. “Konark is dangerous, even in the day.”
Simon waited, watching Thorne. The other man shifted uncomfortably in his seat, then blurted out, “Mrs. Fairmonte seems determined to go where her family goes. My protests will carry little weight, and while I can hardly blame her since we’re only just acquainted, I don’t want her going after this. Konark isn’t safe.
“In my discussions with Sir Jon over the last day and a half, it’s become apparent that Miss Phillips is the driving force behind the expedition.” Julian cleared his throat. “If you can convince Miss Phillips to stay here, Jane—er, Mrs. Fairmonte—will likely follow suit.”
“I’m certain you’re correct,” Simon sighed tiredly. “Jane is extremely devoted to her cousin. However, I have little influence over Miss Phillips or her decisions. I can stall her—the festival will be enough to keep them occupied for a few days—but I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”
“Perhaps we could go down to the site,” Julian mused, “and scout things out before the festival is over, then.”
Simon perked up as he considered Julian’s plan. “So while Sir Jon and his granddaughters take in the festival, we nip off to Konark to do the dirty work without worrying that Georgiana and Jane will be carried off by pirates or tigers or whatever else is out there.”
“Precisely,” Julian nodded.
“What if we don’t find anything?”
Julian blew out a deep breath. “If we don’t find anything, we give Sir Jon the pieces I already have. He can submit those to the Asiatic Society as his evidence. It might be enough for them to go ahead with an exploratory study. If nothing comes of it, you can take the little party back to the safety of Cuttack.”
“How well do you trust your curiosities’ man?” Simon asked.
Julian made a face. “He’s a smuggler, but he doesn’t seem malicious. And he has no understanding of what he may be sitting on. He told me he only goes near Konark when he’s desperate for money. I’ve offered him a generous sum to guide us to his treasure trove.”
Simon mulled this over. “All right,” he said at last. “I’m game.”
It was another hour before they had hashed out the details of their excursion, and by the time they had it all in hand, Simon had a deep respect for Professor Julian Thorne. He had a keen mind and a genuine heart—and a growing affection for Mrs. Jane Fairmonte. Simon decided he’d do whatever he could to encourage the match, including keeping one Miss Georgiana Phillips from meddling.
Finally Julian rang for a servant to lead Simon to his chamber. As they waited, Julian explained, “I decided to put you in the east wing, Ashford. I hope you don’t mind morning sun.”
“Not at all,” Simon said.
“I think you’ll be pleased,” Julian continued. “You’ll especially like the balcony—Portuguese architecture at its finest. Wonderful view, I’m sure. Make sure to take a quick peek tonight.”
Simon gave him a polite nod and then followed the young native boy who’d come to escort him, but he was too busy considering how best to find Georgiana’s room to give a damn about some moldering balcony.
He reached his room where he gratefully took a quick bath, cleaned his teeth, and changed into fresh clothes. Now, where would he find his stubborn princess? He was just about to his chamber door to scour the palazzo for her when he stopped and really considered his host’s words. Julian Thorne was not the type to wax poetic over a view.
Curious, he changed course and strode back past the bed to the latticed doors that led to the balcony. Simon opened the doors and stepped out into the fragrant night air. What he saw made him very nearly burst out laughing.
He liked Julian Thorne better each moment.
Simon’s room shared a balcony with the room next door, and the view was indeed stunning. Through the intricate lattice of her door, he could see his beloved lounging in the bath, thoroughly enjoying the moment. She’d leaned her head against the back of the tub, eyes closed and utterly content.
Simon entered the room quietly. The heavy, intoxicating smell of orchids hit him with such force that his stomach muscles clenched. Feeling like a thief in the night but not really caring, he forced his breathing to a calm as he took in every luscious curve. Georgiana’s thick, glossy hair was piled high in a messy sort of bun, and Simon’s fingers itched to take it down, to play with the silky strands.
Unable to stop himself, he looked at her wrist. The cotton band he’d tied there last night was still in place. His heart galloped in his chest and he shoved down the nearly overwhelming urge to just seize her.
Impatient to talk to her, to touch her, Simon let his next footfall scrape lightly, alerting her to his presence. Sure enough, a bright violet eye fluttered open taking his measure before closing again.
“I assume you let yourself in through the balcony,” she said haughtily.
“I did,” he confessed. He kneeled at the side of the tub and plucked at a fragrant petal floating on the surface. He began drawing circles with it, making small eddies in the water.
“I don’t suppose it will do me any good to remind you that you were not invited into my bedchamber?”
“It won’t,” he agreed.
“You’re wasting your time.” She closed her eye again and shifted in the tub. “Believe it or not, you’re not irresistible. So whatever you want, the answer is no,” she offered smartly.
“You don’t even know what I’m asking for,” he pointed out.
Simon leaned in closer. He ran the petal down her throat, across the creamy flesh exposed just above the water. Slowly his hand dipped below the surface, tracing the valley between her breasts. Georgiana inhaled sharply. Deep violet peeked through her black lashes, revealing a glimmer that gave Simon a sense of joy he had never known before.
“I think I can guess,” she murmured smugly.
“I think your guess will be wrong,” Simon said softly, letting his hand sketch a path down her abdomen to the softest part of her. She leaned her head back and sighed as his fingertips danced over her tender folds, and it took a minute for Simon to corral his scattered wits. She jumped a little as he stroked a particularly tender spot.
“See,” he murmured in her ear. “You’re much too sore for that.”
He caressed her gently, waiting for realization to dawn. When it did, her eyes popped open wide. Her cheeks grew rosy, and it took most of his willpower not to jump into the bath with her, fully clothed.
Georgiana shook her head, as though trying to clear her thoughts. “So, what are you asking for, Simon?”
Still stroking her, Simon said coyly, “May I have a goodnight kiss?”
“I suppose that’s not unreasonable,” she whispered. “One kiss.”
Leaning over her, he let his lips barely skim her mouth. Georgiana’s eyelids fluttered shut. Her breathing became ragged and tense, and he knew it was time to retreat before he lost complete control. So he slowly withdrew his hand, letting it skate along her body as he removed it from the water. Then he very gently, very deliberately planted a soft kiss on the silky skin of her forehead.
“Good night, Princess,” he murmured.
Georgiana’s eyes flew open, surprised and full of unsated desire. Simon grinned at her. Then, before she had time to react, he turned on his heel toward th
e balcony. He was just fast enough to avoid the angry splash of water aimed at his retreating backside.
* * *
Georgiana stirred sugar into her coffee and scowled. She’d awakened well into the morning in a foul mood. Not only had Simon not seduced her last night, but that damned kiss had left her more frustrated and dissatisfied than she’d ever thought possible. It was like an itch she couldn’t scratch, and it had kept her up most of the night.
Not that she wanted him to seduce her, she reminded herself darkly.
But the memories of their lovemaking haunted her—the solid warmth of his body, the soft insistence of his lips, the soul-shattering climaxes. It was enough to drive her a little mad. At one point she felt desperate enough that she’d even considered sneaking into his room and seducing him. Knowing how smug that would’ve made him was the only thing that stopped her.
She had finally drifted off to a restless slumber near dawn. When she woke, she found a note on her pillow apologizing for the fact that he’d not be able to escort her into the city until later in the afternoon. Apparently Julian Thorne wanted Simon’s opinion on creating a better irrigation and sewage system for the city of Puri.
Professor Thorne was fast becoming a thorn in her side, she mused.
The fact that Simon had been in her room—twice—without even trying to bed her bothered her more than she cared to admit. She would have refused him, of course, but the odious man could at least have made the effort. She glared at the cotton band around her wrist. Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to remove it. Not yet.
“So,” Jane chirped as she entered the breakfast nook. She seated herself and grabbed a piece of unleavened bread, which she began buttering. “How was your jungle adventure?”
“Oh, hardly remarkable,” Georgiana grumbled. “After I was carried away by the mudslide, which someone stupidly threw himself into in an effort to come after me, we were kidnapped by a tribe of Dongari. Mr. Ashford inadvertently sold me to the chieftain’s son, Maahir—huge man, I’ve never seen anyone so large—then had to fight him to get me back. Mr. Ashford is surprisingly effective at catch-wrestling, by the way.
An Inconvenient Kiss Page 24