"And who is Li Sung?"

"My friend."

"I prefer my own version of the Oriental philosophy," he said, that radiant smile basking her once more. "Won't you do as I ask?"

He knew exactly what he was doing, she realized suddenly. He knew down to the last glowing ounce of that strong, beautiful body how to seduce and persuade and bend a woman to his way of thinking and had probably learned it through a thousand encounters such as the one that had taken place at Zabrie's.

"No." She felt an instant of satisfaction as she saw the flicker of surprise on his face, but she knew she hadn't the strength to argue with him any longer. She must put an end to this discussion. "Thank you for taking care of my arm. You needn't worry anymore about this. I'm sure you won't get in trouble for—"

"Oh, no, you don't." Ruel moved in front of her, blocking her passage to the door. The grimness had returned to his expression. "Get back in that bed." When she didn't move but stood there looking at him, he said impatiently, "All right, blast it, I'll let you go slave on your wonderful railroad, but a few hours rest won't hurt. Get some sleep and we'll be on our way at first light."

"We?"

"Your railroad's hired nearly everyone else in Kasanpore. Why not me? After tonight, I'd say you need someone to guard your back."

"I don't need anyone to protect me. I can take care of myself."

"Then, at least, I can watch over you and see you don't kill yourself with overwork."

Watch over you.

The phrase held a sweet, wistful fascination for her. Not that she needed anyone to watch over her, she thought quickly. "Laying tracks isn't the kind of work you'd want to do."

"A few days of it won't hurt me."

She glanced around the tastefully furnished hotel room. "You'd be of no use to me."

"Because I don't occupy a hovel? Ask Ian where he found me in Krugerville. When you're seeking an audience with a maharajah, you don't spare the rupees. I assure you I can make myself useful in most circumstances and I'm not afraid of hard labor."

She recalled the hard roughness of the calluses on the hand that had stroked hers.

"Lie down," Ruel repeated. "I'll wake you at dawn and we'll ride out to the site together."

She turned and lay back down on the bed, drawing the covers over her. She was accomplishing nothing but draining her strength by fighting him. One day of pounding spikes should assuage his conscience. "I'll need a clean shirt to cover this bandage. No one must know I've been hurt."

"I believe I can supply one."

"No." She nodded at Ian. "Him. He's bigger and I want it loose."

Ian smiled. "It will be my pleasure."

"And be sure to wake me at dawn." She closed her eyes.

"Should I send word to Reilly that you're here?" Ruel asked.

"No, he won't miss me. I'm usually gone by the time he wakes up in the morning."

"How charming," Ruel said caustically. "I must remember to—"

"Go away," she said without opening her eyes "You're keeping me awake."

She heard Ian's delighted chuckle. "Are you properly put in your place, Ruel? Let's retire to my room and have a glass of whiskey. I've had enough of this soggy air for one night. I'll be glad to get home to Glenclaren."

"So you tell me every day."

"I decided it would do no harm to remind you. I've always believed in fortifying my position."

Her eyes remained shut after the door closed behind them. What a strange contrast the two men made, Ruel as volatile and glittering as quicksilver, and his brother sturdy and homely as raw granite. Yet, in spite of their differences, she could sense a strong bond between them.

She must stop thinking of Ruel or his brother. Scottish lords and beautiful exotic young men had nothing to do with what was important in her life. She must get to sleep and gain strength to fight off this weakness.

"I like her." Ian handed the glass of whiskey he had just poured to Ruel. "She's a brae lass."

"You like her because she's just as obstinate as you are."

"I admit I enjoyed seeing a woman say no to you. I'm sure it's very good for your character." Ian took his own glass and moved to the window. "It appears the threat to the girl Abdar spoke about is more than the maharajah's displeasure."

"Yes."

"But you always suspected that, didn't you?"

"I told you I was familiar with crocodiles."

A few moments passed before Ian spoke again. "You were gone a long time. Did you—" He hesitated.

"Are you trying to ask if I had a carnal romp with our guest?"

"I suppose I am."

"I have not." Ruel took a sip of whiskey. "Yet."

"You still believe this Kartauk is her lover?"

Ruel's lashes lowered to veil his eyes. "Why should I have changed my mind? She's risking a good deal for him."

"You think the assassin in the alley was waiting for her?"

"It makes sense. When I showed up with her, he decided the first blow should be for the more dangerous target."

"But you're not certain, are you?"

"You're beginning to read me too well. No, I'm not sure. This particular crocodile may have cunning as well as teeth." He shrugged. "But it does make the search more interesting."

"The lass could have lost her life tonight." He frowned, troubled. "Everything is changing. I want you to give up this nonsense of using her to find Kartauk."

Ruel didn't answer.

"Ruel?"

"Nothing has changed except I'm now in a far better position to receive confidences and find out information than I was earlier this evening." He smiled sardonically. "Don't look so appalled. I tried to tell you what I am."

"You just like to shock me." Ian added quietly, "She saved your life. You won't betray her trust."

"She doesn't trust me. She probably doesn't trust anyone, unless it's this Kartauk."

"And that bothers you, doesn't it?"

"Goddammit, it doesn't bother me!" Ruel crashed his glass down on the table and sprang to his feet. "The only thing that bothers me is your infernal probing. I've had a bellyful of it." He strode toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I need some air. I'm suffocating in here." He glared back at Ian. "And I don't give a damn about you, or Glenclaren, or that blasted girl. All I want is Cinnidar."

The door slammed behind him.

Ian smiled slightly as he lifted his glass to his lips.

Tiger pad softly, tiger burn bright . . .

At the moment, the tiger was not padding at all softly but he was definitely burning. Even in that moment in the barroom when Ruel had been goading Barak, Ian had not seen him this savage. Still, it was not a bad sign. Sometimes a flame could purify as well as destroy. He could only hope all those nonsensical dreams of Cinnidar would be burned away in its wake so they could go home.

Home.

Though he constantly held Glenclaren up before Ruel as a beacon, when he was alone he tried not to think of it. It made the yearning for home only deeper and more hurtful.

Instead, he would think of Margaret. Margaret was not his own in the same way Glenclaren belonged to him, and he had waited so long for her, the anticipation had lost all bitterness and become sweetly wistful. Margaret, cool and brisk, yet with a heart as warm as a winter bonfire.