"You've been watching her for four days and she's done nothing but work like a galley slave." Ian crouched down beside Ruel. "Can't you see Abdar was lying to you? She couldn't be Kartauk's mistress. Just look at her, the lass isn't much more than a child."

"Appearances are almost always deceiving. Remind me to tell you about a whore I once had in Singapore. Mei Lei had the face of a baby angel and the delightfully corrupt talents of Delilah." His gaze returned to the woman below. "What did you find out from Colonel Pickering about Reilly?"

"Not much. Reilly's uneducated but good-natured enough and drinks like a sot. He had a fairly good reputation in Yorkshire, and after he finished building a line between Dover and Salisbury, he entered a bid for this job."

"And the woman?"

Ian shrugged. "No one ever sees her. She never goes to the club with him. Reilly keeps her pretty much to himself."

"And their relationship?"

Ian looked uncomfortable. "There are rumors . . . but no one knows for sure." His gaze shifted down to Jane in the valley below. "I believe it's all nonsense and she is Reilly's ward."

"Because you want to believe it."

Ian tilted his head as he looked back at Ruel. "And you don't. Why not?"

Ruel realized to his surprise that Ian was right. He wanted Jane Barnaby to be the promiscuous harlot Abdar had described, and the reason lay in the odd fascination she held for him. It couldn't be lust, he thought impatiently. How could he feel lust for this bony, big-eyed waif? Nor was it pity. Even exhausted she displayed a strength of purpose and an endurance that defied sympathy. Yet, somehow, she moved him.

The acknowledgment caused his defenses to instantly rise. God, the sun must be addling his brains. He allowed no one to touch his emotions, and certainly not a woman whom he might have to use to get Kartauk. He turned to Ian and smiled cynically. "I haven't your faith in human nature. We're all what life makes us, and I'd wager Jane Barnaby's life has been as turbulent as mine."

"I still think that—" Ian shrugged as he met Ruel's gaze. "You've been out here for hours in the sun. Would you like me to watch her for the rest of the day?"

"No." Ian's brows lifted in surprise at the quick refusal. Ruel tempered his tone. "I'm used to the heat. You'd probably get sunstroke after an hour."

"You're probably right. I can't see how you can bear it." Ian's voice became wistful. "It never gets this hot at Glenclaren. Remember how the cool mists on the hills rise in the morning?"

"No, I don't remember."

Ian smiled. "Then it will come as a delightful surprise when you come back to us." He rose to his feet. "If you won't let me help now, I'll take my turn watching the bungalow tonight."

"We'll see."

"You never know when to stop. You're becoming as obsessed about watching that child as you are about your Cinnidar."

"She's not a child." The words came too sharply again, and Ruel forced himself to smile carelessly. "If you want to help, go back to the Officers' Club and see if you can find out from Pickering if the maharajah has any passions besides his new toy of a railroad."

Ian nodded as he took out his handkerchief and wiped his perspiring brow. "I won't argue with you. A cool drink on the veranda while being fanned by one of the club's servants seems like heaven right now." He turned and started down the hill toward the horses. "I'll see you back at the hotel."

"Yes." Ruel's tone was abstracted as he turned to look down at the woman again. Jane had stopped by the water bearer and took the dipper of water he held out to her. As she drank, she tilted back her head, and he could see the graceful line of her throat and the dark lashes curving against her tan cheeks as she half closed her eyes against the glare of the sun.

He waited, anticipation stirring. After she drank she would splash a little water on her cheeks and throat and run her damp palms under the heavy braid covering her nape.

She returned the dipper to the bearer, who smiled, filled it again, and poured the water into her cupped hands.

Ruel leaned back against the rock, watching as she cooled her cheeks and forehead and then her throat and nape. It was ridiculous to feel this absurd sense of satisfaction just because she had done what he had expected her to do. Yet the satisfaction persisted, escalated, as she returned the dipper back to the bearer.

Now she would retrace her steps back to the point where the new track started and examine the ties, measure the distance between the rails to make sure it was exactly four feet eight and a half inches.

Jane whirled and walked briskly back along the newly laid track.

He laughed softly and tilted his hat until it rested on the back of his head. By God, he knew her. He felt as if he had never known anyone in his entire life as well as he knew Jane Barnaby. He knew every gesture, every reaction, almost her every thought.

His smile faded as he realized the pleasure that knowledge brought him, the pleasure a man might feel in exploring the gaits of a fine horse he had just acquired or the first sensual discoveries of the talents of a mistress.

The pleasure of possession.

Nonsense. He had no desire to own anyone and had a passion only for what awaited him on Cinnidar. He was merely bored and it amused him to predict the girl's next moves. Besides, it would be only sensible to familiarize himself with the way she thought if she could lead him to Kartauk.

"The work is going too slow." Patrick stretched his long legs out before him under the dinner table and lifted the glass of whiskey to his lips. "The maharajah paid me a little visit this afternoon and the bastard says he wants the railroad finished before the monsoon season."

"Well, he's not going to get it." Jane looked dully down at the rice and chicken on her plate. She felt too tired to eat but knew she must. Food brought strength and she had to keep strong. She picked up the fork and attacked the rice. "The rains start in two weeks and we've just finished the bridge across Sikor Gorge."

"That leaves only another twenty-five miles of track to lay before you join with the track we laid from Narinth. At six miles a day we—"

"We're not doing six miles a day. We're lucky to do two."

Patrick muttered a curse. "Then push them, dammit."

Jane's hand tightened on the fork. "I'm doing the best I can. You know the workers won't listen to me." She smiled mirthlessly. "Those who don't regard me as a freak look on me only as a woman and therefore unworthy of attention."

"The crew listened to you on the Yorkshire job."

"Because most of the time you were on the site. They thought I was only mouthing your orders." She met his gaze across the table. "It might be the same here if you'd just make an appearance every day."

He flushed. "This infernal heat gives me a headache. You have Robinson to back you up."

"Robinson is only an overseer. Come just for an hour or so. Then you can go back to Kasanpore."

He was silent a moment and then a smile lit his ruddy face with warmth. "You're right. From now on I'll be there every day until the job is done." He studied her face. "You're looking a bit ragged. Why don't you stay in bed tomorrow and get some rest?"

"I'll be fine after a night's sleep." She took another bite of rice. "But it really would help if you'd come with me tomorrow."