For it was exciting to be with him, I couldn’t deny that. I never knew what he was going to say or do. He might nod coldly when I happened to hit a target, or he might scowl darkly and threaten to throttle me if I missed. He might tease me in a bored, lackadasical manner, or he might withdraw and brood silently, no doubt thinking about his work. On occasion he might tell me about the books he had written and the translations he had done, or he might talk about his trip to Africa at twenty-two, his journey to America and his experiences in the rugged frontier towns in the west. He had done so many things, been so many places, had such a vast, incredible store of knowledge about such diverse, unusual subjects. He was undeniably fascinating, this sojourn in India merely another bizarre chapter in an already remarkable life.
There was a truce between us, and we didn’t argue at all, although he was unnecessarily rough and surly during the shooting lessons, determined I would become an expert shot. He taught me how to load the gun, how to clean it and take care of it. After I was finally able to hit targets he set up a considerable distance away, he began to teach me how to hit moving targets, gathering small, flat stones and tossing them in the air. I told him it was impossible, but Gordon would have none of that. I was secretly flattered that he was devoting so much time and attention to me, for he was extremely busy, sorting out information, making reports, frequently leaving the post for hours on mysterious trips to villages in the district. Nevertheless, he devoted at least two hours to me every morning. I wondered if Valerie Simpson had as much of his precious time lavished on her.
A week passed, ten days, twelve. Reggie had chosen the men who would accompany us on the forthcoming tiger hunt. In addition to Reggie, Dollie, Sally and I, there would be four other officers and four enlisted men. Sally was delighted that Sergeant Norman had been selected—she had been compaigning toward that end since she first learned about the hunt—and I was pleased that Corporal Burke would also be going along. There had been no word from Michael, and Reggie said it seemed unlikely that he would be back in time to accompany us. We might well run into him, though, he added, as Michael and his men were scouting the very area we’d be going to.
Two days before we were to depart, Robert Gordon and I met at the stables at the usual time and rode away from the garrison. I was wearing the sprigged tan dress again, and in his black knee boots, tight black trousers and thin white shirt with sleeves full gathered at the wrist, Gordon looked like a disreputable gypsy, a bright red scarf tied about his neck, his raven locks blowing wildly as we rode. After thirty minutes or so of hard riding, we finally reached a suitable spot and stopped, dismounting. Gordon tethered the horses to a scrawny tree while I stretched my legs, enjoying the pale blue sky, the bright morning sunshine, the miles and miles of empty land that isolated us from the rest of the world.
He gathered up several small, flat stones and, handing me the pistol, walked away from me, moving in long, lazy strides. He seemed terribly far away when he finally stopped. I indicated that I was ready, and he hurled the first stone up toward the sky. Quickly, I took aim and fired, and the stone kept right on sailing across the blue. I missed the second as well. I could see his expression. It was fierce. I frowned, disappointed in myself, knowing that I had been overconfident and therefore careless. When he hurled the third stone up into the air, I blasted it into tiny pieces that showered down like rain. He threw three more stones. I hit every one of them.
I was reloading the pistol when he rejoined me. His face was expressionless.
“Pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”
“Very,” I said.
“You shouldn’t have missed the first two.”
“No one’s perfect, Mr. Gordon. Shall we try some more?”
“The lessons are over,” he said.
“Over? You mean—”
“I mean you’re pretty damned good. You’ve done extemely well. Just don’t get so bloody confident. I want you to keep the pistol. I want you to keep it with you at all times.”
“I couldn’t accept—”
“Don’t be coy, Lauren. Keep it. Keep it loaded. When you leave on that bloody tiger hunt, make sure you have it with you.”
“You think there might be danger?”
“There’s always danger,” he said.
The reply was cryptic, not at all satisfactory. He had never talked about his mission before, and I had never dared question him about it, but I couldn’t refrain from questioning him now.
“Do—do you think all this will be over soon?”
“The Thuggee situation? I have a couple of very strong leads. I think we’ll shortly be able to end their activities once and for all. Your lieutenant and his men should be able to locate their camp in the jungle, and I believe I’ll know the identity of the ringleaders in a few days.”
“Is it true there might be a white man involved?” I asked.
“I’m certain of it,” Gordon replied, grim. “There’s no other way the assassins could have known about certain caravans secretly carrying military pay and supplies. He’s probably a soldier, probably quartered at the garrison. He’s been feeding them vital information. When I have that man, the spine will be cracked. He’ll talk. I’ll see to it.”
“I don’t understand how a white man could do anything so hideous.”
“Easily. For money. A great deal of it. I’m sure he gets a generous share of the spoils.”
“I—I’ve read a lot about the Thugs. I find it hard to believe they’d work with a white man. It’s a religious thing. They believe they’re doing it in the name of Kali, and—”
“At one time it was purely religious,” he interrupted, “but that was in the beginning. This bunch—and they’re the last left in India—murder for gain. Kali has little to do with it. If a white man can help them, feed them vital information, so much the better. These chaps are the sole survivors of a once thriving society—surviving because they’re the toughest of the lot, the most clever, the most vicious. They’ve fled Sleeman and his men from all over India, banding together in this area. Thuggee is merely an excuse for them to continue their villainy.”
“Their—their main camp, their stronghold, is in the tiger country, isn’t it? Hidden somewhere in the jungle. Michael and his men are looking for it, and Reggie said there was a chance we might even run into them. If that’s where they have their stronghold, then this hunt could be—”
“All the men in your group will be fully armed,” Gordon said dryly. “The rajah will have most of his police with him and dozens of servants as well. The Thugs rely on surprise and vulnerability. They wouldn’t dare attack a party of that size, that heavily armed.”
“Then why do you want me to take the pistol?”
“Purely as a precaution. And, too, we’re going to be visiting a lot of dangerous places in years to come. I want you to get used to carrying a gun around with you.”
I stepped over to the mare and placed the pistol in one of the saddlebags. “I trust you’re not going to begin that nonsense again, Mr. Gordon,” I said, my back to him. “I don’t find it at all amusing.”
“Nonsense? There’s nothing nonsensical about it. You’re going to marry me. I thought I told you so.”
He spoke in a casual, matter of fact voice, as though he were telling me the time of day. I turned to look at him. He stood in that characteristic pose, legs spread apart, hands resting on thighs, waiting for me to reply.
“It—the weather seems to be changing,” I said. “I think we’d better start back to the garrison.”
Gordon nodded, unperturbed by my abrupt change of subject. The sky had indeed turned darker, blue gradually merging into gray, and the light was dimming as clouds began to build on the horizon. It was going to rain in a little while. As we galloped back over the plains, the wind grew stronger and the sky turned even darker, the gray tinged with purple. There was a rumble of thunder in the distance. We rode faster, and by the time we reached the garrison the sky was an expanse of dark purple-gr
ay heavily laden with ponderous black clouds. We dismounted in front of the stables. I took the pistol from the saddlebag and managed to conceal it in the pocket of my skirt. The groom led the horses into their stalls, and Robert Gordon and I stood looking at each other. We had not exchanged a single word since leaving the site of the lesson.
“I’ll walk you back to the house,” he said.
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Gordon. I’m sure I can make it safely enough. I have the gun in my pocket.”
“You’re so damned obstinate,” he told me. “It’s a charming trait, up to a point. Beyond that point.…”
“Yes?”
“We’re going to fight a lot, you know. We’ll probably have some bloody rows. The porters won’t know what to think when I knock you down. They’ll be even more dismayed when you kick me out of the tent and send a cast iron skillet flying after me. We’ll never be a model of connubial bliss, but ah what times we’ll have.”
“You have a vivid imagination, Mr. Gordon.”
I turned and moved briskly away. He came right along after me, seizing my elbow, forcing me to slow down. I tried to pull free. He tightened his grip until I winced.
“Why are you so angry?” he inquired.
“Angry!” I exclaimed. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“There’s no need fighting it, Lauren. It’s inevitable. We’re going to have a marvelous future together.”
“You’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever encountered!”
“And by far the most intriguing,” he added.
“Let go of my elbow!”
“You’ll behave? You’ll walk sedately, like a well-bred young woman?” There was a touch of laughter in his voice.
“You’ve never walked me back to the house before,” I said petulantly. “I don’t know why you feel you should now.”
“There are still some things I want to say to you.”
“I don’t want to hear them!”
“But you shall,” he informed me.
We were walking along beside the parade ground now. It was surrounded by tall trees, and on its edge there was a small open gazebo where the military band played. Another rumble of thunder sounded. A streak of lightning tore at the sky like a jagged silver hand trying to rip it apart. Gordon slipped his hand down from my elbow and tightened his fingers around my wrist. I gave a startled little cry as he pulled me toward the gazebo. He ignored it. I stumbled on the steps, almost falling, and a moment later we were inside.
“This is scandalous!” I cried.
“It’s going to start pouring down rain at any minute now. You don’t want to get wet, do you? Relax, no one can see us. The trees make a perfect blind.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“You think I plan to seduce you? It would be like shooting a sitting duck. I may be the rogue you believe me to be, but I play fair. When the time comes, I’ll initiate you into the delights of the flesh, but you’ll be legally bound to me, I assure you.”
“Everything they say about you is true!”
“Probably,” he admitted.
“You’re despicable!”
“I don’t deny it.”
“I happen to be in love with Michael Stephens. He—he’s going to ask me to marry him as soon as he returns, and the answer will be yes. I suggest you go—go play your games with Mrs. Simpson. She’s much more likely to appreciate them.”
“Are you still fretting about Valerie?” he asked casually. “You’ve nothing to worry about there. I told you, I have my reasons for seeing her, and they’re not what you think. She presents no threat to you.”
“The whole post is talking about—”
“I’ve no doubt they are. People love to talk. I bought her a bracelet. I’ve visited her bungalow a number of times when her husband was out, and I confess I’ve slept with her. She finds me—”
“How dare you mention such—such matters in front of me! You have no breeding whatsoever. You’re vile, uncouth, un—”
“And you’re in love with me,” he said. “That’s one of the things I wanted to say to you.”
I was stunned into silence. Gordon smiled that familiar wry smile and stepped over to lean against the wooden railing that surrounded the gazebo. It had grown even darker, and the wind caused the trees to bend and sway in frenzy. His dark locks swirled about his head. The bright red scarf at his neck fluttered, and the full gathered sleeves whipped against his arms. He gazed at me, a bemused look in his eyes, the smile still curling on his lips. A gust of wind caused my skirts to bell out. Long chestnut waves blew across my face.
“You can forget about Michael Stephens,” he told me. “Stephens doesn’t have a prayer.”
“You know nothing about it, Mr. Gordon.”
“You’re still just a girl, Lauren. You’re naïve, immature, unable to cope with your emotions, but that’s to be expected. You’ve spent all you adult years in the stuffy, secluded atmosphere of a girl’s school, an atmosphere hardly likely to prepare you for the world outside. Most of what you know about life you’ve obtained from books. You’re amazingly intelligent in some ways, but emotionally you’re illiterate.”
“That’s your opinion,” I retorted.
“You don’t know what you feel. You’ve had no experience to guide you. You were attracted to me from the first—when you thought I was a villainous native. You were shocked at yourself, recoiling in horror at the very idea. When you saw me at the garden party and realized I was English—”
“I think you’ve said quite enough!”
“There’s no need to be afraid of the truth, Lauren, and no need to be ashamed of it, either. You may not want to love me—can’t say I blame you for that—but there’s no way you can change what’s already—”
The air around us was suddenly a hissing, crackling expanse of blinding silver-blue light, and there was a shattering explosion of sound. The floor of the gazebo seemed to shake. I cried out, stumbling forward, and there was another, louder explosion as a tree limb nearby split in two and crashed to the ground. I was in his arms. He was holding me tightly, tightly, and I was trembling, terrified. My cheek was pressed against his shoulder, and his arms tightened even more.
“It was only lightning,” he said, his voice so tender that I hardly recognized it. “It’s all right. A bolt of lightning struck a tree limb. There’s nothing to fear.”
It had all happened so quickly: the blinding flash shimmering silver-blue, silver-gold, crackling in the air, the explosion, the wooden floor shaking. I had cried out, stumbling, and he had leaped toward me, gathering me to him, all in a matter of seconds, and now there was the smell of burnt wood and smoke and the rain began to fall, pounding on the roof of the gazebo, splattering on the ground, the wind sweeping gusts of spray across the railing. I don’t know how much time elapsed. He stroked my hair, rocking me in his arms. I finally stopped trembling, and then I was aware of his lean, muscular body, the strength in his arms, his warmth.
“I—I’m sorry. I don’t know—”
“Hush,” he said.
Moments passed. The rain slackened, its fury quickly spent. It fell softly now, pattering quietly, and the wind was gone. I pulled away. Gordon did not try to prevent me. His arms loosened. I stepped back, looking up at him, unable to speak.
“I’m leaving this afternoon, Lauren,” he said. “That’s why today was our last lesson. I have a job to do.”
“Another mission?” My voice was barely audible.
He nodded, his expression grim.
“You’ll be careful?”
He ignored the question. “When this is all settled, when my job is accomplished, I’m coming back for you. You know that, Lauren, and you know why.”
The rain stopped abruptly, as abruptly as it had come, and small rivulets spilled from the domed roof of the gazebo and made a gently splashing curtain all around. It shimmered for a moment and then disappeared, only a few drops dripping now. Gordon looked at me with dark, solemn
eyes, and I felt helpless. Tremulous emotions rose inside, all so new, so confusing that I couldn’t begin to identify them.
“You’re still just a girl, as I said,” Gordon told me, “but you’re beginning to bloom. When the process is over, you’re going to be a magnificent woman. I could see that at once. All the qualities are there—and, of course, you’re already ravishingly beautiful.”
“Don’t,” I whispered, “Please don’t.”
Gordon frowned, and then he shook his head, pressing his lips into a tight line. I knew that I had displeased him, and I was sorry. There was so much I wanted to say, yet I could find no words.
“The rain’s over now,” he said. “You’d better run along. There’ll be time for us later, when I return.”
“Robert—”
“Go!” he said gruffly.
I hurried away from him, moving quickly down the wooden steps and over the wet, spongy grass. I didn’t look back. I didn’t dare. At dinner that evening Reggie told us that Gordon had disappeared again on one of his mysterious missions. I slept little that night, thinking about what had happened, wondering when I would see him again. The next day was spent packing, for we would be gone at least a week and, Dollie claimed, the rajah would expect us to look our best every day. When we departed the next morning I had Gordon’s pistol with me. I had no idea that in just a short while it was going to make the difference between life and death.
Ten
There were six huts in the jungle, flimsy wooden structures with verandas in front, woven grass shutters and roofs, mosquito nets draped like gauzy tents over the beds inside. The English party used these, Sally and I sharing one, Dollie and Reggie another, the remaining eight men using the other four. The huts stood in a small clearing that had been hacked out of the dense jungle, and they were completely surrounded by trees and vines and a thick tangle of plants. The rajah and his men had pitched their tents in a somewhat larger clearing a short distance away, a belt of jungle separating the two parties. I thought the arrangement rather odd, but Dollie assured me it was traditional. The English valued their privacy and much preferred sleeping in these huts which had been set up for their convenience a number of years ago.
Danger at Dahlkari Page 19