The Royal Affair

by Barrett, Gail

  She knew he hadn’t abandoned her. She trusted him about that. But he could have fallen, been injured, attacked by a savage wolf…

  Worried, she pawed through the basket, then pulled on a sweater and socks. She gulped down a handful of dried figs to quell her hunger, took a swallow of water and rose.

  Grabbing her flashlight, she squeezed past the rocks at the entrance, then shoved through the barrier of shrubs. She staggered free from the prickly branches, then paused to see where she was.

  The nearly full moon had risen in the inky sky, and its silver light dusted the woods. Boulders and deadwood filled the spaces between the pine trees. A cold wind ruffled her hair. Not far away the river rushed past, the smell of moisture thick in the air.

  Moving as quietly as she could, she threaded her way through the trees, staying parallel to the stream. An owl hooted overhead. Insects sang in the night. She searched the shadows, making out bushes and rocks as her eyes adjusted to the dark. But Deven was nowhere around.

  Suddenly, the scent of wood smoke drifted past. She tensed, clicked off her flashlight, her pulse beating hard in her ears. Who was out there? Deven? Singh’s men? Or someone even more ominous?

  She wavered, not sure whether to investigate or return to the safety of the cave. But if Deven was in trouble, she couldn’t ignore his plight.

  Her pulse quickening, trying not to make noise, she padded through the woods toward the smoke. But every twig snapping underfoot, every crackling leaf, erupted like gunshots in the quiet night.

  When the smoke grew stronger, she stopped, listening hard. The deep timbre of a man’s voice cut the night, and she realized someone had camped ahead.

  Now to find out who it was.

  She scaled a fallen log, jumped over a tiny stream. When she spotted a small clearing ahead, she scooted behind a pine tree and peeked out. Two men sat on logs around a campfire—armed with guns.

  She scanned the clearing, counted three yaks grazing near the men, their cargo packs piled nearby. They could be smugglers, armed rebels, human traffickers…

  She glanced around, her adrenaline rushing now, but there were no captives, no sign of Deven, thank God. Relieved, she turned to creep back to the cave.

  A twig crackled beside her. She whirled around—too late. Blinding pain shot through her skull, and she slumped, sucked into a twirling vortex of blackness.

  And then didn’t feel anything more.

  Chapter 12

  Deven crouched behind a boulder near the smugglers’ campfire, his mind railing at the stubborn woman tied to the tree. What had she been thinking? Why had she left the cave? Why hadn’t she listened to him and stayed safe?

  He gritted his teeth, battling to keep a leash on his temper as he watched the three smugglers play cards by the fire. The flames glinted off the machine guns propped behind them, the empty liquor jugs they’d tossed to the side.

  Thank God he’d stumbled across this encampment. If he’d headed in the other direction, if he hadn’t heard the commotion when the men had captured her…He quickly quashed that chilling thought and narrowed his gaze on the men.

  “I won,” the skinniest of the men announced.

  “Not yet. We’ve got two more rounds.” The second man threw in his cards and lumbered to his feet. Then he staggered past the fire to the packs at the edge of the clearing and pulled out another jug. “We agreed,” he reminded them, turning back. “No one touches her until then.”

  The others grumbled. Deven adjusted the position of his rifle, sighted down the barrel at the men. They would start shooting soon. Maya’s uncommon beauty guaranteed that. He had to get her to safety before the gunfire broke out.

  But she hadn’t moved since he’d arrived. He spared a glance at where she lay, slumped against a tree. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slack, and even in the firelight, he could see that her cheek was caked with blood. Fury burned through him, and he sucked in a breath to control the rage. Those men would pay. He’d make damned sure of that. But first he had to get her away.

  He lowered the gun and backed away from the clearing, keeping his eyes on the men. Then he crept around the campfire to the trees behind Maya and propped his rifle against a rock. His pistol in hand, he flattened himself to the ground and crawled on his belly toward where she lay.

  A curse broke out from across the clearing, followed by mutters from the other men. Deven paused, his heart beating fast, keeping his head flat on the ground. When nothing else happened, he resumed inching through the stones and damp weeds.

  “Maya,” he whispered as he neared the tree. “Maya.”

  She lifted her head, then groaned.

  “Shh. Quiet.”

  “Deven?” Her voice came out slurred, and his heart faltered. How hard had she been hit?

  She turned her head, trying to see him, but her eye was swollen shut. He trembled, spurred by the need to wreak vengeance, but managed to keep his voice calm. “Don’t move. I’m going to cut you loose.”

  He rolled to the side, tugged his knife from his pocket, then slashed the ropes binding her arms to the tree. She groaned and rubbed her wrists.

  He fought down the desperate need to hold her, to pick her up and whisk her away from harm. They had to do this carefully so the men didn’t see. “All right. Scoot back slowly,” he murmured, aiming his gun at the men. “I’ll cover for you. And don’t wait for me—just hurry back to the cave.”

  She shifted back from the tree, then stopped. Her hand flew to her chest. “My medallion.” Panic threaded her voice. “They took it. I have to get it back.”

  He muttered a curse. “I’ll come back for it. Now go.” They didn’t have much time.

  “Not without the medallion. What if they leave? We might never find it again.”

  He hissed out a breath, instinct urging him to make her flee. But they did need that medallion. It was their key to bringing down Singh. But no medallion, no matter how important, was worth endangering Maya’s life. “Too risky. Let’s go.”

  “Forget it.”

  “Maya—”

  “Deven, be reasonable. Once they realize I’m gone it’ll be too late.”

  He swore, wrestling with his need to protect her, knowing she was right. All hell would break loose when those men discovered that she’d escaped. The best time to find that medallion was now.

  He scanned the moonlit clearing. The smuggled cargo was just beyond the circle of firelight near the grazing yaks. “All right.” He hoped he wouldn’t regret this. “Stay here. Don’t move. Pretend you’re still tied up.”

  “But—”

  “Either wait here,” he gritted out, “or I’ll drag you back to that cave.”

  She fell silent. Hoping she’d gotten the message, he started to slide backward, then stopped. “Here.” He pressed his knife into her palm, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Then he wormed his way back to the boulder, grabbed his rifle and melted into the woods.

  He’d nearly reached the packs when he heard footsteps. He ducked behind a bush and held his breath, every sense hyperalert. The heaviest of the smugglers lurched past in the moonlight, staggering toward the privacy of the trees.

  Perfect. Deven waited a heartbeat, then crept up behind the drunk man. In one swift motion, he jerked him back, covering his mouth so he couldn’t yell, and rammed the butt of his gun down hard on his head. The man slumped against him, and Deven lowered him to the ground.

  He turned him over and checked his pockets, then confiscated his gun. No sign of the medallion yet.

  Deven waited, his breath sawing, but no one raised the alarm. He slipped through the moonlight toward the grazing yaks, then crouched behind a tree to watch.

  “He’d better hurry up,” the skinny smuggler mumbled. “I want to finish this game.”

  The other man made a sound of disgust. “Forget him. Just deal the cards. I’ve waited for that woman long enough.”

  The men turned, craning their necks to look at Maya, and Deven tensed. But she still
had her head bent forward, her arms behind her. The men grunted and returned to their cards.

  Deven crept closer to the shuffling yaks, eyed the bulging packs at the edge of the light. He knew it was risky. If the smugglers looked his way, they’d spot him for sure. Staying low, he darted across the clearing to the packs, then dove to the muddy ground. The men still stared at their cards.

  A gust of wind crackled the campfire. The yaks snorted and stomped their hooves. Deven crawled to the nearest pack and rifled through a cache of illegal tiger pelts. The next pack contained the same.

  “Where is he?” the thin smuggler muttered. “Hey, Raj, you get lost out there?”

  The other man snickered, and Deven flattened himself to the ground. The grazing yaks huffed. The smell of damp earth and wool filled his lungs.

  Aware that he only had seconds, Deven reached for the remaining pack. He searched through some clothes, then his hand closed around something round, something metallic. His pulse quickening, he pulled it out. Maya’s medallion—thank God.

  But then a crashing noise came from the woods. Deven plastered himself to the ground and swore.

  His luck had just run out.

  “What was that?” the thin man asked.

  “What?”

  “That noise. In the woods. Hey, Raj. Is that you?” He picked up his gun, got to his feet.

  Deven eyed the distance to the trees. He’d never make it. The minute he moved, they would spot him and shoot.

  But then Maya stirred. “Water,” she moaned.

  Deven froze. What was she doing? Why was she drawing attention to herself?

  The smuggler ignored her, started in Deven’s direction.

  “Water…please,” she called again.

  The thin man swiveled to face her. “Shut up.”

  Deven closed his eyes, disgust warring with fear. She was trying to distract the smugglers so he could get away. But didn’t she realize the danger that would put her in?

  Of course she did. She was the Leopard. She knew exactly what these men would do.

  Respect penetrated the ice in his gut. She was gutsy, he’d give her that much—the most courageous woman he knew.

  And he’d kill those men before he’d let them touch her again.

  Maya whimpered, louder this time. “Thirsty…please…help me.”

  “Check the woods for Raj,” the thin man ordered his comrade. “I’m going to shut that woman up.”

  While the second man lumbered to his feet, Deven crawled away from the packs. Then he raced through the woods, reaching the boulder behind Maya just as the scrawny man got to her side.

  The smuggler threw back his fist to strike her. Deven exploded with rage. He lunged out from the trees, slammed into the smaller man. They crashed to the ground and rolled.

  Deven erupted in a frenzy of action. He pounded the man’s skull, his face, blazing with fury, fighting with a violence he could barely contain. The man was drunk, his reflexes slowed, and he couldn’t match Deven’s weight. But he still got off a blow to Deven’s gut.

  Deven grunted, ignored the flash of pain. They twisted, grappling for supremacy, and thrashed through the dirt and weeds.

  A shot rang out. A bullet plowed the dirt near their heads. “Get out,” Deven shouted to Maya.

  “The medallion—”

  “I’ve got it. Go!”

  They rolled again. The smuggler somehow produced a gun. Deven grabbed his wrist, slammed it against the ground, straining to knock the gun free. But the man grunted, heaved up with surprising strength, tossing Deven aside. Another shot barked out nearby.

  Shaking the stinging sweat from his eyes, Deven launched himself at the smuggler again, and wrested the weapon away. Then he reared up, determined to put an end to this, and kneed the man in the groin.

  The man bellowed, doubled over. Deven grabbed the gun, spun around, and fired at the two men hiding near the yaks.

  Then he rushed over to Maya. She knelt by the rock where he’d left the rifle, wielding his knife in her hand. Furious that she hadn’t listened to him and escaped, he yanked her to her feet. “Come on.”

  He snatched up his gun and pulled her into the woods. But something was wrong. She stumbled, lurched off balance again, her movements unnaturally slow. Another shot came from behind.

  Deven dropped her arm and raised the rifle, riddling the woods with a blast. Hoping that kept them down for a while, he turned back and caught Maya’s waist. “Hold on to me.”

  Half carrying, half dragging her with him, he hauled her through the woods. But she still moved too slowly, whimpering and groaning with pain. When she nearly fell again, he scooped her into his arms.

  Ignoring her feeble protests, he loped along the bank of the river, the bright moon lighting his path. Then he angled his way through the trees, avoiding bushes and deadfall, and plowed through an icy stream. They neared the cave, and he swung back and scanned the woods. No sign of the smugglers yet.

  “Get inside.” He lowered her to her feet, watched as she pushed through the bushes hiding the cave. Once she’d disappeared, he lowered himself behind a boulder to wait. The river gurgled and splashed in the distance. The wind thrashed the pines overhead. He stayed crouched in the moonlight, listening for signs of pursuit. Only when he was sure the men hadn’t followed did he rise and enter the cave.

  Maya huddled on the blanket, the faint glow from a candle illuminating her battered face. She looked up as he came in, and his grip on his temper slipped.

  “Damn it,” he raged. “Why didn’t you stay here like I told you? What were you doing out there?”

  She winced and clutched her forehead. “I was looking for you.”

  “Me?” He stared at her in disbelief. “I told you I’d be back.”

  “I know, but I thought you’d…I thought…”

  The realization hit him like a slap. “You thought I’d left you.”

  “No.” She kept her hand on her head. “I thought you’d been hurt. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  “So you went out there and risked your life.” He worked his jaw, struggling to regain control. Of course she would worry. She spent her life rescuing people in need. But another few minutes with those men…

  He blocked out the terrible thought and tried to sound calm. She didn’t need a lecture right now. She was injured, in no shape to argue with him.

  But damn, that had been so close….

  A twig cracked outside the cave. Tensing, he motioned toward the candle. Maya leaned over and blew it out.

  Darkness engulfed them. Deven moved to the entrance, keeping his steps quiet, and stared past the bushes into the night. A rustle came from behind him, and Maya stopped at his side.

  He forced himself to ignore her nearness, to focus on the threat outside the cave. Because he definitely didn’t want to examine the emotions swirling inside him—or remember how vulnerable she’d looked tied to that tree.

  “Is anyone there?” she whispered.

  He listened for another minute, then shook his head. “No. It was probably an animal.” Still wrestling with his emotions, he flicked on his flashlight again. The amber beam cast a glow over her face.

  “Do you think those men saw where we went?” she asked.

  “No.” But they would search at dawn. With a prize as lovely as Maya, no way would they give up.

  Which meant he had to get her away from here fast.

  “How’s your head?”

  “It hurts.”

  “I’ll bet.” He nodded toward the blanket. “Sit down and I’ll take a look.”

  While she staggered to the blanket, he shoved his pistol into his waistband and lowered himself to one knee. Her scalp wound oozed with blood. The bruise on her cheek had swelled, nearly closing one eye.

  “We’d better clean that up.” His voice came out gruff.

  “All right.” She didn’t move.

  He handed her the flashlight, then rifled through the basket for something to use. He
dampened a clean cloth with water, began to dab off the blood. She flinched, and he gentled his touch even more.

  “Hold on.” He wiped the bruise around her eye, trying not to cause her more pain. Then he set down the cloth and frowned. “That’s all I can do for now.” And it wasn’t nearly enough. She needed painkillers, ice for the swelling, possibly stitches on her scalp. She probably had a concussion, too.

  “We’d better go,” she said, slurring her words.

  He ignored that. She wasn’t budging from this cave for hours. “Let’s see the map.”

  She pulled the flattened scroll from her pocket, handed it over without a protest, then lay down and closed her eyes. Knowing she had to be in tremendous pain to ignore the map, he unrolled it and studied the marks.

  “What does it say?” She kept her eyes shut.

  “We’re supposed to head upriver until it forks, then climb the hill to the north.”

  “Sounds easy.”

  “Sure, as long as the landscape hasn’t changed in a thousand years.” He rolled up the useless map in disgust.

  “Deven?”

  “Yeah?” He grabbed the other blanket and tucked it around her shoulders. And despite the bruise distorting her face, despite the misery in her eyes, her beauty tugged at his gut.

  “The medallion…”

  “I’ve got it.” He pulled it from his pocket and held it out.

  “No…you keep it…need to go—”

  “Later. Rest for a while.”

  “No…you go.” Her good eye pleaded with his. “You have to go on without me.”

  He sat back on his heels, too stunned to answer. She’d just entrusted him with her medallion, her most prized possession, the one thing she never removed. She believed that he’d do the right thing—despite the past, despite his warnings that he wasn’t worthy.

  Warmth twined around his heart.

  Humbled, disgusted with himself for wanting this woman he couldn’t have, he reluctantly released her hand. “Forget it.” He wasn’t letting her out of his sight.

  She clutched his arm. Her grip was weak, her fingers cold. “There’s no time. You have to stop Singh. And the eclipse—”

  “We’ve got plenty of time,” he lied. “Don’t worry about it. Now close your eyes and rest.”