In an instant, Damon dragged her against him and covered her mouth with his. His hand came up to capture her breast, and between rough, impatient kisses, he said in a ragged voice, "Why are you doing this?" His lips moved down her neck.
"Doing what?" Elizabeth tipped her head back, giving him access to her throat.
"Kissing me… teasing me… going bare-breasted for me?"
"I am not bare-breasted for you. I am bare-breasted because tonight I am a gypsy," Elizabeth said in a husky voice as he lowered her bodice and planted a series of kisses across her breast before clamping his lips on her nipple. She should stop him now, she knew—she'd never intended to take things this far—but maybe she'd let him have his way just a little longer… let him take pleasure in what he'd never have again…
But when his hands began exploring places that were already tingling in anticipation, it was all Elizabeth could do to keep from stripping off her clothes and his and letting him do the things she'd conjured in her mind, hedonistic fantasies of his mouth doing precisely what it was doing, and his hand tucking beneath her skirt and gliding up her leg like it had on the steamer, and his fingers moving through the slit in her drawers to arouse her velvety softness… And she'd welcome his silk-clad iron… and it would incite that private pleasure from deep inside, and reveal to her the mysteries of womanhood…
She sighed deeply as his fingers did wondrous things… Umm… ooh… yes…
But the thing that was arousing her now could not be his fingers, she realized, distractedly, because her legs were wrapped around his hips, and both of his hands were cupping her buttocks, and she had no idea when he'd slipped the lacing from his breeches and released himself. But she didn't care, because what was beckoning at the core of her femininity was at once soft and hard and moist and inviting. And that private pleasure was coming again… ooh… yes… yes... She tipped her hips to welcome him and felt the pressure as he began to enter…
…when you come willingly to my bed, gypsy girl, you’ll come as my mistress or my whore, never as my wife…
Elizabeth's eyes popped open. Mortified with her decadent behavior, she moved off Damon, unwrapped her legs from around him and dropped to the floor, then backed away, while pulling her blouse up to cover her breasts. She had no idea how she'd let this happen, but Mara was waiting for him at the bungalow, so he could bloody well go to her for his release.
He pinned her with a steely gaze. "What the hell are you trying to do?"
She eyed the thing she'd so coveted moments before, which he was awkwardly stuffing back into his breeches, and said, "I'm not trying to do anything. Like you said, this is where the evening ends." She marched into her bedchamber and slammed the door.
She heard a string of expletives followed by the sound of boots marching down stairs and the front door crashing shut. Moments later, the coachman gave the command. But as the sound of wheels on cobblestones faded, Elizabeth felt empty and alone. She'd come so close to letting him fill the void that now haunted her. But the urgency she'd felt when he'd been primed to unite with her was no longer centered low and deep, but had moved up to settle in her chest, along with the realization that if she had consummated the marriage, it would be a loveless marriage in which Damon would forever have a string of mistresses, and she would be a mere convenience when his mistress was not around.
But she refused to dwell on Damon and the means by which his problem would be alleviated this particular night. There were more crucial things to focus on, like finding the opal so she could be free of Damon, and the hedonistic effect he had on her, forever. She had only two weeks to do so or she'd lose her option to gain title to Shanti Bhavan, and she'd have no choice but to return to her father in disgrace. A woman with a failed marriage. So her fate, it seemed, depended on what happened when the gypsies arrived.
And the horse fair was only a week away.
***
In the light of a new day, Elizabeth could hardly believe her brazenness the night before. Nor could she understand how she'd managed to fall prey to her own wanton game—moaning and swooning and allowing Damon to fondle her and suckle her breast and slip the ties on his breeches and get between her thighs flesh to flesh as if she were a common courtesan.
But behaving as she had, she'd been too embarrassed to face Damon for breakfast, so she took it in her bedchamber and stayed there the rest of the day. But she could not avoid him indefinitely. So after dressing in a sedate, high-necked dress, and slicking her hair back into a prim knot at her nape, she ventured down to dinner. Damon was already at the table when she entered the dining room, and she knew he'd been there for some time as his dinner plates had been cleared, and he was topping his meal with an assortment of sweets.
She took her seat opposite him, and without acknowledging him, busied herself with selecting from what the matey was offering on his platter, along with the task of filling her plate with food she had no desire to eat. After the matey returned to the kitchen, Damon wasted no time getting to the point. "All right," he said, eyeing her across the table. "What the bloody hell was that all about last night? You were throwing yourself at me all evening, and we both know you weren't doing it out of love for your husband."
"I was angry," Elizabeth said, dabbing at the food. "I wanted to make you suffer for the way you've treated me from the start."
"Well, you managed that," Damon groused. "Bloody hell, woman, you had me hard as stone all evening. And after wearing those damn pirate breeches you had your durzis fashion out of… I don't know what—sailcloth maybe—I'm so sore I can hardly walk."
Elizabeth shrugged. "I feel no need to apologize. If you suffered some, then so be it. As for the thing between your legs… I could examine it for you, like you examined my breast when I was in the bath tub, but that doesn't interest me. So I guess you'll have to settle for having Cook make a poultice to put on it."
Damon glared at her. "Keep talking like that and you'll validate what I said to you on the steamer. And we both know what that was."
"Maybe you were right then," Elizabeth said, holding his gaze. "Maybe I am just a whore. But that still doesn't validate your claim. You said I'd come to you willingly as your whore, or as your mistress, but never as your wife, when in fact, I'll never come to you at all."
"You damned near did last night," Damon reminded her.
"Only because you caught me by surprise," Elizabeth quipped.
"Caught you by surprise?" Damon said, incredulous. "After spending the whole damn evening baring your breasts for me under that flimsy dress while trying to get inside my breeches, you claim that my latching onto a ready nipple and putting what's in my pants between your thighs was a surprise? Think again, sweetheart. It was no surprise. We were already half way there, with no protest from you, before you moved off me."
Elizabeth couldn't deny it because it was true. She'd come dangerously close to giving herself to him completely because, truth be known, it was what she wanted, though she didn't know when anger and humiliation had changed to hope and desire. Feeling tears misting her eyes, she stared at her plate, refusing to look at him. When she offered nothing more, he said, "So that's it? No other explanation for last night? Only that you were angry?"
All she could do was nod, miserably. But in less than two weeks her agreement with Damon would terminate, and they'd be done with each other, one way or another.
After a few moments, Damon slapped his napkin on the table and left the room.
***
Two days later, the gypsies arrived. On the fringes of the encampment, Elizabeth stood beside Damon, watching a herd of goats being driven by a retinue of ragtag children from the fields where the animals had been grazing for the night, toward an enclave of carts and wagons in the clearing. The encampment smelled of burnt cow dung mingled with the odors of chapatties frying on griddles and curries cooking in pots hanging over coals. Near the fires, women, who were dressed in worn bodices and faded parti-colored skirts, sat on the ground making baske
ts and mats of osier and bamboo, while gaudily-dressed men with peacock feathers in their turbans loaded donkey carts with goods to sell at the horse fair.
Elizabeth again wore the garb of a gypsy—ropes of chains around her neck, faded and worn skirt and blouse, garments she'd found at the bazaar. She didn't expect to be welcomed back into the kumpania, but she did want to blend in, not be pegged a gorgio. She was annoyed that Damon insisted on accompanying her though, and she wished he'd leave and let her get on with what she had to do. Turning to him, she said in a hushed voice, "If they see you with me, I'll never get the answers I need."
Damon eyed her with vexation. "And if the man who killed my gateman and took the opal from you recognizes you, he'll never let you get away. It's not safe for you alone."
"I was alone before we met and I did fine."
"But as my wife I have an obligation to protect you."
Elizabeth pursed her lips. "Protect me until I recover your opal, you mean."
"No, protect you as long as you are my wife," Damon said. "After our marriage is dissolved, you'll be your father's responsibility."
Elizabeth shook off that disturbing thought. "After I recover the opal, I will be mistress of Shanti Bhavan and I will be no man's responsibility," she said, with resolve.
Damon curved his hands around her arms, the first time he'd touched her since the night of the masquerade ball. Peering into her eyes, he said, "Is that what you really want, Elizabeth, to never be any man's responsibility? To never be a wife, or a mother?"
As Elizabeth held his gaze, a sense of loneliness settled over her. The fact was, she didn't know what she wanted. She knew what she didn't want though. She didn't want to be wedded to a man who took his pleasure from a string of mistresses when he tired of his wife. And she didn't want to give birth to children, only to have a disgruntled or abusive husband take them from her should she want out of the marriage. Her own mother had been cast out by her father, who sent their only child to England so there would be no chance of contact with her. But maybe once she had title to Shanti Bhavan, and would be no man's responsibility, she could think beyond the feeling of being trapped. For now, she nodded, and replied, "Yes, that's what I want."
"Then you'd better get on with it." Damon dropped his hands to his sides.
Elizabeth clutched her arms where he'd held her, maybe to hold his warmth, she wasn't sure. She also wondered if living the life of a divorced woman of means was what she wanted. But of course it was! She'd be no man's puppet, share no man's bed, have no husband to appease, suffer no man wrapped around her, no muscular chest to snuggle against, or masculine hands touching private places, or silk-clad iron moving into the core of her femininity to incite that private pleasure she'd come to know, brief as it was…
"This won't take long," she snapped, dismissing the disconcerting thoughts. "I saw the tribal chief go into his wagon. I'll talk to him in private there."
She made her way along the fringes of the woods to Istvan Czinka's wagon and rapped. He opened the door, looked at her with a start, and said in a curt voice, "What you want posh rat?"
"To talk to you, if I may," she replied.
He eyed her, warily. "Talk about what?"
"The Kalki-Avatar."
Istvan took her by the arm and dragged her inside the wagon, closing the door behind. "What about Kalki-Avatar?" he said, eyes dark as night peering down at her.
"Two years ago I recovered it from Lord Ravencroft as I had been instructed to do," she said, "but when I was leaving the house with it, Januz Kazinczy took it from me. He also killed Lord Ravencroft's gateman with my knife to make it look like I'd done it. I assume he returned the Kalki-Avatar to the tribe."
Istvan shook his head. "Januz Kazinczy was found on road close by… strangled by Kalla-bantrus. They take Kalki-Avatar."
Elizabeth willed herself not to gloat at the irony of it—Januz Kazinczy, a thief and a murderer, falling prey to gypsies known for their heinous acts of thievery and murder. It came to her then that she would have been the one to fall prey to those same Kalla-bantrus had Januz not relieved her of the opal first. "Where is the Kalki-Avatar now?" she asked.
Istvan gave a snort of derision. "Kalla-bantrus sell it to Rashid Ali Khan. He have fighting horse that descend from horse of King Nasir ud Din Haidar. During Rathayatra, he have feast where he offer Kalki-Avatar to any with tiger that can defeat fighting horse."
Elizabeth didn't bother to ask how Istvan knew all this. However, it troubled her greatly that Rashid Ali Khan had the opal. Everyone knew about his cruel nature and brutal animal fights. The opulent lifestyle he led in his palatial compound above the Hugli River was also of common knowledge. But learning that Rashid Ali Khan had the opal, and gaining access to it—or even into his compound—were two different matters, especially with less than a week until Rathayatra for making plans. Not expecting an answer, but hoping to glean information, she said, "Will the opal be on display during the feast?"
Istvan nodded. "Rashid Ali Khan will have bearers bring Kalki-Avatar out on palanquin for all to see. He say spirit of horse inside Kalki-Avatar so no harm come to fighting horse." He eyed her dubiously. "Why you ask, posh-rat?"
Elizabeth realized she'd crossed the bounds of casual questioning. Attempting to cover her blunder, she shrugged and said, "No reason. I just wondered how greatly Rashid Ali Khan prized the Kalki-Avatar. It seems it could disappear easily in a crowd like that."
Istvan said nothing. And Elizabeth had her answer. The Kalki-Avatar would be there for all to see. And for the gypsies to take back, especially as the night waned and feast-goers began to feel the effects of the opium that would be available for all.
Somehow she'd have to find her way into the compound and retrieve the opal before Istvan's contact did. Rashid Ali Khan was certain to have entertainment leading up to the animal fights, but once the fighting began, all eyes would be riveted on the horse and the tiger. One chance to take the opal. But only if she got to it before Istvan's contact did.
If Istvan's demeanor hadn't already told her that he knew she too was after the opal, his words did. "You go, posh-rat. Stay away from festival. You bring bad luck."
"I have no intention of going there," she lied. "I did my part before, so I leave it to you to recover the Kalki-Avatar." She left Istvan's wagon and went to rejoin Damon.
After passing on to him what she'd learned, Damon said, "It's over then. You won't be going there. I'll find a way to get the opal back on my own."
Elizabeth looked at him, incensed. "We made a bargain. I would recover the opal and you would give me title to Shanti Bhavan. Are you going back on your word?"
Damon looked at the beautiful, angry face of this wife he'd strapped himself down with, a wife he now wanted to have and to hold until… He wasn't sure when. But he knew he could not let her take such a risk. "It's dangerous to even be in the vicinity of Rashid Ali Khan's compound, much less get inside," he said. "I can't let you do it."
Elizabeth squared off with him, planting her hands on her hips. "And you can't stop me unless you lock me up until our agreement runs out."
"With less than a week to go, that could be arranged," Damon said, frustrated with her tenacity, determined that this time she would not get her way.
Leveling furious green eyes on him, she said, "Then you'll have to lock me in a cell without doors or windows, because unless you do that, I will find a way out, just as I'll find a way inside Rashid Ali Khan's compound and get the opal."
Resisting the urge to take her by the shoulders and shake her senseless, or kiss the hell out of her, Damon said, "If you think you can bare your breasts and raise your skirt to Rashid Ali Khan and gain entry that way, you'll find him a much more clever and cunning man that I. And if he learns what you are about, he'll take what he wants from you, without mercy, for as long as it satisfies his sexual appetite, which is said to be insatiable."
Elizabeth lifted her chin a notch. "Then I'll take my chances."
D
amon held her unwavering gaze, wondering why this exasperating scrap of a woman had such power over him now. Feeling as if backed into a corner, he said in a weary voice, "Is there nothing I can say or do to stop you?"
Elizabeth cocked her head. "Yes, give me title to Shanti Bhavan."
"I can't do that," Damon replied. "Without the opal, I'll have to sell the place in order to get the money to clear my name and bring Westwendham up to bare living standards."
"Then I have no choice but to go after the opal."
"Then we'd better come up with a plan."
Elizabeth looked at him, baffled. "We?"
Damon shrugged. "There's no way on God's earth I'll let you do this alone."
***
Elizabeth spent the week roaming through the bazaar and the streets of Calcutta while dressed in disguises—a beggar, a street urchin, a gypsy fortune teller, a courtesan, a young footman. Although the city was gearing up for Rathayatra, with children everywhere preparing their small chariots for the huge parade, Elizabeth managed to gather a plethora of information about Prince Rashid Ali Khan. And Damon spent his time either at The Club, or questioning gem dealers, most of whom had an intimate knowledge of everything that went on, including the layout of Rashid Ali Khan's compound. Damon had also paid a gem artisan a sizeable amount to fashion a bogus Burning of Troy to switch with the real one when the time came.
By the end of the week, between the two of them, Elizabeth and Damon were able to put together a diagram of the layout of the prince's compound, with hatch marks over areas they must avoid, such as the animal enclosure. The prince kept his fighting horse in an iron-fenced compound, where fodder was thrown over the fence to the horse from a distance. It was said that the horse was so vicious, it would kill any handler or animal it could get to, then trample and mutilate it until it was unrecognizable. So they would definitely stay clear of that area.
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