His hand was on her forehead. “Hot. You have the fever again. I thought you looked unwell.”
She stepped back. “Not much.”
“Enough,” he said grimly. “How long?”
She avoided the question. “It doesn’t come every day.”
“And at night?”
She didn’t answer.
“Every night?”
“I take the quinghao and it goes away.”
“And for how long do you think you can keep it at bay with you working yourself into exhaustion?”
“Until the damned railroad’s finished.”
He shook his head doubtfully. “Ruel is a fair man. He would allow you more time if you went to him and told him you were not well.”
“No!” Good God, all she needed was to have Ruel know she was ill. He was waiting for a weakness in her defenses. “I’ll be fine. You’re not to tell him. You’re not to tell anyone.” She started for the tent. “Ask Dilam to check that last quarter-mile track I started to measure.”
“No need, I will do it.”
She should have known Li Sung would insist on taking over the task and he had already used his leg too much today. “This shouldn’t take long. I may be able to do it myself.”
His jaw set. “I will do it.”
After almost two months of working day and night, she was too bone-weary to argue with him. “Suit yourself.”
Ruel glanced up from the survey map he was studying as she came into the tent. “You’re making very good time.” His finger tapped a circled area on the map on the table. “Four miles from Elephant Crossing.”
“We should reach it by day after tomorrow. We’re averaging over two miles a day. We’d be doing even better than that if we didn’t have to do some additional clearing on each side of the road.”
“But you’ve chosen to angle around the crossing.”
“Another three days.” She moved toward the table and tapped a spot on the map. “Here. We’ll have passed the crossing two days before the deadline specified by the contract.”
“Perhaps.” He smiled. “And perhaps not. Cinnidar has been land to you so far, but you mustn’t count on your good luck lasting.”
“It will last.”
“No trouble with the elephants?”
“We haven’t seen one elephant since we started through the jungle. Dilam doesn’t expect any trouble. She says elephants are creatures of habit and by circumventing the crossing we’ll avoid a direct confrontation.”
“They’re closer than they were three months ago when we passed here. I heard them as I rode into camp.”
“We always hear them. It doesn’t mean anything. According to Dilam, they’re constantly talking to each other.”
“I was watching Li Sung and Dilam working together as I came into the encampment. They seem to be getting along much better. No problems there?”
“Li Sung has no problems with Dilam as long as she—”
“Doesn’t try nesling with him?” Ruel’s brow arched inquiringly. “I take it she’s given up her aim in that direction?”
She shrugged. “Who knows? She doesn’t talk about it, and Li Sung realizes how important this railroad is to both of us. We’ve all been too busy to worry about anything but getting the work done.” She stared directly into his eyes. “Which is what I have to do now.”
“You always run away when I come to see you.”
“I have work to do. I have no time to talk.”
“I also have work to do, but I make time for you.” His voice was almost caressing, but the words held a subtle menace. “I’ll always make time for you, Jane.”
Always. The foreboding word sent a smothering sense of relentless inevitability through her. He would never give up, never leave her until he was satisfied she had suffered enough. God, she was weary of it all. “Are we through here? I have to get back to work.”
“Aye, I’ve found out what I needed to know.” He turned away. “I’m going to the refinery in the village and then pay a visit to the palace to see how Ian is faring. I’ll be back in five days.”
“Don’t bother. I won’t have time to give you a report. In five days we’ll be past the crossing and forging toward the canyon wall.”
“Oh, it’s no bother.” He smiled over his shoulder. “Do you know, part of me actually wants you to meet that deadline. You’ve done a fine job and I admire good work.”
She stared at him, too surprised to speak. Why could he not remain hard and mocking all the time? Just when she had her defenses raised against him he would change, soften, remind her of that other Ruel she had known in Kasanpore. She could feel her defiance draining away as she looked at him. Leave, she prayed silently, go away. He was like her sickness, the fever draining her of strength.
“Since I’m clearly dismissed, I’ll do as you so kindly suggest.” He turned away. “Good-bye, Jane. Five days.”
She stared blindly down at the map after he left. Five days. There was no reason to be nervous. She had fought this fever before and won. The work was going extraordinarily well. The Cinnidans labored quickly and cheerfully and they had not encountered any insurmountable obstacles. What could possibly happen to hinder her from reaching her goal on time?
• • •
Ian leaned back on his pillows, his breath coming in little pants, an expression of unutterable pleasure on his face. “Margaret …”
She moved off him and nestled close, her fair hair splaying over his naked shoulder. “I’m surprised you can still speak. I must have not performed well.”
“Wonderful … You’re always wonderful.” His hand gently stroked her hair. “Did I give you pleasure?”
“Yes.” As usual, the lie stuck in her throat, but Kartauk had told her it was important a man be made to feel powerful and dominant after the act. She kissed his shoulder. “You always please me.”
“I don’t know how. I lie here like a lump while you do—”
“Haven’t you noticed? I’m a very willful woman. I enjoy guiding the course.” She raised herself on one elbow to smile teasingly down at him. “Who knows? Considering my nature, you might not have been able to give me half this pleasure if I were forced to only submit meekly.”
“You meek?” His finger traced her lips. “Never.”
“I certainly hope not.” She resumed her former place beside him. “Again?”
He laughed in delight. “Do you think me such a stallion?”
“Of course. Why do you think I made you wed me? I suspected the son of the laird would have the same lustful vigor as his father.” She nestled her cheek against his arm. “But I suppose I must let you rest awhile.” She could already detect the lethargy signaling exhaustion and knew he’d be asleep in a few minutes. “You’re much stronger since you came here. Cinnidar has been good for you.”
“Has it?” he asked wistfully. “Then perhaps I can go home soon.”
“Not yet.” He was not really better. His cough was almost gone, but he was still losing weight and she had the panicky feeling he was drifting away from her.
“Soon? Glenclaren needs me.”
“I read you the letter from the vicar. Everything is going splendidly.”
She felt the sigh that rippled through his body and knew at once she had said the wrong thing. It was so difficult to strike the balance, she thought in frustration.
“You’re right, I’m lying to myself. I’m not needed. Not by you and certainly not by Glenclaren.”
“Don’t talk foolishness,” she said. “We both need you. We’ll always need you.”
He shook his head.
She could feel the tears sting her eyes, but she must not let them fall. He did not need weakness but strength from her. But, dear heaven, she was weary of fighting this battle. “Do you doubt I love you?”
“No, but love is not need. I give you only pain. If I weren’t here, you’d find a strong, whole man who could give you joy … and children.”
Children. It always
came back to that. She made her tone light. “Who knows? You may have given me a babe tonight.” He didn’t answer and she felt a spurt of panic Always before she had been able to inject a tiny hope, but even that was fading in him. “It could have happened,” she said desperately. What difference did another lie make if it kept him with her? “You’re stronger now and you’ve been—”
“Shh …” His lips brushed her temple. “My dear love, my bonnie love. I’m so tired. Won’t you let me go?”
Her hand tightened on his arm. Did hearts truly break? She had always thought the. Phrase foolish, but she felt something breaking, rending inside. “I cannot.”
“I believe I would be happier. You want me to be happy.”
“So much,” she whispered. “You know …” She couldn’t go on.
“Are you weeping, Margaret? You see, I do hurt you even when I don’t mean to.”
“I’m not weeping.”
“Because you won’t let yourself. You will not let me see you weep.”
“Why should I wail? I have the man I have loved all my life, who brings me pleasure and who—”
“You never give up, do you? Sweet Margaret …”
She was not sweet. Sometimes she thought Ian had no idea of her true nature. At the moment she wanted to scream and kick and shake her fist at the fates that had done this to him. “You mustn’t give up either. I need you.”
“I dream about it every night now. Do you remember when as children on fine days we would go and sit on the hill among the heather?”
“Aye.”
“I think it will be like that, peaceful and full of light and happiness.” Ian brushed her hair back from her face. “It’s waiting for me.”
“Then let it wait another fifty years,” she said fiercely. “We will fool it. You will grow stronger every single day and there will be a child for Glenclaren and we will—” He was shaking his head. “It will happen. I’ll make it happen.” She buried her face on his chest, the fear and desperation mounting within her.
“Why, you’re trembling, Margaret.” His breath feathered the top of her head. “You mustn’t upset yourself. All is well. Go to sleep, love.”
How could she sleep? He had said all was well, but he had not promised to fight to stay with her and he was wandering farther down that other path with every passing day.
He drifted off to sleep a few minutes later, but she lay staring into the darkness, rigid with fear, holding him.
“You must stop work at once.” Margaret swept into Kartauk’s workroom and shut the door. “I have to talk to you.”
“Oh, must I?” Kartauk asked as he wiped his hands on a towel. “Since you’ve not deigned to visit me since we’ve arrived in Cinnidar, I assume it is on a subject of no mean importance.”
“Of course it is. I don’t waste time on trivial matters.” She smoothed the skirt of her gown and sat down on a cushioned fan chair. She glanced around at the gleaming white mosaic floor and walls and multitude of windows whose latticed shutters were thrown wide to let in the sunlight. The furniture was simple but finely crafted, the chamber completely unlike his room at the stable, which she had gradually come to think of as a haven. She forced a smile. “This room is really quite pleasant. I was afraid you’d make a shambles of it as you did your workroom at Glenclaren.”
“I’ve been here only two months. It takes even me an extended period of time to create such glorious disarray.”
“Where is your furnace?”
Kartauk nodded to the french doors leading to the veranda. “Ruel had a special cottage built away from the main house. He said he wasn’t going to risk me tearing down any of his walls or burning up his palace.”
“Very sensible.” She straightened the lace on her sleeve. “I suppose you’re enjoying dabbling with your precious gold. It seems a hedonistic extravagance when one considers—”
“Why are you here, madam?”
She frowned. “I was getting to it.”
“Not with any great speed. I need to finish this frieze before nightfall.”
“It’s early morning.”
“Exactly. Is it Ian?”
“Partly.”
“I take it he has not taken a turn for the worse, or you would not be here. Are you satisfied with Tamar’s care of him?”
“Tamar? The man is a paragon. Ian has only to lift an eyebrow and Tamar rushes to obey. Jock has nothing to do anymore.” She noticed the dog lying slumbering at Kartauk’s feet. “What is Sam doing here? I thought he was in the stable.”
“Jane asked me to keep him. She has no faith in his intelligence. She was afraid he would start chasing a squirrel and fall off into the canyon.”
“A distinct possibility.” She smoothed the hair at her temple. “Are you not going to have the courtesy to ask me to have a cup of that foul liquid you call coffee?”
“No, your hand is trembling so much you would probably drop the cup.”
“Nonsense.” She quickly clasped her hands together in her lap. “What sort of frieze? Are you going to—”
“You did not come here to discuss my ‘dabbles,’” Kartauk interrupted. “Has Ian had a setback?”
“No, he is the same.” She looked down at her hands. “But he is—” She stopped and then started again. “I’m going to have a child.”
He went still. “You told me the physician said that was not possible for Ian.”
“He did.” She could feel the heat in her cheeks and knew those annoyingly keen eyes would notice her discomposure as he noticed everything about her. “But it must happen. You must make it happen.”
He swore beneath his breath and then said caustically, “And how am I to do that? It is one thing to instruct you on the art of arousing and satisfying a man, but I have no magic incantation I can mumble to make Ian able to impregnate you. Am I supposed to—”
“Be silent,” she snapped. “There’s no reason for you to be testy. If you will listen, instead of ranting at me, I will tell you what I need of you.”
He sat down on his stool and looked at her. “By all means, proceed.”
“Ian is … I cannot …” She drew a deep breath. “If I do not give Ian a reason to live, he will die. He needs a child.”
Kartauk made no comment, waiting.
“Since God has not seen fit to grant us this boon, I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.” She looked straight ahead and asked quickly, “Will you mate with me, Kartauk?”
He went still. “What?”
She rushed on. “Only until the babe is conceived. After that, I will not trouble you further.”
Silence. Why did he not speak? Though she was not looking at him, she could feel waves of emotion sweeping from him.
He said slowly, each word enunciated precisely, “You are saying I’m to father an infant which you will then pass off as your husband’s?”
She nodded jerkily.
“And may I ask why you have chosen me to act as stud to your mare?”
“Don’t be crude.” She moistened her lips. “You seem to be the reasonable choice. I believe you have a fondness for Ian. You’re strong in body and mind and capable of fathering a fine bairn.”
“Anything else?”
“It should be no hardship for you. You can’t deny you have a lustful nature. Ellen MacTavish and those other women were—”
“Look at me.”
“If it wasn’t necessary, I wouldn’t do this. A child is nec—”
“Look at me, madam.”
She reluctantly shifted her gaze to his face. Anger. She had never seen Kartauk in a rage before, but she saw it now.
“You will not use me, madam.”
“It’s not such a terrible … It has to be you. I thought of Ruel, but I—”
“Ruel!”
“He, too, has a lustful nature and he might do it to save Ian, but I could not place that burden on him.”
“What burden?”
“Adultery,” she whispered. “It’s a terr
ible sin and one I don’t expect God to forgive. It is better I suffer his anger alone.”
His lips twisted. “And you think me too much of a heathen for God to notice my transgressions?”
“It would be an act of mercy on your part. God would surely understand you’re not at fault.”
“Dear God, now bedding you is an act of mercy! You’re a mad woman.”
“When I first realized I might have to do this, I thought perhaps I was mad.” She had to stop to steady her voice. “But I’ve pondered long and hard and there’s no other solution. This must be done. Do you think asking you was easy?”
“I’ve not noticed you asking me. You’ve only told me what I must do.”
“I did not mean to be rude. It is my way to be blunt.”
Abruptly his anger vanished and his expression softened. “I know. Blunt, sharp-tongued, and giving. Well, you cannot give Ian his child.” He raised his hand to stop her as she opened her lips to protest. “I won’t do it, madam.”
“Why? Ian will be destroyed if I don’t do this.”
“And you’ll be destroyed if you do. I know you well. You try to bend that straight moral backbone and you’ll shatter.” He moved toward her. “I’ll have no part of it. I have never had a taste for destruction. I ran away from Abdar to avoid it, and I will not help you embrace it.”
“I’ve made my decision, Kartauk.”
“Which requires my cooperation.” He looked down at her. “No, madam, you’ll get no child from me.”
He was close enough to her so she could smell the scent of soap, coffee, and clay that clung to him and see the pulse pounding in his strong brown throat and the distended veins in his muscular forearms. She had a sudden sensation of unfamiliarity. She was acutely conscious of his bigness, the wideness of his shoulders, the massive strength of his calves and thighs in the loose trousers, the craggy strength of his features. She felt a sudden flutter of apprehension before she firmly dismissed it as imagination. This was the Kartauk she had known for three years. Her uneasiness must be derived from the prospect of the intimacy she had proposed. “There is another reason I chose you,” she said haltingly. “I regard you as my friend. I have had very few friends in my life. I hope I’m not mistaken.”